Two recent releases from Dutch trumpeter Eric Vloeimans—Levanter, featuring the trio of Vloeimans, Syrian clarinetist Kinan Azmeh, and Dutch pianist Jeroen van Vliet; and Carrousel, Vloeimans’ second collaboration with Holland Baroque, following their Old, New & Blue release—offer soul-satisfying music that’s hard to classify. The compositions and performances on these two distinctly different albums combine, in different ratios, elements of rock, jazz, world, baroque, and even a touch of musette into singular Vloeimansesque amalgams.
In the hands of Vloeimans, the trumpet—that inert collection of curved brass and valves—comes alive, emitting an astonishing range of eloquent sound that seems to come from a living thing. Instantly identifiable and absolutely inimitable, Vloeimans’ sound alone can stimulate strong feeling in the listener.
In a 2011 phone interview, he told me, “I was always focused on sound. They say it doesn’t matter what you play, it’s how you play it.” He went on to compare the variety of sound that he uses to the vocal effects an accomplished orator might use to hold an audience’s attention and drive home a message. Although he was talking about electronic effects he uses in his kick-ass electric jazz quartet, Gatecrash, those sentiments apply equally well to his acoustic work on these two albums.
His variety of sound is built on a rock-solid technical foundation, which is deployed in a generous, un-self-conscious way. The virtuosity serves the music, not the musician.
Vloeimans and Holland Baroque in concert
In another phone interview in 2014, Vloeimans put it this way in describing his approach to playing with others: “It’s really making a connection, really going into the sound of somebody else. Really to dare. Exit your ego. Your ego can be very good in wanting to play your instrument very well, but maybe sometimes the ego wants to play a high G on the trumpet or be very virtuoso, and the music doesn’t ask for that. It’s very interesting to play with people who can also let the music go its way, let the music exist . . . let the process show you the way and not want to prove something right away. Just let it be and see what there is.”
What there is is tremendously engaging music. These two Vloeimans releases offer full doses of that remarkable sound and that ego-suppressing sensibility.
The Levanter trio might be considered the moody darker sibling of Vloeimans’ Oliver’s Cinema trio. Azmeh makes quite a match with Vloeimans. He has equally strong technique and deep soulfulness, as well as the ability to fluidly accommodate the impulses of his colleagues, and he brings a touch of the Middle East to the trio’s sound. Pianist van Vliet, also a member of Gatecrash, brings a refined touch and an improvisational availability. All three are storytellers of the first water, both as composers and performers.
The album opens with a moody modal rumination, “November 22nd,” composed by Azmeh, whose keening clarinet lacerates the heart. His “Jisreen,” named after a Syrian town subjected to cruel attacks in the Syrian war, begins with a lovely flow to its long line but encounters catastrophe along the way. The trio responds with a hair-tearing lament before the lovely flow of life returns, if somewhat chastened. Vloeimans “Ocean of Petals” seems to explore a tender memory, and the clarinet’s ache is cooled by the piano’s salve. “Balkan Spirits,” also by Vloeimans, offers a breathless trumpet solo and an ecstatic climax. Vloeimans” “The Sad Toreador” takes the prize for pure sound, and van Vliet’s “Mete’s Dance,” which strains at the starting gate, offers a daring clarinet solo and a stirring pas de deux between piano and clarinet. Van Vliet delivers a ranging piano improvisation on his composition “Wanderer.”
The objective of the cutting-edge ensemble Holland Baroque is, as the liner notes tell us, “to convince a wide audience of the flexibility and vitality of (Baroque) music.” With Holland Baroque’s 15 members incorporating 17th-century instrumentation, a contemporary disregard for boundaries, a sense of adventure, and a willing conspirator in Vloeimans, Carrousel indisputably establishes the relevance of baroque music for the modern ear. Its 11 tracks 
feature eight Vloeimans compositions and one piece each from Purcell, Buxtehude, and J. S. Bach, arranged singly or in some combination by Tineke Steenbrink (organ, celesta), Judith Steenbrink (violin), and Vloeimans.
Vloeimans’ “Armin” answers the question “What if Vivaldi was composing in the 21st century,” and his trumpet takes on an almost human voice. His “Chorizo” explores the possibility of baroque choro with its Carnaval feel, enhanced with a graft of Mendelssohn by Judith Steenbrink. “Monsignor Charles,” also from Vloeimans’ pen, takes us from a formal court dance in the opening sequence, through a light, upbeat demotic B section, into a Moroccan dream sequence in the C section, before landing in a Parisian party in the D section. The Helmond Vocal Ensemble joins in on “Mumu,” Vloeimans’ tender lullaby that swells as the ensembles engage in strata-building repetition. “Ocean of Petals” is enlarged from its trio form on Levanter, with a lovely entwining of Vloeimans’ trumpet, Lambert Colson’s cornetto, and Adam Woolf’s trombone. Vloeimans ventures into the uppermost registers of his instrument on this one, voicing so much striving and longing. The most beautiful composition on the album belongs to Henry Purcell in “Purcellian Tune,” which also features the bracing three-horn collaboration.
Take your pick, Levanter or Carrousel, and you can’t go wrong. Choose both, and you could go a lot righter.
© 2018 Mel Minter