as a leader/co-leader/solo artist
Tropos: Switches (Endectomorph, 2025)
photo by Tarishi Gupta
released June 27, 2025
Ledah Finck – violin Yuma Uesaka – clarinet and bass clarinet Phillip Golub – piano Aaron Edgcomb – drums and percussion “Witchess,” “Switches” composed by Yuma Uesaka, YUMA (ASCAP) “The Best Donuts in Pennsylvania,” “Lukán” composed by Ledah Finck, Nettle & Jewelweed Music (ASCAP) “Mother in Lieu,” “Between the Times,” “Headline” composed by Phillip Golub, Phildog Music (ASCAP) “Aerator Debris,” “husk” composed by Aaron Edgcomb, Edgcomb Publications (ASCAP) Recorded by Greg DiCrosta at Firehouse 12 in New Haven, CT on January 19 and 20, 2024 Mixed and mastered by Sam Minaie at Birdfood Sound Produced by Ledah Finck, Yuma Uesaka, Phillip Golub, and Aaron Edgcomb Artwork and design by Mario Layne Fabrizio Special thanks to Darius Jones |
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As a Brooklyn resident and someone who primarily exists in a metropolis, I enjoy taking in horizons and skylines at every opportunity. On my way into the city, I often find myself wondering if the Manhattan skyline is a product of chance, in-depth urban planning, or an odd mix of both.
Could architect William Van Alen have guessed what the skyline would look like from the BQE during some future rush hour? What consideration was given to situating his composition so that it would not block out the sun or overshadow Grand Central’s Tiffany Clock? Overcoming zoning setbacks, a race for the tallest building and a stock market crash, Van Alen literally had to sue Chrysler for compensation after the completion of the Chrysler Building in 1930.
The four members of the group Tropos—Yuma Uesaka, Ledah Finck, Phillip Golub, and Aaron Edgcomb—are the urban planners of a new city called Switches. As I listen to the nine tracks of Tropos’ new album, I hear forward thinking designers with rigorous structures and architectural vision. Strolling through their streets I experienced “Witchess” as a regenerative skyscraper, “Lukán” an urban park full of wondrous vegetation, “Between the Times” a local bar in an old neighborhood protected by zoning, and “Aerator Debris” a scenic beltway circling the metropolis.
This collective of young composers and improvisers have built a metropolis that doesn’t feel like a destination for travelers unwilling to turn off GPS. A love of process and discovery seems to be driving this music. There are no selfie vibrations here, just a fearless commitment to compositional intention and to the development of Tropos’ collective improvisational language.
In 1918, Le Corbusier—an architect, designer, painter, urban planner, and writer—befriended the Cubist painter Amédée Ozenfant, which led to the creation of the art movement Purism. Two principles of this movement are: art consists in the conception before anything else, and technique is only a tool, humbly at the service of the conception. Each compositional work on Switches embodies these two principles and what I believe makes this ensemble special.
Listen to this music fearlessly and embrace a new metropolis.
-Darius Jones
Could architect William Van Alen have guessed what the skyline would look like from the BQE during some future rush hour? What consideration was given to situating his composition so that it would not block out the sun or overshadow Grand Central’s Tiffany Clock? Overcoming zoning setbacks, a race for the tallest building and a stock market crash, Van Alen literally had to sue Chrysler for compensation after the completion of the Chrysler Building in 1930.
The four members of the group Tropos—Yuma Uesaka, Ledah Finck, Phillip Golub, and Aaron Edgcomb—are the urban planners of a new city called Switches. As I listen to the nine tracks of Tropos’ new album, I hear forward thinking designers with rigorous structures and architectural vision. Strolling through their streets I experienced “Witchess” as a regenerative skyscraper, “Lukán” an urban park full of wondrous vegetation, “Between the Times” a local bar in an old neighborhood protected by zoning, and “Aerator Debris” a scenic beltway circling the metropolis.
This collective of young composers and improvisers have built a metropolis that doesn’t feel like a destination for travelers unwilling to turn off GPS. A love of process and discovery seems to be driving this music. There are no selfie vibrations here, just a fearless commitment to compositional intention and to the development of Tropos’ collective improvisational language.
