Caleb Wheeler Curtis: The True Story of Bears and the Invention of the Battery (Deluxe Edition)

Caleb Wheeler Curtis is one of the more daring musicians in jazz today, not only in his approach to playing the saxophone, but in his fearless dedication to his own musical conceptions, expressed clearly in his original compositions. That daring and dedication can be equally attributed to many of the shakers and movers of modern jazz, including one Thelonious Sphere Monk. On his double album release, The True Story of Bears and the Invention of the Battery (Imani, 2024), Curtis explores Monk's daring and his own, in trio mode, with two exceptional combos.

The two-disc set is equally divided between two trios—one dedicated to Curtis' compositions, the other to a probing romp through some of Monk's most notable offerings. Curtis seems to prefer the chordless configuration, exploring the format previously and recently with the eclectic trio collective, Ember. As a member of the extended musical village of pianist Orrin Evans, he has gained access to the goings-on at Evans' indie label, Imani Records, and been given the artistic freedom to explore his music from its core to its outer edges. The results are exciting, at times challenging and inevitably satisfying.

While Curtis is known prominently as an alto player, his sound has gained a rounder, richer tonality through his use of the stritch, the straight alto so seldomly seen and heard in the history of jazz. He delves into the equally-rare sopranino saxophone, a full octave higher than the alto. He adds tenor to the skill set on this recording, as well as (his recent foray into) the trumpet, an instrument he says he learned "in public." The artist is now surrounded by rare and uncertain air, as one of the few musicians delving into the woodwind-brass conundrum, and as the practitioner of the stritch, an instrument best known as the chosen foil of the great Rahsaan Roland Kirk.

Curtis is joined on disc one by inventive drummer Michael Sarin and the versatile, intuitive bassist, Sean Conly. The trio works their way through ten Curtis compositions, a quantifiably difficult journey that falls disproportionately on the shoulders of bassist Conly. Of course, in this trio format, the loose fragments of harmony that guide the melodic course of the music are always in the hands of the bassist, but specifically in this case, Curtis' tunes constantly dig deeper and deeper into their own abstractions, bearing even more responsibility upon the bassist. One listen to "Miedo" (ironically the Spanish term for "fear") brings this notion to life. While the trio format is, by nature, a minimalist adventure, Conly and drummer Sarin present a sweeping, broad canvas with ample density for Curtis to respond melodically on trumpet, while gathering energy in their own solo incarnations.

"Oska T" finds Conly chirping in chordally, while Curtis inches his way in on stritch in a halting, riff based motif. Conly then guides the trio forward with Sarin, gently swinging, allowing Curtis to respond in melodic bursts and extended lines that are very much vocal in nature. In that sense, one can make the assertion that Curtis' conversational approach flows from faint whisper to primal scream in an instant, along the way dropping melody-based hints that maintain a strong connection to the echoes of more traditional moorings. The title track finds Conly once again in the thick of things, etching out a bowed intro to Curtis' collective tracking on stritch and sopranino. Sarin is akin to a wash of sound, which settles things into an angular groove. Curtis' altoisms are the pinnacle of disc one, bringing to light his intense dedication to this music that is clearly his own—yes, that often-spoken-of but rarely-attained clear vision of originality.

Disc Two, subtitled Raise Four: Monk the Minimalist, is a trio examination of Monk tunes, featuring bassist Eric Revis and drummer Justin Faulkner. The ten Monk compositions provide the listener with a bit of familiarity to latch onto and a bit of guidance into comprehending Curtis' approach and intent as a leader. The Monk classic, "Boo Boo's Birthday" is a case in point. Revis begins with a rumbling pure statement of the melody, handing the baton off to Curtis, who does the same. The vibe and haunting sound, which prevails within the atmosphere of Faulkner's assertive brush work, are notably on a different orbit from the master's original, falling into the soft, lightning quick figures of Curtis' alto.

It made so much sense for Curtis to choose Monk's "Raise Four" for this trio, as a simple piece without a highly structured melody line. The twelve-bar blues features a one-bar riff built on the raised fourth, or flat fifth. The tritone is just enough to create an aperture for the three musicians to enter and exit as they please. Curtis and Revis respond with torrential strength, with the bassist the clear instigator. Curtis transitions from trumpet to stritch, notably doubling down on the more familiar alto. His repetitive recitation of the melody returns things to square one before relaunching into an abyss of probing, penetrating runs.

"Ugly Beauty" features a rubato framework provided by Faulkner, with Curtis' frank statement of the melody leading the charge into what amounts to waltz time with quantum flexibility. The duo work as a pair throughout Monk's thirty-two bar romp in three, in what is his only waltz.

Curtis' quartet album, Heatmap (Imani, 2022) set the bar of expectation high for his releases going forward. Hearing him perform in trio with this collection of musicians is akin to watching an athlete achieve excellence in shedding the constraints of technique and form. The music clearly expresses his dedication to his sound and the voraciousness of his intent.

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