Placenta

As a potentially psychedelic experience that often exceeds description, new age music finds an unexpected parallel in human birth. There is nothing more dangerous or unspeakable than creating new life, developing mobile tools to create something more than the sum of its parts. With tracks like “Generous Pelvis” and “Placenta, Nourishment, New Home, The Galaxy”, Carlos Niño & Friends' Placenta makes clear the connection between the genre's fascination with womb-like sounds and the physical odyssey of childbirth. Bringing together a who's-who of the Los Angeles ambient-jazz scene – including the touring André 3000, who plays flute on “Birthworkers Magic, and how we get listen…” – and an intoxicating lineup of chimes, chimes, cues, whistles, leaves, plants And the vibrators, Niño and his distant compatriots develop an LP with a life of its own – a gestalt miracle.

Beginning of song “Love to all Doulas!” sets the tone for this mystical instrumental odyssey, Nate Mercereau's horns punctuating a drone that builds as something (or someone) returns. “Some rest for the Midwives…” locks us into the groove, an itinerant shuffle recorded live with drummer Jamire Williams and saxophonist Sam Gendel in the historically spiritual SoCal town of Ojai. Later, the sound of breathing and accordion expand and contract like two sets of ribs on “Placenta, Nourishment, New Home, The Galaxy.”

Thematic interludes, such as the solid and propulsive “In Appreciation of Chico Hamilton's Vast Influence on the West Coast Sound,” provide a welcome respite from the embodiment of feet on stirrups. They also keep the record from getting too conceptually on the nose, bending the scope and dynamism of Niño & Friends. “This 'I Wasn't' takes French composer Ariel Kalma's spoken word meditation on the ego and lifts it from the yoga studio with shimmering cymbals and swelling organ. “Either you are, or you're not. No more. However, life is—always,” he emphasizes, teasing out a seusal backdrop of heavenly-sounding riddles. “Bi-Location,” another (undetectable) live recording named after the idea of ​​two different places inhabiting the same physical body at the same time, features Andres Renteria's nimble hand tapping under a layer of mist synthesizer, a sound like something crawling to the surface, then panting in the wake against Aaron Shaw's dreamy tenor sax.

Like many works by Carlos Niño & Friends, the record straddles the line between structure and improvisation, jazzy riffs and spasms that return to the gravitational pull of a central motif. “Surges, Expansions” feels more in progress and less finished, a little unsure of itself (albeit aptly titled). “Moonlight Watsu in Dub” is the record's most conventional attempt at a groove, polished enough to play in the lobby of a posh hotel, and all the less interesting because of it.