Recording of the Week, JD Allen - Barracoon

Released to mark the 400th anniversary of start of the slave trade, Barracoon is JD Allen’s thirteenth album (his eighth for Savant) and further proof that he is one of the sharpest contemporary saxophonists of his generation. In the booklet Allen suggests reading Zora Neale Hurston’s ‘Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo"’, written in 1927 and based upon interviews with Cudjo Lewis, then the last known surviving slave, and finally published last year after languishing in the archive for over ninety years. Although there isn’t a specific programme to follow, the commitment Allen brings to this set is unmistakable. Musically his touchstones seem to be Village Vanguard era Coltrane (as in the 1962 model) and Archie Shepp, both for the swaggering tone he gets out of his horn and sheer passion with which he plays. Right from his debut as leader, In Search Of…, Allen combined experimentation with obtuse yet catchy tunes, a recent highwater mark being 2011’s Victory, a remarkably concentrated record with the majority of tracks clocking under 3 minutes. Although he stretches out more on Barracoon, he maintains a similar sense of focus, although it can take a couple of listens to navigate through.

A key to success of the set lies in how Allen lets himself get whipped up by his younger rhythm section, bassist Ian Kenselaar and drummer Nic Cacioppo. Swapping between acoustic and electric bass as befits the mood of a piece, Kenselaar often plays the electric bass in a deliberately un-lovely manner, offering a suitably oppressive, implacable, flabby tone in a tune like G sus. Communion is a good place to start, having a NY street-tough vibe, Kenselaar’s sprightly upright bass strutting about, delivering runs that Charlie Haden would have been proud of. Cacioppo’s drumming is just on the right side of fussy, frequently hyper-active, surrounding Allen with multiple jump-off points. It’s not all bluster, though. The Immortal (H Lacks.) is named after the Henrietta Lacks, an African-American cancer patient whose biopsy sample was cultivated in 1951 to provide the first ‘immortalised cell line’ in modern medicine - immortalised because the cells keep on dividing, all of which was done without Lacks’s knowledge or permission. Here Allen contributes some genuinely tender playing, as if resisting the surge of the rhythm section. And When You Wish Upon A Star is an enjoyable deconstruction of the popular standard, Allen improvising around the theme with real wit, making for a pleasant wind-down from a compelling album.