Michal Urbaniak
Fusion III

And Miles said: "Bring me that damn Polish violinist...!".

The year: 1986, during the recordings of "Tutu" (it was early February, the album was recorded in just a few days). The "damn Polish violinist" from that now-famous statement, as many of you may have already guessed, was none other than Michal Urbaniak, whom Miles wanted at all costs, recognizing (perhaps belatedly, for once) his enormous talent. It was indeed strange that Miles, the undisputed "Midas King" of Jazz, hadn’t yet noticed an artist who had already embarked on an extraordinary solo career for about fifteen years, maybe lacking the necessary international resonance but certainly with few equals in the Fusion field. Not that Urbaniak’s contribution to the making of "Tutu" was decisive, quite the opposite: the peculiar, unmistakable sound of his electric violin is heard only in "Don’t Lose Your Mind," not even the best track of an album that is nevertheless historic in the Fusion landscape of the '80s. And still, as for all musicians who had the fortune to work alongside Miles, for Urbaniak, in that case, it mattered more "to be there": that summons to the court of the greatest jazz musician of all time – at least I’ve always thought so – meant above all a symbolic homage to an entire career.

Born in 1943, descending from a strictly classical musical tradition, but open to engagement with the (little) Jazz that could be heard in the Warsaw Pact countries, Urbaniak had studied composition in Lodz in the early '60s and accompanied some personalities of the emerging local Jazz scene like Krzysztof Komeda, often also handling the saxophone, destined to remain his second instrument in favor of the violin, of which he was a great and undisputed experimenter: an experimenter of synthetic sounds and distortions applied to an instrument whose potential in the Jazz-Fusion sphere few imagined before the decisive experiences of Stephane Grappelli and Jean-Luc Ponty. With Ponty (and simultaneously with Neville Whitehead and Robert Wyatt, champions of Canterbury Jazz) Urbaniak also played in "New Violin Summit" in 1972, a cornerstone of new "progressive" violinism, making himself known especially in the United States, where he would reside permanently starting from 1973 and record all his albums. Needless to say, with the collaboration of session musicians among the sacred monsters of local Fusion (from Steve Gadd to Marcus Miller, from Kenny Kirkland to Omar Hakim).

Theoretically, I could have chosen any of Urbaniak's albums to illustrate his flair and creativity, as well as the enviable technique that makes him a master of the instrument; but my (difficult) choice fell on this "Fusion III" from 1975 (to be read as "Fusion Chapter Three"), the concluding stage of an ideal trilogy dedicated to new sounds from overseas and also including "Fusion" and "Funk Factory," recorded within a few months. Many (including myself) consider the work in question not necessarily the most inspired of the violinist, but undoubtedly the work of artistic maturity, the one from which everyone should start to get to know the poetics of this extraordinary musician; without lapsing into unnecessary and unfruitful comparisons, on a purely personal note, I can say that none of Jean-Luc Ponty’s albums (of which I am also a great fan) has managed to surprise me, and I speak of pure emotional involvement, more than "Fusion III": and I do not rule out that those accustomed to more canonical Fusion may be completely shocked, disoriented, because there are several unconventional choices (in terms of arrangement but not only) that make this an absolutely unique album of its kind; among these, particular mention should be made of the tendency to integrate the solo phrases of the violin with the diabolical, impressive vocalizations (vaguely "magmatic," in inspiration) of as much a genius artist as Urbaniak, his compatriot (and at the time his wife) Urszula Dudziak. This "vocalist" (but the term is rather limiting), who in turn has her own valuable solo albums, is known for executing ascending and descending scales spontaneously with astonishing speed, with equal command of both low and high registers, scales that only partially recall elements of jazz-inspired "scat" and rather resemble the vocal style of certain performers from the Slavic and Eastern European area in general: it would be worth trying to listen to this album just to experience this singular "listening experience".

But it's just one aspect, one of the most striking, of an album that can enchant and excite from "Chinatown Pt. I": a sumptuous showcase of electric piano (played by another Pole, Wlodek Gulgowski) and violin lines occupying the introduction, aided by the explosive, powerful, and acrobatic guitar of the great John Abercrombie; the leader's violin enters and it's almost difficult to notice, because Urbaniak’s "synth-violin" here, in timbral approach, resembles an electric guitar, with cacophonous contortions, endless progressions, and passages of embarrassing complexity for the listener. More slowed-down is the pace (and note the similarities, in the general atmosphere, with Return To Forever) of "Kuyaviak Goes Funky"; sweetly hypnotic "Roksana," a classic Urbaniak ballad still enriched with rhythmic variations and enhanced by the fine solo of bassist Anthony Jackson. "Prehistoric Bird" is an interlude occupied by the sole "voice" of Dudziak, with results that are nothing short of unsettling, while in "Crazy Kid," amid persistent bass "grooves" and Steve Gadd’s overflowing drums, the violin "disguises" itself as an electronic keyboard; in "Bloody Kichka" one gets the sensation of listening to Zappa's "Willie The Pimp" (Abercrombie’s solo is extraordinary), "Cameo," "Stretch," and "Metroliner" are all ways of reinterpreting, molding, with sensational technique and irreverent creativity, the Jazz-Funk raw material common to all three compositions. It ends where it started, with a "Chinatown Pt. II" where vocalizations and violin move in unison, in the context of a piece of enormous avant-garde significance.

The result is five secure, indisputable stars: in a hypothetical showcase of "gems" of '70s Jazz-Fusion, I would put this album without hesitation alongside records of the caliber of "Heavy Weather," "School Days," or the first by Pastorius, to name just a few. Try it to believe it.