Portico Quartet: Isla
Released: 19th October 2009
Label: Real World Records
Jazz is a much maligned genre, and often, not together unfairly. Staunchly unprogressive and esoteric, Jazz seemed to have folded in on itself, owing to, or maybe because of, its anorakish image. And Jazz wasn't something I gave two-hairy-hoots about until I heard a band called Polar Bear lead by drummer Seb Rochford.
Rochford, pretty much, single-handedly changed the face of UK Jazz. Polar Bear's seminal second album Held On The Tips Of Fingers changed everything: Their inclusive attitude and startling musicianship produced an overwhelming record - fast and grinding with spasming breakdowns, but still very much Jazz, it marked a c-shift in the genre.
And with the likes of F-IRE Collective, British Jazz is in the midst of somewhat of a renaissance and Portico Quartet are touted as one of the genre's rising stars.
The London four-piece look vaguely like a proper band - two of them have stubbly beards - and the promise shown on their first album, Knee Deep in The North Sea, was rewarded with a Mercury nomination, though some in the Jazz fraternity (a wily and inconspicuous breed) claimed it was a token nomination.
Their second Long Player Isla, shows a pronounced shift, while building coherently on the more successful elements of the first album. The awesome use of the hang is back, reappearing with deft and haunting precision seconds into the opening track, 'Paper, Scissors, Stone', which is a minor masterpiece of understatement and variation.
Waning brass trills strain out over bars and bars of incredibly precise, misty, sweet percussion. The hang's brilliant, almost imperceptible support provides the most haunting undertone to a wonderfully atmospheric song that shows influences from Ali Farka Toure to Boards Of Canada and Brian Eno.
'The Visitor' and 'Clipper' are considerably more "Jazz", but still bounce around with the kind of appealing World Music aesthetics PQ have made their hallmark.
Things occasionally stray into the sickly-sweet with instances like the weird tinkly wind chime sounds on 'Dawn Patrol'. I can't be alone in finding wind chimes nauseating in exactly the same way sun-damaged, organic-munching, divorcees don't.
Redemption lies in wait though, in the blissful shape of 'Life Mask', a languorous achievement of mellifluous refrain - (utterly wanky but completely apt sentence) John Leckie's effortlessly organic production helps to shape and dissipate strains of melody that tangle and interject while harmonising perfectly. A song that sounds like a dream your dream might have.
The title track 'Isla' and 'Shed Song' (Impov One), beautifully round off an album that anyone who really loves music will appreciate and enjoy, a lot.
4.5/5
Words: Oliver Jones
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