Free improvisation can run the gamut from furious hellraising to confidential whispers. The dusty cliché image is that of a bunch of nutty beatniks caught up in a language that is as impenetrable as it is alienating, but once you dive into the wealth that is out there, you will notice how rich the diversity actually is and how some key concepts and ideas can be explored in different ways. Some of the best and most cohesive improvisation out there is not only remarkable because of its openness, but also its intimacy.
It is an impression I get from just about each session that percussionist Kris Vanderstraeten is involved in. Those who have witnessed him on stage or in the studio will know what I am referring to. For Vanderstraeten, making music is not a game (despite the presence of so many toys and kitchen utensils), nor is it a competition, something that has to be conquered or won. No, it is a portal, a door to a creative environment in which his unique drum kit as a sound generator is given free reign. Time and time again, he approaches this challenge with the wide-eyed eagerness of a kid that just discovered a secret stash of comic books.
Intimacy is usually defined as a kind of closeness between two or more people. Making music is often a very intimate act. Unless you are just going through the motions, it requires a personal investment – of ideas, energy, emotion. You let your guard down, you share something. And when there are no pre-arranged ideas, sharing is a pretty vulnerable thing. You’re putting yourself out there, at the mercy of others, who will respond in any way they see fit. Of course, free interaction is more than just an exchange of spontaneous ideas. It is also a careful balancing act, a kind of discussion that ideally ends up in a different place from where it started. That intimacy is often an essential thing.
And there is a lot of that on Dandelion, which unites Kris Vanderstraeten with self-taught guitarist Dirk Serries and clarinet player Tom Jackson (making his second appearance on this label, after 2021’s The Other Lies with Colin Webster), who is outstanding throughout these five interactions. He plays with an unaffected freedom, as if getting caught during a private practice session, moving through quick fluid runs, exploring all the registers, diverse effects and approaches, some rooted in jazz history, while others spring from a different well of inspiration.
Vanderstraeten and Serries respond in kind. They create sounds from a non-idiomatic world (you might think you are hearing creaking boats or dismantled machines), they pluck, click, tatter and rustle gently. They manipulate and let resonate, often minimalist, with extended tones and lots of space, but just as often they take energetic turns, the flow transforming into a stumble, angular and irregular. If the measure of freedom is measured by the resilience of an elastic band, they get close to the point where the rubber is about to snap, but it is exactly at that spot, where they recognise something and react to that with a refreshing lack of explicitness, that you can feel the result, and unfolded potential, of a shared intimacy.
Guy Peters 2022
