Tether by Hayden Prosser: A Jazz Odyssey That’ll Tether You to Your Headphones
Let’s cut to the chase—Hayden Prosser’s Tether isn’t just another jazz album. Released in 2017 under Whirlwind Recordings (UK), this record is like a quirky coffee shop where everyone knows your name but still surprises you with off-menu specials. Prosser wears multiple hats here—he plays double bass, produces, and even seems to whisper sweet nothings into the mix. The result? An album that feels intimate yet sprawling, intricate yet unpretentious.
Now, let’s talk tracks. With twelve songs on the menu, it's hard not to get overwhelmed. But two cuts stood out for me like mismatched socks in a drawer—you can’t ignore ‘em.
First up, “Out of This.” It’s got this hypnotic groove that sneaks up on you like a cat stalking a laser pointer. Philipp Gropper’s tenor saxophone dances around Elias Stemeseder’s piano like they’re old friends who’ve had one too many drinks at a house party. And then there’s Max Santner on drums, laying down beats so crisp they could snap an apple in half. Every time I hear this track, I find myself zoning out, staring at walls, and pretending I’m in some noir film. Don’t judge me.
Then there’s “All (Reprise).” If “Out of This” is the life of the party, this one’s the quiet kid sitting in the corner sketching everyone else. It’s introspective, almost haunting, as if Hayden decided to bottle up all his late-night thoughts and pour them into six minutes of pure mood music. The reprise bit? Genius. It ties the whole album together like duct tape on a broken dream. By the end, you’re left wondering whether you should cry or grab another cup of tea.
Credit where credit’s due—the team behind this project didn’t phone it in. Alex Bonney handled editing, mixing, and post-production like a multitasking wizard, while Peter Beckmann mastered the thing to perfection. Polina Joffe’s design work gives the cover art that understated elegance jazz fans secretly adore. Oh, and shoutout to Michael Janisch, the executive producer, because without him, we might’ve never heard this gem.
What strikes me most about Tether is how alive it feels. Listening to it is like eavesdropping on a conversation between insanely talented people who genuinely enjoy each other’s company. There are moments when it stumbles slightly—like when a solo goes on just a tad too long—but those imperfections make it human.
Here’s the kicker: after listening to Tether, I realized something strange. Jazz albums often feel like they belong in museums—beautiful, untouchable artifacts. But this one? It’s more like a handwritten note passed during class. Messy edges, raw emotion, and a little mysterious. You’ll want to keep it close.
So go ahead, give Tether a spin. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing saxophones in your sleep.
