Recording of the Week, Emile Parisien, 'Louise'

Emile Parisien is one of the bright lights of the vibrant French jazz scene, and his often mellifluous approach to soprano saxophone seems to be as influenced by the sound of old masters like Sidney Bechet as later modernists like Coltrane or Lacy. Parisien’s soprano was one of the highlights of Michael Wollny’s XXXX, which we greatly enjoyed in 2021, and was one of the Presto Recordings of the Year. Throughout his 10 years on the ACT label Parisien has kept us guessing with each new release, whilst consistently delivering thoroughly enjoyable records that reward multiple listens.

On Louise Parisien gathers together an outstanding international sextet, made up of Theo Croker (trumpet), Joe Martin (bass), and Nasheet Waits (drums) from the United States, Parisien and Manu Codjia (guitar) from France, and Roberto Negro (piano) who is of Italian heritage, grew up in Kinshasa, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and now lives in France. The synergy on display in the sextet is remarkable, often powered by the ever-changing rhythmic impulses of Waits’s kit work, which can leap from frenetic to fiercely swinging at the drop of a hat.

The moody opening title track is named after the sculptor Louise Bourgeois (she of the giant spiders), and is an elegant entry point into Parisien’s soundworld. As his soprano slowly circles around and around, toying with the mournful tune, Negro adds subtle dashes of piano colour to create a compelling impressionistic atmosphere. When the rhythm section finally enter they add a welcome sense of restrained swing to the proceedings, and Codija and Croker get space to inject moments of drama, as the track builds to a modest crescendo. Things liven up somewhat as they cruise into a version of Joe Zawinul’s ‘Madagascar’, which allows Parisien pay homage to the playing of Wayne Shorter on his long solo. Croker’s trumpet is a good match for Parisien, and his solo impresses.

The three-part Memento suite forms the centrepiece of the album, which paints a film noir-ish vibe, not a million miles away from some of the cuts on John Zorn’s film music collections of the 90s. Part 1 is a vehicle for Codija, delivering a guitar solo that builds and builds before things calm down for part 2, which opens with a somewhat obsessive Negro piano solo. It’s not long before things get mischievous though, with a surrealistic section for drums and what sounds like electronically processed instruments before things turn almost funky in part 3, all hinged around a a killer bassline from Martin.