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The fourth iteration of modern jazz supergroupGarage a Trois finds the boys dropping guitar wizard Charlie Hunter, probablyleaving him back at the record store with most any and all of their collectiveinfluences. Free-form and forward-thinking is the game when drummer StantonMoore, vibraphonist Mike Dillon and saxophonist Skerik play together. This timethey introduce the scuzzy organ of Marco Benevento to their sleazy trip-hopjazz fusion, while cooking in just a bit more postmodern industrial quirkinessfor good measure.
To his credit Beneventomostly hangs back, and Skerik (or whoever’s hands are on the iTools knob)doesn’t completely clutter with the pervasive series of electronic bleeps,wheezes and drones. But Moore’s brand is certainly one of muscular, danceablefunk, and when he locks with Dillon’s tinklingsat turns playful, thenscorchingis when the group sounds and feels the best.
For this, Blue Note acolytes will be quitecomfortable with the likes of “Dory’s Day Out” or “Dugout.” But at theiressence the group tends toward the avant-garde. And when things get obstinatelyself-indulgent, spacey and a little busyas on the title track and oftenelsewhereit is a trip best experienced with an open mind, or at least a palmfull of acid.
