Addressing the same problem from different angles, jazz-groove pioneers Medeski Martin & Wood and funky young bucks Soulive aim to retool the traditional organ jazz combo for 21st-century audiences on their respective new albums, Uninvisible and Next, both from Blue Note. One is raucous, dank, and trashy, the other slick, smooth, and glossy. Two bands. Two organs. Two very different albums.
But MM&W and Soulive do share more than just a record label. Formed by conservatory-trained players, both have evolved from more traditional, bop-accented groups into connect-the-dots fusion bands who draw liberally from the world of digital beat science. They also share an audience — the convergence of rock, jazz, and beat science in the jam-band scene has led to an explosion of improv-friendly dance-happy fans who expect beats in their jam the way their forebears counted on acid in the Kool-Aid.
Blame the whole sloppy inter-genre copulation on MM&W. They’re the unofficial kings of this scene, and their early-’90s mix of free-jazz skronk, ethno-beat frippery, and sticky funk premeditated a scene that hinges on instrumental grooves. Yet if MM&W are the leaders of the new school, then Soulive stand at the head of the class. Since the trio formed, in ’99, their jacked-up take on greasy hard-bop boogaloo has garnered them a rabid East Coast fan base, opening dates for Dave Matthews Band, and some impressive sales figures for a band on a jazz label.
On Uninvisible, MM&W continue to reign over the sweaty improv-groove scene, despite an unusual career path whereby they occupy the scene’s popular pinnacle and its artistic fringe at the same time. Beginning with the sticky grooves, hummable melodies, and clever covers of their breakout disc — 1993’s It’s a Jungle in Here (Gramavision) — MM&W have pushed and pulled the organ-jazz concept into new and far-flung artistic crevices. The eventual endgame of that approach was 2000’s The Dropper (Blue Note), a disc of punk-dub thrash and dirt-caked stomp that was corrosive enough to peel paint from subway walls.
Stepping back from that chaotic precipice, Uninvisible, the trio’s eighth album, is more accessible and listenable. Picking back up on the blunted, trip-hop vibe of 1998’s Combustication, it finds MM&W absorbing a style of composition and improvisation that has more to do with DJ Shadow than with Donald Byrd. Whereas The Dropper found MM&W tearing apart at the seams, on Uninvisible they fold back onto themselves, layering simple vamps and atmospheric swells into a minimalist noir funk that’s a masterful display of restraint. Instead of complex chord changes and belabored melodies, MM&W milk the most out of simple vamps and haunting four-note melodies. "I Wanna Ride You" is a short flash of bluesy, New Orleans funk. Elsewhere, the trio explore a gothic minor-key vibe, with tasteful pomo soundplay added by Kid Koala’s buddy DJ P Love and illbient New Yorker DJ Olive.
There’s top-notch playing throughout: John Medeski squeezes both earthy grit and space-age splatter from his array of keyboards; bassist Chris Wood manages to be solid and rubbery at the same time; and drummer Billy Martin turns out inventive, loose-limbed rhythms on every track. But it’s the work of producer/engineer and unofficial fourth member Scotty Hard that makes Uninvisible a pinnacle of electro-jazz beat science. Slathering the proceedings with a layer of lo-fi fuzz, Hard creates a gritty, fly-by-night dub attitude. His manipulation of brassy horn blurts (courtesy of Afro-beat band Antibalas) and cavernous dub echoes turns "Nocturnal Transmission" into a King-Tubby-meets-Sun-Ra soundclash in the hereafter. Spooky, menacing, and somewhat ominous, Uninvisible feels like an unpleasant dream — it’s hard to shake, and you’ll be mulling it over in the morning.
At the other end of the spectrum, Soulive’s third album, Next, sounds as if it had been produced in a million-dollar hip-hop studio. The drums kick hard and full, the snare cracks with a gated snap, and the bass is impossibly deep. Initially a rough-edged, neo-trad organ trio, Soulive have evolved into a slick, four-piece (alto-saxophonist Sam Kininger is the new member) jazz-funk group with hip-hop aspirations. Out with the dapper matching suits; in with the urban street wear and goofy hats. Add in cameos by folks like Black Thought of the Roots, Talib Kweli, and R&B singer Amel Larrieux and Next feels like a calculated ploy for the Afro-boho nation. But whereas coffeehouse favorites like D’Angelo and Common boast personality and charisma to spare, Soulive front smooth-jazz saxophone licks and unremarkable James Brown knockoffs. Full of solid, if uninspired bebop solos and basic funk grooves dressed up in shiny Sean John gear, this album is definitely misnomered. They call it Next, but it sounds like acid-jazz redux to me.
