A record like this was inevitable. COVID-19 shut down our lives, outlets, schools, businesses, real conversations, music, art…things we took for granted in a free world.

Chicago-based saxophone composer Shawn Maxwell did what many creative artists did to cope.
He created, reflecting an inner and outer world in turmoil, reaching for happiness and hope regardless, holding onto the moments that distracted, focused, and despaired from the consequences of this one life on this one lonely planet — buffeted relentlessly with the byproduct of technology, ego, and creature comforts.
Maxwell and his gifted contemporaries touch on death’s vast, unpredictable scepter, social and economic injustice (George Floyd and BLM), climate change, political warfare, and immense pain in 17 disjointed, beautiful, and wondrous original tracks under the instrumental jazz umbrella of Expectation & Experience.

The upcoming May 21, 2021 album, Maxwell’s 10th, brushes virtuoso, versatility, and stylistic diversity with a depth of feeling — restlessness buttressing bursts of defiant, eloquent strains of full-blown, vibrant music almost literally dying to get out.

“This album consists of 17 original tracks that I composed in reaction to all that happened in 2020,” he explains. The tracks are short and impressionistic, one to four minutes in length, dribs and drabs, translating the energies and emotions of the instantaneous into a staccato rhythm that yearns to become more — and in certain places — does, with broiling momentum, clarity, and defiance.

The album features Maxwell on alto/soprano sax and clarinet, with 29 of his fellow musicians, all in charge of lifting spirits, reflecting the times, and getting as close to the listener as possible — forbidden, and thus, precious, now — the musical equivalent of touch.
The musicians included trumpeter Chad McCullough, vocalists Keri Johnsrud and John Stafford II, pianist Brenda Earle Stokes, drummer Ernie Adams, and bassist Stacy McMichael. Everyone recorded remotely from their homes.

They conjure the disjointed, the beautiful, and the wondrous through atmospheric tension, spherical movements, odd time signatures, and tone manipulation to answer the question: What would living in a global pandemic sound like?
Sometimes, glorious. Sometimes, scary. Inescapably infuriating. Suddenly sublime.

Sometimes, all of the above.

The ping-ponging schism between extremes is always at play here, whether tip-toeing through minefields, riffing off an insistent, anticipatory beat, or launching spectacles off miniscule crumbs.

“Expectation’s” intro sees Maxwell at his best, performing a sinewy, sensual solo — one found in every jazz ballad, wanting to sink into Gershwin’s “Someone to Watch Over Me,” yet never getting there.

“J.C. Jones” follows in lockstep — a natural evolution from standard to snazzy. The tune dedicated to “a great man and a good friend, James Calvin Jones, who passed away just before the pandemic took hold,” begins to veer slightly off-track, obsessed with a strengthening horn inquiry, and buoyed by violinist Marielle de Rocca Serra’s razor-thin classical/free jazz margins. Laughter and flow, Jones’.

Tim Seisser’s funk bassline swallows and subdues — in big, velvety gulps — the jumpy undercurrent of keyboardist Collin Clauson’s twinkly Mercury retrograde. Maxwell’s sax carves out a melody reminiscent of the pleasant, barbed-wire Muzak piped in elevators and supermarkets in the “Mad Men” era of plenty.

Such is “Empty Shelf,” a 3:46 lesson in false satisfaction, having the rug pulled out from under you from every direction, something we experienced in droves.

Maxwell also takes on the rhythmic narrative of an innocent “trip to the store…,” high-stepping along “in protective gear, dodging other human beings,” as Clauson’s ridiculously upbeat retrospective returns in a hyper state, an ominous turnaround, softly driving home the punchline — humming busily, “…only to stare at an empty shelf.”

The thoughtfully rendered ¾ ballad with 4/4 sections, “Quiet House” — for another friend, Evon House Thompson — is as lush and complete a musical tune as “The Great Divide” — about the ever-failing two-party system of political buffoons — is not.

“Quiet House” offers respite from the storm, a back-and-forth dance between wavy seas and a bed of daffodils to fall back on, and interstitial differences, a heart skipping a beat, love at first sight, a sea change that keeps us knock-knocking on heaven’s door. Guitarist Zvonimir Tot and Maxwell respond well together, setting the beatific scene for a nice compliment and tribute.

