Jaimie Branch
Fly or Die

As her trumpet sizzles in perfect solitude for 15 seconds, Jaimie Breezy Branch seems to raise her index finger in front of her nose, asking us for silence and attention.

After a few seconds, this apparent solitude is interrupted by the drummer's count, introducing us to the first theme of the album.

Born in 1982, the trumpeter makes her debut as a lead artist with “Fly or Die.” She reaches this milestone after cutting her teeth collaborating with some of the best exponents of Chicago's music scene related to the most creative jazz (from the AACM onward, the city has produced a wealth of creative jazz): Ken Vandermark, Tim Daisy, Dave Rempis, to name just a few that come to mind.

Although the record was recorded in the Big Apple, where the musician currently resides and works, Branch claims her musical roots in both the current and historic musical communities of the Windy City, as she has expressed in numerous interviews and by drawing on musicians involved in this venture. Chad Taylor on drums and Jason Ajemian on bass form a well-matched tandem in creating engaging polyrhythmic grooves (try not tapping your feet to the minor funk of “Theme 1” or the Latin saraband of “Theme 2”) and crafting more irregular and pointillist rhythmic textures (as happens, for example, in “The Storm”). With the mastery shown in both carving out a percussive role (enriching the aforementioned polyrhythmic element) and a solo role (dispensing delicacy and noise with equal effectiveness), or simply in enhancing the color of the pieces, Tomeka Reid's cello emerges as another central element in the group's dynamics.

The fact that the solo parts are primarily the domain of the bandleader's trumpet, capable of non-necessarily orthodox techniques that either caress or jostle your ears according to the emotional needs of the moment, and the cello does not preclude anyone from delivering jaw-dropping numbers. We are in the presence of musicians with superb technical caliber and mutual listening skills that produce interplay that brings tears of joy.

Most of the music in “Fly or Die” was created by the group during their first concerts together, but during the album's recording, Branch employed some overdubs to include Ben Lamar Gay and Josh Berman's cornets and Matt Schneider's guitar, whose presence enriches some tracks.

The architecture of the album is organized around some sonic gravitational centers from whose development other musical gems bloom. An example of this modus operandi: the terminal part of the lively polyrhythm of “Theme 2” flows into the hypnotic and delicate reeds of “Leaves of Glass,” which in turn ends in the drone wash of “The Storm,” which in turn gives life to the sweet elliptical waltz of “Waltzer” (well, to be clear: let's say without fear of contradiction that the level of creativity expressed in the music is inversely proportional to that expressed in the titles). This continuous interplay among various tracks leads me to hear this musical flow as a single suite of about 35 minutes to be listened to in one breath. The impression of a unique sound flow is further reinforced by the harmoniousness with which, from an emotional tone perspective, the tracks seem to oscillate between more cheerful and more melancholic moments, almost evoking in this way the option expressed by the "fly or die" of the album's title. In any case, even in the more melancholic moments, this music seems to express a deep and warm vitality, as well as a convinced joy of living.

Some elements seem apparently alien to the sound architecture I mentioned earlier, but they are no less interesting: “...meanwhile” -suspended between abstract folk and subdued noise- and the brief country-like vignette of “...back at the ranch.”

Placed at the album's end, the calm pace of this last miniature seems to evoke a peaceful homecoming, almost intending to end a beautiful musical journey on a positive note...which I hope is only the first in a long series.