Zion80: Adramelech: Book of Angels Volume 22

Jon Madof has been making many people — like this fan — happy for over a decade. The scope of his projects, particularly the trio he masterminds, Rashanim, has been a source of ceaseless delight. During the last few years Madof has concentrated his focus on a bigger, more ambitious undertaking: Zion80.

Where their self-titled debut release was an expert mash-up of, as Madof himself describes the band, Shlomo Carlebach meets Fela Kuti, the new release Adramelech has the collective tackling Volume 22 (!) of John Zorn’s epic Book of Angels series. That would be the same John Zorn whose productivity makes Johann Sebastian Bach seem like a slacker. In fact, he released two new albums as I typed that last line. Just kidding, mostly.

Zorn is nothing if not a visionary, but even by the incredibly high standards he’s set for himself, the idea of letting other musicians tackle each new volume of his Book of Angels has been a gift that giveth much. For one, and most obviously, it’s a plethora of new material, itself something — in terms of depth and achievement — that will only accrue import in years ahead. We’re too busy living through his superhuman career in real time to properly appreciate exactly how locked in and, really, untouchable he is.

Jon Madof has already established himself as one of the more sensitive and successful interpreters of Zorn’s material. His recording Masada Rock remains one of this writer’s favorite of the dozens of discs featuring brilliant musicians doing Zorn. It’s a must-have for anyone who is remotely enticed by the notion of klezmer meets surf guitar meets speed metal meets world music with a free jazz sensibility. And who isn’t enticed by that?

Where Zion80 was a raucous but controlled, fiery but focused free-for-all, something you could shake your head and ass to, Adramelch manages to go deeper and be, if possible, more encompassing. It also comes with a welcome edge and, like the previous disc, insists on being grappled with on its own terms. In this regard, it’s quite consistent with much of the work Zorn and Madof have done. But this is not merely a more-is-more celebration of Zorn with Madof at the helm. Rather, it taps into what is most special — and rewarding — about the Radical Jewish Culture that Zorn has been curating at his Tzadik label: music that spans time (we’re talking centuries) and crosses cultures, yet somehow, in ways that are both delirious and delightful, is totally of the here and now. It’s cutting edge history, made by musicians who know and respect tradition, but are dissatisfied with labels and the limitations of genre. Perhaps this is why you won’t hear this music on the radio. It’s also why people will be listening to this album one hundred years from now.

There’s nothing not to recommend about this release, it is further evidence that virtually everything Madof touches turns to sonic gold. The album is stellar from start to finish but picks up steam as it goes along. A few highlights have to include “Shamdan”, which mixes guitar-driven jamming alongside saxophonic frenzy in ways the only debut hinted at. On “Metatron” the groove gradually breaks down into inspired chanting that is equal parts disarming and deep, an authentically felt religious vibe (a la Madof’s masterpiece, The Gathering), Gregorian chants in the mosh pit — with yarmulkes flying every which way. Each player gets an opportunity to stride to the forefront, and those moments are picked wisely and utilized judiciously: there are no wasted notes or indulgent moments; this execution is precise and methodical.

The two tracks that close out the session exemplify everything — on micro and macro levels — that make this project so unique and fulfilling. On the macro level, there is the obvious and absolute realization of Zorn’s compositional objective: dense but accessible notes delivered with distilled emotion; music your mind can dance to. On the micro level, Madof has amassed an impeccable ensemble of players, and each individual acquits himself wonderfully. And herself, in the case of Jessica Lurie, whose flute solo on “Nehinah” is so tasty, filthy and ferocious it would make Ian Anderson wet his knickers. It’s a high point on an album full of them. Brian Marsella makes the most of his moments in the spotlight (his techno-punk intro to “Nehinah” is top shelf stuff), and Shanir Blumenkranz continues to bolster his credentials as one of the most versatile and significant bass players on the scene. His fuzzed-out bass propels “Ielahiah”, setting a brooding, intense, and heavy tone for the entire piece, which circles its way into a guitar dual between Madof and Yoshie Fruchter. As Madof stalks and strikes, Fruchter hammers out a stuttering cascade of stark notes, the brutality escalating into a climax that offers unbelievable, affecting release.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing that music today, by virtue of so many streamed services catering to every taste, can be cataloged according to specific genre and style. One problem, of course, is that music is increasingly roped into predetermined corners, and increasingly created with these considerations in mind. Rare, indeed, is an endeavor that might genuinely appeal to listeners who create playlists dedicated to trance, or jam-band, or world music, or jazz, or metal. Zion80 is throwing a lot of styles on the table, but it’s never forced or facile. It is challenging but rewards an adventurous and intelligent audience. It can be enjoyed without obliging analysis (and should be seen live if at all possible), but for the person who brings some measure of cultural awareness and curiosity to the table, the only corners being navigated are the brilliant ones Thelonious Monk imagined, back in the days when your music was as serious as your life.