Rating:
Genre:
Jazz
Release Date: 01/25/2005
The Way Up is
the Pat Metheny Group's debut offering for
Nonesuch Records. Comprised of a single, sprawling, 68-minute composition by
Metheny and
Lyle Mays -- divided into four sections on CD -- it is an unprecedented new direction for the band. The lineup is the same as on
Speak of Now from 2003 --
Metheny and
Mays on keyboards, bassist
Steve Rodby, drummer
Antonio Sanchéz, and trumpeter/vocalist
Cuong Vu. New to the roster is Swiss/American harmonicat
Gregoire Maret. While the sound here is instantly recognizable as
PMG, it is dazzling and labyrinthine in shape, sound, and texture. Painstakingly composed,
The Way Up also offers large open sections for solo
improvisation and group interplay. The work's theme is stated in part one, unfolding gradually as skeletal layered guitars, samples, and other gentle
electronics ease the frame into view,
Sanchéz's drumming creating an insistent pulse.
Mays' piano and
Metheny's guitar engage in contrapuntal arpeggios and
Vu enters haltingly with the actual line before the ensemble engages it as a whole. Brief melodic interludes usher in the longish second section seamlessly, where lyric fragments become full-blown statements, as the band's trademark restrained dynamic slips in unobtrusively before erupting into sheer euphoria with layered, crunchy, and fat six-strings, lilting harmonicas, and trumpets in tandem, all buoyed by
Mays and
Rodby, who underscore
Sanchéz's skittering cymbal dance. As it progresses, the band takes more chances, walking out onto a ledge and simply jumping off -- while never losing the deep, lush lyricism inherent in the composition's body. The thematic body and the hook at its core are infectious. These, too, open inwardly to an entirely new set of musical ideas in the middle of the section that changes no less than three times in its 26-minute duration.
Mays' piano, an acoustic guitar, and
Rodby's fretless bass tiptoe ghostlike into part three before
Vu once more shimmers and spatters colorful notes across the top in a hush before allowing
Maret to bring the entire line into being. Spare, careful, and emotionally moving, it builds until the entire band gels and cracks it into a breezy elegant walk through airy harmonics and slippery rhythms before notions of counterpoint, dense syncopated rhythmic figures (à la
Steve Reich), and tight, tense dynamics segue into the final section. Here is where all previous elements come together into a swinging whole. Fueled by
Mays' ostinato in the intro,
Metheny's soloing winds around the outside, punctuating and stretching it as
electronics paint the backdrop. The band locks into the groove before
Maret and
Vu add banners of expressionistic color.
The Way Up feels more like a
jazz concerto than anything else. If anything, it may actually be the record
Metheny and
Mays have been trying to make for over two decades. It is the place between the cracks, where defined genres disappear into a poetic whole and what emerges is something utterly new, guided and inspired by the limitless creativity of the
jazz tradition.
~Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
;)
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