While Pavone and Altschul, who played together in Paul Bley’s trio,Ĭommunicate deftly across a searching rendition of ‘Lover Man.’ Side AĬoncludes with Waters’ best known composition, and the first track from herĭebut album, ‘Moon, Don’t Come Up Tonight.’ The melody’s chromatic descent Intonation, before the melody abruptly dissipates in a repetitive whimper Subdued, standards the emphatically slurred chords of ‘I’m So Lonesome IĬould Cry’ purr below Greene’s fingers in response to Waters’ falling The album is almost entirely comprised of exquisitely weird, or deceptively Multigenerational audience and Waters sings with tremulous incredulity. This is a coyĬhoice of opener, addressing the passage of time before her ‘You’ve Changed,’ one of several standards altered forever by the voice ofīillie Holiday, a mist of wistfulness envelops the listener. Unitarian Congregational Society in Brooklyn.
Presents selections from the group’s April 5th performance at the First Released by Blank Forms, a label and curatorial platform based out of New Indispensable in spite of slightly overlapping setlists for a band of this Featuring Burton Greene on piano, Barry Altschul onĭrums, and Mario Pavone on bass, these two documents are distinctly Her 2018 live appearances-in Brooklyn and Houston respectively-wereĭocumented for release. In a happy development for admirers, both of Of subsequent generations of listeners and the warmth of reception thatĪttends her few appearances. The 1960s, Waters’ reputation has continued to grow, affirmed by the praise In spite of only intermittent performances since her iconic recordings of If the A side of ‘Sings’ is haunted, the B side is surely possessed. Pianist Burton Greene is known for approaching the piano from the inside out, and here the entire group strains at the limits of musical idiom, maintaining a breakdown for almost a quarter hour. Discovered by Albert Ayler in the early sixties, her 1965 debut on ESP-Disk matches a set of her own compositions, graced with the wisdom of longing, to a scalding rendition of the Scottish folk song ‘Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair.’ The song has been a jazz staple since Nina Simone’s sultry resuscitation, but Waters’ version is a different beast, pairing an alternately screamed and whispered vocal with tumultuous backing. Vocalist Patty Waters is an icon of avant-garde jazz, in spite of her relatively slim discography.