In 1918, Le Corbusier—an architect, designer, painter, urban planner, and writer—befriended the Cubist painter Amédée Ozenfant, which led to the creation of the art movement Purism. Two principles of this movement are: art consists in the conception before anything else, and technique is only a tool, humbly at the service of the conception. Each compositional work on Switches embodies these two principles and what I believe makes this ensemble special.
Listen to this music fearlessly and embrace a new metropolis.
-Darius Jones
dream brigade: dream brigade (Infrequent Seams, 2025)
photo by Tarishi Gupta
released March 14, 2025
Phillip Golub, piano Lesley Mok, drums Recorded by David Stoller and Grady Bajorek at Samurai Hotel Recording Studio in Astoria, NY on September 19, 2023 Mixed and Mastered by Sam Minaie at Birdfood Sound Cover artwork by Peter Sacks “Township 21” (2018), used with permission of the artist CD design and layout by Knut Schötteldreier |
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Oceanic waves, spectral refractions, ecstatic spirals, pointillistic palindromic backward-forward softened into waterlike textures, dark and murky, transformed into glittering splashes of light. The music on this album traverses liminal states of consciousness, taking the listener on a journey through unexpected turns and ephemeral emotions that emerge and dissipate in an instant.
Phillip Golub and Lesley Mok are brilliant improvisers who have, as individuals, created their own highly developed languages and approaches to their respective instruments, and possess a depth of knowledge and experience that defies their years. In dialogue, they find synergetic meeting points, rhythmic synchronicities and counterpoint, one filling gaps left by the other, one supporting the other. Each musician is porous, enveloping and absorbing the other, listening more than they play, demonstrating great patience, restraint, quietude, reflection, and stillness.
In Golub’s stacked chords and Mok’s rhythmic gestures, one can recognize echoes from past generations, yet the context is constantly turned on its head, shifting, and playfully re-imagined, giving new meaning to old syntax. Both musicians have absorbed and integrated a wide range of influences and are able to invoke sonic archetypes while staying completely free of any notion of tradition or convention, spontaneously reacting to one another and co-composing ever evolving sonic imaginaries.
Each improvisation is its own universe, a unique paradigm of texture, orchestration, and concept. Both Mok and Golub demonstrate discipline through their economy of material, and the seeing through of a large compositional arch through their moment-to-moment interactions.
Many of the improvisations on this album could pass for composed works. Take Invisible Ink, for example, a nocturne with repeated thematic and harmonic material answered by bell-like chords in the upper register, following a seemingly pre-conceived form. Conversely, the two standards on the album, Darn that Dream and Conception, are deconstructed and eventually disintegrate to the point of being no longer recognizable (though the latter maintains its inherent bop-like pulsation and harmonies).
Golub states, “We didn't create this duo because of the particular instrumentation or any tradition or precedent or history with regards to instrumentation, but just rather as two individual improvisers and people with shared interests and sensibilities.”
That said, it’s important to note the rarity of the instrumentation. The piano-bass-drums trio is the standard and most common unit in “jazz” music. But here we have piano and drums duo, without the triangulation imposed by the third element. There is no longer a focal point or tonic, and the positionality is left undefined, leaving the entire sonic spectra available to both instruments. A melody can be carried by a cymbal, a bass line shared between the toms and low register of the piano, and harmony and timbre are no longer distinguishable. Cymbals, drums, and piano merge into one instrument.
If there is a historic precedent for this instrumentation and approach, it can be found in Cecil Taylor’s duos with an array of different drummers, including Andrew Cyrille, Max Roach, Elvin Jones, and Tony Oxley. Taylor’s duo with latter was arguably the most compelling, in the sense that Taylor and Oxley’s rhythmic and harmonic languages combined to create one cohesive sound.
With Mok and Golub, though their musical languages are completely different, the depth of their interaction and degree of empathy approach a similar level of cohesiveness.
Sustained piano chords hang in the air, beating within the strings, each chord awakens a new sensitivity, an unexplored feeling, a moment of destitution leads to a ray of hope. Layers of smoke in the cymbals and brushes, scintillating, scurrying, press rolls that march and warp time.
