Adventures in Listening, April 13, 2023: Gonna Have a Big Time

An ambitious new album from Nickel Creek. A victory lap from Tyler, The Creator. And, a revealing new Jason Isbell documentary.

Nickel Creek - Celebrants

As a rule of thumb, I tend to like Chris Thile’s projects less as they become more cerebral… and lately, it feels like he’s just getting more cerebral all the time. The first Nickel Creek album in nine years is their most intricate and demanding work yet, a complicated suite of songs meant to be taken as a whole. It’s essentially a prog-rock album that just happens to be played on bluegrass instruments: Over the course of an hour it heralds the band’s technical virtuosity and close harmonies via 18 songs that feel like different movements within one big suite, as opposed to stand-alone singles. Thematically, the songs are all about the mysteries of human connection, both in and beyond the time of COVID. References to current events are handled delicately: The title song presents live music as a kind of secular worship service— a chance for strangers to join together in a kind of holy communion— while songs like “Water Under the Bridge” lament the cloistered communication of our echo-chamber age. I confess that I didn’t like any of this at first lesson, but— in a testament to the band’s chemistry, their melodic gifts, and their composition chops— I find more hooks and memorable tunes every time I play it. Though the threshold for entry is high, the album is rewarding for the scope and ambition of its world-building. Even so, it’s probably telling that the album highlight by far is “Where the Long Line Leads”— the one fairly straight-ahead bluegrass barn burner, led by Sara Watkins.

Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, and Shahzad Ismaily - Love in Exile

In college, I was invited to perform in a Whose Line is it Anyway?-style improv comedy revue, the first and last time I ever attempted such a thing. I remember spending the entirety of the performance feeling stressed and sweaty, desperate to fill every sliver of silence with some kind of punchline. Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, and Shahzad Ismaily are obviously much more skilled and experienced improvisers than I ever was; on their new collaboration, Love in Exile, each of them is confident enough to be quiet for long stretches of time, ceding space for silent listening and organic interplay. (You will not find a single review of this album that avoids the word telepathy, and to be fair, there’s not a more apt metaphor for the seamless synergy on display here.) The music is hushed, uncluttered, and airy; long compositions unfold at leisurely paces, and rarely rise above the volume of a whisper. Arooj, singing on-English lyrics, is magnetic and commanding; pianist Iyer sounds out the melodies with tunefulness and restraint; Ismaily, playing bass and synths, supplies ominous rumbles and low-end pulses. If anything, it might be a little too austere— as with Iyer’s previous team-up with Wadada Leo Smith, this is music made for quiet contemplation, and I’ll probably play it primarily as accompaniment to reading, writing, or prayer. But there are a few passages, especially on the 14-minute “Shadow Forces,” where Iyer really gets a chance to let loose on the keys— displays of virtuosity that are all the more impressive following the long stretches of quiet.

Jason Isbell: Running With Our Eyes Closed

To the extent that HBO’s new Isbell doc is about the writing and recording of the Reunions album, it’s perfectly competent, if a bit pedestrian— some talking heads, some intimate in-studio footage, some vague gestures toward the intersection of art and “life.” (Of course, your mileage may vary if you happen to be a big Reunions fan; I think the album’s just fine.) To the extent that it’s about Isbell’s addiction recovery— and particularly in moments when they get Patterson Hood on screen to talk about old times— it’s harrowing, and pretty revealing. And to the extent that it’s about the joys and sorrows of loving another person, especially a person as fully-formed as Amanda Shires, it’s incredible: A gift of candor, honesty, and truthful reckonings with love’s daily call to self-denial. Alternate title: Scenes from a Marriage. Best scene: A tearful Shires reading a lengthy email she composed to her husband during a season of estrangement. I may not see a more moving film sequence all year.

The Birth of Bop: The Savoy 10-Inch LP Collection

Savoy Record plays a seminal role in the history of jazz. In the 1940s, the label recorded some of the idiom’s most forward-thinking musicians, most notably Charlie Parker. An outstanding new collection shines the light on Savoy’s historical innovations, chronicling the musicians who morphed swing music into the then-groundbreaking style known as bop. There are 30 choice cuts spread across an 80-minute runtime, every one of them a feast of technical virtuosity and kinetic energy. The jazz-averse should know that the songs are all short, snappy, and tuneful— accessible to any set of ears. Meanwhile, connoisseurs will relish the opportunity to take in some blazing hot performances from giants as well as little-known figures, all of them assembled in a package that presents a compelling historic narrative about a transitional era in the development of jazz. Highlights? I’m obsessed with the boogie woogie energy of Leo Parker’s “Chase’n the Lion,” something of an outlier on this set. Parker also shows up for “Solitude,” an old Duke Ellington chestnut, the most ravishing ballad to be included here. Toward the end of the collection, there’s a howling performance of “Stealin’ Trash” from Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis— jazz aficionados will recognize it as an iteration on Dizzy Gillespie’s “Salt Peanuts”— followed immediately by “Pete’s Beat,” a raucous big band stomp from Ray Porter. This is an exemplary archival set, not just historically important but also fresh, exciting, and a pleasure to listen to.

Tyler, The Creator - Call Me if You Get Lost: The Estate Sale

I listed Tyler’s Call Me if You Get Lost among my top 10 albums of 2022, praising it for its deft balance of boisterous braggadocio with vulnerable self-reflection. The album is now appended with an EP’s worth of bonus material, eight songs tacked on at the end of the record that don’t necessarily deepen any of its themes, but do confirm that Tyler is absolutely crushing the rap game right now. He is a bard of bluster— still talkin’ that fresh shit, as one song boasts— and the new cuts include a few bangers that are as good as anything on the original album: A noisy, trash-talking team-up with Vince Staples (“Stuntman”), a soulful “Corso” redux (“What a Day”), and a nautical adventure with A$AP Rocky that I can only describe as “yacht rap” (“Wharf Talk”). These songs are of a piece with the original batch: Skillful, swaggering, more thoughtful than they first seem. Tyler is too restless to stay in one place for too long, but I’d be thrilled if he lingered in this 00s mixtape space. I think it’s the most rewarding music he’s ever made.

Peter Gabriel - “i/o”

The new Peter Gabriel album still lacks a release date, but what it does have is a title track, making me about 95 percent sure that it’s actually going to come out before another 20 years elapse. This is my favorite of the singles Gabriel has released this year, and if its modesty belies its long gestation— those hoping that Gabriel’s spent the last two decades creating a magnum opus may need to adjust their expectations— it never feels fussy or overcooked. Gabriel still sounds great, he still writes open-hearted lyrics, and he still knows his way around a good pop tune. That’s about all we can ask for, right?