Exile [CD]

The whole point of this band is its dialogue between divergent traditions, uniting Israeli and Palestinian players in the creation of a bold new fusion, enabling the OHE to float its version of jazz on the waters of the Dead Sea. The original quartet has been expanded to include Romanian violinist Marcel Mamaliga, Italian accordionist Romano Viazzani and Palestinian singer Reem Kelani. She guests on the emotive opening salvo of "Dal'ouna on the Return" and "Al-Quds", the latter invariably being the number that can provoke angry reactions at Atzmon's gigs, combining as it does a Palestinian freedom poem over a nationalistic Israeli anthem. Kelani's passionate declamations provoke a spine-tingling reaction, running parallel to Atzmon's blustery alto-saxophone statements. His detailed arrangements frame an angry run of solos, combining full-on power with light-footed dance rhythms, imbued with a sense of romantic melancholy, bluff humour and raging freedom, all without each of these qualities forsaking their naked essence. --Martin Longley

This gives way to a song driven by a repetitive bass figure, jumpy Israeli riffs, syncopated accordion and subtle drums. Somewhere between jazz and the music of the Middle East, and exploiting the similarities between the music and the experiences of the Jewish and Palestinian peoples.

The song perfectly states Gilad Atzmon's aim: similarity should outweigh difference; difference should be celebrated.

Atzmon explicitly makes the point that modern Israel was founded on a notion of 'return' and asks: "How can modern Zionists ... be so blind when it comes to a very similar Palestinian desire?" To make his point, he's taken traditional Jewish songs, the anthem of the '67 War, a melody from the film Salach Shabati and Palestinian songs, 'Dal'ouna', 'Ramallah', 'Imhaaha', and reinterpreted them in a jazz context.

Middle Eastern basslines and and harmonies pass through jazz chord voicings and arrangements, a chorus will give way to a synchronised Middle Eastern riff; Hebrew lyrics about longing for homeland are sung in Arabic, an Eastern European ballad about a town burnt in a pogrom is re-christened 'Jenin'.

Much of the album's success has to be down to Gilad Atzmon's splendid command of the idioms of jazz and Middle Eastern music. His soprano and alto sax slips between the two with a stinging melancholy ('Jenin'), hopeful insistence ('Al-quds') and something like joy ('La Côte'), while Frank Harrison on piano and Yaron Stavi (bass) and Asaf Sirkis (drums and percussion) all play with a wonderful collective touch which is subtle, energetic and unconventional.

While some may find Exile's premise provocative, it's satisfying music that reaffirms the essentially constructive nature of collaboration. --Neil Bennun

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