This is the first of three recordings by David Haney (b.1955, Fresno, CA) from two planned recording sessions. Of the three sessions, this was the one not part of the original plan. The planned sessions involved two bassists (Mike Bisio and Adam Lane) and were scheduled for the next week. This is the fourth project in which I’ve been involved with David Haney. All of them also involved Julian Priester (b.1935, Chicago, IL). The first (Cadence Jazz Records 1136) presented music from 2000, the second (Cadence Jazz Records 1179) presented the Haney-Priester duo from a 2004 concert in Europe. And in 2005, CIMP recorded David and Julian in trio with bassist Adam Lane (CIMP 338). The Haney-Priester combination works magic as the critical reaction (or, more importantly, your ears) will confirm. There’s a 20 year gap in their ages and I think it would be accurate to suggest that this partnership confirms both the mental youth and inventiveness of Julian and the maturity and inventiveness of David. As I was saying, this was an unplanned date but circumstances conspired, the opportunity arose, we accepted, and these are the results. As with their previous CIMP session (August 12, 2005) they arrived a day before the recording, in the middle of a brutal heat wave that had engulfed the entire contiguous 48 states. Unlike their 2004 duo recording (which was made up of a series of Free improvs), David’s stated strategy for this session was to work on original concepts which fit together as a whole. We arrived at Gilbert Hall at about 9:30 a.m.: piano tuned, the atmosphere stiflingly still, and a muggy 85°F—Julian’s preferred temperature and prime conditions to complement David’s profuse sweating. Julian, as is his custom, sat at the piano adjusting his trombone to the resonance off the piano strings, reflected sounds so slight as to be almost inaudible. By 10 a.m., after a brief sound check, David opened with Theme for Ota and soon the two were enveloped in the music, a study in contrasts; David: seemingly writhing in pain, gesticulating spastically over the piano (the occasional squeaking from the straining piano bench and/or slapping of David’s bare feet can be heard) and Julian: stark, still, almost motionless except for a slight nodding and right hand slide. For the second piece (Variation on a Theme for Ota), David conferred with and gave Julian “a sense of the flavor” of the piece and a strategy for an opening cadenza from the trombonist. Following this, again they conferred, evaluating judgments on space and juxtapositions and then how it would be related to Variation on a Variation, a piece that combined elements of both Theme for Ota and its Variation but with more clearly established boundaries or spaces for the individual instruments. And then, zephyr-like, it was gone. “Where do you want to go from here?” Julian asked. A few more moments of strategy and Julian set up Batwa Spirit. It is obvious that the years of working together have established a discipline and template for these two, built on a mutual trust and appreciation that allows them to quickly fall into a methodology that easily allows for inventiveness and exploration. The surgical-like tension is wonderful and creates a nice set-up for the releases. After a brief break David worked out some motifs and Glasberg was born, evoking some call & response trades and position jockeying. It is a confrontation that, if successful (which, clearly I think it is), the winner is you, the listener. For Howard Asylum, the strategy was quick and simple: “You [Julian] bring things in and I’ll [David] be right there.” Instructions as vague as I found the direction of the first half of the piece to be, but whose resolve gives meaning to the whole. The second set (so to speak) came after an extended and relaxed break and I think reflects renewed energies as the duo opened with Like Dersu Uzala. Having spent decades experiencing improvised music, I have found it not uncommon that renewed energies can be a quick hit but do not always sustain themselves, often necessitating another break after a reasonably short time. It was not the case for Like Dersu Uzala which reflected a greater dynamic intensity and volume, albeit more focused on one individual. Following this (and noticeably out of breath) David announced, “Oh, this is a ballad,” adding after a pause, “thank god.” Fire Speaks and recedes was the result—a ballad indeed, with Gershwinesque coloring. At this point David said, “This is the space section of the program,” further adding it was “non-referential music… though I guess that’s not really possible.” And Sense Her followed, music that saw David somewhat preparing the piano and playing inside on the strings with mallets creating music near still as the air. And then another break. When we regrouped for what I felt would be the finish, I asked, “So what’s the plan?” then realized I had now confused the matter. Even so, Sea of Glass followed, which included an a cappella section from Julian which had David playing air piano in accompaniment on this very satisfying journey. After Sea of Glass, David asked Julian if he knew if they had already played something and gave a keyboard illustration, to which Julian said, “Sounds familiar. Let’s go for what we don’t know,” and Shuffle was born. I felt at this point the musicians were definitely reaching and succeeding. But my instincts felt we should break and for the last time recharge. During the break we traded war stories and then worked out a strategy for finishing off the concert. David would suggest, Julian would modify, David would illustrate, and a consensus was arrived at. Even the engineer made an observation about dynamics. The first result of the consensus (but by no means music by committee) was Uttarakuru, another fine contrast of David’s percussive technique with Julian’s unwaveringly beautiful tone. Earlier I had characterized him as the Johnny Hodges of the trombone; ironically Julian actually comes close to a tailgate note on this piece. The final piece, The End of Ota is—surprise, surprise—a Blues, and again I hear a bit of a Gershwinesque echo. A final example of how important it is not just to play the right notes but how to play the space and give the notes meaning. Bravo. Robert D. Rusch - July 21, 2006 David Haney can also be heard on CIMPs 338, 354. Julian Priester can also be heard on CIMP 338.