The pair have played music together in a multitude of formations over nearly three decades, including their ongoing partnership in Mazurek’s large-format-skyward-expressionism vehicle Exploding Star Orchestra, in the expanded Chicago Underground Trio & Quartet (with guitarist Jeff Parker), and in a plethora of other assemblages. The early albums by the Duo have proven to be embryonic blueprints for the avant-jazz / electronic / indie rock hybridizations of the time, making them majorly important moments in the articulation of the “jazz” dimensionality of the then-burgeoning "post rock" sound. That sound, of course, was being transmitted far and wide due to the success of these groups as well as Mazurek’s Isotope 217 project with Jeff Parker, and the Chicago Underground’s frequent collaborators in Tortoise.
But the sounds being created by this extended family are and were far from static. Just as most of the still-working artists born of that Chicago era have evolved, reconfigured, and grown, Chicago Underground Duo has undergone a number of musical moltings, with the project always in the background of disparate individual aural investigations — always an option, always an outlet. As the project drops off and picks back up, the concurrent personal evolutions of Mazurek and Taylor make the Duo a true reflection of their own lives and friendship.
“Rob is my longest collaborator and also one of my best friends,” says Taylor, who first performed with Mazurek at a club in Chicago in 1988, aged 15.
“When it feels right we do it,” says Mazurek of the gaps in duo activity. “We have worked together and have been friends for a long time. This creates a kind of continuity not only in the music, but in our lives.”
Musically, there are certainly internalized nods here to AACM composers like Wadada Leo Smith, or albums like Don Cherry & Ed Blackwell’s “Mu” and El Corazon, but the songs of Hyperglyph exemplify Mazurek and Taylor’s individualities while also addressing another longtime influence on the Chicago Underground Duo sound — the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost of extreme studio editing in jazz-adjacent music, Miles Davis and Teo Macero’s Bitches Brew, In A Silent Way, and Get Up With It.
“Post production has always been a big part of our process,” says Taylor.
“Sometimes it just flows and we one-take a thing,” Mazurek elaborates. “Other things take time to ferment. We hit those hard in the post production.”
International Anthem engineer Dave Vettraino was indispensable as part of this process, recording and mixing the entire album at IARC HQ in Chicago. “We are very open and free in the studio,” says Mazurek. “Working with Dave is a joy because he is so intuitive and open with his approach as well. We can try anything with him. In this way it is more like a trio than a duo.”
Couple this trio’s take on the now classic cut-and-recut production techniques of Davis/Macero with Mazurek and Taylor’s longtime interest in deep electronic sounds (think Bernard Parmegiani, Morton Subotnick, Xenakis, Eliane Radigue, Plux Quba), transformative processing (think Autechre, King Tubby, Mouse On Mars, Carl Craig) and we can finally get close to understanding just where the duo lands in this lineage — this ongoing narrative each individual finds themselves in whether they see it or not. The Chicago Underground Duo, it seems, sees it.
While the musical language of Mazurek and Taylor can certainly be clocked in the slew of projects that they participate in together, the sound of a Chicago Underground Duo album is singular among them. Hyperglyph is no exception and could even be considered a distillation of that intuitive yet complex sound. A key can be found in the title of the album itself: highly complex geometric structures which can seem overly complex at first but, when thousands are arrayed in 3D space and with user training and adaptation, can significantly enhance perception and information assimilation and lead to new knowledge and insights.
The album opener “Click Song” kicks off with a blown-out horn chant from Mazurek, doubled by tuned bells and nestled into a muscular and symmetrical stereo-overdubbed polyrhythm from Taylor. Synthesized bass pulls our ears along cyclically, dropping in and out to almost severe dynamic effect while Mazurek and the subtle-yet-persistent bells elaborate upon the melody before ultimately departing from their repetitive psalm in favor of improvisation. It’s all held together by the steady, deep, chest-thump boom of Taylor’s kick drum pattern.
“There has always been a lot of African influence in the rhythms we play,” says Taylor. “With this record, specifically, we utilize rhythms from Nigeria, Mali, Zimbabwe, and Ghana.” Taken as a whole, spiritually, this introductory three-minute stomper lives somewhere between a Tuareg wedding and the most hypnotic moments of the click songs of Northern Africa.
