Fields of Color

Tracklist

Album details

Press reviews

“Van den Brande's songs sound like warm poetic scenes.”

—Jazzenzo (NL)

“Written or improvised, this music is a remarkable reimagining of the painter’s legacy.”

—Jazznytt (NO)

“Fields Of Color is a varied album that continues to fascinate.”

—JazzFlits (NL)

"L’œuvre de Mark Rothko m’inspire depuis mon enfance. Ses grands champs de couleurs avaient un effet magique et hypnotique sur moi. » Le saxophoniste belge Matthias Van den Brande, 31 ans, le précise dans le livret de l’album, qui explique sa démarche et ses intentions morceau par morceau (ce qui montre une fois de plus l’utilité d’un album physique). On sait que Rothko a voulu devenir peintre pour atteindre le niveau d’émotion de la musique et de la poésie. Mathias fait le chemin inverse, voulant montrer dans sa musique toute la poésie et la philosophie du peintre. Résultat : dix compositions libres du sax en hommage à Rothko, toutes plus expressives les unes que les autres. Où la basse de Tijs Klaassen et la batterie de Wouter Kühne supportent magnifiquement les mélodies et les impros de Mathias et de Jean-Paul Estiévenart, tous deux superbes. Un exemple pour expliquer le dessein de Mathias, les notes sur Multiforms, des tableaux où Rothko se cherchait : « Ils sont très énergiques et très chaotiques. De nombreux traits de couleur interagissent, ce que j’ai traduit dans un morceau conduit par les impulsions rythmiques et des changements harmoniques soudains. » Vous voyez comment l’émotion devant les tableaux se traduit en musique. Mais ne croyez cependant pas que cette musique est austère, uniquement réfléchie, philosophée si on ose dire. Non : elle est pulsante, puissante, excitante, envoûtante. Un pur bonheur d’écoute."

—Jean-Claude Vantroven (March 27, 2025)
https://www.lesoir.be/
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"Fields of Color features ten new compositions from Belgian tenor saxophonist Matthias Van den Brande, all inspired by the painter Mark Rothko. Van den Brande is joined by his regular trio members Tijs Klassen (double bass) and Wouter Kühne (drums), supplemented by Jean-Paul Estiévenart on trumpet.

Van den Brande is not the first jazz musician to be inspired by an abstract expressionist painter: Bill Frisell’s Richter 858 (2005) was written to accompany a series of paintings by Gerhard Richter. Nor is he the first composer inspired specifically by Rothko: American classical composer Morton Feldman wrote Rothko Chapel in 1971 after attending the opening of the chapel, which contains 14 large site-specific paintings that Rothko completed shortly before his suicide in 1970. But Fields of Color does offer something different from those two albums. It’s neither as abrasively avant-garde as Richter 858 nor as ethereal and minimalist as Rothko Chapel. Instead, it’s elegant Euro jazz in which the two horns are free to float over the rhythm section untethered by a chordal instrument.

Rothko often left his paintings untitled. “Silence is so accurate,” he said late in his career, expressing his belief that words could limit how viewers experienced his art. This linguistic abstraction gives Van den Brande even greater freedom to interpret the paintings. For example, the opening track “Lunar Landscapes” is inspired by Rothko’s last series of paintings, untitled but known for convenience as his “black on grays” and created in 1969, the year of the first lunar landing. Yet the tune isn’t austere or mysterious, but a rather cheerful mid-tempo number that starts with a soft tenor-sax riff soon joined by interweaving trumpet, building to a more energetic interplay between the full quartet, and ending with a return to the sax riff but supported by drums.

The group intelligently exploits all the permutations afforded by the four instruments. The aptly named “Multiforms” starts with a short drum solo before the whole band joins for a melody with a slightly Ornette-ish to hard-bop feel, then explores various combinations that include a sax/drums duet, and a bass solo backed by drums – a pairing neatly reversed on “Yellow Fields” which features a drum solo behind which the bassist simply repeats the first five notes of an ascending minor scale, to simple but dramatic effect. “Seagram Murals” gains extra colour from a riff played on a synthesiser (an EWI, perhaps) that’s counterpointed by both sax and trumpet. “Trickling Stardust” (the longest track, at 10:15) starts with a lovely descending motif on Harmon muted trumpet backed by long notes played in unison by the saxophone and arco bass, before journeying across extended unmuted trumpet and saxophone solos, and ending with a soft landing of breathy sax and muted trumpet like the most nocturnal of Miles Davis ballads.

