Thursday 28 July 2011

WAITING FOR ATONESJKA by Krister Jonsson Trio & Svante Henryson

 
The jazz guitarist John Etheridge is fond of saying that the guitar is the most versatile and expressive of all instruments.  I can think of quite a few violinists who'd take issue with that, but he's right in thinking that the versatility of the guitar, in particular the electric guitar, is often undervalued.  Steve Hackett (another underappreciated wizard of the fretboard) echoed this sentiment when he said that there's a whole orchestra in a guitar; it just needs to be unleashed.  Unfortunately, there aren't many musicians who even attempt to utilise this most ubiquitous of instruments to its fullest potential.  There are too many tired, generic riffs and solos polluting the studios and the airwaves, and too many musicians content to regurgitate the techniques they've heard a thousand times before.  In such a climate, it's easy to forget the truth behind Etheridge and Hackett's assertions, that the humble guitar can do so much more than is often required of it.  But this only makes it more of a joy when a guitarist who really does know how to play their instrument appears, and makes an album which showcases the full range of the guitar's capabilities.  One such guitarist is Krister Jonsson, and one such album is Waiting For Atonesjka.

Jonsson is a rather mysterious figure whose official website seems to consist of a succession of blank pages, and if he is known at all in the UK it's most likely for his guitar work with progressive rock supergroups like Karmakanic and The Tangent.  Back home in the Swedish town of Malmo, however, he has his own jazz trio, who in 2004 got together with acclaimed cellist Svante Henryson to record Waiting For Atonesjka.  It's a great album generally, and special mention should go to Henryson for his inventive contributions, but the record is of particular interest as a showcase for the sheer versatility of the electric guitar in the hands of a player like Jonsson.  The group's musical style can roughly be described as jazz-rock, but the incorporation of myriad other influences creates a fluid sound which is ripe for improvisation.  The serpentine melodies and jazzy chords of opener Voices and urgent rocker Shotma sit alongside the stately strumming of Insomniac and the gorgeous, delicate arpeggios of Om Kor and closing track Varsagod.  Along the way the listener is also treated to oriental scales, ethereal drones, full-on rock riffs and even the slow-burning funk licks of Henryson compostion Jog.  Only the Swedish could come up with so delightfully demented a notion as cello-funk!  Through the course of the album, Jonsson lets his instrument breathe in the spaces between and in front of both the rhythm section and Henryson's complementary cello work.  His contributions are never overtly flashy, nor are they generic or conventional.  Everything he plays - whether lead or accompaniment - sounds tailor-made to enhance the piece of music as a whole, whilst still showcasing the uniquely beautiful potential of the electric guitar, as he does in the soaring, emotional majesty of tracks like Confession.  It's a difficult balancing act to maintain, and a rare thing to find in any genre of music.

It's easy to get sick of hearing the guitar, I think.  It's everywhere; it dominates popular music right across the spectrum.  Many of the melodic and rhythmic conventions of modern music have been shaped by its use over the last century, and now to a large extent a lethargy has set in amongst its exponents which can inhibit musical creativity.  This is why albums like Waiting For Atonesjka are important, because they are a reminder that guitarists don't have to pick a style and stick with it, or keep using the same lumpen chords and predictable scales again and again, but can instead unlock the potential of what can be an extremely versatile and beautiful instrument.

In the end, all this waffling only leaves us with one question:  who or what is Atonesjka?  My internet searches have yielded only results connected to this album, and there seems to be nothing else.  Is it a made-up word, or some archaic Swedish cultural reference?  It seems to be, like Krister Jonsson himself, something of a mystery.

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