FRANCESO CINIGLIO - The Locomotive Suite
Whirlwind Recordings: WR4773
Franceso Ciniglio: drums; Raynard Colom: trumpet, flugelhorn; Matt Chalk: alto saxophone; Matteo Pastorino: bass clarinet; Alexis Valet: vibraphone; Felix Moseholm: double bass.
Recorded 5th and 6th July 202 by Dave Dartlingto at Studio Ferber, Paris
As you might expect, the opening track has, around midway, the sound of the horns imitating a train (the sort that you see on American movies) and this follows a beguiling solo in which Ciniglio not only creates the sounds on wheels on rails but also plays the drumkit as a melodic instrument. It is this appreciation of melody, as well as an well-grounded sense of rhythm that makes his compositions on this album continually interesting and entertaining. The opening piece is named for his grandmother, ‘Laura Martina’. There is for Ciniglio, a sense in which the ‘locomotive’ is a metaphor for our own resilience in troubling times. But, I seem to remember a quotation from Proust in which his aunt speaks of a ‘petit train’ that is how she describes the familiar groove of everyday routine and how this is meant to run smoothly, and how disturbing it can be when this little train comes off its rails. And, of course, one cannot talk of Proust without mentioning memory – which brings us back to the tune dedicated to the memory of Ciniglio’s grandmother. Of the other tunes (and their relation to memory), ‘Locomotive’ (track 2) is constructed as a ‘series of windows’, as if seen from a train through Naples, that are presented as tarantellas. ‘Capitano’ (track 4), a delicate vibraphone solo, is for his father, ‘Self-made man’ (track 5) for a family friend in Naples who encouraged his journey to the States. Following these, ‘The Turtle’ (track 6) is a soft-shoe shuffle of a drum solo, dedicated to Moseholm. The next two pieces ‘Concerns in the background’ (track 7) and ‘945 St Nicholas Avenu’ (track 8), feature the ensemble and switch mood from exuberant to sombre in ways that have an unsettling quality, and showcase the depth and intelligence with which Ciniglio explores unusual phrasings and voicings in his compositions. Overall, the nine pieces combine into a suite, not simply by virtue of being presented together, but also through the sense of narrative they convey – with rhythmic and harmonic echoes drifting across the pieces, with a sense of the history and life-story of their composer and with a sense of journeys.
The liner notes from Wynton Marsalis celebrate the work on this album and provide a much richer description of the pieces than I have offered. But I leave the final word to Ciniglio, who says that ‘this album is all about movement’.
Reviewed by Chris Baber
Whirlwind Recordings: WR4773
Franceso Ciniglio: drums; Raynard Colom: trumpet, flugelhorn; Matt Chalk: alto saxophone; Matteo Pastorino: bass clarinet; Alexis Valet: vibraphone; Felix Moseholm: double bass.
Recorded 5th and 6th July 202 by Dave Dartlingto at Studio Ferber, Paris
As you might expect, the opening track has, around midway, the sound of the horns imitating a train (the sort that you see on American movies) and this follows a beguiling solo in which Ciniglio not only creates the sounds on wheels on rails but also plays the drumkit as a melodic instrument. It is this appreciation of melody, as well as an well-grounded sense of rhythm that makes his compositions on this album continually interesting and entertaining. The opening piece is named for his grandmother, ‘Laura Martina’. There is for Ciniglio, a sense in which the ‘locomotive’ is a metaphor for our own resilience in troubling times. But, I seem to remember a quotation from Proust in which his aunt speaks of a ‘petit train’ that is how she describes the familiar groove of everyday routine and how this is meant to run smoothly, and how disturbing it can be when this little train comes off its rails. And, of course, one cannot talk of Proust without mentioning memory – which brings us back to the tune dedicated to the memory of Ciniglio’s grandmother. Of the other tunes (and their relation to memory), ‘Locomotive’ (track 2) is constructed as a ‘series of windows’, as if seen from a train through Naples, that are presented as tarantellas. ‘Capitano’ (track 4), a delicate vibraphone solo, is for his father, ‘Self-made man’ (track 5) for a family friend in Naples who encouraged his journey to the States. Following these, ‘The Turtle’ (track 6) is a soft-shoe shuffle of a drum solo, dedicated to Moseholm. The next two pieces ‘Concerns in the background’ (track 7) and ‘945 St Nicholas Avenu’ (track 8), feature the ensemble and switch mood from exuberant to sombre in ways that have an unsettling quality, and showcase the depth and intelligence with which Ciniglio explores unusual phrasings and voicings in his compositions. Overall, the nine pieces combine into a suite, not simply by virtue of being presented together, but also through the sense of narrative they convey – with rhythmic and harmonic echoes drifting across the pieces, with a sense of the history and life-story of their composer and with a sense of journeys.
The liner notes from Wynton Marsalis celebrate the work on this album and provide a much richer description of the pieces than I have offered. But I leave the final word to Ciniglio, who says that ‘this album is all about movement’.
Reviewed by Chris Baber
