Words by Justin Turford
The German leftfield jazz outfit Web Web return with their sixth album in seven years and it’s a trippy, groove-heavy affair. As much Conny plank as Teo Macero, ‘Plexus Plexus’ is a late night channelling of early ‘Electric Period’ Miles Davis, Afro-krautrock rhythms and a whole cupboard of spooky European soundtrack influences allied with a contemporary production twist. I’m not really sure what the theme of this record is apart from the joy in creating it but the referential mashup of the more progressively minded (not prog) artists of the late 60s and 70s musical countercultures is clearly in play. The shared focus on modality, groove and expansive, non-linear songwriting that the jazz and rock worlds were exploring during that heady time period of revolutionary angst and societal upheaval is certainly the palette on which Roberto Di Gioia and his fellow members of the original lineup of the band are painting from.
Contrasting styles of Fender Rhodes playing sits alongside grimy Mellotron psyche keys and fuzzy garage guitar (courtesy of special guest and fellow Munich-dweller, JJ Whitefield) with a production style aligned more to the beefy, raw sound of a contemporary Malcom Catto production, for example, than to Teo Macero’s widescreen editing of Miles’ 1969 masterpiece, ‘In A Silent Way’ or the following year’s fusion foundation stone ‘Bitches Brew’, despite the recording and editing process of both records sharing striking similarities.
Carved out of two days of extended live recording sessions, the fourteen (relatively short) tracks on this album feel spontaneous, interconnected and nicely unpolished, the band keeping it tight and rhythmic, avoiding the urge to show off or overplay despite their obvious instrumental skills. Quite often, it’s all about their collective synergy, the cyclical energy of the groove demanding to be respected. Having said that, certain songs carry a more harmonic colouring and a more abstracted, less linear shaping (mainly due to how the Rhodes is played), spacing out the music so that the grooves don’t get lost into straight ahead loops.
Pummeling, motorik drums and Whitefield’s psyche guitar fuzz are the dominant characters on the psychedelic groover and album opener ‘Apotheosis’. Harnessing elements of (a funkier) Hawkwind, Turkish psyche and a credits-rolling-on-a-film soundtrack swagger, the tune sets the scene for what’s to come - drama, groove and a touch of wildness.
In stark contrast to the previous number, ‘The Madness Of Ajax’ sounds more like a Gil Scott-Heron / Brian Jackson instrumental outtake with Tony Lakatos letting rip on his flute over a sharp drum pattern from Peter Gall, and some seriously funky interlocking of guitar, bass and keys. It’s a shame it’s so short as I’d love to hear it roll on.
The beatless ‘Sacred Tree’ sounds genuinely sacred. One of the tracks that triggered my comparison to ‘In A Silent Way’, the piece is a beautiful meditation between tenor sax, Rhodes piano, organ, spacey guitar and the gentlest of bass tones. Lakatos’ saxophone performance is particularly moving but the whole song carries a sense of communal mystery.
Sounding like a recently discovered old 45, the Mellotron-heavy ‘Mysia’ is all echoing Ethio-Exotica with an angular, rawly recorded trap kit and a ton of atmosphere.
‘Sun Hero’ swings tough in a mid-60s way with cheeky organs, relentless ride cymbals and a touch of The Addams Family theme tune about it. Again, the recording is annoyingly brief but it definitely cooks!
Compost Records head honcho Michael Reinboth was sitting in at the recording sessions and randomly asked the band to play Moondog's ‘Bird's Lament’, which after a single listen to the original, they did, and it’s ace! Looser, less orchestrated and thankfully, stretched a little, the band have given the original’s tight majesty an island holiday, drenching it in rich tonal warmth and slowing it down to a different kind of lament. Excellent indeed.
Web Web 2020 by Florian Seidel
Imagine lying in a summer meadow, gazing at the sky or the pollinators working away on the flowers and ‘Royal Princess’ could be your inner soundtrack. Pastoral and unflinchingly lovely, there’s a timeless quality to this jazz-folk gorgeousness, the delicately played flute, guitar and keys in submission to each other.
Afro-jazz with a cinematic tension, ‘Morning Ritual’ is all Joe Zawinul style keys, tom tom rumble and Eastern-tinged saxophone. Not particularly original in sound but brilliantly done, so who’s complaining? Not me.
The brooding ‘Nyx’ has that end of night narcotic jam vibe about it. Loose, live drums, lots of flute and at its core, a trippy late 60s’ Mellotron groove that stinks of Nag Champa and naked dancers.
Feeling more like an interlude than a song, ‘Garden Of Hesperides’ sees Whitefield’s biting electric guitar teetering on early acid-prog before slipping into Miles droney spaciness.
‘Cheiron’ returns to that underground cinema soundtrack vibe with a tense Strata East edge to the pushy drums and tight bass line. Layers of discordant noises alongside tumbling Rhodes are joined by an insistent sax riff towards the end.
‘Sha-Sa-Vish-Nu-Ka-Di’ again has an initial resemblance to ‘In A Silent Way’ but with a circulating vocal chant that freeforms off-piste into a dirty funk drum groove and howling sax solo.
More fuzzy guitar meanderings from Whitefield, angled harmonic keys and great German drumming propel ‘The Argonauts Ensemble’. It’s an intriguing but unknowable thing to imagine at which point they began and ended these ‘songs’. Were they freestyling into each other over the long recording sessions or did they have some preordained compositions? Probably both to be fair, and also what’s with the Greek mythology alluded to in the track titles?
The closing track, ‘Infant At The Time’, is a live sounding composition that is both sadly romantic and ambiguous in feeling. A lovingly restrained heatstroke guitar is joined by some of the most lyrical flute playing on the record, delivering an endearingly melancholic ending to the album.
‘Plexus Plexus’ is a very cool album. Sculpted out of two long recording sessions, they’ve managed to pull out moments of inspiration and lucid synergy between these longtime friends and musical collaborators, and the addition of JJ Whitefield’s singular guitar wizardry brings a fresh edge to their classic electric jazz instrumentation. The past is certainly present in their aesthetic but it doesn’t feel derivative even when you feel like you’ve been here before - a tricky thing to pull off. I’ve really enjoyed immersing myself into this moment of Web Web’s journey. 9/10.