Laughter and strings, pretty pizzicato patterns are put through their paces by racing footwork rhythms. Made to shuffle to shack-shaking subs. The sum of the parts more like a future chamber music than jazz, well, at least until the horns hit. The lyrical cosmos of the attendant beat poetry – pondering a lonely universe – pirouetting on piccolo trumpet patterns. Sailing off into space on Sci-Fi bleeps and choppy silicon sequences.
Abstract electro-acoustic arrangements, scurrying serial symphonies, give way to a serene swing. Moments reminiscent of Jerry Goldsmith’s Planet Of The Apes score, or the incidental music on Chuck Jones` mid-60s Tom & Jerry cartoons, coalescing into fluid modal moods. To these ears at least recalling no-one, save Basquiat, Clifford, Gallo, Hollman, and Taylor`s seminal, 80s NYC outfit, Gray.
A violin solos and a romantic cello aches. There are vibraphone breakdowns, contrabass runs, and a piano hammers out one-note sambas. The fluttering flute in full flight, while the axe, electric, flits between trebly Twilight Zone picking, flamenco sketches, and overdriven, distorted walls of noise.
This is the sound of Rob Mazurek`s 11-piece Exploding Star Orchestra all turning tightly together – this ain`t no showboating improvisation but a manifestation of multi-media philosophical unity – in one big band folk dance.