Daily Bullet

Deep no wave art damage from Austria is what this set amounts to. Max Nagl is a phenomenal saxophonist who has played with everyone from Peter Brötzmann to Franz Koglmann. In this setting, he teams with guitarist Burkhard Stangl (also from the Koglmann band), Wolfgang Reisinger on drums, pianist Josef Novotny, and vocalist and guitarist Jonathan Bepler for a woolly, nefarious ride through the dark side of free improvisational "songs." It's true, all the pieces here have lyrics written by poet Maria Maturana; it's too bad it's impossible to make some out above the din of the band ripping them to shreds with bloodcurdling screams, overdriven power chords, bleating saxes, and drums echoing in pound-a-phonic. OK, that's a slight exaggeration: It's not like that on every cut, just on some of them. If anything, on the power-drive numbers ("Endless," "Pantera"), Nagl's band sounds like lighter version of Naked City with Yamantaka Eye on vocals. Elsewhere (the nefariously slow and atmospheric "Running Time"), they sound like any other European art ensemble that has a singer and/or a poet fronting them. Sound collages are created organically by the various members of the ensemble, with Nagl — using his multiphonic approach to both the tenor and soprano — leading the way. There are also a few "beat" numbers where the band comps and improvises with a set rhythm to accompany Bepler's cooler than cool, slippery delivery, as on "Wham! Bam!" The set closes with "Nothing Is What It Seems," a cross between the formal, humorous orchestration and lyricism of Mike Westbrook in his more adventurous moments and the lighter side of Phil Minton, with flutes caressing a vocal that has no interest in caresses. Drums and broken shards of electric guitars create a trap door for the vocalist to emerge from unscathed, if so desired. Elements of Ennio Morricone and John Barry grace fragmented harmonic structures that echo Ornette Coleman and Albert Ayler in a mix as thoroughly eclectic as one of John Zorn's. This is a pretty satisfying date with a couple of rough patches that could have been edited but, nonetheless, it's as compelling (and confusing) as a "soundtrack" of postmodern jazz-rock.