Up until the lockdown, bassist Jorge Roeder was a ubiquitous presence not only in the New York jazz scene but in several other styles from south of the border. The title of his solo album, El Suelo Mío – streaming at Bandcamp – translates loosely as “my turf.” While it’s his salute to the sounds of his native Peru, the compositions here span the vast range of music he typically plays. And it’s incredibly catchy: this isn’t just a big dump from the riff bag.
Roeder doesn’t even pick up a bow until eleven tracks into the album. His style is terse, even spare in places: definitely no wasted notes here. He opens with the title track, building his shout-out to iconic Peruvian chanteuse Chabuca Granda with incisive chords and bends, anchoring the melody with a muted pedalpoint at the same time. Lots of ideas for four-string players here!
Roeder’s anthemic, insistent solo arrangement of another Granda homage, Manuel Alejandro’s Chabuca Limeña, makes a good segue. Solo Juntos is a similarly dancing, catchy number that makes the unlikely connection between Moroccan gnawa and the huaynos of the Peruvian Andes.
He reinvents Peruvian composer Felipe Pinglo Alva’s populist El Plebeyo as a shadowy, chromatically spiced, balletesque anthem. Bounce, true to its title, is sinuous and slinky against a hypnotic pedal note, subtly referencing both Shostakovich and a wry moment of Beatles psychedelic overkill.
Roeder picks up the energy with a scrambling, incisively climbing take of I Remember April – a hot month for this guy, it seems. In the coyly titled, bounding Thing Thing, Roeder deconstructs the standard What Is This Thing Called Love through the prism of a handful of favorite pianists, notably Lennie Tristano.
Roeder dedicates the harplike flurries and spacious angst of Patrona as well as the bittersweet, imaginatively voiced Americana inflections of Santa Rosita to guitarist Julian Lage, a longtime employer and collaborator.
Rambler, a spacious, clustering, rather suspenseful Charlie Haden homage, makes an apt segue with a bristling, not quite desperately bowed take Ornette Coleman‘s Lonely Woman, inspired by a Haden solo intro to that piece. Roeder returns to snaky bends and punchy melody in the early 1900s Brazilian number, Silencio De Uno Minuto. He closes the album with the pensively vamping Les Lapins, spiced with high harmonics and hints of reggae. The fun Roeder is having here is visceral.