Thomas Chapin Sky Pieceby Jim Macnie – Jazziz, July 1998

Few among us aren’t impressed with a genuine renaissance man, but sometimes diversity can be a stumbling block to a music career. Audiences cherish focus. It aids in the assignment of identity, a crucial task for a modern culture clogged with fleeting characters. Those who wield numerous skills – no matter how tantalizing or accomplished – run the risk of confusing the crowd.

Some have suggested that Thomas Chapin was wounded by his manifold interests. Indeed, the shifts he made were numerous enough to make him seem dedicated to deviation. The multi-instrumentalist romped through open territories, arranged precise music for strings and horn sections, interpreted dusty country-and-western standards, and wrote extended paeans to nature. He blew romantic. He blew ornery. He blew joyous. He blew blue.

If general audiences were befuddled by Chapin’s versatility, it’s their loss. A virtuosic instrumentalist and resourceful composer, his scope was the consequence of being smitten with jazz’s big picture, and it italicized the optimism his music steadily expressed. If you listened close enough, you could usually hear the sanguine ties that married even his most far-flung ideas. The saxophonist investigated synergy, not disparity.

For those uncertain of Chapin’s ability to connect the dots, Sky Piece should be a revelation. He has never sounded as convincing as he does on this mercurial trio date. The world needs mediators – those who can turn a debate into a dialogue. As those discrete tunes flaunt their idiosyncrasies, Chapin contours the quirks with a sculptor’s eye. His most graceful record ever, Sky Piece is about creating hues, controlling momentum, and exercising authority over ideas in flux.

Execution remains a bugaboo for some ambitious musicians – ideas are occasionally more advanced than skills. Chapin took care of that by connecting with bassist Mario Pavone and drummer Michael Sarin. They worked together for the last seven years, and as Sky Piece proves, their accord could be arresting. Instantaneous shifts of tempo, exceptional agreement in the formation of texture – this is a team that prances gracefully like Steve McCall, Fred Hopkins, and Henry Threadgill did in Air, and that effects provocative deliberations with the poise of Miniature’s Tim Berne, Hank Roberts, and Joey Baron.

Sky Piece teems with tough musical assignments, but precision and empathy are always at work. The stagger-step head of “Bypass” implies funk without employing the style’s touchstones. Sarin and Pavone squeeze ghost beats out of their syncopation before embarking to a weightless zone. Before the piece concludes, the band has run headlong into some groove-dominated sputter, suggesting strongly that nervy chatter can have an impact equal to grand oratory. Sometimes what sounds extemporaneous is actually sharply calibrated. The hyper “Alphaville” is partially built on the leader’s fragmented phrases. As they dart around Pavone’s bass lines they form a melody that seems elusive until repetition substantiates its logic.

Chapin’s saxophone abilities have grown with each passing year. Early outings found him interested in the animation of a flagrant attack; on 1993’s I’ve Got Your Number, he proved that polish was also part of his vernacular. Sky Piece consolidates those approaches, applying his virtuosity in a self-deprecating manner. Like an Etch-a-Sketch master moving from right angles to perfect curves, he blends mainstream and downtown lingo with aplomb.

There’s lots of flute on the disc, and it helps strike a balance between the restlessness and serenity that fascinated the composer. Chapin’s 1993 trek to Namibia was as much inspiration as balm, and Sky Piece benefits from both its natural eloquence and thoughtful sense of daring. “Just Now” actually uses a wooden flute; the song’s wistful tone is bolstered by the instrument. Ditto for the bass flute that defines the record’s title track. A gifted colorist, Chapin was choosy about his use of timbres.

Some musicians work and work and never get their ducks in a row. Chapin’s ambitious nature nudged him in all sorts of directions, perhaps muddying the waters a bit for his listeners. But the clarity found on Sky Piece is unmistakable. Here is the breakthrough that he sought. Here is the consummate fluency and focus supporters always knew he had in him. There’s orthodox beauty all over this record. And there’s stimulating abstraction, too. The oft-forgotten affinity between the two is vibrantly invoked. Maybe that’s why the feeling of satori is so strong. And maybe that’s why jazz will miss Thomas Chapin.

* All albums previously released on Knitting Factory Records are now the sole property of and available through Akasha, Inc.