An Incisive New Album and a Deep Brooklyn Show by Jazz Violinist Sara Caswell

As one of the elite violinists in jazz, Sara Caswell had no shortage of gigs until the 2020 lockdown. The good news is that she’s reemerged with a bracingly kinetic new album of her own, The Way to You, streaming at Spotify. Her next gig, on April 6 at 8 PM at the Owl, is an auspicious duo performance with similarly lyrical pianist Julian Shore.

Caswell opens the record with Nadje Noordhuis’ South Shore, a wistful, soaring violin melody over a tightly dancing rhythm, bassist Ike Sturm bubbling over drummer Jared Schonig’s flickers, guitarist Jesse Lewis supplying a lingering backdrop with his volume knob in tandem with vibraphonist Chris Dingman. The guitar/violin duel midway through is especially tasty, setting up a pointillistic Dingman solo and a resolute cirrus-sky solo from the bandleader on the way out.

Caswell redeems a cliched indie guitar riff that’s been recycled a million times in track two, Stillness,  choosing her spots to pierce the opacity with her silken trills and stark melodic phrasing. Sturm holds the center as a loopy, uneasy sonic pool develops, then Schonig leads the group back to clarity.

Caswell and Lewis reinvent Egberto Gismonti’s 7 Anéis with a stunningly successful acoustic Romany jazz flair, then she pulls the group further out with a triumphant, incisive solo. The album’s title track is a steady, guarded theme, Caswell’s floating lines over Lewis’ spare resonance. Schonig’s cymbal mist and then Lewis’ graceful variations on a sparkly downward riff. Caswell reaches to her most crystalline and then misty textures to wind it out.

The group remake Kenny Barron’s Voyage as a light-footed, bracing, syncopated swing tune, Lewis and Dingman sparring their way up to a smoldering guitar solo. Warren’s Way, built around Caswell’s stark, bittersweet lines is up next, Sturm and Lewis dipping to a muted pulse before Caswell bursts through the clouds.

She and Lewis build increasingly smoldering, altered blues over a loose-limbed stride in Last Call, the album’s edgiest number. Violin and vibes match precise riffage over a long drive to exit velocity in Spinning. Caswell switches to the Norwegian hardanger d’amore fiddle – with a woodier, viola-like tone – to reinvent Jobim’s O Que Tinha de Ser and close the album on an achingly searching note.