Brad Shepik: Human Activity: Dream of the Possible

Brad Shepik's Human Activity: Dream of the Possible, featuring Layale Chaker (violin), Amino Belyamani (piano), Sam Minaie (bass) and John Hadfield (drums), is the guitarist and multi-instrumentalist's second album to respond to climate change. Composed as a single 10-movement work, a "narrative of hope," it follows his Human Activity Suite: Sounding a Response to Climate Change (Songlines Recordings, 2007). Shepik's aim is broad: "to inspire people to take any action they can to preserve and adapt in a sustainable way for future generations." A tall order, but he and his ensemble of virtuoso improvisers have the wherewithal to dig in, heart and mind, making a compelling work in the process.

The story begins with "Code Red." Softly at first, calmly, Shepik's guitar is the first to tick out the warning, a repeating 10-measure phrase that amplifies as each soloist springs into action. The emotional climate intensifies with "The Search," which commences and closes with a pleading melodic motive reminiscent of someone calling out, waiting for a response: first a breath, then a short cry; another pause, another cry, extended slightly. Within the movement, each soloist's statement begins and ends with this call, this question that demands an answer. The effect is poignant and unnerving. "Symbioticity" and "Naturitude" are more upbeat and polyphonic, while there is a plodding resolve to "Future Generations," a sense of marching forward.

"All Hands" takes up where "Code Red" left off, but with more urgency, indicated by a persistent droning density referent, a constant hammering in of the fastest underlying rhythmic subdivision, as if one were continuously looking at their watch. Minaie, whose bass responded vigorously to "Code Red," offers an equally athletic running bass solo here. "Orange Haze," the eerily slow-paced ultimate movement, leaves us with an image of something exquisite but horrific: the vermilion fog of a forest fire, the lingering glow of a gorgeously polluted summer sunset. Belyamani highlights the inherent dissonance with chiming piano interjections that are disturbingly soft. There is a gentleness that runs through the program, a focus on beauty, but hope is harder to find.

"Travel Back" is the breathtaking kicker. Chaker steps in alone with her violin, out of time, in a taqsim-like improvisation. Her bow shivers on the strings, touching on still-charged emotions, stories and sounds of long ago and far away. She barely hints at any of it, through subtle rhythmic articulations, dynamics, ornamentation, a melodic mode, an intonation. Her bandmates join her gradually, and as the tempo launches and the instrumentation shifts, the piece undergoes a series of rhythmic, harmonic and melodic changes. The pulse drives onward as the form takes shape, culminating in a lively ostinato section with an insistent three-note unison melody. The final note of that pounding little line is microtonally tuned; it is neither a major nor a minor step above the starting note. Without some serious doctoring, a Steinway would not be able to play it, nor a church organ. Shepik and his group stay with it, holding fast to that microscopic permutation. The effect is powerful. Even a small change can have a huge impact. Chaker's introduction lays out the tuning, calling all senses into play to comprehend and make a critical difference.

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