Album Review: 3231 Live Sound 323 – Derek Bailey & Simon H. Fell
Alright, so let’s talk about 3231 Live Sound 323, the live recording from Derek Bailey and Simon H. Fell that somehow managed to sneak its way into the world in 2018, nearly two decades after it was laid down on 15 August 2001. If you’re into jazz but not just any jazz—like, the kind where no one tells you what to expect—this is gonna be your jam. Genre? Jazz. Style? Free Improvisation. Label? Confront. And yeah, it’s as raw and unfiltered as it sounds.
First off, creds where they’re due: Derek Bailey on acoustic guitar and Simon H. Fell on double bass. That’s it. No flashy production tricks or overdubs. Just two guys vibing off each other in real-time like some sort of musical telepathy experiment. The album has two tracks (creatively titled “15 August 2001 1” and “15 August 2001 2”), but don’t let the lack of track names fool ya—it’s packed with moments that’ll make you go, “Wait…what did I just hear?”
Let me break it down for ya. Track one starts out all quiet and kinda hesitant, like both musicians are tiptoeing around each other, trying to figure out who’s gonna take the lead. Then BAM! About three minutes in, Bailey’s guitar goes full-on alien transmission mode. It’s this weird mix of plucks, scrapes, and harmonics that shouldn’t work together but somehow do. You can tell he’s not playing chords or melodies in the traditional sense—he’s more like painting with sound. Meanwhile, Fell’s bass lines are doing these deep, rumbling things underneath, keeping everything grounded while also throwing curveballs. There’s this one moment where his bowing gets so intense it almost feels like the room is vibrating. I swear, I had to check if my speakers were busted.
Track two is a whole different beast. It opens with this super sparse section where Bailey’s guitar sounds like it’s having an existential crisis. Like, imagine someone nervously tapping their fingers on a table, except instead of annoyance, it’s oddly soothing. Fell joins in later with these low, growling notes that feel like shadows creeping across the floor. Around the halfway mark, things get chaotic—like, kitchen-sink chaotic. Bailey starts hammering away at his strings while Fell bows furiously, creating this wall of noise that’s equal parts thrilling and disorienting. Honestly, it made me laugh out loud because it felt like they were daring each other to see who could push the limits further.
What sticks with me most about this album isn’t just how technically impressive it is (though, yeah, these dudes are wizards), but how human it feels. Every creak, scrape, and pause feels intentional, like they’re inviting you into their private conversation. It’s messy, unpredictable, and sometimes downright strange—but isn’t that what makes life interesting?
Oh, and here’s the kicker: knowing this was recorded back in 2001 but released in 2018 kinda blows my mind. Like, think about all the stuff that happened between then and now. Wars, pandemics, TikTok trends—seriously, the world changed a million times over. Yet this music still feels fresh, like it exists outside of time altogether. Weird flex, but I respect it.
So yeah, if you’re looking for something that challenges your ears and rewards repeat listens, give 3231 Live Sound 323 a shot. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing random noises in everyday life and wondering if Bailey and Fell snuck them in there too.
