Izumi Kimura & Gerry Hemingway: Kairos

In ancient Greek kairos means the right time for action. The word relates both to archery and weaving. It is an apt title for pianist Izumi Kimura and drummer/percussionist Gerry Hemingway's debut duo album, as in-the-moment intent, precision and intricacy course through their dialogues. No strangers to one another, they first played as duo in 2016, and then in a trio with Barry Guy on Illuminated Silence (Fundacja Sluchaj, 2019). Compositional credits are shared, though the structures are really frames that guide improvisational adventure.

The adventure lies not in flashy virtuosity, but in the duo's commitment to the road less travelled, one replete with surprise and devoid of cliché. Tension resides in the folds of a minimalist aesthetic sewn with patches of untethered expansion. Sparse conversations play out in single note exchanges on piano and vibraphone, in ringing sustain and in pregnant silences. Feathery textures drawn from string and skin, ivory and metal contrast with heavy pulses and rushing cascades that just as quickly recede. Time is slippery. Like word association, one probe provokes yet another with an internal logic that drives the music forwards.

The compositions vary in duration. "Circadian Twilight" sparkles gently for a mere sixty seconds. The scurrying "Chronostrata" clocks in at just over twice that length. Most of the others fall in the five to seven-minute range, while "Day into Night," a fascinating excursion in textural ambiance, lasts ten minutes. On the latter, Hemingway's humming against drumskin teases out a sound akin to feedback. But whether flirting briefly with an idea or fully embracing it, Kimura and Hemingway intuitively know when to stick or twist.

Even in the most percussive exchanges, as on the dynamic "Water Thief," Kimura and Hemingway keep a groove flickering. In such skillful hands, avant-garde percussive jazz/contemporary improvisation—or whatever label fits—can be simultaneously challenging and funky.

Kimura displays her considerable chops in fleeting passages. Technically brilliant, the Japanese-born, Ireland-based pianist's playing is also highly nuanced, conjuring lyricism of some finesse on the melodic "Cloud Echoes" and again on the traditional "Over the Tide." The latter, an intimate reading of a traditional gospel tune, features Hemingway on low-key vocals. An outlier performance though arresting all the same. This time around Hemingway's vocalizing into drumskin comes eerily close to conjuring a bluesy harmonica.

The photo that adorns the album cover features a perfect long plat of alternating black-and-blond hair. It is a fitting metaphor for Kimura and Hemingway's tightly woven interplay, and for the contrasts, symmetry and beauty in their music. An uncompromising, persuasive encounter from first to last.

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