Usually, when oud player Anouar Brahem works with a small ensemble, he shares the spotlight with another soloist who mirrors his slow and careful style, regardless of their instrument, while other musicians provide a textural rhythmic foundation.
It’s what soprano saxophonist / bass clarinetist John Surman did with double-bassist Dave Holland on 1998’s Thimar; what clarinetist Barbaros Erköse did with bendir / darbouka player Lassad Hosni on 2000’s Astrakan Café; and what bass clarinetist Klaus Gesing did with bassist Björn Meyer and bendir / darbouka player Khaled Yassine on 2009’s The Astounding Eyes Of Rita. And the results were beautiful; moody, atmospheric, and haunting.
But on his new album, After The Last Sky (CD, digital), Brahem — and, more importantly, his collaborator, violoncellist Anja Lechner — breaks with tradition, and while fans of those moodier / jazzier albums might not love it, especially those who aren’t big on classical strings, the results are still rather interesting.
Dave Holland, Anja Lechner,
Anouar Brahem, Django Bates
© Caterina Di Perri / ECM Records
Recorded in May of 2024, at the Auditorio Stelio Molo RSI, in Lugano, Switzerland — the same concert hall where Brahem recorded 2006’s Le voyage de Sahar and 2014’s Souvenance — After The Last Sky has Brahem and Lechner backed by pianist Django Bates, with whom Brahem recorded 2017’s Blue Maqams, and the aforementioned Dave Holland, who also played with Brahem and Bates on Blue Maqams.
Which is not to suggest that After The Last Sky sounds anything like Blue Maqams. And not just because, on that album, Brahem shared the spotlight with everyone (everyone being Bates, Holland, and drummer Jack DeJohnette).
It’s also not to suggest that Anja Lechner is a total outsider. While this does mark her first collaboration with Brahem, the two share a tangential connection in pianist François Couturier, who played with Brahem on both 2002’s Le pas du chat noir and Le voyage de Sahar, and with Lechner on the duo collections Lontano and Moderato Cantabile, as well as part of the Tartovsky Quartet on the 2006’s Nostalghia – Song For Tarkovsky, 2011’s Tarkovsky Quartet, and 2017’s Nuit Blanche.
After The Last Sky is also not the first time Brahem has played with strings. Violinist Béchir Selmi appeared on both 1991’s Barzakh and 1995’s Khomsa, while the aforementioned Souvenance featured a full orchestra (Switzerland’s Orchestra della Svizzera Italiana, for those keeping score at home).
© Sam Harfouche / ECM Records
But enough of the history lesson; let’s get to After The Last Sky, which opens with a short, almost overture-sounding tune called “Remembering Hind.” It’s brief, dark, and beautiful, but also establishes a pattern for this disc, as Lechner’s playing on it is more classical sounding than anything jazzy, moody, or atmospheric, though it is set against a jazzy, moody, atmospheric background provided by Brahem, Bates, and Holland.
It’s a pattern that continues throughout After The Last Sky, on which Lechner’s classical sounding string parts often take center stage. Though what makes many of the Sky songs differ is how that center stage is often occupied by Brahem as well. On “Endless Wandering,” for instance, both Brahem and Lechner are prominent, giving this song as much of a Middle Eastern feel as it does a classical one.
The same can also be said of other tracks on After The Last Sky, including “Awake,” “The Sweet Oranges Of Jaffa,” “Never Forget,” “Edward Said’s Reverie,” and “Vague.”
Now, there are some exceptions, going both ways. On the title track, for instance, Brahem’s oud playing is prominent, and Lechner is somewhat restrained, making this song the most Middle Eastern-sounding on this album.
Conversely, Lechner takes up the whole stage for “In The Shade Of Your Eyes,” playing solo for the first half, and dominating the second. (A half during which I weirdly kept thinking of the mournful song from the end of Avengers: Infinity War when a victorious Thanos finally takes a moment to himself.)
Then there’s “The Eternal Olive Tree,” during which Brahem and Lechner play at the same time in what I can only assume is a battle for supremacy (Sorry, Thanos again.)
And then there’s “Dancing Under The Meteorites,” which is positively upbeat, befitting its title, with everyone playing a bit loose and playfully.
What After The Last Sky doesn’t have, however, are songs that are entirely moody or atmospheric, like you find on so many of Brahem’s previous albums. This is not to say these tunes aren’t moody; they absolutely are. They’re just not as moody.
In the end,
how much you’ll appreciate After The Last Sky really comes down to how much you appreciate Lechner’s classical strings, and the albums on which Brahem has used strings before (Barzakh, Khomsa, and Souvenance) as opposed to his jazzier albums (Thimar, Blue Maqams) or his more Middle Eastern-sounding ones (Astrakan Café, The Astounding Eyes Of Rita).
Which is why — as a bigger fan of the middle and latter albums, and someone who isn’t as into classical strings — I’m not totally sold on After The Last Sky. But I will say this: as with all of Anouar Brahem’s albums, the seamless juxtaposition of Lechner’s classical strings with Bates and Holland’s moody jazz rhythms and Brahem’s equally atmospheric Middle Eastern tones do make for some interesting music.
SCORE: 7.0/10
