Terraferma by Alberto Pinton Clear Now: A Jazz Odyssey You Didn’t Know You Needed
Let’s cut to the chase—Alberto Pinton’s Terraferma isn’t your grandma’s jazz record (unless your grandma is super into avant-garde weirdness, in which case, kudos to her). Released in 2003 on Sweden’s Moserobie Music Production, this album feels like a fever dream where Contemporary Jazz and Avant-garde Jazz had an awkward but brilliant love child. And trust me, it’s as wild as that sounds.
First off, props to Pinton for wearing more hats than a milliner at a royal wedding. Composer, producer, clarinet wizard, baritone saxophone maestro—he does it all. Oh, and did I mention he also wrote the liner notes? The guy clearly doesn’t sleep. Or if he does, he probably dreams in time signatures. Throw in Salvatore Maiore holding down the basslines like a boss, Roberto Dani smashing drums like they owe him money, and Kyle Gregory blowing trumpets so hard they might explode, and you’ve got yourself a crew that could make even Miles Davis raise an eyebrow.
Now, let’s talk tracks because there are some real gems here. Take “Dark Déjà Vu,” for example. It starts off moody, with Pinton’s bass clarinet creeping around like it's sneaking out of a jazz club after hours. Then BAM—it hits you with these angular rhythms and dissonant harmonies that feel like someone just spilled coffee on your favorite shirt. But instead of being mad, you’re kinda impressed. That’s the magic of this track—it messes with your brain in the best way possible.
And then there’s “Paint By Heart, Pt. 1.” If jazz albums were dinner parties, this would be the moment when someone pulls out their guitar and everyone starts singing along…except no one actually knows the words. The flute dances around like it can’t decide whether it wants to be playful or profound, while Maiore’s bass anchors everything without breaking a sweat. By the end, you're left wondering how something so chaotic can sound so damn cohesive.
The artwork deserves a shoutout too. Oreste Sabadin’s design looks like what happens when Picasso gets into abstract expressionism late at night. Couple that with Ann-Sofi Andersson’s photography, and you’ve got visuals that match the music’s quirky brilliance perfectly.
So yeah, Terraferma isn’t perfect. Some parts feel like they wandered in from another dimension entirely (looking at you, “Fragment”). But honestly? That’s part of its charm. This album reminds us that jazz doesn’t always have to play nice—it can kick over the furniture and still leave you wanting more.
Final thought: Listening to Terraferma feels like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded. Frustrating? Sure. Rewarding? Absolutely. Unexpected? Like finding a pickle in your dessert. Here’s hoping Alberto Pinton keeps making music that challenges our ears—and our sanity—for years to come.
Rating: 8/10 – Not for the faint of heart, but definitely worth the ride.
