Trumpets by What We Live: A Sonic Adventure You Won’t Forget
Let’s cut to the chase—Trumpets isn’t your average jazz album. Released in 2000 under Italy’s Black Saint label, this record is a wild ride through avant-garde jazz, free improvisation, and some seriously experimental vibes. If you’re into music that feels like it’s alive, shifting beneath your feet, then this one’s for you. The band—led by Lawrence Ochs on saxophones (and as producer) alongside Lisle Ellis on double bass and Donald Robinson on drums—creates a soundscape that’s both chaotic and deeply intentional. And when Dave Douglas and Wadada Leo Smith join the party on trumpet? Oh man, hold onto your headphones.
One track I can’t stop thinking about is Second Breath. It opens with this raw, almost hesitant pulse from the drums, like Robinson’s feeling his way through fog. Then Ellis comes in with these deep, resonant basslines that feel like they’re pulling you into another dimension. But what really sticks? The interplay between the horns. There’s this moment where Douglas’ trumpet seems to answer Ochs’ saxophone—it’s not so much a conversation as it is an argument, but somehow it works. It’s messy, unpredictable, and yet… perfect. Every time I listen, I swear I hear something new, like little whispers hiding in plain sight.
Then there’s The Stone Heated Distance, which honestly hits different every time. This one starts off slow, almost meditative, with long stretches of silence broken by sharp bursts of sound. It feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if you should jump or step back. Around halfway through, things explode into this frenetic energy—Douglas’ trumpet wailing like it’s got something urgent to say, while Ochs’ tenor sax dances around it like smoke. By the end, you’re left breathless, wondering how the hell they pulled that off without losing control.
What makes Trumpets stand out is its refusal to play it safe. There are no catchy hooks or radio-friendly melodies here; instead, you get raw emotion, unfiltered creativity, and musicians who trust each other enough to let the music go wherever it wants. It’s not always easy listening, but damn if it doesn’t stick with you.
And here’s the kicker: despite all the technical brilliance and genre-bending madness, the liner notes by Francesco Martinelli remind us that this is still human music. These guys aren’t just showing off—they’re telling stories, sharing fragments of themselves. That’s probably why, even after twenty-plus years, Trumpets still feels fresh, like it belongs to no particular era.
So yeah, give it a spin—but don’t expect perfection. Expect imperfection done beautifully. Oh, and if anyone asks me why I love this album so much? Honestly, I might just hand them my copy and say, “Figure it out yourself.” Because sometimes, words ain’t enough.
