Carl Schultz, The Road to Trantor Review

by Icrom Bigrad

Carl Schultz’s record, The Road to Trantor, doesn’t just unfold; it activates. From the first moments, there’s a sense of forward momentum, of systems clicking into place, of grooves designed to support solos and to carry the listener through shifting environments. This is jazz that understands space, texture, and pulse as equal partners. The eight original compositions by Schultz give the record a feeling that is grounded in fusion, fluent in contemporary jazz language, and comfortable living inside nu-jazz fluidity. What makes The Road to Trantor compelling moves beyond a single gesture; instead, it is how the ensemble consistently builds motion with intent.

“Psychohistory” sets the tone early. The groove lives in a shifting straight-eight feel that is steady enough to lock into, but flexible enough to feel futuristic and mysterious. The blend of Tim Wendel’s guitar, Adam Benjamin’s Rhodes and synth textures, and Carl Schultz’s saxophone creates a soundscape that feels futuristic without losing pocket. The bass and drums hold time with the groove as they travel through sections, adapting as the composition evolves.

Benjamin’s Rhodes solo is a standout because it commits fully to the album’s space-themed character. His sound choices and scale language lean into atmosphere, floating, glowing, slightly otherworldly patterns emerge while still grooving hard underneath. When Schultz enters, he brings a playful, fluid rhythmic jazz language that locks straight into the groove. Nothing feels rushed or forced. Everything sits right in the pocket.

“Ecumenopolis” pivots the energy into contemporary jazz-funk with a rock edge. It’s the kind of beat that makes your foot tap without asking permission. The composition builds in layers, stacking momentum instead of rushing toward climax. Schultz’s saxophone is augmented with effects, adding color and weight to lines that stay tight and locked. The groove is shaped by the ensemble, and each section deepens.

One of the defining strengths of The Road to Trantor is how consistently the ensemble creates musical environments that evolve with clear shape and punctuation. Every track feels intentional in its architecture. “Gladia” is a perfect example. The opening theme blends contemporary jazz language with cinematic orchestration, led initially by Schultz on flute. The effect is immediately transportive, creating music that plays like stepping into a scene rather than a tune. As textures accumulate, Schultz brings in the saxophone to reinforce the theme, then begins a solo that grows patiently.

What stands out is Schultz’s ability to build and tell a story and how the ensemble reacts, with subtle activity, shifting density, and dynamic control that transform an open contemporary ballad into a richly textured peak. When the ensemble relaxes to make space for Wendel’s guitar solo, the transition feels like a continuation of the narrative, like turning a page. Wendel’s tone and ideas mirror the ensemble’s mood, reinforcing the sense that this music is telling a story rather than showcasing turns.

Across the album, this sense of story logic keeps the listener engaged. The shapes are clear. The surprises feel earned. The characters, instrumental and textural, develop naturally.

Crucially, Schultz never feels like a front-person standing in front of the band. He feels inside the machinery. On “Crystalline Desolation,” this approach comes into sharp focus. The collective sound design of effects on Rhodes, guitar, and saxophone, establishes a clear environment. When the nu-jazz-styled melody enters around the 2:47 mark, led by Schultz’s saxophone, it feels like a reveal rather than an interruption. The rhythmic unit of Zack Teran on bass and Alwyn Robinson on drums is a partnership that drives time and feel.

Schultz’s solo continues this philosophy. He uses effects to stay consistent with the album’s color palette, never abandoning jazz elegance or rhythmic clarity. His lines flow with ease, grounded in straight-eight contemporary jazz feel, while remaining fully embedded in the rhythmic unit texture. This is leadership through alignment, not dominance.

The vision is clear, compositionally and conceptually. Schultz knows the setting he wants, and every choice reinforces it. If you’re listening from a modern jazz perspective, especially one shaped by fusion, nu-jazz, or groove-centric music, The Road to Trantor lands squarely in the now.

It’s fusion-grounded without nostalgia, contemporary without sterility, and fluid in how it blends styles and grooves. The rhythms are physical. The textures are intentional. The solos serve the environment. Nothing feels retro-cosplay; nothing feels trend-chasing. This is jazz that understands how people listen today and delivers in motion, in layers, and long arcs.

The Road to Trantor succeeds because it commits to movement. The grooves hold. The environments evolve. The ensemble performs and listens together. Schultz leads by designing worlds rather than spotlighting himself. For listeners who want modern jazz that grooves, unfolds, and feels alive in real time, this album delivers. It’s a journey, it’s a system in motion, built by musicians who know how to let momentum do the talking.