(Free Improvisation) Jack Wright - The Indeterminate Existence - 2007, FLAC (tracks+.cue), lossless

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Indeterminate Existence” CD, is a collection of solo Saxophone improvisation that demands close attention and will have most of your friend running out of the room. Opening with a 13 minutes abstract squall of free-form playing, the music on the album bounces around the walls, sometimes dancing, sometimes slithering, the notes cascading into the room. Strangely, there is a whole world of emotion built into the sounds, although it is hard to pin down which emotion. Jack Wright himself, has moved on from this music now, but this stands as a fine testament to some inspired improvised playing with touches of Be-Bop and Melody becoming apparent the deeper you delve.
Terrascope/Rumbles
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The liner notes to The Indeterminate Existence, penned by Jack Wright, indicate that he no longer plays music like what can be heard on these seven tracks from the years 1988-98. While I might disagree, I will note that any occasion Wright steps onto a stage, you will hear something new, conceived and created in that moment.
The seven solo pieces Wright refers to here are all physically demanding note-after-note marathons. What Wright refers to in his liner notes is that he no longer plays to this degree of exhaustion. Instead he favors the pacing of silence, interplay and quietness.
In Baltimore in 1988, documented on the first two tracks, he spits notes in a stilted manner, much like Thelonious Monk jabbed the piano at times. This wrenching exorcism is a rush to express as many thoughts as possible, through a machine-gunning saxophone. Ten years later, in Berkeley, he’s still at it. The “Tenor” piece best exemplifies the “old” Jack Wright. He probes, picks his way through some advanced math theorem he’s formulated in his head, or perhaps some poetry and meter he has fixated on from a vending machine, or a remark someone uttered as he was preparing to go onstage. Wright’s muse sends him in multiple directions—extending the saxophone beyond breath, beyond melody, beyond touch. He touches upon the pureness of sound, energy and the subconscious.
Fans of Evan Parker’s extended blowing should find these sessions valuable listening experiences. Where Parker may have an all-too-familiar menu of sound from which he draws, Jack Wright constantly invents a new language of sound. He packs these pieces with flutters, honks, slaps, vocalizations, tweaks and breaths.
This exhausting document is a valuable insight into a truly remarkable improviser.
Mark Corroto, All about Jazz
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After Jack Wright recorded the music that makes up "The Indeterminate Existence" back in the late 80's, he no longer wanted to be associated with those sounds. He felt there was too much emotion attached to his playing. Simply put, he never wanted to wake up the ghosts of his past. Lucky for us, he finally relented and allowed Last Visible Dog to release these tapes. Over the span of just over 70 minutes, he careens through seven extended pieces of solo sax mayhem. It's not necessarily a free-for-all blowing session. The saxophone attacks are as delicious as ever. Without wasting a minute of anyone's time, he knows exactly what he wants to express through his music. Not one second of this recording sounds as if Wright is scrounging for ideas or doodling while mustering up new thoughts. He's coherent and brazen at once. Wild and uncontrollably brave improvisations on every front; this is a record that should've seen the light of day ages ago.
Tom Sekowski, Gaz-eta
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Jack Wright lays down a whole disc's worth of monumentally impressive solo alto sax recordings on The Indeterminate Existence, taking some cues from the idiom-expanding sonic experimentation of Evan Parker, whose vocal-styled squawks and splutters are incorporated into Wright's impressive sense of melody and bebop fluency. Clocking in at over an hour , only the bravest of free improv explorers need apply, but the reward will be ample. Anyone who was floored by Paul Flaherty's unaccompanied solo disc Whirl Of Nothingness will want to investigate Wright's world of advanced breathing pyrotechnics without delay. It's notable that this music was recorded back in the '80s, yet it fits in so well amongst the current wave of extreme jazz-inspired improv artists.

Будучи знакомым не по наслышке с музыкой Эвана Паркера, кажется, что уже не один фри-джазовый радикальный саксофонист не сможет убедить тебя в новизне своего звука и в существовании какого-либо иного взгляда на то, как надо записывать пластинку сольного сакса, чтобы захватывало дух. Так вот Джек Райт - может. И не просто может, а переплевывает Паркера в своей отстраненности и свежести. За ту неделю, что владею этим диском, я уже успел прослушать его раз семь. Иногда нон-стоп. Иногда в машине. Поначалу слушать непросто. Но крышу сносит однозначно. Первый трек может в принципе отпугнуть, на мой взгляд он несравнимо банален по отношению к остальному материалу. Но дальше следует какой-то непередаваемый словами безграничный, шероховатый звуковой ландшафт. Слышатся гудки поездов, гул парохода, жужжание мухи, или кудахтание наседки... В общем каждый услышит, что хочет. И в каждом звуке слышится настолько осязаемое слово - "импровизация". Как сказал Адорно о музыке Кшенека: "в его произведениях делается попытка ввести в музыку измерение дали... его музыка хочет прорвать собственную атмосферу; весь ее жест — единственный протест против музыкальной трансцендентности"... Так вот это же касается и музыки Джека Райта. Эта музыка дышит. Каждое ее мгновение - это уже суть прошедшее.