BY ANDY BETA
A new Alan Braufman album is being recorded, and an invite arrives for the event to witness it being rendered in the moment. It reads: “As with all of Alan’s recordings, this will be a live performance—capturing the energy and spontaneity that have defined his recent albums.” To a longtime music writer like myself (and to the videographer cc’d on the invite), a live performance suggests an evening event. Yet by the time both of us arrive at the recording studio tucked away in a South Williamsburg neighborhood, Braufman has been at work since 11 am, not the decidedly more jazzy working hours of 11 pm. And he’s worked so efficiently with his assembled group that by the time the late-autumn sun sets, this round of recording for Anthem for Peace is nearly wrapped, seven tunes laid down effortlessly.
In Studio #3, Alan Braufman is spry and energetic as he moves between the control room and isolation booth. Clad in a dark athleisure cap and top and blue jeans with trainers, his energy level suggests that he might be ready to go for a quick jog around the block or else add overdubs to a tune. The assembled, slightly revamped band is formidable. Braufman’s longtime bassist has been Ken Filiano, who was there when, after 45 years away from recording, roared back onto the scene with 2020’s The Fire Still Burns. Only, Filiano injured his hand just a few days ago and can’t make the date, so Braufman rang up Luke Stewart, who slotted right in alongside a rhythm section featuring in-demand vibraphonist Patricia Brennan and drummer Chad Taylor.
Braufman brings out an augmented flute with a saxophone mouthpiece and ducks into the booth. Engineer Aaron Nevezie starts playback on the title track, and Braufman deftly daubs in harmonies that mesh with Brennan’s shimmering metallophone lines, his flute suggesting an Ethiopian scale. Nabil Ayers sits in the booth and nods along. Satisfied with that, Braufman quickly jumps back on his saxophone and punches in another line. On the talkback, they kid about how the melody suggests something from Fiddler on the Roof. “‘If I was a Rich Girl,’” Ayers opines with a wide smile.
Ayers wears many hats for this session. He’s the label boss (moonlighting from his day job as President at Beggars Group US), album producer, sounding board, but also Braufman’s nephew. His uncle had inspired him since childhood. And in 2018, Ayers finally got the chance to honor his uncle by reissuing his long out-of-print 1975 free jazz cry, Valley Of Search. It’s a vital document of New York City’s brief but luminous loft jazz scene of that era, cut by Braufman one night in 1975 at his loft space down on Canal Street with bassist Cecil McBee and pianist Gene Ashton (better known as Cooper-Moore, the idiosyncratic multi-instrumentalist who was a vital cog in NYC’s ‘90s jazz scene). That reissue put Braufman before a new generation of open-minded listeners, and despite having spent the past few decades living out in Salt Lake City, he found himself able to appreciate a renaissance of sorts. More archival reissues and two studio albums have followed. Anthem of Peace marks his third album in the 21st century.
As the band gets ready to take another run at a few more tunes, Braufman talks about how much NYC has changed. I notice how much this neighborhood has changed in less than a decade: now there’s a Starbucks, numerous low-lit bars, and little boutiques. Braufman talks about the $550 he paid to rent that entire loft space at 501 Canal St. Good luck finding a single brick from that building now: in the 21st century, it’s a luxury hotel that charges $450 for a single night.
The band takes another pass at “Angels,” the opening number on Anthem of Peace. It has the processional feel of an Albert Ayler piece, but as the melody unfolds, it sounds purely like Braufman, the fire-spitting tone of his early years giving way to something slightly more mellow and melodic, though he’s still able to soar and shriek when the piece calls for it. It’s also a thrill to witness Brennan in action, eliciting all manner of blips, swirls, and tracers on the metal slats. Taylor and Stewart create a groovy head-nodding pocket for “The Journey” while “In Motion” suggests the velocity of early Ornette Coleman, full of hairpin turns that the band handles with aplomb.
And right at 6:30, Braufman looks at his watch, then at his notes, and says, “You know, I think we’re done.” The band packs up, waiting for their respective Ubers, while Braufman’s energy level suggests he might still have plenty left in the tank. Maybe he will go out for that jog.
Anthem For Peace is out now on Valley Of Search.