Jeff Parker- The New Breed

The New Breed
Jeff Parker
International Anthem Recording Co. 2016

Listen on Spotify

After listening to Jeff Parker’s solo LP, The New Breed, there seems to be an immediate conflict. The sound of this record (we’ll try to figure out what exactly it is in a moment) seems either strangely forward thinking or at minimum comfortably present. On the other hand, the photo that graces the album’s cover couldn’t be more dated, fading and frayed down the middle. Digging deeper, this strange duopoly means a whole lot more than meets the eye. On one hand you have Parker, a guitar aficionado, and melting pot of musical influences that flat-out rejects easy classification. On the other, you have what turns out to be a photo of Parker’s father from years ago, standing outside his clothing store named, you guessed it, The New Breed. As it turns out, we’re shown something very important when it comes to understanding Parker the musician. His album is exactly what this juxtaposition says it is- a display of new and old, his roots and his future, and a combination of pieces that don’t sound like they’d fit but somehow coalesce into the jazz-guitar record you never knew you’d love.

Obviously, these varied parts didn’t just show up on an album released during the third decade of Parker’s professional career. Having played in a myriad of groups and bands over the years, most notably Tortoise, Isotope 217, and the Chicago Underground Duo, he would be nothing without the collaborations and connections he’s established, and each one offers something unique to Parker’s personal style, as evidence by this particularly diverse project. In fairness, they would be nothing without him, either. Parker can stake claim as one of the most important figures in the blossoming Chicago jazz and avant-garde movement of the late 90s, cemented by the enormous step forward on Parker’s first Tortoise record, the stellar TNT released in 1998. Parker helped usher in sweeping jazz themes and daring experimentation that followed the band for the rest of their career. To dwell in past achievements would be an unforgiveable mistake, however, and The New Breed shines a light on the brilliance of Parker’s creativity when given the reigns to a solo album.

To begin, let’s start with what this record is not. It isn’t the brass-centric, briskly-paced traditional jazz that your (and his) parents listened to. Nor is it simply a twenty-first century Tortoise record, eschewing the trademark electronic-twinged post-rock for something far, far, more mellow. His obsession with percussion remains; the overbearing drum kits come second in prominence only to Parker’s perfectly-tuned guitar. Overall, it’s completely unassuming, but certainly far from daring. Somehow, he manages to turn the tempo down and his pedals and effects up, all while maintaining his reputation for groovy jamming in a slightly more confined space. In other words, a crawling bassline, scattered snare drums, and an electric guitar at the forefront. Just what you expected to carry the torch for modern jazz-fusion, right? Thankfully, Parker himself can summarize much more simply. “I’m mainly a guitar player. I like to make music in many different ways. I think music opens doors.” Yeah, what he said.

The opener, “Executive Life”, brings those words to fruition and shows that he means business, handing the keys to Josh Johnson (Esperanza Spalding, Herbie Hancock) by way of cloudy saxophone timbres. As the song progresses behind moody keys, Parker’s guitar reverberates in the background, making way for improvisation. This technique- pairing jazz instruments with delay effects and allowing the percussion section to keep things organized- bears semblance to experimental icon Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew, a revolutionary output from 1970. Later on, “Here Comes Ezra,” and “Visions” prove to be far more delicate (spare one saxophone outburst on the former), an ethereal texture meandering for the better part of seven minutes before seguing into the album’s highlight.

“Jrifted,” finds Parker in his truest, best jam session. An Aretha Franklin sample interrupts throughout, and shimmering cymbals shutter behind delightfully contained improvisation. Bassist Paul Bryan soon emerges from the subtleties of the background, creating precious moments intertwining with Johnson brass. The haze of the record has never seemed foggier, providing the perfect entrance for Parker’s newfound Los Angeles R&B vibes. His ambient guitar wobbles and settles into a welcomed soundscape of subdued bliss; a feeling that continues onto the fuzzy, synth-laden track that follows.

Avoiding predictability, Parker throws two curveballs to finish the record. First comes the album’s quickest hitter, “Get Dressed,” which reintroduces the R&B influences, only this time in tandem with a frenetic rhythm section. Head-nodding and foot-tapping soon give way to the warmth and smoothness of the only voice that appears throughout: Parker’s daughter, Ruby. “He told me the end was coming/ I responded that’s a cliché,” she coos twice, each utterance sandwiched between the most organized jazz the album has to offer. She was right, and before long, the beat stops, Parker takes his foot off the pedal, and the coolness of the last thirty-some-odd minutes is left to ruminate.

In the end, it isn’t the presence of a saxophone or a particular guitar tuning that preserves the “jazz” element in whatever hyphenated term is used to describe Jeff Parker’s playing style, and more specifically, the album. It defies classification and combines the most seemingly incongruent pieces, whether they be instruments or musicians from throughout his career solicited to play on the record. It’s the sense of collaboration, of improbable confluence that lies at the core of what makes jazz so rewarding. It’s what makes people happy, and most importantly, encapsulates what makes this record sound unmistakably pure.