Corrie Dick is a drummer (and composer), but this album is so varied we thought (before we checked) that he was a pianist. Knowing he’s a drummer explains the complexity of the album but its subtlety and nuance suggests something other than someone who likes hitting things, though it’s unassuming, reflecting the fact that drummers are usually the nicest person in any band.
Opener Soar suits its name, a restrained explosion to kick things off, featuring a nice melody on the piano (Matt Robinson), a poem from Alice Zawadzki and Dick’s drums going quietly mad in the background.
After blowing off this bit of steam, it slows down with King William Walk, which opens with a gentle piano that gradually turns Celtic, especially when the fiddle/tin whistle come in. It builds in complexity until it leaves Dick’s Scottish roots behind and heads to Africa.
As well as Africa, Dick visits Morocco with Annamarrakech, a chilled track with a nice trumpet solo (Laura Jurd), though the Moroccan influence (the Review Corner is fond of Moroccan Gnawa) is buried quite deeply in the music, which is jazz tinted by Morocco music rather than, as in King William Walk, actually being the music, with the exception of a short section where the bass (Conor Chaplin) mimics the Moroccan two-string guitar.
The CD title comes from Six Impossible Things, based on a line from Alice in Wonderland (“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast”) and that title track opens with a Jabberwockerish feel before dreamy vocals from Alice (Zawadzki not In Wonderland). The closing three tracks — Lock Your Heart Up, What Has Become of Albert? and Don’t Cry — are all more thoughtful. A fine jazz album and even finer playing and, we guess, lots of improvisation. Out on the Chaos Collective.