Àbáse

Science informs us that while we’re still in the womb, we’re able to hear our parents’ voices; and after birth, as we develop consciousness and memory, we’ll be soothed by these familiar sounds. As humans trying to make sense of our time on this planet, we may wishfully imagine a similarly comforting course to the proverbial “next” phase of existence: one that requires no intellectual inquiry, only an intuitive awareness of our present condition tethered to our innate ability to listen.

Szabolcs Bognár has been listening. Recent years have found the producer/multi-instrumentalist behind Àbáse especially mindful of the life cycle in all its biological and spiritual definitions as his personal and musical paths have dovetailed in profound ways: the realization of Àbáse from a spark of imagination to actuality, his immersion in the Candomble faith, a move from Szabi’s native Hungary to Berlin, marriage, new parenthood, and the inevitable interrogation of mortality that takes place when a loved one has transitioned. 

The highs, lows and everything in between have pushed him towards a kind of creative rebirth. Where Àbáse’s previous album, Laroyê, was initiated by five months spent recording in Brazil in decidedly DIY-style, it was ultimately completed via hundreds of hours of painstaking post-production performed on Szabi’s laptop. Though pleased with the results, he was burnt out and needed a fresh approach. “I wanted to play, capture the moment, and do as little editing as possible,” he recalls. During the circuitous arc of the pandemic’s pauses and restarts he devotedly revisited a familiar touchstone in the classic Coltrane quartet’s ’60s recordings, drawing inspiration from their smoldering monastic intensity. His desire to embark on a more purely live, analog recording process, however, was cinched when he found not just an empathetic partner but a catalyst for his passion in accomplished engineer Erik Breuer, founder of Berlin’s freshly constructed Brewery Studios and a key figure within Analogue Foundation, the international coalition dedicated to the virtues of high quality sound experiences. 

Recorded in four days in Brewery’s homey live room with an ensemble of close collaborators, Awakening coalesces Àbáse’s varied musical influences and reference points (classic Lagos Afrobeat, traditional Hungarian folk, Yoruba rhythms, house and techno, hip-hop et al) with the exquisite modal improvisation spurred by Szabi’s introspection. Mostly composed of first and second takes with minimal overdubs, the level of intimacy achieved herein extends beyond the depth of overall vibes (though they’re well in abundance). It can also be felt on the margins of an Afro-infused offering to the unseen forces of destiny such as “Menidaso (My Hope)” - when a sweeping coda (and invocation in Twi from percussionist/vocalist Eric Owusu) recedes, leaving just the low hum of an amp. Or in sonic accents like the laughter of Szabi’s young daughter Flóra that accompanies “Shining” - an homage to J Dilla that borrows its title and sense of tricky rhythm from the late production genius’s oeuvre.

Most prevalent is the theme of the continuum, musically and conceptually. Recurrent phrases permeate a lovely reading of a traditional Hungarian folk song of longing, “Gyászba Borult Isten Csillagvára” (“God’s Star Castle Has Fallen To Grief”). Specifically, Ernő Hock’s double bass line over and around which Ziggy Zeitgeist’s drums (and spontaneous, guttural “aaahhs”), Ori Jacobson’s tenor, and Szabi’s piano joust with equal measures intensity and sensitivity. Its companion composition is “Home” - an original also inspired by traditional Hungarian music, but treated as a gorgeous waltz for jazz sextet that conjures the emotional gravitas inherent in contemplating one’s roots. 

Beauty and tension are in perfect balance on “Bloom (Flóra)” - christened after the aforementioned laughing interlocutor. Szabi’s piano establishes a repeating descending four-note melodic phrase set against sustained strings, creating an aural cocoon within which Ziggy and Eric’s percussion, Fanni Zahár’s flute, Ori’s tenor saxophone, and András Koroknay’s gurgling Mini Moog complement the main theme at varying intervals. Though Awakening features no title track per se, this one well captures the album’s spirit, with apt descriptors equally applicable to a life’s journey: wondrous, mysterious, melancholy, and over before you realize. 

Àbáse’s is of course neither the first recording (nor entity) of improvisational-based music to embrace the name Awakening (beloved antecedents from Ahmad Jamal to Black Jazz Records amongst those having set the precedent). Yet the title’s revival also feels apropos given the cyclical themes emphasized and explored, serving as an acknowledgment of the path undertaken by those that came before.

Cosmically speaking, Szabi and Àbáse come closest to channeling the energy of their influences on “Sun Is Away,” an improvised piece sprung from unlikely beginnings: a confounding, late hour session in which everyone was exhausted and ready to call it a night (with at least one member of the group in danger of dozing off behind the mic stand). “But for some reason we didn't,” Szabi remembers. “Then our double bass player, Ernő threw these words at me: ‘Sun Ra.’ It became our point of reference. I just laughed, and off we went.”

The piece commences as a brusque conversation between piano, bass and percussion that gradually invites participation from the rest of the group as it builds in momentum and intent over its nine minutes. As fate would have it after laying down the initial take, Szabi had the opportunity to play the track and explain its origin for Knoel Scott and Cecil Brooks of the Sun Ra Arkestra. Expressing enthusiasm, the elders lent their voices to the celestial chorus voicing the title refrain at the tune’s climax, completing the recording and providing Awakening with its centerpiece. “A truly full circle moment,” says Szabi, “The most pure and honest music on the album.” Also perhaps a sign - that as we proceed through this world listening for the way forward, that which awaits us may also be listening back. 

Listen to Abase - Awakening