Matthew Shipp
New Orbit (Thirsty Ear)
For Matthew Shipp, a relentlessly aggressive pianist, nothing could be more avant-garde than orbiting his introspective side. A Monkish touch from the very beginning of his association with NYC indie Thirsty Ear in the early Nineties, his fractured modernism has more often evoked the brilliant abandon of Cecil Taylor. New Orbit, a superb follow-up to last year’s lissome Pastoral Composure, evinces a certain, intergalactic Sun Ra wanderlust, but the disc’s contemplative “Cosmic Consciousness” is weighted with just enough edgy angularity to keep the thoughtful from becoming complacent. Opening with its namesake, a solemn piano statement complemented by Wadada Leo Smith’s pensive trumpet, New Orbit repeats this theme three more times — four if you count the similar “Syntax,” the album’s longest cut. Woven between these evocative interludes, Shipp’s formidable quartet — Smith, longtime rhythmic foil and bassist William Parker, and drummer Gerald Cleaver — converse in jazz’s favorite tongue: oneness. Smith’s forlorn horn opening “Chi,” which gathers mass as the rest of the quartet orbits his masterful prowess; Parker’s briefly bowed “Orbit 3,” and his adroitly droning melodicism on “Paradox Y”; the sunburst of “U Feature.” Seems that the search for intelligent life in the galaxy is every bit the odyssey predicted by our own inner space: poetically abstract. When the final, haunting “Orbit” finds Shipp briefly solo once again, New Orbit has already docked in your imagination’s space station.
This article appears in June 15 • 2001.
