Like so many recent major works, Nels Cline’s Consentrik Quartet is the result of the artistry that the pandemic inspired (the disc’s closer, the elegiac and eerily-titled “Time of No Sirens,” is a lens back to those chilling days). Cline initially organized the quartet for a performance at John Zorn’s Brooklyn venue The Stone in 2019. But the material he wrote for the quartet’s debut album was mostly conceived during those spooky lockdown days.
Nels Cline has an extensive discography that lurches all the way back to the late seventies, when a whole generation of downtown artists like John Zorn, Bobby Previte, Wayne Horvitz and Bill Frisell were all new to the scene. Cline joined Jeff Tweedy’s Wilco in 2004, helping to steer the band in a wholly new direction and, unexpectedly, assuring his status as a rock-guitar god. (Rolling Stone named Cline among the Top 100 greatest guitarists of all time.)
Still, somehow, Cline escaped my notice. The guitarist has even made several appearances on records I have long appreciated, like Tim Berne’s Fulton Street Maul (1987), Henry Kaiser and Wadada Leo Smith’s Yo Miles!(1998) and Alan Pasqua’s little-known but wonderful The Anti-Social Club (2007). Yet, for years, he’s evaded my attention.
It wasn’t until I heard Cline’s exceptional cover of Gabor Szabo’s “Lady Gabor” that I finally took notice. The song appears on the guitarist’s beguiling Blue Note debut, Lovers (2016), a Black Mirror-esque epic of jazzy mood-music and, still, to this day, Cline’s undisputed masterwork.
The guitarist, and his arranger, trumpeter, Michael Leonhart, spin a bit of John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy’s Africa/Brass into “Lady Gabor” – with guitars, effects and a harp taking place of the horns – and the result is like an old Hollywood soundtrack of an African safari, as if scored by 21st century players. It wasn’t at all kitschy. It felt edgy, even modern – and totally brilliant.
Here, in his fourth Blue Note outing, Cline debuts an intriguing foursome he dubs the Consentik Quartet.
It’s a compelling collaborative made up of Cline on guitars and effects, Ingrid Laubrock on saxophones, Chris Lightcap on bass and effects, and Tom Rainey on drums. The quartet walks a feathery-fine line of straight-ahead jazz and the avant-garde in a way that hasn’t been heard on the Blue Note label since at least the days of Eric Dolphy, Grachan Moncur III, Andrew Hill and Ornette Coleman.
As mostly avant-gardists, these musicians are a bit outside of my usual listening sphere. But, here, they have a unique chemistry and make a persuasive sound together.
Laubrock, a veteran of the Mary Halverson Octet and Ken Vandermark’s groups, as well as a much more suitable accompanist to Cline than Skerik (on Share the Wealth) and Rainey – who drove Cline’s 2018 Currents, Constellations – are partners in music and life. Their musical accord is palpable and a true asset to the larger group. Bassist Chris Lightcap has played with Jason Moran, Joe Morris, Regina Carter. and featured Cline on his own disc, 2018’s Superette.
This quartet’s name seems to riff off Cline’s tendency to play and write in circular formations. This gives much of his music a hypnotic, mesmeric quality. So often on Consentrik Quartet (“Slipping Into Something,” “House of Steam”), Cline starts off in a reflective, almost meditative state before working himself into a genuine groove and then back to a peaceful calm.
At nearly 68 minutes, there is much to take in here. But Cline has a real knack for weaving individual tunes in to a convincing suite. One song doesn’t end and another starts as much as they flow seamlessly in to one another. Some are more memorable (“The Returning Angel,” “Surplus,” “The 23,” “Inner Wall” and “The Bag,” which Cline dedicates to Rainey) than others. But even when drama or tension is on low-burn, the fire still remains lit.
Other goodies include “Allende,” which has the intriguing undertones of a familiar Rodrigo piece, as if performed by the early-sixties Chico Hamilton quintet. It is here, as well as on “Inner Wall” and “The Bag,” in particular, where one notices the beautifully intoxicating tonal palette drummer Tom Rainey possesses.
Perhaps the only notable break in the overall blend is the startling “Satomi,” Cline’s ode to Satomi Matsuzaki, of the experimental-rock band Deerhoof (she also made a brief appearance on the 2010 Nels Cline Singers album Initiate). Laubrock’s tone on sax here is especially notable; less for being horn-like and more for sounding like a human voice. It’s haunting how perfectly “Satomi” reflects Matsuzaki’s music. But it breaks the spell, even if it was meant to.
Since Cline composed all of the music heard here, it’s easy to overlook how genuinely wondrous his guitar playing is throughout. This is an inventive, imaginative player who knows how to tell a profound musical story. He doesn’t need amplification, riffs or touches of the familiar to make his points. And he is just as adept at leading the charge as supporting – even undergirding – the collective’s shared effort.
Wilco listeners already know this: according to a good friend of mine, the group “got weird and interesting” when Cline joined the band. That’s precisely what makes Consentrik Quartet one of the more notable records I’ve heard this year. It’s always unpredictable, yet grounded in genuine music-making. Weird and interesting, yes, but a disc that grabs your attention and won’t let go.
Here’s looking forward to the further adventures of the Consentrik Quartet.
About the cover: The gorgeous abstract painting featured on the cover of Consentrik Quartet is by the Japanese artist and art director Hiroki Katayama (1937-93). The artist had only directed a few album covers during his lifetime, including a sole Kitaro album, but this is – as far as I can tell – the only one featuring one of Katayma’s own works. It is a beautiful and perfectly-chosen image to express what Nels Cline is presenting here.