I don’t know, but it’s quite plain that they do hear each other, and are listening keenly, even hungrily to what every other player in the ensemble is doing. The infinitely-textured squall that arises shoots off sparks of passion and melancholy and humor and rage all at once, which, to put a rather fine point on it, turns out to be a fairly accurate mimicry of the human condition. When, toward the end of the album, several of the horns, goaded by a slow legato lead-in from Schoof, launch together into a rising figure, it is as achingly emotional as the sweetest pop chorus. What it has that pop songs lack, though, is something that lends real heft to the sheer emotionalism of the notes themselves: it’s the feel of people working together. This isn’t to say that lots of people don’t work together in the creation of pop songs – they do – but the whole project of writing pop is to efface the appearance of collective effort. |