“The Great Divide,” however, is not as complimentary/complementary, and that’s intentional. Maxwell has tenor saxophonist Alex Beltran on the case, as the timing seems constantly off from one sax to another, neither really listening to the other, both in filibuster mode, leaving discord, noise. Politics as usual, while people die.

“Alternative Facts,” jittering along in 5/8 and 6/8, predictably follows the same discordant, jumbled time juxtaposition with weird-sounding instruments, harmonica (Howard Levy) straining and screeching for nothing. Credit bassist Steven Hashimoto and drummer Greg Essig for holding that unsettling, but dominating line.

Maxwell and his band go from harmony to discord, depending on the subject matter, but never lose the technical control.
Even in “The Great Divide,” “Alternative Facts,” and “Feeling Remote,” about the “anxiety and disconnectedness felt by teachers and students” in virtual learning…the off-beat staccato feel of the pieces are always enhanced with musicianship; nothing’s ever played wrong.

It’s the equivalent of a great opera singer trying to sing badly for effect. Jean Stapleton’s Edith Bunker in the “All In The Family” TV intro comes to mind.

“Breathe” takes a look at George Floyd’s death by going slow, poetic, poignant, pairing piano (Brenda Earle Stokes) with soft sax…choosing to focus on the sorrow of a tragic, senseless loss, on the gentleness of Floyd (by all accounts), rather than the brute force of another cop’s thin blue line.

“Every Day Is Monday” presents the mind-numbing effects of “Ground Hog Day” type repetition, when “customary markers of time are absent. The concept of days and weeks becomes obscured,” and only an ominous sense of foreboding (on Maxwell’s time-marking sax) is left. Mark Nelson (keys, programming) does a bang-up job of interweaving and layering compelling fills into a patchwork-quilt soundtrack. 1:42 plays like an entire inner-dystopian soundtrack.

“No Peace Without Justice” demands human voices. Keri Johnsrud and John Stafford II provide those voices, in bass time and light melody. Guitarist Craig Elliot serves as a musical drone, gazing admiringly upon crowds of protesters of all colors banding together all across the globe for BLM, and change.

“The Show Can’t Go On” cuts off music mid-stream, one by one, a frustrating, destructive Domino turn of musical events, and reality for countless working musicians counting on the next gig, often planned months, years in advance. Interruption in real time.

Maxwell next plays a 1:20 solo on the “Empty Stage,” infused with emotion, mostly loneliness, regret, helplessness, and yet, renewed appreciation for what was. You can picture countless musicians alone, doing the same, playing to an empty room or computer screen with pixelated faces — the ultimate echo chamber.

The second-to-the-last track brings in more musicians, as they feel their way around “The New Abnormal”…bass and drums to sax, growing more animated, pouring more of themselves into the spontaneous combustion, letting go of distractions, freeing themselves in this soulful jam session — as if it’s their last.

Tuning out to tune in. Bliss personified.

Maxwell blends his soulful twisting, turning signature into a climbing, grooving melody in “The New Abnormal,” as keyboardist Matt Nelson, drummer Greg Artry, and bassist Jeremiah Hunt build a home around a corrugated mess, find their own footing again.
Bittersweet, balladic “Experience” bookends the album on borrowed time, sax and bowed bass (McMichael), slowing the tempo down towards its inevitable conclusion, looping on a moving, spinning scale, one that never truly wants to resolve. Long after the bass splits off, Shawn Maxwell holds on, willing the notes, the groove, the music to keep going.

Expectation & Experience is available now.

Artist quotes from promos and liner notes.

