Nadir

Everything about this double album is pared down: the white and grey cover, marked by a single tiny dot; the quiet quartet and the taut trio that perform on each of the discs; the arrangements, the melodies, the acres of space all around. Bandoneón (squeezebox) player and pianist Daniele di Bonaventura, from Fermo on the Adriatic coast, feeds on minimalism, jazz, the plangency of Astor Piazzolla and the essence of folk music. He conjures from these a late-night mellow-verging-on-melancholy sound that is all his own. A track such as ‘Movimento Andino’ allows in some spooky synthesized wind before committing to a funeral pulse; ‘Sine Nomine’ is like Piazzolla-esque church music, polyphonic but still full of emptiness. There are familiar phrases and motifs across these tracks, but they come to us stylised and disembodied. Working intimately with his accompanists, di Bonaventura offers the listener thoughtful, reflective treatments of ideas and genres that we think we know. Roots fans will probably find Nadir ascetic or even sterile; but the musicianship is undeniable, and there's not a clumsy or ugly note to be heard.