Michael Dease, Found in Space: The Music of Gregg Hill Review

by Jeff Becker

Listening to Found in Space: The Music of Gregg Hill is akin to stepping into an astral observatory. It’s an expedition of sound, and at its helm are the genre-bending compositions of Gregg Hill, shaped into a constellation of creativity by trombonist Michael Dease and his dynamic ensemble. Dease serves as the captain of this vessel, but the true gravitational force here is Hill’s writing imagination—a strength that beckons listeners into jazz territories yet unexplored. Released on September 20, 2024, under Origin Records, this album marks the latest installment of an ambitious artistic dialogue that is part cosmic exploration, part homage.

Hill’s compositional language defies categorization. On this album, his music pulls from the influences of 20th-century classical, hard-bop swing, New Orleans tradition, and even rock-fusion twists. Tracks like “The Last Pop Tune” are indicative of Hill’s knack for reshaping conventional song structures, pushing and pulling them like gravitational waves. Arranged by Matt White, this piece orbits around shifting time signatures that seem almost mercurial, but beneath that complexity lies a melodic core that is instantly engaging. The ensemble navigates the compositional transformations that unfold through the form; each member’s melodies swoop in like satellites, presenting themselves to our auditory orbit.

Hill’s writing in the title track, “Found in Space,” feels like a slow journey through the stars—with the glowing themes orbited by layers of contrapuntal figures, like planets and moons following the gravitational pull of a big star. This texture is not just about creating a soundscape, but rather about positioning Hill’s writing in an atmosphere for each player to interact with and transform it through their sphere of improvisational application. The result is an orbital flow of interweaving written lines playing with the expressions of improvisation. For example, White’s trumpet solo, Rudresh Mahanthappa’s alto saxophone solo, and Bill Cunliffe’s Rhodes solo engage Hill’s writing for ideas.

“One for Rodney,” dedicated to bassist Rodney Whitaker, is where Hill’s classical sensibilities converge with a Mingus-esque blues and rhythmic structure. The composition lifts from the launch pad of bebop’s swing, yet Hill’s melodic lines branch out in the shout chorus section—much like starbursts against a dark sky, with each melody bringing light to our awareness. Katie Thiroux’s bass solo is an expression in jazz blues, with every note like a celestial body with its own gravity, pulling listeners through the work’s chordal forms. Dease’s trombone solo, delivered with an undeniable warmth, counterbalances the stellar energy of Mahanthappa and Sharel Cassity’s alto saxophone trading. Their interplay is fearless, taking us from bebop to a rousing starburst of simultaneous improvisation—all while riding on the rhythmic engines of Colleen Clark’s deft drumming and Thiroux’s oomphing bass lines.

“The Stray Moonduck” offers an even closer view of Hill’s expressive writing creations. The piece is set in motion by a beautiful trombone melody followed by multiple building counterpoint sections, each based on memorable short motifs. Hill’s concept of building counterpoints is embodied through Nanami Haruta’s trombone solos, being yet another aspect of the composition’s structure. This creates a complex contrapuntal scenario throughout—one voice resonant and rhythmically expansive, the other lyrical and detailed. This sense of duality is key in understanding Hill’s music; it’s about finding balance within contrasts, similar to how one might balance intricate star charts with the awe of staring at an endless sky.

“The Puppet Thief” brings us back to Earth—or at least within a planetary orbit—with a traditional big-band swagger. Hill’s influences range from Duke Pearson to early Sun Ra, and the ensemble channels these elements to create a sense of cohesion to beautifully perform these musical twists and turns. Strong melodies are again the anchor—steady, rhythmic, yet inventive—as Hill paints swirling contrapuntal arrays of color against the structured pulsing backdrop of the rhythm section. The piece effectively builds layers that echo the storytelling techniques found in any space Odyssey.

In “Rue de Royal,” arranged by Jason Hainsworth, we get a glimpse into Hill’s take on New Orleans—a tribute filtered through his imaginative writing lens. The second-line groove, anchored by Clark’s syncopated drumming, propels us forward, creating a platform for White’s trumpet and Dease’s baritone saxophone followed by Mahanthappa’s alto saxophone, all engaging in a playful conversation with Hill’s creation. This musical conversation brings the spirit of Hill’s writing into the improvisational galaxy— his background writing supportive, exuberant, and full of life, providing the topics of discussion.

“A Wrinkle in Time” is a sprawling suite that encapsulates Hill’s flair for blending structured written pitch, rhythm, and expression within a form that changes and develops in a very natural trajectory. The ensemble here is like a solar system; each musician is a planet with their own course, but all are held in place by the gravity of Hill’s composition. The solos are inspiring before the form opens into a mix of classical and jazz. The counterpoint foretells the climatic landing of the ensemble as they erupt into free jazz—an atonal burst at the end that feels like a supernova before settling classic hues ending. This track is about dynamics—the movement between tension and release—the multiple feel changes, along with shifts from each soloist’s improvisation. Each works together to form a stately theme, delivering an emotional arc that spans galaxies of expression.

Found in Space: The Music of Gregg Hill is a rich, expansive, and unique compositional journey. Through its ten tracks, Hill invites us into a universe where jazz is our spacecraft in an interstellar voyage—bound by the gravitational pull of the jazz tradition, yet free to explore uncharted dimensions of other genres’ tug. Michael Dease and his ensemble shine here, acting as both explorers and navigators—interpreting Hill’s cosmic charts with precision, passion, and an ever-present sense of wonder. Like space itself, Gregg Hill’s compositions are full of possibilities, with each listen offering new stars to discover.