No one can accuse violinist and composer
Jenny Scheinman of promulgating any kind of jazz cliché, or even of fitting in especially well with the rest of the Cryptogramophone label's crew of off-kilter jazz experimentalists. Her obsession is with songs and with lyrics -- neither of which appear on this paradoxically titled album. The 12 compositions here aren't actually songs, but are meant to feel like songs, by which
Scheinman means that they're intended to be clear, straightforward, singable, and emotionally direct. This they generally do achieve, but even when things get a bit opaque (as on the saucy and slightly goofy "Moe Hawk" and the meandering "Antenna") they're still emotionally compelling. On the album's finest moments, which include a tenderly beautiful composition titled "Sleeping in the Aquifer," which subtly evokes the old hymn "Abide with Me, 'Tis Eventide," a gorgeous violin-and-clarinets trio titled "Little Calypso," and the sweet and gentle "Albert," it really does feel as if
Scheinman is sitting down and talking to you, or singing quietly into your ear. On the brilliant "Song of the Open Road,"
Scheinman and cornetist
Ron Miles lock into a graceful waltz, while
Bill Frisell's guitar churns away below with controlled ferocity and bassist
Tim Luntzel thrums out an insistent pedal point. This kind of balance between directness, intensity, and complexity makes
12 Songs a more than usually impressive and compelling modern jazz album. Very highly recommended. ~ Rick Anderson