The Darkening Blue by André Canniere: A Jazz Journey That’ll Leave You Hug-Tight with the Dark
Let’s cut to the chase—André Canniere’s The Darkening Blue is one of those albums that sneaks up on you like a cat in socks. Released in 2016 under Whirlwind Recordings (UK), this jazz gem doesn’t just sit there looking pretty; it grabs your ears and whispers, “Hey, stick around. This is gonna get interesting.” And oh boy, does it ever.
First off, let’s talk about who’s bringing the heat here. Canniere himself mans the trumpet, but he’s not flying solo—he’s backed by an all-star lineup including Ted Poor on drums (who swings harder than my New Year's resolutions), Michael Janisch pulling double duty on basses (electric AND double because why not?), Ivo Neame flexing his keys wizardry across piano, keyboards, AND accordion (show-off), Tori Freestone laying down tenor sax lines so smooth they could sell moisturizer, and Brigitte Beraha adding haunting vocals that linger longer than last week’s leftovers.
Now onto the tracks. You’ve got ten slices of sonic goodness here, but two really stuck to my brain like gum under a table: “Hug The Dark” and “Splash.”
“Hug The Dark” sounds exactly how hugging darkness might feel—if darkness had a warm side, which apparently it does if André Canniere has anything to say about it. It starts moody, almost brooding, as though the instruments are tiptoeing through foggy streets at midnight. Then Beraha’s voice floats in like a ghost who forgot she was dead—it’s ethereal, unsettling, and kinda beautiful all at once. By the time Canniere’s trumpet joins the party, you’re fully submerged in this strange little world where melancholy feels oddly comforting. Weird? Sure. Memorable? Absolutely.
Then there’s “Splash,” which lives up to its name like a kid cannonballing into a pool. This track bursts out of the gate with energy, fueled by Poor’s drumming and Neame’s playful keyboard work. If “Hug The Dark” is introspective and shadowy, “Splash” is pure sunlight bouncing off water droplets. Freestone’s sax solo dances around like someone trying not to spill their drink while showing off on the dance floor. It’s impossible not to grin when listening—it’s just fun, man.
Other highlights include “Sunflower (for Emelie),” which will make you want to plant flowers even if you kill every houseplant you touch, and “Autumn Day,” which somehow smells like fallen leaves despite being made entirely of sound waves. But honestly, the whole album flows together like melted ice cream on a hot day—messy yet satisfying.
So what’s the takeaway from The Darkening Blue? Well, aside from realizing André Canniere probably dreams in Dorian modes, it’s this: sometimes life hands you lemons, but instead of making lemonade, you should throw them at people and write killer jazz tunes about it. Or maybe that’s just me projecting again. Either way, give this album a spin—it’s proof that jazz can be both smart and fun without taking itself too seriously. And hey, isn’t that what we all need more of these days?
Unexpected remark: Listening to this record makes me wish I owned a fedora. Not sure why. Maybe I’ll Google “jazz hats” next.
