Dapp Theory, Layers of Chance

Jazz, for want of a more useful term in this case, has long struggled with viable ways to incorporate language — here specifically the language of hip-hop— into its working lexicon. Partly because hip-hop itself is so codified in manner of expression, its union with jazz has been particularly troublesome. It bluntness bumps uncomfortably up against jazz's more subtle sensibilities. Pianist Andy Milne has clearly given this quandary a lot of thought. His band Dapp Theory's Layers of Chance confronts this issue and, through John Moon's (listed as a “percussive poet”) quicksilver patterns of speech, presents new options as to how the two idioms might work in partnership. By allowing the voice — the narrative — to convey insecurity, angst and uncertainty, the more emphatic statements are left to be articulated through the music. This effectively reverses the language/instrumental model most often used in hip-hop. The absence of chest beating seems counter-intuitive at first, but it works.

“After the Fact,” which kicks off the album, is a good example. With its martial snare drum opening, displaced piano chords and jittery poetics, it manages to be both edgy and cerebral at the same time. “Blackout,” with its skintight communication between Milne, alto saxophonist Loren Stillman and drummer Sean Rickman allows Moon the freedom to sound uncertain about “how” to say what he must. He's doing a kind of poetic acting. “SOS” is more aggressive, with Rickman's precise drumming propulsively ushering in the poetry.

Milne doesn't neglect either instrumentals or piano playing on “Layers of Chance.” The latter half of the album is largely given over to them. “If You Count It” and “Bird Calls” remind listeners just what a hotshot jazz player Milne has always been. “Déjà vu” ends the program with a crisp four-way synth-soprano-electric bass-drum theme that gives way to his most articulate and intelligent piano solo.