Fabiano do Nascimento and Sam Gendel – The Room (Real World Records – LPRW257, 2024, UK)
7-string Acoustic Guitar – Fabiano do Nascimento
Soprano Saxophone – Sam Gendel
Engineer – Tomas Jacobi
Mastered By – Jason Hiller
Mixed By – Jason Hiller
Auditioned on green vinyl
Most of the time, life’s greatest pleasures are the simplest. A few Greek olives and a glass of Nebbiolo, a glorious sunset, a babbling brook, etc. You’ll have your own list of treats to add (and I’m curious what you’ve got on that list). Sometimes, however, all that is necessary is a 7-string guitar and a soprano saxophone.
Guitarist Fabiano do Nascimento brings his fingerstyle prowess and Sam Gendel totes along mystical horn riffs, international infusion and enough thoughtfulness to create a simple delight, though it’s not really simple at all. A Brazilian/American summit, this meeting of the minds is so excellent, this album so good, it’s a bit of an embarrassment of riches. Unfortunately, I’m late to writing about this record which was released much earlier in 2024. However, with 2025 just around the corner, the time is right to start talking about the possibility that one of my favorite albums of the year is, The Room.
Gendel and Nascimento have known one another for many years before finally holing up for two days in a small recording studio in California to create The Room. Both came equipped with years of individual experiences. Gendel, in addition to many recordings made in the jazz and fusion veins, also co-wrote two songs on Vampire Weekend’s Father of the Bride album from 2019.
It’s difficult to categorize the album’s music. It ain’t pop, not quite jazz. Is it classical? Is this classical music? The music on The Room lands somewhere beyond the confines of “world” music, but contains a strong melodic character and an adventurously freewheeling spirit. And don’t go getting the wrong idea that this duo will leave for listeners an empty soundstage because both Fabiano and Sam work together so effortlessly that it’s a spookily telekinetic; they fill in gaps but leave spaces where a void must exist. In doing this they produce an album of fulfilling warmth and reflection.
Sam’s soprano sax playing - and sound - occupies the aural real estate somewhere between the clarinet and flute. It’s a rarely heard and peacefully meditative sound. Think Richie Cannata’s iconic sax playing on Billy Joel’s “Summer Highland Falls” or the Paul Winter Consort’s Icarus album. The frequencies of the instrument cut through a busy mix - which, on The Room - isn’t necessary given the record’s sparse instrumentalism. Regardless, a pleasant interplay between Gendel’s sax and Nascimento's guitar is consistently accomplished throughout.
Speaking of the strings, the authority of Nasciemento’s playing is unparalleled. It’s hard not to hear echoes of Jobim recordings from the golden age of bossa nova. However, Nascimento provides extra detail, a little more anxiety; whispering, but only to catch his breath. This is particularly evident on “Daiana” - the album’s final track - which begins with only guitar, but slides into a duet in which Gendels’ sax effortlessly fuses upon the melody that is provided by Nascimento’s guitar.
Most enjoyable is the fair amount of tension that both players exhibit. Fabiano’s guitar playing is very “type-a” while Sam’s sax stylings are cerebral, laid-back. Thus, a yin and yang develops between the two players, and the listener is all the more rewarded for it. Listen and take note while reaping the rewards of this dichotomy.
True, there is some pesky surface noise on the disc I auditioned and I’m unsure of its source (it’s difficult to see on the green vinyl). However, there’s not too much, and it’s surprising really as I recall the record barely making it to my address in one piece. Its long journey from the UK seemed a perilous adventure given the condition of the record and packaging upon its arrival upon my doorstep. The record’s labels also display no A or B side markings. Put on your readers and find it in the deadwax, it’s there. No matter, just put it on: it doesn’t matter what side it’s on; you’ll ride the album’s mysterious wave whatever you should serendipitously choose first.
But the pops and clicks somehow belong. No, I won’t go as far as to say that they enhance the sound of the record, because they are annoying (I haven’t listened to a digital copy). But, they do remind me of the importance of the physical artifact, and that this record traveled several thousand miles to reach my doorstep which - even in the overnight shipping world we live in - still fascinates and surprises me. The pops and clicks on this record are like the minor chips on grandma’s china, the scratches on your family heirlooms: they tell part of the object’s story particularly on the rare occasions that you take them out and enjoy them. The Room is one for the ages, it’s something to be enjoyed and - more importantly - it’s an album to be remembered in the context of the lives we lead and the bumps and bruises we receive along the way.
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