Review, May 8, 2021

Carol Banks Weber

https://carolbankswebercoggie.substack.com/p/2020-in-measured-hindsight?r=17cguf

For those outside of Chicago, know this: Shawn Maxwell follows the long lineage of Windy City reed players and composers with a big, brawny sound and thought-provoking art. On Expectation & Experience, Maxwell delivers 17 slices of musical exploration that came to him during the pandemic. He includes a family of 29 players on this recording, each laying down their parts alone and shipping them off to Maxwell, COVID safe. This is a truly personal, absolutely beautiful piece of pandemic art that goes down easy to soothe and uplift the soul. Take, for instance, the opening number, “Expectation.” Clocking in at just 1:39 minutes, it’s a simple duet between Maxwell on alto and Stephen Lynerd on vibraphone. It’s a shimmery salute to a better time, with a wisp of “In A Sentimental Mood” before turning off into directions unbound. “Quiet House” floats as a melancholy blues in honor of a friend who died during the pandemic, switching between 3/4 and 4/4 time with Zvonimir Tot delivering beautiful guitar work and a tasty virtual string arrangement. On “The Great Divide,” Maxwell and tenor saxophonist Alex Beltran poke the elephants and the donkeys in the room with an ode to the political banter of a presidential election. If only our elected officials could make such harmonious music. The album truly sounds like a travelogue of Maxwell and friends speaking for all of us. They follow the challenges of our quarantined lives with songs like “Feeling Remote,” “Lockdown” and “Every Day Is Monday” to outrage at what he was seen on television with songs like “Breathe” (which is a stunning beauty), “The New Abnormal” and “No Peace Without Justice.” Take, for instance, the song “Alternative Facts,” a mischievous number with Maxwell on saxophone, Howard Levy on harmonica, Steven Hashimoto on bass and Greg Essig on drums. It’s loaded with humor, angst, pathos and toss-your-hands-in-the-air surrender. The set concludes with “Experience,” another brief, beautiful duet with Stacy McMichael providing arco bass against the pleading bleat of Maxwell’s saxophone. It must be said that you can listen to this recording without notes or titles and thoroughly enjoy the ride. But what makes Expectation & Experience special is knowing the song titles, seeing what Maxwell was trying to do and hearing that he indeed nails it each and every time.

Frank Alkyer

https://downbeat.com/reviews/detail/expectation-experience

The saxophonist Shawn Maxwell has earned a favorable reputation in the Chicago area as an excellent, inquisitive jazz artist and educator; this reviewer, upon perusing his now vast discography, likes to think of him as an adventurer. Reviews marvel at Maxwell’s willingness to invent various ensembles to surround his sumptuous alto playing, never settling into a consistent albeit comfortable motif. Yet the music he creates continually satisfies the appetite of jazz fans wanting something creative rather than conventional.

Maxwell’s latest case in point, Story at Eleven, will get an album release concert on April 14 at The Venue in Aurora, with the Plainfield North High School Jazz Band providing the opening set.

Compared to many of his previous 10 albums dating back to 2005, this effort is practically austere, both in players and in length. A concept album, Story at Eleven features Maxwell with electric keyboardist Collin Clausen, electric bassist Michael Barton, and drummer Greg Essig performing four compositions in the form of a suite lasting around 40 minutes. While its theme is not readily apparent, the album suggests something more contemplative-during-pandemic, not a particularly unusual occurrence these days. What the austerity fashions is a near-seamless flow of music from a band that sounds like it jelled during the process.

The song titles do suggest a personal narrative of sorts. “Appointment with…” begins with a solitary, pensive ostinato from Clausen before Maxwell and Barton join in, stating something serious and perhaps foreboding, building to a tense moment, then returning to Clausen’s solo communication, gradually punctuated by Barton and Essig. The relatively effortless exchange exhibited here points to the musicians’ affinity for Maxwell’s material. As for the saxophonist, his alto playing turns downright Breckeresque during a smoking, dramatic solo.

Next is “Internal Rift,” introduced by Essig’s sensitive mallet work and Barton’s quiet support. Clausen follows with a hovering B-3 comp while Maxwell’s luxurious commentary is juxtaposed, creating something of a, well, rift, that is revealed in a musical altercation between the two, with Essig and Barton providing a sonic background.

“Near Surrender” returns to a more pacific tone, with Maxwell exuding a melodic aftermath to the argument before doing a 180, a resistance to the apparent resignation that led the cut. Maxwell again blows intently, as if fighting off an inclination to, well, surrender. Essig’s drum solo serves as a time-out, before Clausen and Maxwell return with a nod to that resignation, leading to…“Answer & Arrival,” a brighter-toned proclamation of enlightenment, given Maxwell’s uplifting delivery and Clausen’s higher octave Rhodes solo.

The Return of the Electric Keyboard is a welcome trend; Chris Potter’s Circuit Trio with James Frances turned some heads over the past two years. Shawn Maxwell, in his incorporation of it on Story at Eleven has chosen well; the unifying effect of music and musician makes this new release a pleasurable, easy listen while at the same time portraying opposing emotions. Maxwell has again given his fans something to listen closely to and think about, stirring art in stirring times.