Through their ingenious improvisatory approaches, spirit of adventure, and mutual trust, Lesley Mok and Phillip Golub have created a unique and profound musical paradigm with this album. No doubt, they will continue to explore this paradigm and produce more albums.
Until that happens, this album is worthy of repeated listens, ideally when the listener is in a state of quietude and stillness. Surrendering fully to this musical journey is a most gratifying and rewarding experience.
Amir ElSaffar, December 2024
Phillip Golub and Lesley Mok are brilliant improvisers who have, as individuals, created their own highly developed languages and approaches to their respective instruments, and possess a depth of knowledge and experience that defies their years. In dialogue, they find synergetic meeting points, rhythmic synchronicities and counterpoint, one filling gaps left by the other, one supporting the other. Each musician is porous, enveloping and absorbing the other, listening more than they play, demonstrating great patience, restraint, quietude, reflection, and stillness.
In Golub’s stacked chords and Mok’s rhythmic gestures, one can recognize echoes from past generations, yet the context is constantly turned on its head, shifting, and playfully re-imagined, giving new meaning to old syntax. Both musicians have absorbed and integrated a wide range of influences and are able to invoke sonic archetypes while staying completely free of any notion of tradition or convention, spontaneously reacting to one another and co-composing ever evolving sonic imaginaries.
Each improvisation is its own universe, a unique paradigm of texture, orchestration, and concept. Both Mok and Golub demonstrate discipline through their economy of material, and the seeing through of a large compositional arch through their moment-to-moment interactions.
Many of the improvisations on this album could pass for composed works. Take Invisible Ink, for example, a nocturne with repeated thematic and harmonic material answered by bell-like chords in the upper register, following a seemingly pre-conceived form. Conversely, the two standards on the album, Darn that Dream and Conception, are deconstructed and eventually disintegrate to the point of being no longer recognizable (though the latter maintains its inherent bop-like pulsation and harmonies).
Golub states, “We didn't create this duo because of the particular instrumentation or any tradition or precedent or history with regards to instrumentation, but just rather as two individual improvisers and people with shared interests and sensibilities.”
That said, it’s important to note the rarity of the instrumentation. The piano-bass-drums trio is the standard and most common unit in “jazz” music. But here we have piano and drums duo, without the triangulation imposed by the third element. There is no longer a focal point or tonic, and the positionality is left undefined, leaving the entire sonic spectra available to both instruments. A melody can be carried by a cymbal, a bass line shared between the toms and low register of the piano, and harmony and timbre are no longer distinguishable. Cymbals, drums, and piano merge into one instrument.
If there is a historic precedent for this instrumentation and approach, it can be found in Cecil Taylor’s duos with an array of different drummers, including Andrew Cyrille, Max Roach, Elvin Jones, and Tony Oxley. Taylor’s duo with latter was arguably the most compelling, in the sense that Taylor and Oxley’s rhythmic and harmonic languages combined to create one cohesive sound.
With Mok and Golub, though their musical languages are completely different, the depth of their interaction and degree of empathy approach a similar level of cohesiveness.
Sustained piano chords hang in the air, beating within the strings, each chord awakens a new sensitivity, an unexplored feeling, a moment of destitution leads to a ray of hope. Layers of smoke in the cymbals and brushes, scintillating, scurrying, press rolls that march and warp time.
Through their ingenious improvisatory approaches, spirit of adventure, and mutual trust, Lesley Mok and Phillip Golub have created a unique and profound musical paradigm with this album. No doubt, they will continue to explore this paradigm and produce more albums.
Until that happens, this album is worthy of repeated listens, ideally when the listener is in a state of quietude and stillness. Surrendering fully to this musical journey is a most gratifying and rewarding experience.
