The recent release of Percolation, a solo album by the Norwegian pianist and composer Christian Wallumrød, was another reminder from this highly imaginative and highly idiosyncratic artist that musical eccentricity – when it’s not some whimsical or contrived mannerism – can be wonderfully refreshing. In Wallumrød’s case, what I mean by eccentricity is an innate disregard for fashion, style, genre or convention; his music, while so distinctive as to be immediately recognisable to admirers, is probably impossible to categorise. Therein lies part of its appeal and value; it has a rare capacity to surprise. It is as far from formulaic as one could wish for, which is perhaps why Wallumrød is not as well known as he deserves to be.
I’ve been following his progress ever since I bought the 2003 album Sofienberg Variations; I hadn’t knowingly heard anything by him at that point, but the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble on that disc included Trygve Seim, Arve Henriksen and Nils Okland (along with drummer Per Oddvar Johansen), three musicians I already greatly admired. The album surprised me for a number of reasons. Despite the line-up, the music couldn’t really be described simply as jazz (even of the European chamber variety generally favoured by the ECM label), folk (notwithstanding Okland’s presence) or even classical. It was frequently hard to tell what was composed and what was improvised. The musical colours and textures were often fresh and unfamiliar, as was the strange mood, a mostly slow-paced mix of mournful melancholy, delicate lyricism and, just occasionally, quiet playfulness. Some of the music felt faintly minimalist and melodically repetitive, yet close listening revealed constant shifts and changes of the subtlest kind. It was modest, unassertive and deceptively simple – quite a few of the pieces are best described as miniatures – but it was utterly entrancing.
Though the personnel in the leader’s ensemble changed, as did the prevailing moods and tempi, on subsequent releases – A Year from Easter, Fabula Suite Lugano, The Zoo Is Far and Outstairs on ECM, followed by Kurzam and Fulger and Many on Hubro – the music has always remained as distinctively Wallumrød’s as it is on the arguably more experimental solo releases Pianokammer, Speaksome (both on Hubro) and Percolation (released by Sofa). That consistency is also true of Untitled Arpeggios and Pulses (Hubro), a long multi-part suite in which the composer is joined by the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra, whereas his work as part of the quartet Dans Les Arbres is more about collective improvisation in a more experimental and abstract vein. I have yet to hear any of his work in electronics with his drummer brother Fredrik as part of the duo Brutter, but all this serves to suggest his unusually broad taste in music. If you listen to Wallumrød’s music – especially the Ensemble releases – you may find yourself reminded, at one point or another, of Gregorian chant, baroque music (Purcell and Scarlatti have served as explicit reference points), modernists or avant-garde composers like Messiaen, Feldman, Ligeti, Reich or Eno, new music, church music, funereal music, Middle-Eastern or African music, dance music, folk, jazz, even country-rock. But it almost never sounds like just one or even two of those kinds of music, because it’s always filtered through the composer’s eccentrically eclectic – no, let’s just say original and highly personal – take on things.
Though it’s a solo release, on which Wallumrød plays piano, harmonium, autoharp, synthesiser and drum machine, the range on Percolation remains impressive. Marrowing and Noble fir may sound like an amateur pianist faltering over fairly simple melodic fragments, till you realise the pauses or ‘mistakes’ are entirely intentional. Cigarettes after gitar begins in a hesitant, meditative mood as if Wallumrød’s searching for a satisfactory start to a song that will never quite emerge into the light. You didn’t layers different instruments and slow pulses till it builds steadily into a march. Higher than your gluteus kicks off with thumping synth beats that are then overlaid (in a different tempo) with a gospel-cum-barrelhouse piano jam that includes characteristically disconcerting rhythmic disruptions. Deer Naylla is a relaxed, gently rocking soft-shoe shuffle, its dense chords drifting amiably with no evident sense of direction, while The sing returns to the stumbling simplicity, folksy echoes and easy-going intimacy of the opening tracks. It’s a small, unpretentious album, less compelling, perhaps, than his finest Ensemble releases, but as fresh, odd but accessible, pleasingly surprising and true to Wallumrød’s sheer love of music as ever.
If your interest is piqued by the music in any of the links above, you might also check out Wallumrød’s first album for ECM, an often lovely, sometimes haunting trio outing with Henriksen and percussionist Hans-Kristian Sørensen entitled No Birch. If you really do feel the need for something jazzier, check out Airamero, a 1994 quartet album with Seim, Johansen and, on bass, Johannes Eick; you can sample it on Spotify. For live performances of the Ensemble, try one of the several videos available on YouTube. (This one features a nice account of the tune Jumpa, which can also be heard here after a performance of another favourite, Bunadsbangla, which starts at around 5’30” if you don’t like the more experimental opening number.)
Percolation is released by Sofa and is available through Bandcamp. Most of Wallumrød’s previous albums were released by ECM and Hubro. Photographs of Christian Wallumrød and the Ensemble by Christopher Tribble, courtesy ECM.
notes and observations by Geoff Andrew 