In Cryptogramophone‘s characteristic attention to packaging, The Veil comes in a stiff cardboard gatefold colored in the grays and blacks of utter doom.
What makes me say “doom?” The beginning of the CD, actually, as the quick plunge into “Railroaded” tells you these guys are out for blood. They’re making a horror movie here: Tim Berne‘s sax squealing at helium density, Nels Cline shredding mercilessly, and Jim Black splattering the crowd with snare fills.
BB&C — previously called “The BBC” and “Sons of Champignon” — aims for the epic, performing long improvisations with a big sound. The Veil presents us with a 45-minute piece, split into seven uninterrupted tracks, followed by a 13-minute encore.
After that enjoyable jolt of an opening, the music does calm down and spread out. The second phase, “Impairment Posse,” gets Berne and Black into a more friendly, funky groove with Cline spewing electric sparks like an I-beam going through a supernatural woodchipper. “The Barbarella Syndrome” comes across like more of a Berne-led piece, albeit with heavier guitar. It’s got a quick-footed pace and taut, bouncy sax improvising, and Cline keeps the volume pedals and distortion down a bit for a cleaner, closer-to-jazz sound. It’s still quite aggressive; you can sense the beads of sweat on their foreheads.
A trademark Jim Black solo is always a treat, and we’re granted one on “The Dawn of the Lawn.” Cline adds some shimmering, slow guitar chords to create a proggy sheen — I feel like I’ve been comparing everything to prog lately, but Cline’s music makes the comparison apt, and there are moments on here that remind me of the electric/electronic landscapes Berne helped weave with David Torn’s Prezens.
The encore piece, titled “Tiny Moment,” is the cooldown, with moments of creeping calm that twice build up to an icy intensity.
I think all three members would like to think of The Veil as a departure for them, individually. Maybe less so for Cline. But the familiar elements do poke through: Cline’s skywriting-sized electronic tapestries (and that merciless shredding, as on the closing minutes of “Rescue Her”); Black’s unbounded energy, driven beats, and subtle sleight of hand; and Berne’s talent for telling long, captivating tales, latching onto the occasional riff as a tool to build the atmosphere for the next improvisational chapter. You know the elements. You just haven’t heard them mixed like this.
The Veil gets officially released June 7, but an order placed to Berne’s Screwgun Records might bring one to your mailbox earlier than that.