Providing further contrast are three very short interlude pieces (the longest is barely over a minute) that focus on texture and atmosphere: “Chapel I” (mournful long tones from saxophone and trumpet), “Chapel II” (heavily treated string atmospherics with bass punctuation) and “Aeolian Harp” (breathy saxophone harmonics with eerie atmospherics created by, presumably, a wind-blown harp implied by the title). These short tracks are the closest the music gets to the sonic equivalent of painterly abstraction.

One pleasure of the album is discovering lesser-known Rothko paintings. The final track “The Subway” was inspired by one of Rothko’s subway paintings made at the start of his career: a surprisingly representational painting of vertically elongated people, more akin to LS Lowry than the cloud-like rectangles floating on a colour field one normally associates with Rothko. The track starts with what sounds like a field recording of a subway train, before the whole quartet rattles along propulsively for an uplifting end to the album.

In his book The Artist’s Reality: Philosophies of Art, Rothko stated: “For like any organic substance, art must always be in a state of flux, the tempo being slow or fast. But it must move.” And this most satisfying music certainly does that."

—Julian Maynard-Smith (March 23, 2025)
https://ukjazznews.com/
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Can an essentially orthodox musical effort accurately reflect the most unconventional art? Is a concept album more attractive than others, simply by being one? Can a written review meaningfully convey insights about a score inspired by the creations of painter Mark Rothko, whose canvases, in turn, were conceived to express the intense sensations that poetry and classical music, particularly Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, stirred in him? Indeed, we face a disc that provokes a multitude of questions. A sort of 'infinity mirror' which, much like the opus of the States-based Latvian master it pays tribute to, demands quiet, solitary, persistent contemplation—an extended period of reflective immersion that draws the listener or viewer into a deep state of introspection. There, intimate sensations may arise—mystical or not—but are never imposed by the work itself through overt references to characters, forms or trends, nor by any external interference. In that sense, this review stands in blatant contradiction and perhaps should self-destruct immediately... But how interesting—and often fruitful incongruities can be, as we shall see throughout these lines.

The fascinating new project by Belgian saxophonist Matthias Van den Brande marks his fourth release as a leader. It brings together various elements that have shaped his still-brief but excellent career—some of which first appeared on Opus #1 (Soulfactory Records, 2018), his engaging yet typically scattered debut, where he revealed both compositional skill and a solid, imaginative phrasing enriched by a beautiful, woody tone reminiscent of Joe Henderson's mature years. His second endeavor, a four-track EP, showcased a much more focused and constrained language while introducing his current trio, featuring Tijs Klaassen (bass) and Wouter Kuhne (drums). Together, they developed what might be called a neo-cool sound, gently infused with an experimental spirit that rarely goes outside but mostly stays within the confines of jazz orthodoxy, with occasional echoes of classical music. All of this culminated in Three Sides of a Coin (ZenneZ Records, 2023), a superb output that laid the stylistic foundation for Fields of Color. This is likely his first fully mature work, in which he successfully adds substantial presence to the trio with the extraordinary Belgian trumpeter Jean-Paul Estiévenart—a highly sought-after figure in his local scene and also at the helm of several groups.

Much like an expert guide walking us through a gallery, explaining the motivations and creative processes behind each canvas, this CD's liner notes offer insight into the sonic translation of the Rothko visual language depicted here. Again, questions arise: Does this context bring us closer to the recording than we might otherwise be? Help us understand it better? Our curiosity to decipher meanings beneath something initially disorienting, intimidating or incomprehensible is innate. Yet for many, the intensity of personal perception is enough—a subjective journey through an emotional ocean where rationalizing the experience is irrelevant. Rothko, in particular, spoke to such viewers. Regardless of the listener's stance, though, when something is explained with the depth of understanding that Van den Brande shows in his liner notes regarding the painter's life and work—and how they influenced the ten selections on this album—it offers a precious chance to empathize with the authors and better connect with the soundscape or imagery. This is especially appreciated when navigating much of contemporary art, particularly the more abstract tendencies exemplified here by 'color field' painting. It is equally helpful when engaging with those utterly experimental sound pieces that draw on spiritual, social or ideological content. And it is a reminder of the value of physical media—not only for offering, as in this case, thoughtful writings (which we will only reveal very partially), but also for providing a fairer financial return to both musicians and labels.

