Words by Justin Turford
Cool, sad, wistful, caring. Just a few initial responses to my first listen to James McClure’s debut album. South African by birth but now a mainstay in the multicultural musical galaxy of Amsterdam, this thoughtful and emotional record is to be released on MOLK Records, an occasional label that is one of the strands of the DIY venue/explorative studio Molk Factory in the city. A community-focussed base for Ibelisse Guardia Ferragutti and Frank Rosaly (who’s debut album ‘Mestizx’ for International Anthem was my album of 2024), James has been a permanent member of their touring band since its release, playing his main instrument - trumpet - as well as keys.
The strain of a world with an inclination to violence works as an emotional rudder for James’ music on ‘A dizziness from the unsaid’. As the ‘unsaid’ in the title indicates, sometimes there are no words for the horrors, or for how we feel about and react to them. All we can do is breathe and be alive. Or to create. Whatever gets you through the night.
Recorded live at Wisseloord Studios in Hilversum in The Netherlands and in a classic acoustic quartet formation of James on trumpet, Adrián Moncada Espinosa on piano, Pat Cleaver on double bass and Nikos Thessalonikefs on drums, this is an album that moves slowly, a quietly burning, late night storm of emotional charge.
“ (The album) is a collection of my earliest compositions written for this ensemble. It’s a reflection on moments in my life when I’ve been lost for words, often overwhelmed by thought and emotion. It is an attempt to give a voice to those silences, allowing them to breathe and transform through sound…
At the core of the album is a Lullaby that I wrote in 2020 in response to the violence and global unrest of that time. Its melody has since become the thread that ties these pieces together while serving as a reminder to play from a place of presence and to meet the world's turbulence with tenderness. It carries a message of reflection and healing for me that feels ever more relevant, and increasingly urgent.”
James McClure by Teemu Kekkonen edited by Várv. @varvaratazelaar @teemukekkonenphotos
South Africa, of course, has a rich heritage of trumpet players and a singularly recognisable melodic DNA that weaves throughout the country’s musical history and one can subtly identify this hereditary helix in several of James’ compositions on this record but none more so than on the composition that is the heart of the album, a piece that appears three times.
The first take and the first track on the record, ‘Lullaby (Take 1)’ is a smoky, nocturnal blues with a twinkling heart. James’ close-miked trumpet is so intimate his breath is palpable, his tone healing and heartfelt as he introduces the melody alone. The rest of the band tumble into the piece slowly with a fearless and impressionistic verve, a charming chaos to what could have been just a straightforward ballad. Instead, an avant-garde, freedom-seeking impulse reveals itself to us.
‘Calm Between Storms’ begins with the rumble of the storm before a metronomic two note bass line pulls your attention into a single point of focus, trumpet and piano tentatively adding colour and tension. From hereon, an extended unravelling of energy takes place, with some striking interplay between Adrián’s piano and Nikos’ drum kit, a wrestling match of countermoves and strikes as James and Pat join in at the end to form another storm. There’s definitely more than a nod to Miles’s spare and piercing horn here but it still feels really fresh.
As the title suggests, ‘Below the surface’ hints at submerged depths or even monsters. Brooding and dirge-like in tempo, the playing is precise, minimal and in very dark hues. The result, a kind of meditation on fear perhaps. Beautiful nonetheless.
A short burst of expression cleanses the space on ‘Solo’, James alone and unfiltered before the gorgeously languid ‘Rotary (e)motion’ washes over us. Wave-like brushwork, restrained bass and some of Adrián’s most lyrical piano on the album expands and contracts, James blowing only when needed, sensitively and with an exquisite Satie-esque quality.
‘Lullaby (take 4)’ strips back to just drums and trumpet this time, a face off of sorts of non-linear rhythm and the calming central melody that anchors the album together.
The funky blues of ‘iBhengezo’ appears with a long bass solo that twists and turns until tightening up its groove just as rimshots and percussion trigger the release of the band’s full quartet energy. This baby swings with an acute sense of confidence in each other's synergy, the rhythm taut yet loose, the harmonies and melodic conversations full-blooded and in this case, not ‘unsaid’.
A band interpretation of a melody that James composed and played at the funeral of one of his ‘mothers’, ‘Linda Veronica Kakaza (lala ngoxolo Gogs)’ is a moving dedication that is performed with a painterly intensity. Pain and tenderness pours forth from James as the remaining musicians support him like a friend should, holding him if he falls, sympathetic chords resisting the moments of loud grief.
‘A place where words don't belong’ is another slow-paced number that develops in complexity and intensity, musically and emotionally. Moments of fragility intertwine with muscular passages, ever human, sadness and strength often share the same space and this piece feels like that to me.
The end comes with a final lullaby. ‘Lullaby (take 3)’ lets bassist Pat Cleaver take centre stage alongside James’ now deeply familiar melody line. What feels like an end-of-the-night dance between the pair showcases Pat’s sensitive dexterity and the duo’s finely tuned empathy shares a sense of, well, love.
A record of great feelings in many ways, ‘A dizziness from the unsaid’ has no words and doesn’t need them. The world feels weightier every day (even since finishing this review) but collective creativity can help, can heal. This album undoubtedly offers a spiritually positive balm to a blue day. 9/10
BUY HERE! https://jamesmcclure.bandcamp.com/album/a-dizziness-from-the-unsaid-2