John Zorn
FilmWorks X: In The Mirror Of Maya Deren

True geniuses exist, indeed.

Without delving into the personalities of the post-romantic entourage of the early 19th century, true architects of the basaltic foundations on which all music rests, one can easily affirm that the fifty-five-year-old character who answers to the name of John Zorn is, to this day, the greatest composer ever existed in the 20th century, equal, if not even superior, to the likes of Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Captain Beefheart, and not forgetting the inevitable, mustached Greek-Sicilian.

I won't bore you with how much I like Zorn, I won't enumerate one by one his three hundred plus albums (although I would hope to...), I won't list the endless mishmash of genres he has tackled, explored, destroyed, reconstructed, and fused, I won't go on to praise his infinite parallel projects (above all Naked City, Painkiller, and Masada, along with recent and splendid collaborations with Mike Patton, from which an unmissable trilogy arose with the masterpieces "Moonchild: Songs Without Words" of 2006 and "Six Litanies For Heliogabalus" of 2007). You're probably fed up with this chatter by now.

What many do not know, or even ignore, is that our Zorn, when not busy recording one of his twenty-five thousand annual albums, or isn't forming new supergroups, or isn't heading the Tzadik -his personal and very interesting label- and its numerous releases, he enjoys writing soundtracks intended to score extremely underground films like small comedies, documentaries, biographies, and so on. This additional production line (called "FilmWork") has been continuing for over ten years now and boasts a series of eighteen volumes, rich in references and truly incredible for compositional quality and stylistic variety. From the motorized, crooked, and cartoonish punk of volume 7, "Cynical Hysterie Hour", to the lounge of the latest "The Treatment", to the klezmer of "1997" (but one could continue much further), the FilmWorks have become in every respect unmissable events for lovers of avant-garde and musical contamination, as well as for fans of the American saxophonist and neophytes of the subject in question.

In 2001, on the occasion of a documentary by Austrian director Martina Kudlácek on the historical figure of the great director Maya Deren, titled "In The Mirror Of Maya Deren", it is Zorn himself who takes on the task of providing the film with the most fit musical backdrop possible. Temporarily abandoning the saxophone in favor of a more functional piano, our man once again surrounds himself with illustrious guests (Erik Friedlander on cello, the ever-present Cyro Baptista on percussion, Jamie Saft as piano and rhythm accompanist, as well as first organist) to create ten different themes developed into fifteen different tracks. The result? Exceptional is an understatement.

John Zorn and his musical company, this time, choose for the sound flow an absolutely neoclassical approach, only at times vaguely jazzed, mostly inspired by chamber music, with minimalist references. Music, in short, more about atmosphere than anything else, but which boasts exceptional instrumental contributions: Zorn proves he can handle perfectly even with string instruments (listen to the theme of "Drifting", revisited three times in three different variants, each more powerful than the last, where the composer seems possessed by the soul of Wim Menders), and the rococo embellishments created with the organette are truly lovely to hear. In this regard, I would point out the wonderful "Dancing", which mixes ethnic hiccups with ambient ups and downs, with pseudo-sacred music, with reworked and mixed classicisms with a Japanese twist.

These, however, are not the focal points of the album if true peaks can be identified: already "Teiji's Time" shifts into a gear diametrically opposed to what has been heard so far, with electro-tribal ravings flitting here and there, capturing a spell of ritualistic air; or a composition for piano and maracas only, called "Filming", in which a neoclassical core undergoes pendulum oscillations, as if subjected to a continuous, drowsy roll. Already more cerebral pieces like "Nightscape", a hypnotic, fragmented back-and-forth of mellotron and xylophone, with percussion disturbances in the background, or "Voundoun", a true sabbath around an indistinct bonfire, sublimating the hidden rhythms of the blackest Africa in an almost obsessive search for distorted cadences. Also interesting is the more canonical "Kiev", here presented in versions for piano, harpsichord, bass, and drums, and solo harpsichord. A minimalism that emerges and disappears like the waves of a vast ocean storm that finds no rest. A beautiful black and white watercolor of a Parisian banlieue, between joys and sorrows.

But, although the emotional pathos up to this point was certainly one of the finest, to truly idealize what this enchanting work conveys, greater attention must be paid to the two themes where the cello becomes a mainstay, namely "Mirror Worlds" and "Nostal Gia". The former, with its wonderful symphonic openings abruptly fading into undefined jaws of steel weaves, is certainly the most disturbing event present in these fifty minutes. But it is the latter, a true masterpiece, that melts even the most titanic heart muscles, with Friedlander's heart-wrenching insertions tearing through blazing chasms: as if Juliet took up the bow and vomited her despair onto Romeo's corpse with full and deep tones. There is also a version for solo harpsichord, even more delicate, but which loses that magical chromaticism that enveloped its perfect twin.

In conclusion, an amazing album, a must-have. If ever, one day, we were asked to remember John Zorn with an album, we would never choose this tenth chapter of the FilmWorks. However, if we were asked to commemorate John Zorn with some of his most important works, this would definitely enter the circle. Maya Deren, from up there, would smile, happy.