Pitchfork

There aren't too many albums out there that can simultaneously evoke the chandeliered, satin-curtained ballrooms of 1940s Hollywood and the sparking mechanization of an automobile factory, but Weilheim, Germany's Tied & Tickled Trio have managed to make one. On Observing Systems, Duke Ellington travels back to the future, electric Miles discovers the glitch, and Gil Evans collides head-on with Lee Perry. Don't let the goofy bandname throw you, by the way-- this is heady music by accomplished musicians (most of which are either members or associates of The Notwist). Also, they're not really a trio, typically arranging their music for twice that many musicians.

Tied & Tickled Trio is officially a side project for all involved, but it honestly holds up against recent offerings from The Notwist and Lali Puna quite well, lending a keen focus to the jazz leanings explored by the former band on 1998's Shrink. This is actually the Trio's fourth full-length of slippery electronic jazz, and they've gotten successively better as time has passed, this time choosing to augment organic performances with dub and mechanical flourishes. The album opens with a deep, dark blend of horns and sax, tinged with just a hint of device-generated incandescence. It's remarkably similar in mood to some of Duke Ellington's humid extended compositions, though it's fair to say that these northern Europeans don't have quite as much swing as your average Ellington band.

"The Long Tomorrow" is well-placed at the start of the record, as it's probably the band's most stunning moment to date. From that dark horn intro, simple drum rhythms carry intricate horn counterpoint forward to a dramatic climax, when the drums add a double-time pulse and the horn builds to a frenzied, dissonant wail. Ultimately, the band breaks into solos, gradually playing more freely and out of the pocket while an ominous bass rhythm creeps in from the back. It's got Mingus written all over it-- a great tribute not only to the man's music, but also to his fiery personality.

The most notable instrumental standout is Johannes Enders, who lets rip with his tenor on "Bungalow", playing the sax for its full range and breathing in a way that emphasizes the acoustic properties of the instrument's interior-- you can feel the air moving through the brass tube. The record is filled with dense, vibrant horn textures throughout, and it's a treat to hear how these textures blend with harsh programmed snares and hi-hats, as well as the deep dub echo that swallows some cuts.

There are moments when the band allows the mix of live and programmed percussion take the spotlight, such as the comparatively sparse "Like Armstrong & Laika", a tribute to the first man on the moon and the first dog in space (though it could as easily be read as an homage to a jazz legend and a contemporary trip-hop group), or the locked beat of "Motorik", which features a buried, but rather frenzied solo from Enders, processed to sound almost like a violin. Closer "Henry and the Ghosts" slips between flute-led horn arrangements and a haunted, creaking piano interlude where brief classical figures cry out from an abyss of echo.

Despite its ambitious blurring of genres, Observing Systems feels utterly natural, which is probably due in part to the fact that the band is really a no-pressure situation for its members. The only reason this band exists is because its members are too creatively restless to sit still between albums by their other bands. How fortunate that we should benefit from that restlessness.