Ville Herrala – Pu: (We Jazz)

Finnish double bassist Ville Herrala conjures raw suspense and offers many surprises on his ambitious debut album Pu: from We Jazz Records

You know that old joke about a group of explorers being led through the jungle? “Always keep listening for the drums,” warns their guide. “Bad things happen when those drums stop.” After four days of trekking, the drums suddenly cease. The jungle goes quiet and everyone panics. “What happens now?” the explorers ask in terror. The guide whispers back, “Everyone beware. When the drumming stops, the bass solo begins.”

Upright bass albums have been plentiful down the years, especially within the realms of free and spiritual jazz. Some notable solo works include the visceral groundbreaker Basse Barre by Barre Phillips (Futura, 1968). Later came Natural and Spiritual, a live unamplified recording by Malachi Favors (AECO Records, 1978). But maybe the most widely accessible is Eberhard Weber’s warmly cerebral Pendulum (ECM, 1993). And it’s to the latter effort we might turn when assessing Pu:, the debut by Finnish bass star Ville Herrala. Weber used overdubs and echo units on Pendulum to create skewed pulsings, as if Eric Chenaux and Kamaal Williams were involved. Quite what Herrala used to enhance his unaccompanied playing isn’t certain – quite possibly nothing. But listened to without any background info, it’s doubtful many listeners would guess that Pu: is the offering of a lone individual. Rarely has one pair of hands produced so many tones from a single instrument. The daring and dexterity shown by Herrala, in rhythm and timbre, is dumbfounding at times. Born in 1979, his former credits include the splendidly named trio PLOP and the UMO Helsinki Jazz Orchestra. On the evidence of this outing he’ll be a target for London’s Café Oto and the Southbank in due course.

Pu: features fourteen scanty sketches that each clock in at three minutes max. The track titles are as basic as the music is exemplary, starting with the rappy slappy “Pu: 1”, which could be the noise of an idling piston engine. “Pu: 2” is a bowed piece that creaks and withers like an old tree; it’s also a deal raspier than some of Neil Young’s guitar solos. “Pu: 3” conjures a muffled piano, as if ghostly hands were playing it with the lid closed. Then comes the one that’d surely catch anyone out – “Pu: 4” lends Herrala’s bass a skronky sax tone that’s more breathy and edgy than sexy. It’s an utterly convincing takeoff.

“Pu: 5” and “Pu: 14” both flitter like rats and bats going berserk in your attic. “Pu: 6” echoes the cabaret yawps of John Harle’s sax or Alexander Bălănescu’s viola on their Dagmar Krause collaboration Tank Battles. Indeed, within the context of Pu: we could usefully chuck in the Kronos Quartet circa Black Angels (Elektra, 1990) for further reference. What else does Herrala call forth, with what must be the floppiest of hands to play so fluidly? Ogre-ish groaning during “Pu: 8”, marimba-like droplets on “Pu: 9” and cinematic tension for “Pu: 12” and “Pu: 13”, the latter with bloodcurdling bowings. Maybe Herrala’s auditioning to score horror movies, in which case the fearful scrapes of “Pu: 11” and coffin-lid tappings on “Pu: 12” should suffice.

Whilst playing with the improvised act PLOP – the least bad name they came up with – Herrala referred to jazz as being a “very large umbrella and the sides of this umbrella are very blurred”. The tracks on Pu: however are more minimal, even electronic, in their intent than anything he’s done before. It’s an album that can startle you into quiet wonderment. Those jungle explorers would’ve been transfixed had Herrala struck up when the drumming stopped.

We Jazz Records Bandcamp