Kadef
Kadef

LA RECENSIONE

Jazz is not dead (!?).

In the ever more fluid contemporary landscape, where the boundaries between tradition and avant-garde continue to blur, “Kadef” imposes itself as an unidentified “sound object”: a work born from radical improvisation that nevertheless achieves a surprisingly cohesive form.

The album, arranged by Devin Brahja Waldman with the decisive contribution of an extraordinary group of ethnic musicians, is positioned at the borders between jazz, krautrock, and traditional North African music.

This is a double LP (pressed in 1000 copies), released in February 2023, which becomes a “sonic challenge” to various categories of conventional music. The project took shape from a series of pure improvisation sessions, where Brahja Waldman, with a heterogeneous ensemble of musicians, explores territories oscillating between ritual, trance, and collective dynamics of live creation. The musician stated: “The music materialized naturally, collectively improvised, without previously discussed compositions or ideas and without second takes.”

Brahja Waldman, an atypical figure in the New York scene, a multi-instrumentalist with an eclectic background (he plays electric bass, saxophone, drums, and percussion), was walking through the St. Laurent neighborhood in Montreal when he heard an “otherworldly” voice coming from the venue Divan Orange. Entering, he was able to listen to the Moroccan-born singer Ziad Qoulaii, now based in Montreal, who was performing on stage; deeply struck by his vocals, he invited him to join what would soon become the backbone of his musical project.

The magnetic core of the project is precisely the voice of Ziad Qoulaii. In many tracks he doesn’t just sing melodies, but fills the space with phrasing that integrates with the instruments as if it were an extra sonic fabric, going beyond the simple lyrical function. His singing is often described as “foreign” to Western jazz conventions—fluid, emotional, sometimes almost theatrical. His voice acts as a glue between the Gnawa tradition and contemporary expression, structuring a work that requires repeated listening to reveal its timbral richness and the depth of interaction between instruments and voice.

The architecture of “Kadef” develops along a single long ritual trajectory divided into two movements, rather than conventional takes. The sequence of tracks is conceived as a narrative arc and this progressive flow, starting from the propulsive initial trance (rhythm, body, dance), proceeds toward a contemplative rarefaction at the end (listening, breath, spirituality).

The first part of the album is dominated by the propulsive energy dictated by hypnotic patterns, motorik pulses, the hypnotic and steady 4/4 rock rhythm characteristic of seventies German krautrock, yet filtered through a jazz sensibility. Waldman alternates between drums and sax with an instinctive approach, more corporeal than cerebral, with drumming that pushes incessantly and the guembri of Anas Jellouf weaving a groove suspended between African music and European rock.

In Sahel (Pt. I) the cyclical motorik rhythmic pattern paves the way for the entrance of sax, guitars, and bass. Devin’s drumming works on a steady, non-aggressive but insistent pulse, creating a hypnotic state. Ziad Qoulaii’s voice gradually enters, not introducing a complete melody, but a modular chant that wraps around the rhythm. The result is a controlled trance, recalling Gnawa ceremonies (nighttime therapeutic and spiritual rituals of sub-Saharan origin, practiced in Morocco and aimed at healing psychic and spiritual ills through trance) but with a free jazzist framework.

The title track Kadef represents the gravitational center of the album. Here the ensemble appears more cohesive and the dialogue between the instruments becomes tighter. The guembri and electric bass intertwine deep lines, while the sax moves in high registers, sometimes shrill. Qoulaii takes on an almost shamanic role: his singing becomes an invocation, with sudden dynamic shifts guiding the ensemble. The impression is of witnessing a collective construction that regenerates at each bar.

In Abbès Saladi the atmosphere changes. The tempo slows, the texture thins. The introduction is more atmospheric, marked by reverb and empty spaces. The reference is less to rock and more to spiritual jazz. The voice does not dominate, but inserts itself as a distant echo. It’s an almost meditative track, interrupting the tension accumulated in previous pieces and serving as a bridge toward the second part of the album. Here, one could draw a parallel to the contemplative spiritual jazz of “Journey in Satchidananda.” Indeed, the suspended atmosphere and use of space recall the mystical textures of Alice Coltrane, in the construction of a sonic environment that suggests meditation more than tension. The difference lies in the timbre: whereas Alice used harp and organ to create cosmic verticality, Waldman maintains a percussive and earthy consistency.

In fact, the second part of the album gives way to ethereal spaces built on sax, oud, and deep vocal improvisations, where Qoulaii’s voice emerges as the driving and spiritual element.

Sahel (Pt. II) picks up on some elements of the first movement, now filtered through a more rarefied approach. The rhythm becomes an internal pulse. The sax develops more lyrical, less abrasive phrases, and the interplay feels freer. Qoulaii’s voice expands into deeper, almost narrative registers. The track suggests the closing of a circle: what began as centrifugal energy now becomes centripetal reflection. As in “A Love Supreme” by John Coltrane, the track functions as a thematic return transformed: it reprises initial elements but internalizes them. The dynamics of the song build not toward ecstasy, but rather toward introspection.

The track Diva of Deva Loka (included only in the first editions of the album) acts as an ecstatic epilogue. The ensemble returns to denser sonic layering, while the singing takes on an almost liturgical character. Here, the project’s full maturity is evident: the fusion between improvised jazz and North African roots is no longer an encounter between worlds, but a unified language of synthesis and transcendence. The parallel with Coltrane’s “Ascension” concerns the idea of a shared sonic mass, but without the total anarchy of free jazz in the sixties.

While Trane sought spiritual universalism, Pharoah Sanders and Alice Coltrane collective African-American ecstasy, Waldman in “Kadef” proposes a third way of interpreting “new jazz”: a post-global intercultural trance, with Montreal as the crossroads between the Maghreb, New York, and kraut Berlin.

What sets “Kadef” apart from other contemporary world-jazz productions is the radical nature of the approach: improvisation is the generative principle of the work itself. There is no search for reassuring balance, rather a constant tension between chaos and form, between collective trance and mutual listening.

In this sense, Waldman places himself among those musicians who conceive jazz as a language in constant transformation, capable of absorbing and reworking different traditions without neutralizing their respective identities. “Kadef” thus becomes an album that offers neither instant melodies nor conventional structures. Instead, it offers a total, almost ritual experience.

This album is likely destined to become a contemporary milestone, because it’s not just a meeting point among musical genres, but a true statement of intent: music as a space for freedom, intercultural dialogue, and the evolution of listening itself.

“Jazz is not dead, it just smells funny.” cit. “Uncle” Frank Zappa.

Kadef Abgi are:

Ziad Qoulaii – vocals
Mathieu Pelletier-Gagnon – keyboards
Anas Jellouf – guembri / qraqeb / drums
Devin Brahja Waldman – drums / sax / electric bass
Vicky Mettler – guitar
Sam Shalabi – guitar
Anass Hejam – guitar
Hamza Lahmadi Kenny – oud
Rachid Salamate – guembri / vocals

The album was recorded by Mathieu Pelletier-Gagnon in Montreal, QC.
Mixed and produced by Devin Brahja Waldman.
Mastered by Mark Gergis.
The magnificent cover artwork is by Ala Dehghan, while the layout is by Ilja Tulit.