Shawn Maxwell, Story at Eleven. Cora Street Records, 2023

Purchase:

ShawnMaxwell.com

Personnel:

Shawn Maxwell, alto saxophone

Collin Clausen, keyboards (Rhodes, Wurlitzer, B-3)

Michael Barton, electric bass

Greg Essig, drums

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Chilled-out jazz noir licks roll through Shawn Maxwell’s spaced-out psychedelic chords of “J Town Suite.” With nods towards the jazz-rock fusion of Miles Davis’s “Bitches Brew.” The band’s interplay ties the experience together, as various instruments bounce off each other, resulting in a rich dialogue. A textural approach to the rhythm and melody results in an origami-like approach, with the sounds folding into each other. Layered to perfection, for all the different elements that define the experience, there is something outright liberating about how spaced-out and airy the experience is.

Heavy-set keyboards and a martial-like beat give “Steelmen March” a disorienting, multi-faceted quality. The highlight, “Fries or Rings in the Back,” has a cryptic quality. Horns and skeletal chords give the track a nebulous demeanor, always remaining just outside of focus, abandoning straightforward rhythm for something much more abstract. A substantial rhythm section lends “Herald’s New” a funky disposition. Whispered throughout the track is the eerie mood of “In the Shadow of Statesville.” Melodic sensibilities rise out of the stately “Jerry,” giving it a muscular demeanor as the buildup of the piece is a true joy. “Tap, Keg & Tavern” is hyperactive, with the drums particularly loose. A slower pace adorns the sheer communal spirit of “Hickory Street.” Unexpected angles take hold as “Bridge Closed” gradually becomes undone. Ending things on a minimal note is the finale of “Ghost Mall on Jefferson.”

Shawn Maxwell is an exceptional storyteller who creates a lyrical journey without saying a single word in the captivating “J Town Suite.”

https://www.shawnmaxwell.com
https://www.shawnmaxwell.com/discography/j-town-suite/

Read Here. Skope

On our recent trip to Chicago, I had the opportunities to interview saxophonists/ composers Sam Pilnick (posted here) and Shawn Maxwell (pictured left). Up until the days before we had lunch and chatted over a leisurely two hours, I did not know much about Mr. Maxwell or his music. I have a friend who has played his music on the radio but I had not listened to an entire album. Before we left home, “Expectation & Experience” (CoraStreet Records/ Jazzline) arrived in my in-box. Our conversation began with a discussion of creating an album during lockdown, especially an album that spoke to the health of a nation and of the artists whose music chronicles everyday life.

17 songs, none longer than 4:18 with five below two minutes and four under three, each with a different lineup –– “Breathe” pairs Maxwell (alto sax) with pianist Brenda Earle Stokes and was inspired by the footage of George Floyd’s murder while the following track, “A Change of Climate”, finds the leader on soprano sax with Paul Abella on cajon and tambourine. The lockdown gave the saxophonist ample time to reflect on the world and help amplify the belief that a musician’s role in society is not just to entertain but to inform, to help illuminate the road to change. “No Peace Without Justice” blends the wordless vocals of Keri Johnsrud and John Stafford with soprano sax and the acoustic guitar of Craig Elliot; the tune and the spirit of the music was inspired by the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020.

There are several songs relating to the loss of work for musicians. “The Show Can’t Go On” features Maxwell conversing on alto sax (left and right channels) propelled forward by the drums of Ernie Adams while the following track “Empty Stage” is a short but powerful alto sax solo sans accompaniment.

The composer also wrote a pair of tributes to friends: “J.C. Jones” celebrates the life of a person who meant a lot to Maxwell over the years while “Quiet House” is a ballad honoring the memory of Evon House Thompson, a gospel-singing friend of the saxophonist. The latter tune has a “virtual strings” arrangement by guitarist Zvonmir Tot.

Every musician on “Expectation & Experience” (the album takes its name from the first and last tracks) was recorded alone at home or in a studio. Yet, the music does not sound disjointed –– instead, this group of musical haikus allows Shawn Maxwell to air his political and personal views while entertaining the listeners. Many of the albums released in the past few months were recorded either before or during the pandemic: pay attention to the ones in the latter category (like this one) and you’ll hear musicians working and playing through the issues of the day.

For more information, go to www.shawnmaxwell.com. To hear more and to purchase the album, go to https://shawnmaxwell.bandcamp.com/.

