In the history of improvised and creative music, the saxophone/piano/drums format has some mighty bright beacons: Taylor/Lyons/Murray; the Schlippenbach Trio; and of course, Brötzmann with Van Hove and Bennink. Although with its sole album Planetentochter, one could add German tenor saxophonist Norbert Stein’s Pata Trio (Jörg Fischer, drums; Uwe Oberg, piano) to the list of such trios that can boast a singular identity. Part of the satisfaction that comes from listening to their slim, nearly forty-minute album is that the trio never falls into a standard free improvisation cliché or recipe. Both “Into the Open” and “Life In the Fireplace” open with Stein’s throaty and brawny tenor moving through Ayler-esque fragments and short motifs. On the former he screams and blows blustery gales against pounding piano and busy drums. That is until a nimble, light, and quieter drum solo and delicate piano filigrees come to the fore. On the latter, the trio restrains itself from going full gas, instead transitioning into a quiet middle section. When Stein lets out a scream as “Fireplace” is quietly wrapping up the move becomes an effective surprise rather than something the listener knew was bound to happen.

Planetentochter has few moments of tension and release, and the music rarely follows an easily detectible narrative shape. Each piece deftly moves from section to section, always giving the listener something new. However, rather than fully building different scenes or set pieces and then telling the full story, the trio sets the stage, delivers a few inviting or suggestive lines, and then works on conjuring up another setting. What comes next might not have anything to do with the immediate past or may not serve as a clear transition to the next collection of gestures. It’s not impatience, anxiety, or mania. The trio handles transitions between dynamics and textures and moods in a subtle way that is hard to detect where, why, and how things became different. They just are. The trio’s modus operandi may rest on each member having as much autonomy as possible just up to the point of losing group cohesion. On “Planetentochter” the juxtaposition of Stein’s brittle subtone phrasing against Oberg’s pedal drenched polyrhythmic notes and two hands that are not always in agreement against Fischer’s minimal and color-based drumming is as if each musician is reading the same book, possibly the same chapter, but rarely the same page. Midway through “The Raven Speaks” the trio comes together briefly to support Stein’s catchy repeated phrases and then drift apart; they find each other again and then go their separate ways. The key catalyst may be Fischer removing his snare backbeat out of the pulse. Or it could be Oberg’s incorporation of plucking the interior strings. Correlation? Perhaps. Causation? Probably not. There is not so much conversation or interaction as it is three individuals with half an ear listening toward what could be next. The band is mercurial; their music slippery.

The lack of tried-and-true improvisatory go-to moves demonstrates that this threesome has worked out their own language in which their music is a puzzle for those outside their orbit to enjoy and ponder in their own way. Each listen offers a new set of possible answers, but no definite solutions. A single album is not enough to put the Pata Trio in the same pantheon as Brötzmann and Schlippenbach et al, but Planetentochter is a strong indication that Stein Fischer, and Oberg have the foundation to put together one hell of a run.

Chris Robinson / Point of Departure.org / USA