Contact: When Free Jazz Goes Full “What Just Happened?” Mode
Alright, buckle up, because Contact by Norbert R. Stammberger, Franz Hautzinger, and Lê Quan Ninh is not your grandma’s jazz album (unless your grandma is super into avant-garde free improvisation—then hats off to her). Released in 2010 on Gnu Records outta Germany, this thing feels like someone handed three sonic mad scientists a bunch of instruments and said, “Go nuts.” And boy, did they ever.
First off, let’s talk about the track "Untitled" (real creative name there, guys). It starts off all quiet and sneaky, like that moment when you think your cat’s asleep but then it suddenly leaps onto your face at 3 AM. The trumpet from Hautzinger meanders around like it can’t decide if it wants to be smooth or chaotic—and honestly? That indecision works. Meanwhile, Ninh’s percussion sounds like he raided a junkyard for anything that could make noise. Seriously, I’m pretty sure I heard what might’ve been a trash can lid rattling its way into history. But here’s the kicker—it all gels together somehow. By the time Stammberger’s bass clarinet chimes in, you’re either fully vibing or questioning every life choice that led you to press play. Either way, it sticks with you.
Then there’s another standout moment—I won’t spoil which track because part of the fun is figuring it out yourself—but imagine a sound so raw it feels like the musicians are arguing without words. One second, it’s tense as heck; the next, it breaks into this weirdly beautiful harmony that makes you go, “Wait…is this good? Or am I losing my mind?” Spoiler alert: both are true. This isn’t background music for sipping lattes at a café. No, this is the kind of stuff that demands your attention, like an overeager dog jumping on your lap while yelling, “LOOK AT ME!”
What really gets me about Contact is how unapologetically experimental it is. These guys aren’t trying to win any popularity contests—they’re too busy breaking rules most people didn’t even know existed. Sure, some parts might sound like someone dropped a piano down a flight of stairs (and maybe they did?), but isn’t that kinda the point? Free improvisation doesn’t care about being polite or predictable. It thrives on chaos, and these dudes clearly thrive right along with it.
So yeah, Contact isn’t for everyone. If you prefer your jazz safe and polished, steer clear. But if you’re ready to embrace the messy, glorious unknown, give this one a spin. Just don’t blame me if it haunts your dreams—or inspires you to start your own junkyard jam session.
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like eavesdropping on aliens having a heated debate about philosophy. And honestly? I’d pay good money to see that live.
