Gabriel Vicéns is a new name to me, despite not being the first record he has out. A quick look through his back catalogue explains why: originating from Puerto Rico, now based in New York, his reputation is that of guitarist and composer of Latin-influenced jazz. I may as well be deaf when it comes to jazz, but I didn’t detect any disturbing traces of it when listening to Mural, his new release of chamber compositions on the Italian Stradivarius label. I only made the discovery after playing Mural several times over, blissfully unaware of his dark secret. Even now, the idea of it is like being told that Jo Kondo used to play prog.
In the seven pieces heard here Vicéns takes an abstract approach, laying his materials out according to some superimposed logic whose effects can be heard while the motivation remains obscure. Those materials are rarefied but playful, falling into grids of loping, off-beat rhythms or suddenly breaking away to chase their own tails. (The Kondo analogy was not arbitrary.) Trad genres like piano trio, wind quintet and Pierrot ensemble get pressed into service of counterintuitive structures. The trio Sueños Ligados is all staccato phrasing, each instrument rudely cut off no sooner than they have begun, before shifting scene to a cycling chorale of undulating chords disturbed by dissonant interjections. Vicéns often holds off his instruments for as long as possible, as on the opening title work, where piano spends several minutes toying with a reiterated pedal tone before clarinet and violin add commentary and timbral colour to the slightly prickly harmonization. The sleeve notes mention 12-tone composition at work here, but Vicéns takes chromatic dissonances and will repeat them rather than resolve them, implying the stability of repetitive music without any of the comfort that it typically affords, while cloaking less palatable melodies with the sly insinuation of a deferred payoff. It’s a mischievous pleasure.
The crack team of NYC players assembled here give studious attention to the comedic implications of the pedantic tread underpinning many of the works, while never making heavy weather of it or smoothing off the sharp edges to make something quirky. They present Vicéns with a cool facade as he alternately charms or worries the listener. The Pierrot work El Matorral begins with an ominous piano ostinato that soon falters and then loses momentum entirely, leaving the ensemble to make awkward attempts at initiating dialogue to fill up the void. Silence plays a part in all the pieces here, most notably the violin/piano duet Carnal, where small snatches of sonata-like playing escape in fleeting bursts. Everything here is clearly the work of the same composer, though that distinctive quality is hard to succinctly define. The discontinuities hint at a highly refined cartoon-music technique at work, which may be where the jazz seeps in, but the most rewarding thing about this collection is the way Vicéns never stoops to trying something popular, even as he surrounds himself with tempting opportunities.