While you are on Mr. Maxwell’s Bandcamp page, you’ll see “Millstream”, an album with his band recorded before the pandemic and scheduled to be his debut release for Jazzline. Maxwell plays alto and soprano saxophones with Collin Clauson (Rhodes, acoustic piano, Wurlitzer), Jeremiah Hunt (bass), and Phil Beale (drums) plus, on two cuts, Chad McCullough (trumpet, flugelhorn). While the pandemic album was often an acoustic project, Clauson’s keys and the dancing drums gives this music more of a “fusion” feel. Several tunes are quite funky such as the hard-hitting “Squared Circle” and “Sold Separately”. McCullough’s trumpet blends nicely with Maxwell’s soprano sax on the smartly played “Front Walk Over”” note how the two musicians come together and then go int a call-and-response before soloing simultaneously.

Go to Shawn Maxwell’s Bandcamp page, give a listen, and make up your own mind. What stands out for this listener is the witty melodies and fine musicianship.

I’d also like to thank Shawn Maxwell for taking the time to sit and talk to me –– we had never met but he was generous with his time and information and I look forward to catching up with his again the next time we’re visiting.

Richard B Kamins

https://steptempest.blogspot.com/2021/07/meeting-shawn-maxwell.html

Over the past decade and change woodwind player Shawn Maxwell has established himself as an innovative composer and a sophisticated improviser. Each of his recordings is simultaneously unique and bears his indelible signature style Music In My Mind is no different. Using a few different ensembles Maxwell has crafted a remarkably cohesive work that brims with poetry. The intricately constructed originals allow individual expressions, that crackle with spontaneity, to meander within them resulting in an organic and vibrant album.

The energetic “Another Monday”, for instance opens with the band members overlapping their individual instrumental voices to mimic the hustle and bustle of a morning commute. Pianist Matt Nelson lets loose a darkly hued and simmering solo over drummer Phil Beale’s exacting beats. Maxwell on the alto and trumpeter Victor Garcia contribute short, yearning phrases. The impressionistic piece closes with Nelson gracefully returning to the thrilling head.

Equally engaging and delightfully complex the title track opens with bassist Junius Paul’s reverberating strings. Garcia’s mellow horn and vocalist Dee Alexander’s agile voice echo one another to haunting effect. Garcia’s mellifluous and suave improvisation marks the first part of the tune as the rhythm section percolates in the background. Maxwell’s alto soars in a stimulating extemporization over the collective performance that has hints of western classical influences.

The enchanting “King Bill”, on the other hand, is like a musical fairy tale. Percussionist Kalyan Pathak makes his instruments thunder as Maxwell on his clarinet blows an eastern influenced, intriguing song. As the duet progresses it becomes exhilaratingly dynamic all the while remaining charmingly lyrical.

On the funky “Glamasue” Maxwell switches to flute and engages trumpeter Chad McCullough in a soaring and electrifying dialogue over the group’s soulful vamps. McCullough’s burnished tones and unhurried elegant delivery complement Nelson’s acerbic and resonant keys while bassist Tim Seisser dazzles with his virtuoisity.

With every addition to his discography Maxwell successfully explores new and bold ideas while remaining rooted in the fundamentals that characterize his artistic output. Music In My Mind also follows that model. It is refreshingly distinct yet recognizably Maxwellian. Thus, it makes for a satisfying listening experience.

Question #1: Congratulations on the release of your newest album, J Town Suite! What was your inspiration for making this a tribute to your hometown?

Thank you I appreciate that. On my last handful of albums, I’m always trying to think of a theme or story to connect it. I really dig albums that make sense together and can tell an overall story, but still stand on their own with separate tunes.

I’ve joked for years about writing an album for my hometown, but my business partner always shut it down. We were in Joliet once and I was showing him places and telling him some old stories and he thought they were kind of cool so he finally got on board. I’m glad because I’m very proud of everything we’ve put together, and think people will not only dig the music, but the cool stories behind it as well.

Question #2: How is this project different than your previous albums?

Well, the project is very much still me, and has my personal stamp on it, but there are chord qualities and time signatures that appear in every single tune, even if just for a short bit of time. You hear callbacks to each tune, very subtly at times, which ties it all together.

If one were to listen throughout the entire album, they would hear the separation of each tune, but also at the same time, how they’re all connected. Diminished & half diminished chords play as the basis for everything.

