The moment is ripe for vibes these days. In jazz, there may never have been more exciting new players of the vibraphone (or vibraharp). It’s the mallet instrument with the beautiful resonating sound, the chill but blues-rich instrument of Lionel Hampton and Milt Jackson.
For generations, it seemed like there would be one or, at most, two prominent vibes artists, but today there seem to be a half dozen players who are extending the tradition and advancing the art. Patricia Brennan is composing for and leading joy-infused ensembles that advance the instrument’s identity as percussion. Joel Ross moves from inside to outside the harmonic frames with ease, forging a sense that the instrument belongs everywhere. Warren Wolf is blisteringly soulful, and Joe Locke plays a ballad like no other. Percussionist Ches Smith uses the instrument beautifully—not to mention that Gary Burton, Steve Nelson, and Stefon Harris are all still vital and brilliant players.
As good as anyone else playing the vibes today is Simon Moullier. His new album, Ceiba, is the third by his quartet, featuring pianist Lex Korten, bassist Rick Rosato, and drummer Jongkuk Kim, along with guest percussionist Keita Ogawa on two tracks. Ceiba puts Moullier’s composing front and center: ten original tunes that celebrate melody, rhythm, and mood.
Simon Moullier, a Frenchman living in New York, has molded his band into a seamless unit. The achievement is that the group sounds both unique and classic, both lived-in and fresh. The compositions are not daring exercises in wild and shifting metric puzzles or harmonic obstacle courses. This music is fluid and familiar, but the sound and give-and-take within the group is exceptionally strong and original.
“Ancient Ones” is an exceptional song and performance. Simon Moullier’s sound on the vibraphone stands out from most of his peers. His instrument shimmers and quavers through the heavy use of the resonating motor, and he adds the slightest trace of his voice singing along (Keith Jarrett critics, fear not; it is very nearly subliminal). He plays the melody here in a chiming unison with Korten’s piano. The kinship between vibes and piano in this band is possibly the finest ever. Forests have been felled to describe how these toned percussion instruments have difficulty coexisting sonically.
Still, Korten voices his playing here so that the vibes and piano move from sounding like a single instrument to seeming like two hands of a single sculptor. When the rolling melody in three tumbles into a slightly jagged stop-time moment, Kim elevates the sonic blend, and Rosato lays a thin slice of funk on the bottom — helping piano and vibes to ring that much brighter up top. Simon Moullier’s ensuing solo is lyrical and free, with Korten blending into the rhythm section.
Moullier shines brightest on “Apollo”, where the unison between his vibes and the piano leads him into a compelling solo over the tune’s galloping 6/8 feeling. Without much flash, Moullier builds a solo that piles one hip rhythmic surprise on top of another. Still, each is small, subtle, just his way of phrasing. All of it climaxes with a brief moment in which he sails out beyond the chordal pattern for a second, only to land it a second later. Your breath will catch if you listen to it with care.
However, it is also true that Simon Moullier plays his instrument with gusto that moves into innovation. The mid-tempo romp “Iron Giant” is a modified blues form, and the leader responds with an earthy ramble that Milt Jackson could have almost played, but that also features a moment when he uses the instrument’s unique qualities to distort his sound at the solo’s climax.
If it is a slippery swing that you miss in contemporary jazz, then Moullier’s tribute to Bobby Hutcherson (“Mr. Hutcherson” is a deferential touch) flies. Rosato slips on his Ron Carter shoes, and Kim creates a rustling swing on his cymbals reminiscent of modern masters like Ralph Peterson and Jeff Watts. The composition puts a simple lick over the fast swing, but it also adds an interlude in half time as contrast, and then Korten takes off with a quicksilver solo.
Korten is a fluid player who has absorbed a wide range of the modern jazz piano vocabulary. In his “Hutcherson” solo, you can hear a bit of early Chick Corea, more than a little McCoy Tyner, and the lyricism (even at a hopping tempo) of Keith Jarrett and Brad Mehldau. Korten’s recent album as a leader showed him as a modernist and sonic architect, but in this quartet, he applies that approach to more mainstream jazz.
Korten sounds particularly atmospheric on the ballad “Lotus, Pt. 2”, where he crafts ideal lines and voicings to mesh with the leader’s sumptuous sound on vibes. Neither the piano nor the vibes really “solo” here; the whole band uses one descending portion of the tune to punctuate a collective improvisation where no one is in anyone else’s way. Kim is particularly impressive, building swells and rolls that draw everyone else into a deeper emotional place, but I can’t help but hear the echoes of Korten’s own solo project blending into Moullier’s vision here.
The pianist is asked to introduce the ballad “Voices of the Wind”, and he capably illuminates the subject, creating a wispy wash of harmony and using the piano’s pedals to blur sound poetically. The written melody is another ideal blend of vibes and piano, but the real highlight is a bass solo from Rosato that sits like a diamond in an ideal setting.
On two tracks, Moullier welcomes percussionist Keita Ogawa to a spectacular benefit. “Fuji” opens with one of those hip bass/left-hand-piano unison lines that will remind jazz fans of a great Cedar Walton composition. Rosato holds down the groove as Kim and Ogawa orchestrate the space, leading to a percussion duet. “Baiāo” is a flowing melody that benefits from Ogawa’s syncopated Afro-Cuban groove.
Ceiba is Simon Moullier’s sixth album as a leader, and it has every right to be his breakout release. Its elegant blend of tradition and vision is an enchantment.