Julian Priester/Pepe Mtoto: Love, Love

It's always been curious that ECM managed to become renowned for a specific sound in a relatively short period of time, when anything more than a cursory investigation into the label's catalogue would confirm that this is s misconception. Terms like "cool, "crystalline, and "rarefied come up all the time, yet just look at the small catalogue released up to the time of trombonist Julian Priester's Love, Love—his first of two records for the label—and it becomes clear that such broad generalizations simply don't apply.

The creation of Love, Love, in fact, had no direct involvement from label owner/producer Manfred Eicher. Produced by Priester and synthesizer player Patrick Gleeson, it was recorded around the same time, in the same studio, and with some of the same musicians as the group that recorded pianist Herbie Hancock's '73 release Sextant. It demonstrates, yet again, that—contrary to popular belief—ECM has never been bound to a strictly European aesthetic. But once again, a simple look at the label's roster would quickly dispel that myth as well.

In the midst of pyrotechnic fusion groups like Mahavishnu Orchestra and Return to Forever, Love, Love—like Sextant—represented a different kind of fusion, relying more on texture, groove, and collective improvisation than complex arrangement and high-velocity soloing. And yet, while visceral grooves define most of the music, there's also an element of freedom—used more often as an introduction or segue between other segments—that clearly reflects the musicians' broad backgrounds. Drummer Eric Gravatt, for example, was an alumnus of Weather Report's early days, when the group was a more spontaneously improvisational outfit; likewise, bassist Ron McClure had a longer pedigree that included work with Charles Lloyd, Joe Henderson, and Wynton Kelly.

But despite the obvious links to Sextant, the two nearly twenty-minute pieces on Love, Love reflect an earthier aesthetic. Even during more open-ended passages like "Prologue, which leads into the hypnotically funky 15/8 rhythm of "Love, Love," there are structural signposts. Once the persistent groove is established, though, it's not so much about individual solos—although some, like ex-Return to Forever guitarist Bill Connor's do stand out—but a more collective approach where everyone solos and nobody solos.

Love, Love is less dense but it nevertheless shares more with Miles Davis' more uncompromising '70s electric work than it does with the increasingly user-friendly popular fusion that was admittedly moving considerably more units. Some of the sonics may date Love, Love, but its collective approach and spirited vitality retain a sense of freshness and excitement thirty years later.

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