Composer and bassist Linda May Han Oh’s latest album,Strange Heavens,builds its central premise around the concept that humans will typically choose a familiar hell over an unfamiliar heaven. We’ll stick with something bad that we know rather than find something better that’s scarily new. It makes sense as a method of preservation (who were the first people to try each mushroom they came across?), but it does nothing to help personal or artistic growth.
Oh, who has never stuck to a comfort zone in work writing or performing, works through that idea with a new chordless trio that includes percussionist Tyshawn Sorey and trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire, two artists with whom she’s developed an apparent rapport. Strange Heavens finds its way not by rejecting any sense of the familiar, but by blending strong compositional structures with individual freedom to find original bliss.
That approach allows for wonderful variety. “Noice Machinery” brings the album’s deepest groove. Sorey keeps it simple as Oh and Akinmsuire double up on a riff. When Akinmusire diverges, it’s as natural as possible. Initially, it sounds as if the trio plans to lock into a repetitive groove, but then the trumpet quickly flies to somewhere new. About halfway through, Oh inverts the riff and, without losing the rhythmic grace, creates a new lead part out of it as Akinmusire steps away. It’s funky and surprising, but never startling.
Opener “Portal”, on the other hand, sounds skittery and anxious, Oh’s bass and Sorey’s drums finding an uncomfortable fit so that the listener can never really settle. Akinmusire’s melody eventually takes the trio to a more traditional spot, but the song persists with its restless discomfort. It stands in strong contrast to the nightclub prettiness of “Acapella”.
The trio’s flexibility shines through in part because Oh’s compositions bring such a specific vision, even while allowing her bandmates enough space to add their own inventiveness. It’s a change from recent work, like more expansive Aventurine. The reaction times of Sorey and Akinmusire are practically zero, allowing her storytelling to unfold in ways that are both fortifying and unanticipated. “Living Proof” honors her own family’s struggles, but Akinmusire taps into the history as if he’d experienced it himself. Sorey lifts everything with energetic work; on the album, he yields to his partners, but this track brings his inventiveness to the fore.
That level of interaction plays out regardless of a given piece’s mood or style. Oh draws on fables and graphic novels and Joni Mitchell and more, but the album always coheres. “Folk Song” sounds almost bucolic, until Oh bows the track into something darker and less familiar. The musicians consistently use empty space well, but on this piece, it practically becomes a fourth instrument. The cut somehow moves perfectly into the skipping “Work Song”, and the trio move the record through a sweeping run of unique compositions and idiosyncratic performances.
The album closes with a pair of pieces by Oh’s predecessors. First comes “Skin”, composed by Geri Allen. Oh had previously performed this number with Allen, but it’s Akinmusire who gets most of the spotlight in this rendition. With Oh locked into her pulse, Akinmusire matches Allen’s energetic piano work while finding his own take; the approach honors Allen without sacrificing the trio’s personality.
“Just Waiting”, by trailblazer Melba Liston, comes next. Akinmusire takes a breathier approach to his instrument for the subdued track, opening space for a strong lead from Linda May Han Oh. The soft finish lets the group not the past in a way that’s neither familiar nor hellish, and much more heavenly than strange.