Title track “Hyperglyph” follows, and begins with a chromatic moving harmony played by Mazurek on the RMI electric piano, an instrument famously utilized on Miles Davis’ groundbreaking Filles de Kilimanjaro. The vibe here, though, is one of unyielding, trancelike repetition. The trumpet introduces the time, with Taylor's chunky smacking rhythm hitting hard from the get go. Eventually, the tune undergoes a transformation, with the back and forth of melody and rhythm hitting a fever pitch. A pitch-shifted trumpet becomes a New Orleans march baritone. Dennis Bovell-style dub sounds enter (or, maybe, reveal themselves) at the start of the song’s final movement, followed by wordless incantations. Swelling and saturated, the track sounds as if it’s about to tear itself apart. Static pulsing merges and overtakes the recorded percussion to present a new rhythm of hissing electronics — the harnessed wailing of the unleashed ghost in the machine. A spiritual awakening from the bowels of the earth.
“Hemiunu”, a Chad Taylor composition, is a waltz based around a simple piano figure repeated throughout. A folk melody from anywhere, the kind that’s been in the air for as long as anyone can remember. One might imagine the melody played clawhammer on an Appalachian afternoon, bowed somberly on the Chinese erhu, or hummed nonchalantly on the factory line. From the jump, Taylor’s percussion threads itself into the sound of a well-worn upright piano as the high register is haunted in wide stereo by that roiling RMI electric piano in octaves, alternately dubby and harplike. Enter Mazurek with another folk-like melodic phrase. Pause. Again. Pause. Leaving room for the now densely waltzing bouquet to bloom before diving deep into laser-sharp Lee Morganesque territory with a wildly vibrating high trumpet cry, but with a tone Mazurek owns completely.
The deeper reference for Mazurek’s most untethered emotional playing is his late friend and mentor Bill Dixon, an extraction most apparent in the three-part "Egyptian Suite.” At the start of part one (“The Architect”) a cyclical pattern from Taylor becomes a bed for Mazurek’s repeating, descending, synthetic-Egyptian scaled theme. This call to action dissolves into the second movement, “Triangulation of Light,” where Taylor’s bowed cymbals set the stage for an exploration of microtonal color with and against the occasional joining and un-joining of tones that stretch the frequencies to their limits from Mazurek's open and half muted trumpet. Like a tornado siren in the distance, breaking through the membrane of storm clouds on the horizon, in search of another siren.
The third and final movement, “Architectonics of Time,” announces itself with free rolling swaths of percussion from Taylor à la Robert Frank Pozar’s mind-bending percussion on The Bill Dixon Orchestra’s classic Intents and Purposes. Here, though, the lineup is limited to two, with no overdubs or post-production. Taylor's singular style and Mazurek's tonal painting coalesce into a maelstrom of intervallic tone and beat before the final repeat of the lead melody from the suite’s first movement. It truly feels like reaching the summit. It’s pure and free duo interaction, the symbiosis of 30 years.
“Succulent Amber,” the final track on Hyperglyph, could fit just as easily on side two of Autobahn. After a brief modular synth-induced pan-harmonic melody shift, a steady kalimba is joined by the gentle intermittent raindrop-melodicism of the RMI electric piano in this understated final duo performance, unadorned by further studio arrangement. It’s a full-on comedown moment after the intensity of “Egyptian Suite,” though rather than winding down or petering out, here the Chicago Underground Duo still manage to point toward some kind of incoming mystery with four sudden-yet-patient ascending chords on the low-register of the RMI electric piano just before the curtains close. The piano notes end on a leading tone, leaving the resolution to the listener.
Once we’ve climbed the mountain, they remind us, we have to deal with what’s on the other side.
Tracklist:
1. Click Song
2. Hyperglyph
3. Rhythm Cloth
4. Contents of Your Heavenly Body
5. The Gathering
6. Plymouth
7. Hemiunu
8. Egyptian Suite / Part 1: The Architect
9. Egyptian Suite / Part 2: Triangulation of Light
10. Egyptian Suite / Part 3: Architectronics of Time
11. Succulent Amber
