1. Prelude to Isfahan
2. Isfahan
3. Divieto di Sosta
4. Seven Blues
5. Overjoyed
6. Farewell Capa
7. Confused
8. Go Tom!
9. Bohemia After Dark
10. Don't Forget
Tommaso Starace (alto and soprano saxophones)
Michele Di Toro (piano)
Attilio Zanchi (bass)
Tommy Bradascio (drums)
Rec. at newartrecording, March 2009
Saxophonist Tomasso Storace has decided to build some variety into
this hour long set recorded in March 2009. Therefore he opens with
an unaccompanied solo called Prelude to Isfahan which does
exactly what it says, acting as an entrée to the Strayhorn piece that
follows. One might expect his alto playing to sail close to Johnny
Hodges’s wind but actually it sounds daringly like Phil Woods. The
lyricism here is fluid, textured and tonally coloured. There are decent
solos from the other front liners.
The hand clapping of Divieto di Sosta augments the funky groove
predicated on the righteous aura of Cannonball Adderley, whose influence
has also, like that of Woods, seeped into Starace’s playing. I don’t
mind songs opening with drum solos – it actually makes something of
a change – but the one that opens Seven Blues is rather laden
with portentousness and, whilst Starace switches to soprano to add
some timbral variety, the tune isn’t especially distinctive melodically.
More interesting in this regard is Overjoyed, whose bouncing
lines – featuring a flurry of post-bop virtuosity from the altoist
– are ear-catching. Slow tempo articulacy is a feature of Farewell
Capa where the slightly keening edge provokes thoughts that this
tribute to the photographer Robert Capa is a personal memorial in
sound. Fine piano solo from Michele Di Toro as well.
Confused by contrast is hard bop and Go Tom! locks
into a Horace Silver heartland. Bohemia After Dark is the Oscar
Pettiford standard with once again a Phil Woods edge. And in Pat Metheny’s
Don’t Forget there are perhaps a few Keith Jarrettisms from
Di Toro.
So this is a good straight ahead session with enough variety of mood,
rhythm and soloing rotation to keep ennui, something of a feature
of some quartet sessions, firmly at bay.
Jonathan Woolf