Dave Holland Pepe Habichuela – Hands

Words.

We have these things called words.  They’re supposed to aid us in communication.  Make the abstract concrete.  Reach across the gaping chasms of interpersonal space and convey ideas, facts, thoughts.  But what do we do when words fail us?  How do you describe the indescribable?  How do you make concrete the abstract?

While all that may seem to be a weighty introduction for a CD review, I still can’t help but wonder how I’m supposed to use words to describe what my ears hear, what my soul feels.  How do I make concrete the beautifully abstract work of Dave Holland and Pepe Habichuela.

I guess I should begin at the beginning.  Dave Holland is a masterful jazz bassist.  Pepe Habichuela is a Spanish guitar legend.  They live in two separate worlds, the impenetrable fortresses of jazz and flamenco.  Those worlds are not meant to collide, not meant to integrate, to fuse.  But they have.  And the results may just be one of the more remarkable releases of the year.

After meeting and forming a soul brotherhood, Holland and Habichuela sat down to make music together.  Flamenco is the foundation, but there being no room in flamenco for bass, Holland was left to search and feel his way into each piece.  What results is an album unlike any I’ve heard before.  Forget what you know about flamenco.  With Holland’s bass finding it’s own expression, searching and diving into nooks and spaces, this is unlike any flamenco I’ve heard.  The bass adds texture and resonance, bring out an inherent drama and moodiness in the pieces that simply wouldn’t be expressed otherwise.

 Yet, it’s not jazz either.  Habichuela’s playing (as is his son Josemi Carmona’s, who also plays flamenco guitar on the album) is never short of breathtaking.  Feeling and emotion are cajoled from his guitar the same way Michaelangelo unveiled the figures hidden in the marble he sculpted.

Never is this more abundantly clear than on the stunning “Camaron (Taranta),” where Holland's bass takes the position of the traditional vocal while Habichuela’s guitar fills the space around him.  Talk about drama. Talk about impact.

The album swings through various moods, some more upbeat and festive, other more pensive and powerful, without ever repeating itself.  “The Whirling Dervish,” is a light-hearted display of magnificent guitar while “Joyride,” brings the bass back into prominence with a gorgeous halo of guitar. 

I can’t go into each song here.  I don’t have the words.  I can’t describe what these two masters are doing with their instruments, the emotions they illicit, or the impact they have.  I can only listen.  It’s only in my soul that the abstract of their music becomes concrete, and in my soul it will remain.  Suffice it to say, Hands is a remarkable album, and if you’re a fan of flamenco guitar or willing to explore a new take on jazz, it’s an album you simply must hear.


--Racer


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