By João Esteves da Silva
Well into his sixties, Portuguese composer-bassist Carlos Bica has been on
a roll lately, releasing a string of albums that are likely to cement his
legacy as one of today’s foremost European creative musicians. Remarkably,
after leading the already legendary Azul trio for over two decades, Bica
was able to totally reinvent himself with two of his most adventurous
projects to date: the I Am the Escaped One (2019) trio and its no
less intriguing
Playing
with Beethoven (2023) quartet extension, both of which featured
strikingly original, unclassifiable music, notable for some largely
unheard-of timbral combinations. More recently, he has assembled a new all
Portuguese quartet, featuring three up-and-coming creative musicians about
thirty years younger – alto saxophonist José Soares, vibraphonist Eduardo
Cardinho and guitarist Gonçalo Neto. After the aforementioned couple of
albums, its debut, 11:11, may feel like going back to basics. And
yet it is another distinctive chapter in Bica’s trajectory: more than a
reinvention, a renewal, perhaps, and a most fruitful one.
Exquisitely crafted on all levels, you can tell this is a Bica album
straight away: a true artist, like few, he is able to leave his own
personal imprint on everything he puts out. Here, he has been able to
conjure up a world that is at once (profoundly) lyrical – somewhere in
between minimalism and romanticism, with something of a pop-like
sensibility as well – and (subtly) experimental, and, above all, where
every single note – actually, every single sound (and silence) – matters. A
world to which his young partners, while remaining fully themselves, seem
thoroughly attuned. (In fact, far from mere interpreters of Bica’s
directives, they actively contribute to shape it.)
Soares is both technically flawless – notice, for instance, his remarkable
tonal control, as he alternates between rougher and cleaner approaches
depending on what the occasion demands – and scrupulously tasteful, his
expositions being as compelling as his soloing. In contrast with his usually
more expansive playing, Cardinho here plays a primarily coloristic role,
with extraordinary restraint, decisively adding to the group’s unique
sound. And Bica seems to be have found a true soulmate in Neto: not only is
his kind of post-Frisell approach ideally suited to Bica’s soundworld,
namely to its more folkish strands, he really does seem to have a special
affinity for his broader compositional vision, even contributing with a
couple of tunes of his own, which sit nicely alongside the rest. (In
addition, there’s also a lovely piece by composer-pianist Carsten Daerr.)
As for Bica himself, he appears to be playing as well as ever, with his
typically glorious bass tone (truly one of the finest around, either when
plucking or bowing), as pensive as it is expressive.
Nobody here forces anything, and nobody ever hurries. Everyone listens
deeply and lets the music float effortlessly, displaying an altogether rare
patience and sensitivity. And although it does nonetheless have its
climaxes, such music doesn’t knock one out, but slowly takes one in, until
one is totally hooked and has no choice but to let oneself go and float
alongside it, too. All in all, deceptively simple tunes, haunting
atmospheres and nuanced interplay make up for a statement of timeless
beauty.