“He’s okay... another young lion who is okay, but I would never spend money on it!”  This was the reply I received after asking a friend of mine, a jazz drummer who regularly plays around NYC, and who has played with Parks before, what he thought of his peer. This triggered a day-long discussion about the state of modern jazz, and what the term jazz even signifies today. This attitude is one that any many young musicians must confront, particularly talented young guys in the jazz scene. In many ways, the prodigious young pianist, 24-year old Aaron Parks, is the quintessential representation of modern jazz: young, technically proficient, with a strong rhythmic sense favored over melody, and playing with talented sidemen. These attributes all have a downside, however, and how one views them may have much to do with which side of the debate one falls on. With an art form like jazz, with a rich history incorporating African rhythms and American innovation, supreme musicality with folk music’s energy, it is hard to be relevant today, when the form reached it’s zenith almost half a century ago.  A backlash often forms against young musicians trying to be innovative (trying too hard, my friend argues). Everyone cannot be innovative and unique, but how does one honor the past tradition without getting trapped in the past?  This conundrum is also affecting young classical composers.  The pressure to be ground-breaking and novel has surpassed the past ideal of mastering a form and language. It seems to me that this is a direct result of the changes in technology, in distribution of music, the pace at which the world changes as a result of these things.

Invisible Cinema is Parks debut record for Blue Note, the last surviving label from the golden age of jazz.  Blue Note itself is struggling to stay relevant, so its recent output alone may not be enough to justify a musician's relevance either.  But, like jazz itself, Blue Note is trying to be innovative in reinventing itself, and progressing. Parks has several solo records under his belt, and has played as a sideman on over a dozen others - quite an achievement for a man who has yet to reach a quarter century of age.  He is, along with the three musicians he assembled for Invisible Cinema, an incredibly talented musician, with a deep sense of tradition and an open mind to various influences, both musical and extra-musical.  This shines through across the entire record. Despite this, nothing new is being offered, and the overall product lacks almost any sense of cohesion.  If this is the state of modern jazz, than perhaps it is time that jazz be abandoned as a meaningless umbrella term, or at best a mildly descriptive adjective. 
 
The record has some really moving passages, and several songs that are downright beautiful. The energy between the combo seems forced, though, and it is likely that they haven’t spent enough time playing together to really groove as a jazz group should. The group sounds like a lot of other modern combos, fusing elements from rock and pop while still operating in a recognizable jazz tradition. The quartet are excellent musicians, and can be fun to listen to.  Parks’ compositions are accessible and diverse, without sounding cheesy or becoming pop.  Mike Moreno’s guitar dominates on many tracks and Parks really takes the back seat.  Sometimes this works well, though at times, such “Nemesis,” the track looses focus. A few songs strongly remind me of Tortoise, though they don’t have the dynamism and melodic sense that make Tortoise so great. “Peaceful Warrior” is one of the album's high points, allowing all four members enough of the spotlight, and revolving around a wonderful, slightly melancholic melody. At 9:40, it is the lengthiest track on the album, but only occasional feels as though it drags a bit. “Harvesting Dance” allows for a good amount of improvisation and produces some interesting exchanges between the musicians, while sticking close to a structure and melody that is easy to follow. 

Moreno’s guitar generally adds a tone to the combo that drags it towards rock in feeling, though his playing is rooted in jazz. His guitar playing compliments Parks’ style well, though sometimes Moreno tries to cram too many notes into a phrase. The bass playing seems to overreach a bit too, but when all taken together, the group maintains an edge. Eric Harland is a fantastic drummer, and Invisible Cinema gives him a chance to stretch out across various styles. He plays straight up jazz, rock, strong back beats, and sometimes even seems to be trying to mimic spastic electronic artists with the fury and precision of his playing. It is clear, though, that he is a jazz drummer at heart, and the more straight-ahead rock parts come across a bit weak.  

I make no claims of being an expert at evaluating a piano player's style, whether in jazz or any other form. I recognize that Parks is an extremely talented player, and would never argue otherwise.  The rhythm of his playing and something about his sensibility reminds me of Brad Mehldau, though Parks probably wouldn’t be mistaken for him. Being a talented musician isn’t enough to elevate one to greatness, however. In a genre like jazz, where guys are always being held up to greats like Duke, Monk, Trane, Miles, Rollins, and so on, it can be difficult to try to stake one’s own territory. Often, ego must take over, and confidence must drive us forward. This doesn’t always have great results. Those guys were not just great players, but innovators and brilliant composers. Something about Parks’ compositions seem arrogant, if that is at all possible - his choices of phrases can seem cocky, I suppose. Today, much of what is considered to be ‘innovative,’ in any genre or art form, is just contrived, and won’t stand the test of time. Modern listeners, and viewers, jump from trend to trend, thinking the newest thing is their favorite, the greatest (lowbrow reference for the day: I’m recalling a scene from “Invader Zim” in which Zim’s damaged robot, Grrr, says “This is my favorite show” after every switch of the channel). Invisible Cinema might be overreaching a bit, though I could also be reading far too much into it.

It’s not fair to take out the ailments of the genre on Parks here, and a close listen of the music more than justifies its existence.  We can understand this point and enjoy the music without somehow denigrating the legends. How much can a 24-year old really know, or what can he really contribute to the legacy of jazz? Ultimately, probably not much. But as a 24-year old myself, it’s equally fair to also ask how much I know as a critic.

When it comes down to it, Invisible Cinema succeeds in that it  is an accessible and enjoyable listen.  Larger debates about the place of jazz and innovation vs. tradition, and psychoanalyzing young players don’t tell us much about the music and how a listener responds to it now.

-Joseph Sannicandro