With its irregular stepping stone-like intervals and hushed cymbal work, the tumbling theme opening this album offers residual echoes of contemplative late-period Gilgamesh and, in contrast, the heady, exuberant rush of a pre-electric Return To Forever. Centred upon Mexican pianist Mark Aanderud’s admirably supple compositions, Mole’s intelligent blend of rock-tinged jazz is fleet of finger and foot, while avoiding fusion’s more vulgar exhibitionist tendencies.
Mole: What’s The Meaning?
Catching Mole’s well-bred record.
David Gilmore’s guitar moves sleekly from supportive luminescent chimes to jagged thrusting lines that weave smartly across tight-knitted grooves supplied by Hernan Hecht’s inventive drumming. Atop these refined and often intricate pieces, Aanderud’s soloing, with its carefully judged melodic construction is a joy to listen to.
Seemingly composed from melancholic rain-washed memories and an unrequited longing, Trees And The Old New Ones showcase’s the delicate tracery of Luri Molina’s bowed bass.
Mole possess a magical chemistry that’s commonly found in improvisatory circles, but rarely is it so effortlessly sustained across an entire album. Haunting and magnificent.