The Gold Sparkle Band originally hails from Atlanta, and relocated (for the most part) to New York at the end of the last century. By the sound of Fugues & Flowers, though, they're pure Ft Worth, Texas. That is, their Southern roots shine most obviously in the band's similarity to Texan Ornette Coleman's early 60s quartet with Don Cherry, Billy Higgins and Charlie Haden. And instrumentation isn't the only common trait the two bands share-- a freewheeling mixture of haphazard heads, breakneck group interplay, and occasional lapses into inner-space are major bullet points for both. It's a relief that these guys weren't satisfied with the superficial bonds, though, because they go even further into homage by playing music that is never less than viscerally engaging (even when they lead us on wild goose chases).

Another notable connection for the Gold Sparkle Band is bassist William Parker, with whom sax/clarinetist Charles Waters, trumpeter Roger Ruzow and amazing drummer Andrew Barker have performed. This is an important connection because like Parker, this group forgoes the typically eclectic New York City avant-garde sound for a more traditionally "free" jazz style. This is not to say they play straight-ahead (and their raucous, epic pieces are as boisterous as any experimental klezmer band you'd care to name), but they're firmly part of a lineage including Coleman, Albert Ayler, Cecil Taylor and their heirs.

Fugues & Flowers, the band's fourth release, documents several shows from late 2000. The opener "Zodiac Attack" is the most rhythmically straightforward on the album, as Barker and bassist Adam Roberts lay down a deft Latin-influenced groove over which the horns offer a typically flighty Ornette tribute (and come dangerously close to sounding like fellow Coleman admirers, John Zorn's Masada). It doesn't take long for the fireworks to start, as Waters' solo begins restless but restrained, and explodes into skronk-fury. After a brief solo entrance by Ruzow, both horns join in with Barker for more hi-energy interaction. The Gold Sparkle Band are most often at their best when they droop the solo/head/solo structure and simply all dive in at once. The last solo here belongs to Barker, and even those of you that hate the idea of a long drum solo should dig this one. (He's a monster and then some.)

"Motor City Fugue" begins with a somber trumpet/clarinet exposition, but the bottom falls out soon enough. Of course, the idea of a jazz fugue isn't new; this group's subjects, answers and various interweaving lines, however, usually seem closer to vaguely related ideas than formally connected passages. As extended group improvisation goes, the band has a knack for keeping brainstorms in the ballpark of outsider comprehension. Waters' clarinet soliloquy about five minutes in is reason enough to stay alert, but Barker's return near the end (amazingly, his strokes suffered no ill-effects after twenty minutes playing behind the band) is as much a feat of endurance as it is musical statement. So, the Gold Sparkle Band's next move should be interesting: do they continue refining the sound of still vibrant post-ESP jazz, or declare intentions fully their own? Moments here suggest that the latter isn't out of the question.