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William Parker
Raining on the Moon
2002 – Thirsty Ear
Origin: New York City
Style: Jazz

Even though William Parker has had some well-acclaimed releases in the jazz field (Piercing The Veil, Mayor of Punkville, and Peach Orchard), the Thirsty Ear label is highly responsible for shoving the jazz bassist out into the mainstream as much as allowing him free range to continue expanding his thoughts into sound. Joining the label as part of the Blue Series, which still exists as an entity to this day, William Parker brought his sometimes moody and often times eclectic jazz compositions to the forefront of the series with two prominent releases (Painter’s Spring was the other).

The focus of the Blue Series was a concept to “marry jazz’s many languages into a cogent new one and perhaps shake up what was, and to a certain extent still is, a stagnant musical climate.” (from the official website: http://www.thirstyear.com/about_and_contact.php).

However, instead of a vast degree of experimentalism, Parker does quite the opposite. What may be one of his most accessible releases is also one of his more uneventful ones. A piece of work that had much promise, simply does not live up to its potential.

The album starts out with this great be-bop tune called “Hunk Pappa Blues.” It’s a cross between this bouncing Mingus style and a delicate Gillespie approach that balances out into a colorful palette of horns and rhythms. The song finally meanders into various soloing, but eventually comes back into focus towards the end. And you really feel that Parker is on to something, which he is.

But Parker tries out something that he has wanted to do since the ‘70s, and that is adding on vocals, an experiment that wanes little results. According to an interview with Jazz Weekly, Parker has always written music with the intention of words to co-exist within the music (http://www.jazzweekly.com/interviews/wparker.htm). And with Raining On The Moon, he did a role reversal to the avant-pop style. Avant-pop takes accessibility in popular culture and turns reality upside down with the influence of popular culture icons. Here, Parker has taken an experimental career and creates something accessible from it.

If you examine the quartet that backs Parker up on this album and who also surrounded one of his more impressive works, O Neal’s Porch, featuring Rob Brown (alto sax), Lewis Barnes (trumpet), and Hamid Drake (drummer/percusionist), you have an interesting blend of talent and style. Add vocalist Leena Conquest to the mix, and you have a flow of songs that run both hot and cold.

On “Song Of Hope,” Conquest uses a form of reinforced poetry that quickly re-evaluates the point of the message over and over again. However, instead of positive re-enforcement, as it should, it ends up feeling frantic and paranoic instead of relaxed.

Coming to her defense though, the song “Watermelon Song” puts Conquest in a better light. Incorporating the simple black folk art style into vocal story telling, this abbreviated jazz number is simple and elegant in a smoke-filled grouping of muted trumpets and softer tones.

The title track to the album is not only a personal statement to the essence of this release, but it is also the most complex, cutting a noche about 15 minutes deep. A more political and social statement than a science fiction-like perspective, Conquest contemplates a utopia-like scenario of peace and tranquility for the world, yet backs up her statements by stressing that it will rain on the moon before any of this happens. The horns dance around her words like vocals within themselves, sometimes falling into an argument between the two then coming back together in an agreement of terms. The longer the song drifts the more poignant Conquest becomes. It makes you wonder what Parker would have said in 2002 if someone told him that a black Senator from Illinois would be President in 2008. It would even be interesting to gauge his thoughts on the series of events today.

The album ends in a very brief experimental African folk song titled “Donso Ngoni,” a song named after the sacred and ceremonial Mali instrument which is a six-string harp. It is a beautiful sound to end a rather sporadic album that seems to try too hard to please everyone.

Cross-Reference: Alice Coltrane, Charles Mingus, Cecil Taylor