Lex Korten: The ‘New Wave’ of Piano

Earlier this fall, pianist Lex Korten stepped out for the first time as leader of his own jazz ensemble with the release of Canopy.

Working with a quintet rounded out by vocalist Claire Dickson, David Leon on alto saxophone, guitarist Tal Yahalom and Stephen Boegehold on drums, the 31-year-old Korten utilizes this most unique lineup to craft a vision of jazz where Thomas Dolby and the late Geri Allen (Lex was a student of hers) serve as creative touchstones across this 14-track session recorded at The Bunker Studios in Brooklyn with the group’s sixth member, Lee Meadvin.

Rock & Roll Globe caught up with Korten to chat about Canopy, vocal jazz, art rock and all sorts of cool stuff. Dig in. 

Canopy is available on Bandcamp. 

 

As your first album as group leader, how did you approach recording Canopy?

Recording sessions used to terrify me as an improviser, and yet somehow the date for Canopy was among the smoothest I’ve ever done, albeit exhilarating. One ingredient was built right into the mission of the band, which is Canopy’s focus on communal world-building, and the permissiveness of each song to be steered by a collective. That allowed me to ‘disappear’ into the identity of each song in a sense, and forget about the unforgiving nature of a studio setting. The album notably features very little piano pyrotechnics compared to my work elsewhere, but at the same time I think it actually captures my sound and momentum at its most uninhibited. 

Additionally, very tangible and hard earned lessons from other recordings helped me plan: No long breaks, heavy lunches and unending retakes of the same song. We actually got more than half the album in first takes which I think is remarkable and speaks so highly of Claire, David, Tal and Stephen.

What inspired the direction of “Oasis Without”? I love the vocal performance on this song, as well as the middle part, where things really seem to take off. 

Thank you! “Oasis Without” was the first song I started for this band, and while it follows a traditional songwriting form for a while, there’s a lot of space for everyone to offer unprescribed textures. It certainly is a showcase of Claire’s mastery over her vocal instrument as the band transitions through so many kinds of density and energy. I was intimidated to bring her among the first lyrics I’ve ever written, which hint at a story of love without a conclusive category. I think of the ‘Oasis’ as the supposed destination for one’s feelings of affection, and finding in that journey that those feelings lay without, as opposed to within, a strict box.

 

Tal’s guitar on “Abyssal Sleep” is really strong, reminiscent of Fred Frith and Bill Frissell in Naked City to my ears. “Air Sky Below” as well. I’d love to hear how you came up with the direction of these numbers.

“Abyssal Sleep” was born of very literal origins and imagery. I tried to put to paper my experiences with fixation and grief, particularly how they manifest at the very end and beginning of a day. In the first half, I tried to convey an insomnia brought about by ruthlessly cyclical thought patterns that seem to never let go and release us. There is a very deliberate silence in the middle that demarcates the way sleep takes us, inevitably and without fanfare, into the dark gardens of a dreamless brain, ascending — or descending — outwards into the waking world once again.

“Air Below Sky” I thought of as a breakneck race across city rooftops, with time standing still during each leap to the next roof. During those pauses I let David and Claire reach for the sky with Stephen’s cymbal overtones accompanying me to create a zero-gravity feeling. Of course, Tal is front and center during the rest and I still can’t get over the variety of sounds he is able to explore laterally, while keeping things at that high of an intensity.

 

How did you decide which songs called for vocals and which should stay instrumental on this album? Did you always want vocals on the record?

4Vocals are present on all but two songs (both brief interludes) on the record, but it may not feel like Claire is always front and center and that’s also very intentional stemming from the beginnings of this band in 2022. Each instrument in Canopy is meant to be in a modular role, as in the cardinal roles of a band (melody, rhythm, harmony) so Claire’s voice is often creating in whispers, unpitched noises, harmonic accompaniment and so forth.

 

In what ways did working as a sideman prepare you for this leadership role on Canopy?

My work as a sideman entirely made Canopy — but Canopy was mostly made in the negative space of everything I was still left wanting for. Particularly, in 2022 I hadn’t yet experienced a band which allowed an exit from the extremes of through-composition, free improvisation, soloing on chord changes and accompaniment. In this way I am more likely to cite the luminary Butch Morris and his system of conduction, or a band like Weather Report which sports a long discography of expressive playing without such categories, as influences on the Canopy ethos. That said, I treasure my experiences particularly with Tyshawn Sorey, a radical form-breaker, and Caroline Davis, a master of sound tapestries, and anyone else I’ve worked under who prioritizes the liberation of their collaborators to exist in the ways they want to.

 

How did you go about selecting the musicians who play on this album?

Each member of Canopy was selected to explore a lot of the qualities I’ve talked about in your other questions so far — versatility, depth of spirit, unselfishness. I’ve been moved beyond words by the past work of all four of them, each with incredibly distinct sonic identities. But the key to participating in this group is an ability to let go of the safety harness and just dive all the way down; that’s what David, Claire, Tal and Stephen all have and it’s where the band’s most vulnerable and raucous moments come from.

 

What vocal jazz albums do you feel serve as the measuring stick for the craft and why?

I’ve always been entranced by the interplay of Betty Carter and Geri Allen, and particularly their patience in some ballad recordings (“Lover Man,” “Stardust” for example) which have reminded me of the power of the piano’s decay and sustaining sound being among its most reverent qualities. There are other pairings — Jeanne Lee & Ran Blake, Linda Sharrock and Sonny Sharrock — which have also blown open my world. But it’s just as important for me to mention the convention-breaking and gorgeous recent output of my peers such as Sarah Rossy, Eden Girma, Alex Koi and Claire Dickson herself, as helping lay the carpet for me to develop these ideas.

 

AUDIO: Thomas Dolby “Mulu the Rain Forest”

What prompted you to take on Thomas Dolby’s “Mulu The Rain Forest”? Are you a fan of the album it comes from, 1984’s The Flat Earth? I’d love to know the details.

Thomas Dolby’s music was passed to me in my DNA from birth (alongside my parents’ other favorite groups — XTC, 80’s King Crimson, David Byrne, Prince and the like). Flat Earth and Dolby’s records from that time have a direct line to a lot of emotions for me, and I never used to think I would have the chance to pay tribute to that side of myself as a Jazz musician. With the help of Claire and my brilliant producer Lee Meadvin, we were able to access something I think is very special over that song, which I dedicated to my mom and dad.

 

What is your fondest memory of working with Gerri Allen?

One of my last meaningful moments in private with Professor Allen was the day I helped her move out of her office after 10 years of teaching at the University of Michigan. She shared some parting musical advice in an overarching way that she tended to avoid in our lessons. But she also told me about a recent experience she had at a celebration of life for Charlie Haden, who was able to attend although in a declining physical state. Her thoughts about how meaningful it was to share that with him informed later conversations that she and I had about loss, and when Geri Allen passed away in 2017, my inability to seek her for guidance to get through that moment was one of the most difficult things for me.