Jörg Fleer’s Self-Titled Jazz Odyssey: A Raw, Unfiltered Blast from 1999
Let’s cut the crap. Jörg Fleer’s self-titled album isn’t your run-of-the-mill smooth jazz record you’d hear in some pretentious café while sipping overpriced espresso. No, this thing is raw, edgy, and unapologetically German. Released back in ’99 on Scales Records, it’s like a time capsule of gritty experimentation that still punches hard today. With Fleer shredding on guitar (and even dabbling with a guitar synthesizer), he drags listeners through a soundscape that feels more like an emotional rollercoaster than a laid-back listening session.
The band? Tight as hell. Christoph Dangelmaier lays down basslines so groovy they could make your socks sweat, while Torsten Krill smashes his drums like he’s got something to prove. And let’s not forget Gero Fei—this guy doesn’t just do percussion; he adds weird vocal layers that feel like whispers from another dimension. It’s messy, but damn if it ain’t captivating.
Now, onto the tracks. Two stood out for me, and I’ll tell ya why.
First up: "Eins Mehr Oder: Ein Jahr Danach II." This tune hits like a punch to the gut. The opening riff grabs you by the collar and refuses to let go. Fleer’s guitar work here is insane—it’s jazzy, sure, but there’s this gnarly edge to it, like he’s channeling both Pat Metheny and someone who just lost their temper at a traffic jam. By the time Hans-Herrmann Rösch’s keys kick in, you’re already hooked. But what really sticks? That haunting melody lingering underneath everything else. You can’t shake it off. It’s one of those songs that stays stuck in your head long after the needle lifts.
Then there’s "Freaky Girl Oder: Grabgesang II," which sounds exactly how its title implies—a freakin’ wild ride. If the first track was a punch, this one’s a slap across the face followed by a laugh. Gero Fei’s voice creeps in like a ghost messing with your stereo system, and then BAM!—the whole band explodes into chaos. Drums crash, guitars wail, and suddenly you’re wondering if jazz can actually summon demons. Spoiler alert: maybe it can. This song screams attitude, and honestly, it’s refreshing as hell compared to all the polished nonsense flooding playlists these days.
But here’s the kicker: despite all the aggression and weirdness, there’s heart in this album. Tracks like “Frühstück Mit Hans” or “Waiting For A Call” show a softer side, almost like Fleer’s giving you space to breathe between rounds of sonic beatings. It’s unpredictable, messy, and kinda beautiful.
So yeah, Jörg Fleer’s album might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, it might not even be most people’s cup of tea. But if you’re looking for jazz that doesn’t play nice, that challenges you instead of lulling you to sleep, then this is worth a spin.
Oh, and one last thing—ever wondered what flu-infused existential dread sounds like? Check out “Influenza.” Trust me, it’s… something.