And as I’ve written tunes in the past for people, places, and things around me, this is the first album where it all falls into one larger subject.

Question #3: All 12 of your albums have been original tunes! Having written so much original music, what does your composition process look like?

I wish I had an easy answer for that but my composition process varies from day to day and week to week. There are some compositions that just come to me and I write down within a matter of minutes. Others take months or even sometimes years with me walking away from it, and returning later with more of a focus.

Lately, I try to think of the subject that I’m writing the tune about and see what pops into my head. Especially with an album like this where I have a lot of emotions involved with the subject matter they all flushed out pretty quickly and easily. So, I ended up writing this particular album over a weekend last December.

Question #4: How does your ensemble prepare to record a CD like this?

For this particular album, we had a series of rehearsals, but we also would sit down and have some food and beverages, and I would tell them the stories behind the tunes. I just thought it was cool for them to know that and it did help and how they approached certain elements of certain tunes.

Question #5: In addition to your performing career, you’re also an experienced educator. Do you feel like your teaching experience has affected the way that you approach performance?

My teaching has made me a much better performer and overall musician. I feel teachers sometimes get a bum wrap, and should get more respect.

Being an effective educator is hard to do.

One of the things that made me a better educator was knowing that I needed to teach the student that’s in front of me and what level they’re at instead of where I think they should be or I want them to be. I now know not to overdo it and go farther than what can be absorbed by them.

I would say my performing brain is very similar to that. I’m always trying to think when I play this, is there a point to it or am I just doing it just to do it? Does it make sense? Does it help to tell an overall story?

Question #6: With this being your 12th album, you’re a seasoned pro in the recording business. What is something that you learned over time that you wish you knew when you recorded your first album?

The best thing about recording is, you can do it again. The worst thing about recording is that you can do it again. Ha. In my opinion, there’s no such thing as perfection and I would rather hear performances, live or recorded, with minor flaws, but a ton of emotion and heart to it.

In the past with recordings, I tried to make everything really clean and try to do it over and over and over and I think it may have lost some of that heart.

Emotion and telling a story is the most important thing and sometimes you need to let some little things go.

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By Howard Reich

Was it jazz? Classical? Pop? Funk?

Ultimately, no single term encapsulates the music that Chicagoan Shawn Maxwell’s Alliance played Thursday night at the Jazz Showcase, which was just part of its allure. Better still, Maxwell presided over an ensemble of unconventional instrumentation, to put it mildly.

When was the last time you heard a front line featuring two saxophones and wordless vocals plus two French horns, two stand-up basses, guitar, drums and percussion?

Maxwell’s scores proved as unusual as his taste for instrumental color, the pieces shifting from jazz-swing rhythm one moment to classical downbeats the next, from bebop phraseology to long and incantatory phrases to perky, funk-tinged melody making. Not every Maxwell composition proved thoroughly effective, but the sheer stylistic breadth of this music – sometimes within a single work – made this a most unusual evening at the Showcase. And a welcome one.

Maxwell and friends started out light and bright with “Fun Five Funk,” which opens his newly released recording of this music, “Shawn Maxwell’s Alliance” (on the Chicago Sessions label). Even in this quirky little tune, however, Maxwell showed his predilection for exquisitely odd musical juxtapositions. As he set off a characteristically intense solo on alto saxophone, his composed passages for French horn and voice in unison brought an ethereal undercurrent to the proceedings.

Few in the audience likely would go home humming the long, winding, snaky theme of Maxwell’s “Iynes Crayons,” but there was no resisting its melodic pull – particularly as dispatched by Chris Greene’s soprano saxophone, Maxwell’s flute and Keri Johnsrud’s serene, wordless vocals. Maxwell’s sharp-edged, somewhat rough-hewn flute solo was not the most sensuous sound ever to issue from the instrument, but the sheer unpredictability of the ensemble writing kept at least one listener intrigued. Passages driven by Paul Townsend’s relentless backbeats were abruptly interrupted by quasi-classical sections for two exquisitely blended French horns. Nobody writes like this.

Maxwell showed his strengths in balladry with his “Ava,” which isn’t on the new album but was worth savoring. Greene’s soprano saxophone, Maxwell’s alto and Johnsrud’s subtle vocal lines captured the flow of this music, with Stephen Lynerd’s vibraphone adding to the mystique of it all.

