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CD
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ROKU 038CD
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Sophie Agnel plays the whole piano. Its body matters as much as its strings. The keyboard's lid is just as good closed as it is open -- in fact it's best slammed open and closed rapidly. Joined by bassist John Edwards and drummer Steve Noble, Three on a Match explodes the piano trio -- each player sparking off the other so quickly that it's impossible to figure out who lit the flame. Recorded at OTO in 2023, this was the second two-night residency for a trio that has fast become one of the label's favorite improvising groups. Each individually brilliant, Agnel, Edwards and Noble's enduring connection is in their seriously playful approach to their instrument -- in their way of looking at it as a whole and then tearing it apart, breaking it down into its raw materials -- wood, brass, steel. Born in Paris in the '60s, Agnel is classically trained and had a turn in modern jazz. What frustrated her was the strange disconnect between the frame of the piano and its keyboard -- a weird boundary that seemed to form some hushed code of etiquette. If you see Agnel play now, the body of her piano is littered with fish tins, ping pong balls, wooden blocks -- not that you'd recognize their sounds. Steve Noble surrounds his drum kit with whistles, tubes and towels alongside gleaming brass cymbals and gongs. Their stage is a heady mix of high and low -- the grand piano and the gong alongside rubber balls and tiny bells; players half stood up, reaching in, bending toward -- relentlessly working their instrument to unburden its sound from genre. Free improvisation is always a leap of faith, a test of commitment, and these three players are completely unafraid. The music switches deftly from super taut string manipulation to extremely loud percussive collisions. The trio can play microscopic mutations on a bass note and then scale up on the turn of a pin to plunge into huge, black chords and ricocheting sonority -- dissolving the boundary between body and sound. The crescendo of Part Two is shaped by such cumulative repetition that it feels like a confrontation -- a controlled test for breaking point. It's a totally exhilarating, skittering reprise -- short and energetic -- delivered with the kind of grounded abandon you hope to see improvisers play with but rarely do.
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