Jaunted Haunts Press

Carlo Mombelli & the Prisoners of Strange – Theory

If you didn’t catch this on Mahala, here is my review of a great new album by Carlo Mombelli and the Prisoners of Strange.

'Theory' cover art by Norman Catherine

Carlo Mombelli is a bit of an odd one out in the context of the South African music scene. I can imagine three quarters of my friends going “sorry, who?” if I mention his name, the other one will extol his virtues far and wide. The portly man with the distinctive bass tone, equal parts gloop and grunt, will never really run the risk of being considered trendy, so his music remains for those who still have the capacity for childlike awe. I’ve only ever seen him with all the Prisoners of Strange live once (then featuring the magnificent Lloyd Martin on drums), and that gig still remains one of the most memorable I’ve experienced: a masterclass in how music can be both cerebral and sensuous, both intricate and fun at the same time.  Justin Badenhorst has since filled in the drummer’s spot, to complete the group with Marcus Wyatt (trumpet) and Siyavuya Makuzeni (vocals, trombone).

Mombelli’s latest album on his own Instinct Africaine imprint, Theory, can more or less be summed up as a textural wonderland – the whole thing is recorded and mixed by Joe Arthur with gorgeous attention to detail, and Carlo really distinguishes himself as something of a timbral alchemist here. While his last album, I Stared Into My Head, was an ambitious chamber-jazz project recorded with a string quartet, Theory limits itself to the core group and does an excellent job of highlighting the individual Prisoners’ remarkable musicianship and talent for oblique improvisation.

The opening track Theory coasts along on a bass riff that I actually know off by heart by now, having heard it live a few times; an arpeggiated diminished chord that rolls along languidly and digresses into droning interludes, eventually resolving into furious stabs of bass, trumpet and voice –  a combination of tones that makes Korn sound like Belle&Sebastian, so visceral is the impact of that  climax. The only thing about the track that I don’t like is purely subjective: I just can’t stand movie dialogue samples in music, and this one is liberally peppered with snippets from the 1980 sci-fi film ‘Saturn 3’.

The sparser second track, I Close My Eyes, foregrounds Makuzeni’s gorgeous vocals – close-miked and heart-rendingly intimate, it’s like listening to a lover confide in you. As the track progresses, Makuzeni’s glottal tics and a ring-modulator-y effect create a very palpable sense of unease over the funereally paced drums and trumpet.

Jo-burg-downpipe-gutter-bows introduces Mombelli’s other quirk; his propensity for percussion instruments, homemade out of springs, pipes and and sundry bits and bobs. There’s a lovely jerrybuilt quality to the way track trundles along on the percussive-yet-tonal sound of the ‘gutter-bows’, quite reminiscent of Madosini’s umrhubhe-playing.

The Hurricane of Silence is some sort of avant-garde cop-show-funk over a loop of bass harmonics. For me, there’s always been something about the way two brass instruments played in unison turn harmony into pure vibration that fondles my little ear-clitoris just the right way. The Prisoners’ take this to next level here, with Wyatt’s trumpet and Makuzeni’s trombone playing otherwordly harmonies with an astonishing sense of tension and release.

At this point I’ve only described the album as an acoustic entity, and hardly even touched on the extent to which sounds are toyed with using effects, or the more abstract sound collages on the album. Theory, and Mombelli’s music in general, displays a remarkable capacity for reconciling seemingly binary opposites; the sublime and the ridiculous, the intellectual and the visceral, the premeditated and the spontaneous. Most importantly, when it’s poignant, it’s heartbreaking, and when it lightens up, it’s as fun as all hell.

Get your grubby paws on this fine album by emailing Carlo at cmombelli@mweb.co.za, tell him who sent you!