The highlight of the set arrived with “From Parts Unknown,” an immensely attractive piece that showed Maxwell’s writing at its most clever. In effect, several melody lines cascaded atop one another, with ingeniously syncopated effects from Greene’s soprano saxophone, Maxwell’s alto, Mitch Corso’s guitar and Johnsrud’s vocals.

With all this sonic activity underway, musicians and technicians struggled a bit to find the right voicing and acoustical balance in each composition, since no two were quite alike. Overall, listeners need to hear Johnsrud’s vocals more prominently, for she sometimes was overwhelmed by all that sound.

Still, one had to admire the unusual nature of this enterprise and Maxwell’s boldness in pursuing it. He hears music differently than most and isn’t afraid to celebrate that fact on a grand scale.

hreich@tribune.com

Twitter @howardreich

Shawn Maxwell’s Alliance

When: 8 and 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday; 4, 8 and 10 p.m. Sunday

Where: Jazz Showcase, 806 S. Plymouth Court

Admission: $20-$35; 312-360-0234 or jazzshowcase.com

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By Hrayr Attarian

Woodwind player and composer Shawn Maxwell’s Shawn Maxwell’s Alliance on the Chicago Sessions label is a carefully orchestrated suite with a subtle yet distinct dramatic sense. Although the description in the liner notes makes mention of a group of friends experimenting with new styles and sounds the disc is not a blowing date nor it is meant to be one.

The fantastical “Iynes Crayons” opens with a stately, almost baroque theatricality as French horn players Rachel Maxwell and {[Meghan Fulton}} blow mellow, elegiac phrases over bassists Stacy McMichael and Marc Piane’s reverberating strings. Guitarist Mitch Corso’s ethereal sonic swells add to the dark, fairy tale like ambience particularly as they stretches over drummer Paul Townsend’s galloping sticks. Maxwell’s own resonant flute plays the theme in unison with singer Keri Johnsrud’s haunting wordless vocalise ushering in a Jethro Tull-esque mood. Corso’s bluesy blistering improvisation is raw yet cerebral and Maxwell’s rollicking solo is complex, innovative while remaining accessible.

The record is also imbued with poetry as the intriguing four-way conversation on “From Parts Unknown” demonstrates. Soprano saxophonist Chris Greene and Maxwell trade spontaneous melodic lines that emerge from the overlapping shimmering textures that the ensemble weaves. Elsewhere the edgy “Quartan” is a brief and intense abstract tune with saxophones’ atonal and eerie screech rising over darkly shimmering harmonies.

Hints of Levantine mystique appear on such pieces as “Shadowbox” and “Perpetual Day One.” The first opens with Maxwell’s clarinet’s exuberant tone, albeit tinged with a touch of melancholy. His mellifluous duet with Greene evolves over percussionist Stephen Lynerd’s mid eastern beats. On the latter Maxwell’s saxophone floats over dancing rhythms that Lynerd’s cool mallet strikes carefully and intriguingly accentuate with a magical flourish.

Maxwell and his “Alliance” can also get down and dirty with a heavy funk infused groove like on the soulful “Pistols N’ Tulips.” The two bassists take turns extemporizing. As one opens with a tight, inventive agile pizzicato the other closes with a passionate and memorable con arco with the band’s rough-hewn lyricism and laid back swagger in support.

Maxwell’s genre mixing not only does not make the record sound disjointed, but his signature; repetitive motifs enhance its conceptual unity. The exquisite balance of orchestration and individual freedom of expression together with Maxwell’s compositional ingenuity and deft leadership make the album a singular work of true musical fusion.
Track Listing: Fun Five Funk; Lynes Crayons; EGOT; From Parts Unknown; Song For Something Else; Plaza; Waiting Food; Pistols N’ Tulips; Bitty Bitty Beep; Quartan; Radio Hit Number Four; Here’s Your Swing Tune; Little Ninja Groove; Perpetual Day One; Looking For Alex; Full Count; Shadowbox; You Alright? I Learned It By Watching You.

Personnel: Shawn Maxwell: alto saxophone, tenor saxophone, flute, clarinet; Chris Greene: soprano saxophone; Keri Johnsrud: voice; Stephen Lynerd: vibraphone, percussion; Mitch Corso:guitar; Rachel Maxwell: french horn; Meghan Fulton: french horn; Stacy McMichael: bass; Marc Piane: bass; Paul Townsend: drums.

