Paul Flaherty, Aria Nativa
A cool sax player whose tone boils
I've been trying to figure out what it is about Paul Flaherty's solo alto saxophone excursion "Aria Nativa" that I find so engrossing. In an age of virtuosi, he is not preoccupied with becoming one. His lines are not particularly complex, and he utilizes timbres that are unusually harsh for someone who is essentially a melodist. I think that, ultimately, the two things that make Flaherty's playing worthwhile are its purity and its implacable sense of logic. Beneath the overblown and split tones, the screams and harmonics, there's a calm in the center. This seeming contradiction — a cool player whose tone boils — distances Flaherty from most other saxophonists. "Woman in the Polka Dot Dress" starts with simple triplet triads and stays with concise cells of sound. The exposition, rather than being thematic, is focused on radically exploring the timbre of the notes, investing them with unorthodox properties — hums, parallel octaves and sub-tones. Ironically, when Flaherty is playing "straight" horn, his sound is reminiscent of Anthony Braxton's. There's even a hint of John Handy in the way he uses trills.
"I Don't Live Here Anymore," in addition to confirming the Handy influence, suggests that the saxophonist has listened to Evan Parker. Here he spins repeated phrases, adding harmonics as he goes. "Weren't There Two of Them?" begins as a ballad, moves into a forceful circular improvisation, returns to the contemplative, and culminates in screams. "Moving Through the Darkness" is fiery and violent, the alto sounding huge, bringing to mind much of Peter Brötzmann's tenor playing. The album ends with the very disturbing spoken word piece "Kel DelPonte, No More America." This non-musical performance confirms that Paul Flaherty's music is guided by a politically engaged overview. "Aria Nativa" is a difficult but persuasive work by a saxophonist well worth hearing.
