Live at LunÀtico

4-STARS Arthur Kell seems to have played with everyone without (yet) making a wider splash. He's probably too generous an artist for stardom, and in this terrific group, he leaves much of the spotlight to the two guitarists and drummer. But when you listen to the nicely dotted 0rhythm of "The Djado," or the resonant intro and sustained lead line to "Lullaby/Omni," it becomes obvious that he's always the foundation stone of the music.

This is modern jazz that seems to have been touched, consciously or not, as much by the post-rock of groups like Tortoise as by anything derived from bop.
"Dark Green No 15" is an exception to that. You can imagine that softly rocking line on a '60s Blue Note date, but with horns rather than guitars returning the call to the bass. "Polyamorphous" might be one of those things that Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff recorded but, uh, forgot to put out because it didn't seem likely to deliver another "Sidewinder."

Shepik and Radley don't need to be held apart in the mix. It's the interweaving of lines — sometimes with the same spiralling effect you used to get from the Bhundu Boys — that makes their chemistry function. Mednard is disciplined but loose, which takes discipline. Kell plays neither inside nor outside. Like his old friend and associate, Tom Chapin, he keeps ears and mind open for new sounds and experiences.

It's music that seems to take pleasure in itself; not at all the same as performers admiring their own work. The crowd at LunÀtico are a bit noisy, but I'd have been, too.