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Shawn Maxwell: J Town Suite
Shawn Maxwell

Saxophonist Shawn Maxwell is hardly the only composer to have drawn inspiration from his hometown, Springsteen the perhaps quintessential example; he’s probably the first, however, to have built an entire album around Joliet. Located southwest of Chicago, Illinois’ third largest city is where Maxwell was born, where he went to high school, took his first music lessons, and attended Joliet Junior College, and where his countless experiences proved invaluable as imaginative fodder for the making of his twelfth album.

J Town Suite is no one-dimensional idyllic vision, however: like David Lynch’s Lumberton, Joliet has a dark underside, as evidenced by the presence of a now-closed penitentiary and the gang fights that Maxwell sometimes witnessed. As gritty as it is, Joliet is, for him, still home, and like the unwavering love a parent has for a trouble-making child, the affection Maxwell has for the rough and in places downtrodden locale is strong. After all, without it, he wouldn’t be who he is now. While the album wasn’t recorded at Joliet, it was laid down nearby at Electrical Audio in Chicago.

Each of the nine tracks has a fascinating backstory that’s fleshed out in Neil Tesser’s helpful liner notes. But the recording hold ups perfectly well as a pure musical statement stripped of supplemental content, especially when the material is stylistically varied and the writing packed with oblique melodies, minor-key modes, and skewed rhythms. The foundation’s jazz, yes, but hints of funk and rock surface too. Still, no matter how different one composition is from another, the set’s held together by the Joliet concept.

That Maxwell’s honed his writing over many albums is shown by the confidence of the writing. It helps too that he’s ably supported by keyboardist Collin Clauson, electric bassist Michael Barton, and drummer Greg Essig on the date. Maxwell himself is a versatile player as comfortable wielding alto and soprano saxophones as flute. The performances bear the leader’s signature in the compositions and the quartet’s in its performances. Much of this tight band’s identity stems from the coupling of Clauson’s Fender Rhodes, Barton’s throb, and Essig’s expert stickwork with the leader’s woodwinds.

To start, Maxwell takes us to Joliet Central High with the oft-funky “Steelmen March,” Steelman the name of its sports mascot and “March of the Steel Men” its pep song. Consistent with that, the piece is animated by an enticingly slinky march groove and a pied piper-ish alto sax figure you might find yourself humming long after the tune’s over. Don’t be surprised either if its freewheeling Fender Rhodes-and-drums episode conjures the image of Chick Corea and Tony Williams laying it down on In a Silent Way (not the only time that happens on the release, by the way).

Next stop is the family-owned Joe’s Hot Dogs for “Fries or Rings in the Back,” the query barked by a staff member to new customers joining the growing late-night queue. With Maxwell serving up serpentine soprano lines alongside a brooding backdrop, the lugubrious setting turns out to be considerably more exotic than such background info might suggest. Referencing the city’s newspaper (and Maxwell’s stint as a paper delivery boy), the frenetic “Herald’s News” counters the haunted quality of “Fries or Rings in the Back” with a spirited if brief romp. The maximum-security penitentiary in nearby Crest Hill is the subject of “In the Shadow of Statesville,” with Maxwell’s flute lending the ponderous meditation a deeply reflective tone.

Titled after a local trumpet player who was instrumental in getting Maxwell started on saxophone and familiar with the Chicago-area jazz station WDCB, “Jerry” works its fluid way through buoyant jazz, funk-rock, and downtempo episodes. The album’s funkiest tune is undoubtedly “Hickory Street,” named for where his family lived until he entered fourth grade and sporting an instantly appealing groove and sunny soprano melody. Like many a Rust Belt city, Joliet’s seen its share of collapse, with “Bridge Closed” alluding to a general state of demise and “Ghost Mall on Jefferson” likewise referencing the downturn many an American city’s encountered. In the former, Maxwell’s soprano sax lunges acrobatically across Rhodes-sprinkled terrain; the latter, while slower by comparison, is enlivened by spirited alto declamations.

In fashioning a recording so eclectic and rich in mood, Maxwell’s created an album that accentuates the multi-faceted character of his hometown. As a result, he’s produced a set that makes Joliet, despite the myriad challenges it’s faced, economic and otherwise, seem like not the worst place in the world to be. Think of it as an affectionate yet still honest portrait, as well as one with lots musically to offer.
April 2024

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