Jazz Reviews : Abrams Weaves a Rich Musical Tapestry

Expect the unexpected if you chance going to the Catalina Bar & Grill in Hollywood this weekend to hear pianist Muhal Richard Abrams fronting a quartet.

Like an after-dinner stroll through the neighborhood that turns into a fantastic adventure of cinematic proportion, Abrams and company will take you to the most unusual places via some rather conventional modes. During his hour-long opening set Tuesday evening, Abrams, who last played Los Angeles in 1982, offered a stirring and imaginative display of musicality and chops in what is typically, albeit redundantly, labeled as experimental jazz.

Cast in the jazz traditions, each of the three compositions Abrams offered represented mere reference points for a seemingly endless series of group and solo improvisations. While at times the group seemed bent on creating frenetic displays of wildly disparate and discordant sounds, they nonetheless provided a great sense of structure; the common thread of composition providing the basis of a richly musical tapestry.

Though Abrams elected not to make any announcements during his opening-night set (he prefers to let his fingers do the talking), his three tunes were conventional during the initial melodic statements. The first tune began and ended as a slow, meandering ballad that was both simple and lovely; the lengthy middle featured moments of sonorous tenor saxophone from John Purcell that took jagged, inspired turns to low honks and high squeals. A second tune was a rhythmically driving waltz that recalled John Coltrane. The third tune was a boppish 4/4 that swung from beginning to end.

Though some of the group’s improvisations sounded like a downtown traffic jam at midday, the individual efforts were astonishing. Purcell showed himself a vastly talented player who can lend sense to any situation. His fluidity matched his fluency.

Bassist Fred Hopkins seemed on a mission to test the limits of his acoustic instrument. An accompanist capable of walking with the best of him, each of his solos were fascinating treks of bowing, plucking, jabbing and stabbing. Drummer Andrew Cyrille, whose solos were unremarkable if not long, was steadfast in his support role as he maintained rhythmic order during what surely seemed like moments of chaos.