In a famous letter co-written with fellow painter Adolph Gottlieb to New York Times art critic Edward A. Jewell, dated June 7, 1943, Rothko stated: "We favor the simple expression of the complex thought." And yet, little about this music is simple. Van den Brande's 10 original themes—some retrieved from previous projects—unfurl a multicolored array of forms, moods and interpretations. These resolve at times into carefully studied simplicity, and at other occasions into subtle but never excessive complexity. Consider "Seagram Murals," with its Pat Metheny Group-in-a-dreamlike-state vibe, as an example of the former; or the shifting phases of "Trickling Stardust" as an illustration of the later—a composition where the tenor's voice, and the ensemble as a whole, seem to trace the footsteps of the Mark Turner Quartet on Lathe of Heaven (ECM, 2014) and other similar albums by this contemporary titan. Yet, this diversity is framed within a tight ambient coherence. No track feels out of place—not even "The Subway," whose explicit swing closes the record. That tune, originally written in 2015 under the title "Remember To Check Out," has been rewritten to connect with Rothko's early paintings of the subway, when his work still retained a figurative component. This consistency even extends to two improvised miniatures —"Chapel I" and "Chapel II"—intended to evoke the atmosphere of the so-called Rothko Chapel in Houston's University of Saint Thomas, and to the brief, overtone-rich 49 seconds of "Aeolian Harp."

Van den Brande minimizes his fondness for a cappella intros here but enhances other signature traits. Among them stands out his use of counterpoint in vivid dialogue with Estiévenart's phenomenal trumpet, as heard in "Lunar Landscapes," the album's opener, where the initial rhythmic motif introduced by the sax evolves into a melody harmonized by bass and trumpet. "Untitled Stories" weaves a seductive, Middle Eastern-tinged air between the horns, followed by a stunning solo from Estiévenart in full Dave Douglas mode. The rhythm section, for its part, excels in translating into organized sounds the sense of movement perceived by the leader in Rothko's early paintings—those bright-colored creations left untitled to avoid biasing the viewer's interpretation. Similar vibes emanate from "Multiforms," the most experimental cut on the record, with an approach clearly impacted by Ornette Coleman's historic quartet. Here, Van den Brande and Kühne engage in sharp exchanges before another masterful Estiévenart solo, steeped in the impressionist trumpet lineage of Chet Baker, Kenny Wheeler or Tom Harrell.

"Trickling Stardust" is maybe the disc's most intricate composition—a probable suite (bearing clear traces of the late '90s ensembles of the aforementioned Douglas) that begins much like the first track, now with tenor and bass weaving dark textures beneath a high-pitched rhythmic motif from Estiévenart. It is also the longest piece, and arguably the one (together with "Untitled Stories") where the Antwerp-born reed man asserts his voice with the greatest authority, striving for an increasingly personal language—one that acknowledges its influences while carving out its own identity. His solo dissolves into an abstract interlude, giving way to an almost foreboding passage where the ensemble's voices seem to call out to each other, clinging together in the surrounding darkness. "Yellow Fields" returns the light and joy, galloping along in mid-tempo with compelling solos from both horns and the drummer, and Klaassen saves his finest moments—including an intriguing monologue—for the closer, "The Subway," which shows unmistakable Art Farmer/Benny Golson/Jazztet refined manners.

There is something in the conception and execution of Fields of Color that echoes legendary recordings like Motion (Verve, 1951) by Lee Konitz, or the unforgettable collaborations between the Chicago altoist and tenorist Warne Marsh. This album shares with them a lyrical pursuit of purity, whose palette depth is far more nuanced than a quick, inattentive listen might reveal. Rothko's esthetics demand the very opposite of what today's mass museum tourism often seeks: the hurried snapshot, won by elbowing to the front, before a canvas that—at bes —will be seen more through a phone lens than the human eye. What that spectator misses is the privilege of witnessing those textures, those subtle imperfections, that overall vision only revealed through patient, attentive, in-person observation from various angles and distances. The same holds true for this opus—and indeed, for any work made with talent, heart and care, regardless of genre.

This is a major step forward in Van den Brande's already brilliant career, one that also acts as a catalyst for deeper exploration among curious audiences. In that sense, it is not just a recommended disc—it is a necessary one for anyone interested in the intersections between different art forms and the effect of emotions and life events on them. But above all, it is a beautiful bundle of contradictions: from paying homage to a master through a musical genre he did not particularly favor, to including detailed liner notes that explain the meaning behind each selection, a gesture completely opposed to the painter's philosophy on how his creations should be experienced. However, perhaps the most sublime paradoxes lie in the two main characters themselves: Rothko repeatedly denied being an abstractionist, and Van den Brande, as noted on his website, suffers from color blindness—a condition that hinders color perception. And yet, that has not stopped him from being deeply moved by the Dvinsk-born artistic universe, nor from channeling his passion for it into such a magnificent musical canvas."

—Artur Moral (May 24, 2025)
https://www.allaboutjazz.com/