One sometimes feels that the basic unit of measurement in Brötzmann’s music is the human breath specifically, what can be done in the time it takes him to breathe out. The performance begins with ‘Bushels and Bundles’ on the Hungarian tárogató.
If there’s an inspirational core to his music “it’s the blues that each person has inside”. This process of refinement (a word not generally associated with his music) has brought with it a sense that he is accessing some of our most basic and ineffable feelings. As Brötzmann has said: “I’m getting closer to my idea of how the horns should sound”. There remains a scorched-earth aspect to his music – and a tone like sandpaper – but there’s something more. To a certain extent one knows what to expect, but listen closely and the course of the narrative is never quite the same. Brötzmann’s music is not programmatic, but it’s clear that a drama is being played out that has not changed significantly in recent years – darkness against light. These tunes clearly mean something to him, though it’s pointless to speculate what, but as Lester Young said: every solo should tell a story. In the closing section of the otherwise frantic ‘Frames of Motion’ from Solo + Trio Roma, he seeks solace in the ballad ‘Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams’ (originally recorded by Bing Crosby) and on Solo At Dobialab (Dobialabel, 2012) – unfortunately, marred by audience noise – Brötzmann’s now trademark ‘Master of a Small House’ theme keeps returning, like an idée fixe.
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His solo recordings are full of allusions to the music he heard in his youth and the great jazz and bluesmen of the past.
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In his solo work, it seems that we’re getting Brötzmann at his most personal, free of any responsibility other to hone his music, dig deeper and explore his own history. This reflected a cultural temper – more emotional than aesthetic – particular to post-war Germany, as well as the internal dynamics of his trio with Han Bennink and Fred Van Hove, but he has long since moved on from this. There was a time when Brötzmann’s music quite consciously rejected tradition, as if starting from a clean slate, and favoured the anarchic.
The performance was given during the Festival for Improvised Music in October, 2013 at the Münster (Cathedral) of Bern: a generous acoustic in which the full colour and nuances of Brötzmann’s playing are revealed, as seldom before. This can be heard most starkly in his solo recordings, now a significant body of work ranging from Solo (FMP, 1976) through Nothing To Say: A Suite of Breathless Motion Dedicated to Oscar Wilde (FMP, 1996) and Petroglyphs (Long Arms Records, 2004) to Solo + Trio Roma (Les Disques Victo, 2012) to which there can now be added Münster Bern, possibly the most impressive yet. His limitations are his strengths: an expressive rawness free of any suggestion of slickness or flim flam.
Peter Brötzmann – who is quite candid about his technical shortcomings – is a good example. Great musicians are often less skillful than mediocre ones.
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