By: Eliza Coolidge
Rating: 7/11

The term jazz (and its profusion of associations and claims) has transcended into a genre-less ubiquity, about as taxonomically definitive as the word "human." Landon Knoblock, an experimental/jazz pianist from our very fine Brooklyn borough, is one to demonstrate the permeability of today's improvised music.

Out of his many projects and ensembles, his experimental trios exhibit the most dynamism and interest. Opposite of what the titles might suggest, Knoblock spares the heavy laser activity and space invasive techniques in songs "Scifi One" and "Scifi Two." Instead, he tactfully wanders from background to foreground with his ms2000 noise, stitching a very complex sonic weave of acoustic and electronic textures. Knoblock anchors the improvisation by propelling and contrasting the mercurial gestures of the sax and drums, keeping a fluid dialogue open. Knoblock is extremely responsive to the offerings of his ensemble members. At times he creates an ambling bed of notes to stage the the feral patter of the drums and the scampering ranter of the sax. At other moments he applies more drama and sustains ambient chords to support the melancholic explorations of the sax, as seen on song "Two." Knoblock also takes a few solos, shaping intricate paths and rhythmic cycles of spasmodic aggressiveness. Gliding over the upper register of the Rhodes with his right hand, he begins to dement his original motif by imposing angry jabs with the left, as if disputing himself. Knoblock's convulsions and self-contradictory envelopments show great character and poignancy in his playing. The listener can sense the human in him and appreciate his solo's introspectiveness.

The excitement and virility of Knoblock's improvisatory work is not as present in his compositions. His songs "Jaunted Memory" and "Grand Union" are flat in comparison, impatient and sloppily played. They rob the group of its inherent fluidity and sensitivity. Knoblock presents a confusing assortment of material. While some pieces are swaths of sonorous elaborateness and emotive depth, other compositions rival the lameness of Bob Ross' easy-paint landscapes. Ultimately, Knoblock needs to get out of the elevator and stay on the bandstand.