Many of the great jazz tenor saxophonists have a ballads album that highlights their catalog. That’s true from Coleman Hawkins through John Coltrane, Stan Getz, Dexter Gordon, and even the late Michael Brecker, among several others. Now, on her third Blue Note release, Filin, Chilean-born tenor saxophonist Melissa Aldana joins this legacy. Yet her approach is very different from the aforementioned in that she does not gravitate to The Great American Songbook, but instead to a still-unheralded tradition of Cuban romantic song that thrived between the late ‘40s and early ‘60s. The word ‘Filin” derives from feeling. So, we have to make two major adjustments to Aldana’s sound. Here, she is not performing with guitarist Lage Lund, who graced her first two albums and created remarkable harmonies with Aldana. Secondly, many of us are hearing this form of Cuban music for the first time, except those who were fans of Buena Vista Social Club’s outstanding vocalist, Omara Portuondo.
Cuban pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba, who plays in her new quartet, suggested she interpret this elegant, lyrical music of his native country. Given that Aldana speaks fluent Spanish, she was able to relate to these songs immediately. He arranged them, and they tapped bassist Peter Washington, as well as the only mainstay from her previous albums, drummer Kush Abadey, to complete the quartet. She invited her close friend Cecile McLorin Salvant, a multilingual artist, to sing on two of them, and she turned to Don Was to produce the album. For the instrumental tracks, Aladana transcribed the melodies from vocal versions while internalizing the lyrics to measure the song’s emotive depth.
The results are quietly staggering. It feels like we’ve gotten used to Aldana’s playing, first with the all-female Artemis and then with her two Blue Note albums. Gone are the long-form harmonic probings, and in their place are silky, smooth, breathy takes. She plays minimally, as does Rubalcaba, leaving space like a vocalist, and focusing on the gist of the melody rather than spinning a spiraling solo. The music unfolds like a film score, quietly intense, with restraint and deliberation. At the same time, even without the drama, it remains compelling because her playing and music are so new to most ears. This is not the 21st-century jazz we have become accustomed to, nor does it resemble the ballad albums mentioned in the first paragraph.
Rubalcaba takes a brief intro to the bolero “La Sentenica” ( written by Salvador Levi and Ela O’Farrill), followed by Aldana’s measured, lyrical expression of the melody. Here, as in the outro to “Dime Si Eres Tu” (Cesar Portillo de la Luz), Adabey’s brushwork is stellar. Listen to the outro on the latter. Throughout, it’s not the typical jazz order of melody-solo-melody. Although Rubalcaba takes a few solos, he mostly fills in the spaces between Aldana’s lines. Salvant immaculately renders the torch song, “No Te Empenes Mas,” blending beautifully with Aladana’s tenor. A youthful Aladana heard her mother singing the song around the house. Aldana also drew influence from a version performed by Joe Lovano and Rubalcaba on the 2000 Charlie Haden album Nocturne. The saxophonist bends and caresses her notes so carefully on “Imagenes” (Frank Dominguez), veering toward the interpretation by guitarist-singer Pablo Milanes.
Aldana included two Brazilian tunes in the program, one at Rubalcaba’s request and another she had often played with her previous band. Samba innovator Cartola’s “Las Rosas No Hablan” was familiar to Aldana through Anat Cohen’s take on the song. Salvant’s elegant phrasing and range are simply superb as she translates the original Portuguese into Spanish. Aldana’s choice, Hermeto Pascoal’s “Little Church” is arguably the most familiar one here, having been recorded by the electric Miles Dave on Live-Evil. Of course, this is far more understated as Aldana channels her inner Wayne Shorter.
She returns to the filin form with Jose Antonio Mendez’s “Oscaso,” a strong feature for bassist Washington, and Frank Dominguez’s “No Pidas Imposibles,” yet another example of Rubalcaba’s judiciously placed notes, Abadey’s simpatico kit work, and Washington’s lyrical bass accompaniment.
Picture a nightclub in a thriving Havana in the mid-fifties with a sultry vocalist fronting a small combo. Aldana plays that role on her saxophone with a free-flowing yet restrained approach. Filin may not floor you, but its pristine purity will inevitably leave its impact.
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