Zitat:Frode Gjerstad, could rightly be called a (if not the) pioneer of Norwegian free jazz, but, given the relatively limited global influence of Norwegian jazz, the saxophonist’s discography is rife with collaborations with improvisers from other countries and continents. John Stevens, Hamid Drake, Evan Parker, and Peter Broetzmann each appear in Gjerstad’s discography, testaments to the impact that Gjerstad’s had not only in his homeland, but in cities across Europe and the Americas. Ultralyd, one of Gjerstad’s most recent groupings, is an all-Norwegian quartet, featuring bassist Kjetil Brandsal of Load label-mates Noxagt, as well as the talents of drummer Morten J. Olsen and guitarist Anders Hana. Like the caustic napalm of Last Exit, Ultralyd’s music injects free jazz with a heavy side of rock ‘n’ roll aplomb, and while this quartet can’t rival the sheer intensity of their aforementioned predecessors, Chromosome Gun is a satisfyingly thunderous document nonetheless.

“Beautor” opens the disc with roar; a storming six minutes that, played at the proper volume, could probably loosen fillings and crack plaster. Olsen and Brandsdal are especially imposing, as they do on much of Chromosome Gun, this rhythm section (though there are surely times that term is stretched quite a bit by the duo) are the anchor of Ultralyd’s explosions, marking the quartet’s territory with the rhythms of giants’ steps and buckling earth. Not all of the album’s tracks are always as caustic, but Ultralyd isn’t exactly intended to be an experiment in diversity, so, when things slow down, the material never gets lighter. Even tracks like “Zooblast,” which make use of more abstract material and silence, are pummeling exercises in tension and inertia. The group’s at its best, though, when Olsen’s really pounding away, when a devilish swing overtakes the music and sheer brawn wins out. Gjerstad’s playing, interestingly, sometimes seems over-exerted; his attempts to sonically equal with his bandmates are, at times, hyperactive when a thick stream of viscous sound would complement the music more organically. Hana shifts camps often, sometimes riding rhythms, other times engaging in jagged conversation with Gjerstad in the foreground.

Chromosome Gun ends rather unceremoniously and without the concentrated clamor of its beginning, and though Ultralyd’s less bombastic material results in some interesting interplay over repetitive motifs, it’s the quartet’s brawn that’s their most impressive quality, and it’s sometimes hard not to be impatient waiting for it to return. The album, though, is no weakling. This is mosh-pit jazz, Scandinavian style.

nu ja, jazz metal wie von naked city (john zorn) bekannt, ebenfalls mit saxophon. anstrengend, schraeg und geil