Caktus x Ojkos – Øyeblikk

Sonic Transmission

I don’t know where Norwegian jazz orchestra Ojkos finds the time for all the collaborations that have taken place since 2022’s Mensa Rotunda. Here they team up with Maria Dybbroe‘s Caktus for a dramatic and atmospheric tour through six of her recent compositions. This means that on Øyeblikk, the Caktus sound is swollen to include four reeds players, two trumpets, three trombones, two bassists and two drummers; but although this may sound a lot, the overall effect is sleek and subtle.

The wavering of a sax is the envoy of a slow staccato build on the opener “Stærk Strøm”; the percussion is gentle and the tone melancholic. Strings are eased at just above a whisper and the faint hints of the wistful sax gradually develop a melody as other fractured textures coalesce and a bass eventually picks out a rhythm and a full ensemble sound arrives.

The songs are all long at between nine and twelve minutes, and this gives plenty of opportunity for the assembled throng to develop the pieces at a rate that suits. They behave more like a rock band at times, but the splashes of cymbals and the massed ranks of horns give a far more dramatic outcome, although never unwieldy.

The scrape of strings sets up a pastoral soundscape on “Kalvøya” and against this multiple cuckoos sound. Trees rustle as the birds call until a martial drum pattern emerges while the horns stick to their brief motifs. The way the combined group picks up a tempo and starts to move is skilful and agile, and a solitary instrument will pick its way through the waves of activity. Different instruments pick up the threads and have their own say, but all in a very equal fashion. It is not really jazzy, but a dynamic and constantly evolving sound that is unique to them.

The abstract introductions allow for a myriad of possibilities, and on “Fornebu” the sound is wilder and freer. This is all about atmosphere and very much in a woodland setting, with bird calls and obsessive single note refrains buoyed by the booming ranks of brass. You never quite know when or if a rhythm will change and which instrument may take the lead; but with three trombones it means the low end is weighty, lending a certain gravitas to the more feral higher tones. It is so easy to lose yourself in the different textures and it is almost Ennio Morricone-like in its dramatic scope.

The introductions for all the pieces are very different, and you might find trombone and clarinet nuzzling up to one another while vibraphone lends that gentle ring and a sense of tranquillity; while on other places as in the introduction to “Min Have”, you are taken way back in time. There is a mystical feel to the piece and the clap of cymbals and distant horn fanfare feel as though we are being introduced to an Eastern court.

The insinuating travel of the horns and the warmth and stickiness belie a basic torpor around which other instruments flutter. The sound here is out of time and place, constructing an imaginary soundscape that is both modern and ancient, structured and loose, with the players bending and shaping the progress constantly.

The fact there are two drummers helps to spread the rhythmic and textural load, and the beautiful arrangements feel natural and enveloping. Their ability to change mood is impressive and the album ends with the brooding introspection of “Det Nye År’. As the piece progresses, so then players pick out some light and move in that direction, always searching for the positive, a lovely pastoral guitar break embodying that desire. There is something redemptive about the way the other players rise to meet the guitar and do their best to enfold it with love and respect.

It is a perfect ending to an album that delight from start to finish, but gives plenty in which the listener can become pleasurably entangled. It is a credit to both acts and who knows where they will end up next.

-Mr Olivetti-