Marty Ehrlich and Ray Anderson Pretty Much Bring Down the House

Reedman Marty Ehrlich and trombonist Ray Anderson first joined forces in Anthony Braxton’s band, but they bring a more trad sense of melody to the somewhat loose configurations on their new quartet album Live in Willisau. Recorded last year for Swiss radio, they’re playing to the crowd here, liberally quoting from the classics in a boisterous, good-natured performance anchored by the estimable Brad Jones on bass and Matt Wilson on drums. This is a fun, tuneful set: it’s not always full-throttle, but the chemistry in the band is contagious. There’s some New Orleans, a little latin, some funk and a single ballad, My Wish, which starts sparely as a tone poem of sorts before growing wistful and wary, Anderson’s trombone adding a shadowy touch in tandem with the rhythm section.

The opening cut is a fond portrait of the late violinist Leroy Jenkins, a lively duet that goes a little dixieland and then pulses nimbly on a clave beat with Ehrlich circling as Anderson bobs and splashes – the contrast is genuinely delightful. Hot Crab Pot, the most overtly N’Awlins number here is a showcase for Anderson, first terse and percussive, then wandering way out until Ehrlich reins it in with a wary chromatic approach. As often happens here, Jones holds it together when everybody else is off doing his thing, this time with some tastily booming chords. And then they’re back into it with an Ellington quote.

The Lion’s Tanz is a real crowd-pleaser, Ehrlich balancing Anderson’s staccato sputter before everybody goes off on a carnivalesque swirl that goes off the hinges, Ehrlich again bringing it back with a quote, this time from Coltrane. The Git Go has Ehrlich again playing serioso on the heels of Anderson’s droll ostentations, pulling a hook out of the air to nimbly shift the song from funk to swing. More southern than latin, Alligatory Rhumba could be a bar at happy hour, the conversational circle moving gradually further off-topic to the point that nobody remembers it…and then everybody takes a long break, leaving Wilson to mess with the crowd via a series of pregnant pauses and rimshot solos. The final track, Hear You Say floats a catchy funk hook over an almost reggae rhythm, almost being the operative word here: it’s tricky, the two horns playing hide and seek with it, all the way to a crashing, metalesque outro. At this point, the producer lets the applause ring out – they’ve earned it.

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