Pablo Embon- The Symphonic Jazz Fusion Collection

Jazz fusion maestro Pablo Embon – inspired by fusion greats like Chick Corea, Pat Metheny, and Al Di Meola – has been with us from the beginning; he cranked out over 22 albums since 2004, and you’ll find their many well-deserved accolades right here. Now, Pablo returns with compositions symphonically supported and elevated with his latest work, the aptly-titled The Symphonic Jazz Fusion Collection.

You see, Pablo had the opportunity to participate in the Film Scoring Academy of Europe Online Program, and utilizing his material, collaborated with the European Recording Orchestra in Sofia, Bulgaria. Over the space of eight months, Pablo composed a mix of original recordings and reworked older songs specifically for orchestral interpretation. Does it work? Does lush, expertly written, recorded, and conducted orchestration mesh soundly with Pablo’s already impressive compositional acumen? Let’s hit the highlights:

Wait. Who does what?

In most instances, Pablo plays and records everything himself. But this time, he had the pleasure of collaborating with musicians and conductors as his compositions were deftly accentuated within a 52-piece orchestral environment.

Facing the music (i.e., hitting those aforementioned musical highlights).

The collection begins with “Blossom” – it starts with soft glances from piano, and a flute leading us to water. And then, lush string waves arrive; they’re mournful, but tenaciously moored to hope. A galloping percussion takes hold, answering to that hope, and the spirit of battle astride a charging horse tears through fields of slightly bloody, but positively glimmering armor. As the song ebbs and flows, between the gallant and trampled upon, we’re granted dashes of piano, and a briskly subdued exit. A great, multifaceted opener running a gamut of multidirectional emotions. Consider my interest seriously piqued.

Track #3, “While Everybody Sleeps – 52 Piece Orchestra Version,” begins with ominous piano before landing upon pointed, higher register string staccatos. The music continues with foreboding string washes before arriving at an empowering, jazzy plateau. This is an AMAZING change, and I’m rooting for the imagined hero if we’re experiencing the soundtrack to his victory.

Track #5, “The Longing Nights,” starts with what sounds like a submerged guitar arpeggio (update: It’s totally a keyboard!), and a stern, maybe sulking violin. And then, we ride the crest to jazzy, bright, and musically open waters with brush-agitated symbols, staccato piano blinking, and soft – and punctuating – horns. Holy cow, this is AMAZING.

Track #8, “Enter My Soul,” comes from somewhere dark. Cavernous. Creeping. And then it rises above the soaked, dark gray sand with dextrous piano and slightly overcast jazz phrasing. And is that acoustic guitar? Yes! And it prefaces a majestic string interlude, which finally grants clarity and safe passage upon formerly masked and muck-covered paths.

Track #10, “Trapped in the Air,” begins with tribal, side-of-kettledrum slapping, and what sounds like either harmonica, accordion, or comparable synthesizer. It’s a percussively proud piece with jazzy guitar notes and strums; it’s something that allows for occasionally uplifting string layers, and that character-filled accordion (or harmonica, or comparable synth). It seems rambunctious, perhaps unsettled, but it gently exits the saloon with a jazz/ragtime piano coda that quietly accepts responsibility for any hard feelings.

The 12th track, “What I’ve Heard,” marches onward with rumbling snare strikes and sonically braided horns and strings. This song? It’s the anticlimax; a taste of the big ending before the big ending. It’s demanding your attention, but reserved and bashful when confronted. It’s brief, and perhaps disruptive, but uplifting, and portending the end’s promised – but just barely achieved – glory.

Track #15, “Returned Letters,” starts with a welcoming, supportive string ensemble. It’s sweet, cheeky, cautious, yearning, concerned, and ultimately, content. It’s also brief, but the emotions expressed within are multitudinous.

The finale, “The Valley Between Us,” is a final, stripped-down, piano-configured lament. But the implied darkness gives way to one last, and reservedly hopeful, chord. It’s a singular voice in the cathedral of one thousand, and it has something to get off its chest – the importance of its dreams, and your often flippant attention.

But…is it good?

“Good” is too limiting a descriptor, and I would be granting this music a disservice if I were to kick off my Godzilla slippers and sit comfortably in the “good” chair. “Good” just isn’t accurate. Divine? Mesmerizing? Uplifting? Spiritually empowering? There we go – that’s a little better.

Pablo Embon has created something masterful here; something transcendental. You and I? We’re confined to the flatlands and endless toiling over parched soil and rotting fruit, but this music lifts us ever closer to the sun – toward enlightenment.

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