Touching Extremes review by Massimo Ricci


Tony Malaby’s playing calls your attention violently without sounding brutal. One just needs to leave material things going their way and dive down in the flow, especially when his soprano starts dictating the rules of an otherwise untranslatable jargon, where notes are not squandered around but are given as precious presents in a beatitude of furious consciousness and linear home runs. The rhythm section of Parker and Waits endorses the saxophonist’s vision with the ease that’s typical of trustful comrades, each one influenced by a different credo which, miraculously, reveals itself to be the same for the whole trio at last. The six tracks of “Tamarindo” fly away shortly, mixing a juvenile-like indifference to danger and the rapacious hunger of those jazz players who know, deep in the heart, that they’ll still need to learn something at the end of the path they’re following now. Music that invalidates the theory according to which inundating someone with ideas equals rendering the audience frustrated. In this case, it’s our body-and-soul totality that asks for more, be it Malaby’s whirlwind of prattle and invocation, Parker’s growling similarity to a severe father reproaching a son, Waits’ limb-stretching labour that refuses to negotiate with percussive cheapness. A sample of improvisational purity that must not pass unobserved, standing amidst the overall best Clean Feed releases – no questions asked.

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