Reviewed by Ferdinand Dupuis-Panther

NOTE: THIS IS A LIBERALLY PARAPHRASED TRANSLATION FROM THE ORIGINAL GERMAN

To begin, a quote from pianist Tania Giannouli:

"Oud and trumpet are two of my favourite instruments. A piano trio with these instruments is unusual, but I wanted to explore the beautiful textures, tonalities and emotional resonances that this combination of instruments offers. And of course, Andreas Polyzogopoulos (trumpet) and Kyriakos Tapakis (oud) are fabulous musicians and a joy to work with.… The music on this album is an expression of love, hope and compassion, a plea for understanding, kindness, and the need to respect and embrace our common connectedness."

The term “trio” might suggest certain expectations with respect to instrumentation, but for her new album of original compositions, In Fading Light, Tania Giannouli (piano) invited Andreas Polyzogopoulos (trumpet) and Kyriakos Tapakis (oud) to collaborate with her. So, why didn’t the Greek pianist incorporate bouzouki into her ensemble rather than an Arabic lute more commonly heard in the music of the Levant and parts of North Africa?

The Tania Giannouli Trio first appeared at the legendary Jazzfest Berlin in 2018, followed a year later with performances at Wonderfeel Festival and Zomer Fiets Jazz Tour. Giannouli previously released recordings for Rattle Records (a record label in New Zealand!!) that garnered high-praise and respect from the trade press, albums such as Forest Stories (2012), Transcendence (2015) and Rewa (2018), the latter with New Zealander Rob Thorne who specializes in traditional Maori instruments.

The cover of this new album, In Fading Light, depicts an empty, fenced-in pool surrounded by a partially overgrown garden. One may wonder what this intriguing image (a photograph by Savvas Lazaridis) has to do with the disappearing of the light.

The trio first leads us into a “labyrinth” before inviting us to hear “Hinemoa's Lament”, take us on a “Night Flight”, immerse us in the “Inland Sea”, then finally to experience the fading of the light.

What does the pianist imply in the first bars of “Labyrinth”? A careful step-by-step orientation? Bird calls sound here and there, as each step is picked up by the trumpet as it takes us into the vastness and out of the closedness of a labyrinth, with only one way out. The piano supplies recurring and often charged sequences in which pizzicato can be heard, while soft sounds of the trumpet and oud interject with rhythmic attitudes.

In “When Then” a prepared piano produces shortly bound, strongly rhythmic sequences. The muted trumpet sounds slightly acidic and pointed, while bass runs suggest the gush of wind. Rolling sound waves reach the listener's ear like ocean waves colliding with steep cliffs. Sometimes the piano is threatening and dangerous, but the trumpet spreads a soft veil of sound as the oud settles in the lower depths.

In contrast, “Hinemoa's Lament” is characterized by the lyrical colour of the trumpet, as if it was the singer of the lament. In this piece, Giannouli drew on a legend from Polynesian mythology about the love between Hinemoa, the beautiful daughter of a Maori chief, and Tutanekai on the shores of Lake Rotorua, a beloved tale from New Zealand folklore: “Kāore he wahine. E rite ki a Hinemoa Tai ana ki a hiahia. Ki te mutunga”. Now, three Greek musicians interpret this legend in their very own way, not with the traditional instruments of Maori, but with the song-like character of European piano, oud and trumpet.

Sparkling piano runs make up “Night Flight” with the addition of soft breathy lines from the trumpet, like a refreshing wind. Vortices of sound pour out before the oud player has his say, evoking oriental nights. We note that the oud has limited sustain. The trumpeter behaves like a night owl, taking us through the darkness like an unsteady sleepwalker whose song turns night into day. The piano and oud accompany us almost like a dance, managing to make us forget, for a moment, the gravity of everyday life.

Strong dialogical precipitations are typical of "traps". The tone colours that the piano brings to the musical screen are earthy and down-to-earth, while the trumpet is more detached, like delicate gouaches. “Bela's Dance” is fiery, reminiscent of a peasant wedding in the Breughelian sense, in the spirit of wine, women and song, with the piano providing a rhythmic pulse similar to a drum set. The trumpet sounds exultant, immersed in movement, and one can see in the mind's eye the exuberant couples revolving around each other.

“Moth” (German translation “Motte”) follows “Ingravida” with a very emphatic presence from the oud, evoking the staggered flight of a moth negotiating the light of the lanterns and house lights, perhaps? The moth flight is certainly not graceful. Clumsily searching, erring and straying, this is no ‘flight of a bumblebee". Listening to the trio playing the epic “Inland Sea”, one can almost see the choppy water, the short and long waves and ring-shaped eddies. Where Tapakis’s oud promises shallows, Giannouli’s crystal clear piano playing brings us close to a stiff sea breeze while Polyzogopoulos’s delicate trumpet playing evokes the call of sea birds. But arguably the freest moment is saved for the final chord of the album: "In Fading Light".

Ferdinand Dupuis-Panther, Jazz Halo, November 2020
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