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Rating: "Music for me is my prayer, my praise, but also an opportunity to
listen and hear
how musicians can take a seed and create,
grow,
build,
communicate with each other,
paint,
fly,
fall,
return,
Then depart again on the unknown journey."
Glancing at the names of the musicians who participated in the creation of this album, my eyes progressively widened like a child eager in front of a pastry shop window: Don Byron, Kenny Garrett, Jack De Johnette, Cassandra Wilson, to name a few. Great curiosity then, and equally great desire to insert the CD into the player, but at the same time no illusions, because the participation of so many high-level names does not necessarily lead to the creation of a beautiful album. In this case, however, I have to admit that the ingredients at play have been mixed excellently. In fact, we are in front of an excellent and original musical production, due both to the great artistic caliber of the musicians involved, and to their unifying element constituted by Meshell Ndegeocello. Indeed, it is thanks to this eclectic and intelligent African-American composer-singer-bassist that the difficult task of creating music capable of enhancing the expressive contributions of all those who participated in this work has been accomplished.
As her previous albums testify, her music naturally tends to unify different musical genres: pop, rock, blues, soul, rap, R&B, jazz, funk. And even on this occasion, it is possible to discern the traits of a tidy and small musical Babel. Meshell merges, does not confuse, music and souls, allowing each individual contribution to remain recognizable. This is already felt from the beginning ("Mu-Min") characterized by jazz-funky sounds fluidified over an electronic background. Clean, free, and decisive sounds immediately make it clear that this is a sui generis jazz album, teeming with references. The music is enhanced by the wind instruments of Oliver Lake, Don Byron, and Joshua Redman, perfectly at ease in this context. Similarly, even in a different atmosphere, in the following developments. In "Al Falaq 113", a frenetic percussion introduction, with a vaguely ethnic flavor, is the prelude to a calm on which, first, Michael Cain's piano, then, the wind instruments of Wallace Roney and Kenny Garrett naturally graft. Only one sensation stands out clearly: great class and elegance, alongside a solid construction of the melodic and rhythmic structure. Then it's Sabina Sciubba's turn to lend her voice to one of the few sung tracks of the album: "Aquarium". In truth, it's one of the episodes I appreciated the least, perhaps because the singer seemed to me like a crazy cross between Sade and Björk. But it's a moment, because later the album definitely takes off. At times, the sound of the electric bass, played now by Matthew Garrison, now by Meshell Ndegeocello herself, is capable of letting Jaco Pastorius's ghost appear ("Papillon"): open, rounded, soft, refined sounds. Yes, the music takes off with reminiscences of the Weather Report, leading to being seduced by the charm of Oran Coltrane's tenor sax, surrounded by Neal Evans's keyboards like a thin web. Until the majestic, dense, and deep voice of Cassandra Wilson enchants and envelops the listener in a warm embrace ("The Chosen"). Finally, there are no shortages of virtuosity and continuous improvisations, allowing each soloist to shine one at a time without overshadowing the other musicians.
A great balance holds this music, which slowly transforms into a vehicle for an inner journey, culminating in a blues finale that recalls the New Orleans atmospheres. Interpreted by Lalah Hathaway's sumptuous voice, it is an excellent epilogue to a simple and sophisticated album together, capable of creating the desire to immerse oneself again in new listens without pause.
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