Amir ElSaffar, December 2024
Loop 7 (Greyfade, 2025)
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released February 7, 2025
Phillip Golub, piano Ty Citerman, electric guitar Aaron Edgcomb, vibraphone Joseph Branciforte, live electronics & synthesizer composed by Phillip Golub produced by Joseph Branciforte piano recorded at Yamaha Artist Services, New York vibraphone, guitar, and electronics recorded at Greyfade Studio, New York engineered by Joseph Branciforte piano technician: Shane Hoshino piano consultant: Daniel Levitan production coordination: Bonnie Barrett and Aaron Ross mixed & mastered by Joseph Branciforte at Greyfade Studio |
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Pianist and composer Phillip Golub continues his acoustic loops project with Loop 7, dramatically expanding the project’s scope harmonically, technologically, and orchestrationally, while maintaining the emphasis on microscopic variation within tightly controlled repetition begun on his solo debut Filters.
Composed using a 22-note per octave tuning system, the studio recording of Loop 7 employs two microtonally-tuned Yahama Disklavier pianos controlled via keyboard controller. Golub is joined by a small ensemble—consisting of scordatura electric guitar, microtonal vibraphone, and live electronics—to create an absorbing realization of the piece, uncannily situated between chamber performance and imaginary studio creation.
Composed using a 22-note per octave tuning system, the studio recording of Loop 7 employs two microtonally-tuned Yahama Disklavier pianos controlled via keyboard controller. Golub is joined by a small ensemble—consisting of scordatura electric guitar, microtonal vibraphone, and live electronics—to create an absorbing realization of the piece, uncannily situated between chamber performance and imaginary studio creation.
Abiding Memory (Berthold Records/Endectomorph Music, 2024)
photo by Nathalie Basoski
released June 21, 2024
Phillip Golub, piano/rhodes/harpsichord Alec Goldfarb, electric guitar Daniel Hass, cello Sam Minaie, bass Vicente Atria, drums Produced by Phillip Golub, Vicente Atria, and Alec Goldfarb with assistance from Raf Vertessen Recorded by David Stoller at Samurai Hotel Recording Studio in Astoria, NY Mixed by Vicente Atria Mastered by Sam Minaie at Birdfood Sound Track titles by Phillip Golub and Pablo Uribe Cover artwork & design by Knut Schötteldreier |
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Its signature traits strike the ear all at once: dark hues, unlikely synchronies, uncanny timbral fusions, unfolding sprawls of form, and cascading contrapuntal melodies that stick to your ear and pull you forward. And animating it all, an impassioned sincerity, an irrepressible ardor. Improvisation is distributed throughout, but this is not a shred-fest; if anything, it’s a song-fest, in its unerring tunefulness. The quality of motion keeps bending, such that we don’t at first hear meter, or even pulse, so much as patterned, coordinated gestures.
Then a more overtly gridded rhythmic matrix arrives, mounting in intensity and exuberance. Instead of soloistic fire, we are offered genuine musicality; soon, an unaccompanied guitar moment offers an early indication that this is a band of composers, whose priorities are formal, ideational, discursive rather than “playerly.” Next, the group begins to offer something in the soloistic direction, in ebullient trading between piano and guitar across an intricate, mysteriously lurching groove, before giving way to new tableaus.
Time unfolds under extraordinary command; the music’s driving polyrhythms grind down into richly textured pools of apparent stillness, then snap back into sync, revealing an ecstatic, impeccable order, shot through with an appealing mischief. The pianist unifies the ensemble, binding it by hand, weaving in unisons across the ensemble tapestry: low-end detonations land with bass and drums, sinewy strains merge with cello, haunted refrains fuse with chorused electric guitar, filigreed parallel octaves stream across his own extremities. All of these doublings serve to stabilize and reinforce the music’s armature; they’re in this together.
As the material accrues, a composerly persona emerges, one bursting with ideas and plans, and an abundantly original sonic, harmonic, and timbral imagination: every sound ringing with larger purpose, each piece an extravagantly detailed mini-suite, every moment abuzz, vibrant, unpredictable. Nothing wears out its welcome; every formal element is subjected to directional development, careful layering, and welcome disruption. The ethos is further advanced by the ensemble’s remarkable sense of composure amid these intricacies; witness their nonchalant execution of impossible-sounding phrases, their sonic bravado, their genuine attunement, expressiveness, and sensitivity to sound, gesture, and ensemble.
Let’s call this the New Brooklyn Complexity, for its particular amalgamation of high-modernist compositional knowhow and cutting-edge improvisational expertise, its rough-and-tumble small-group flair and its chamber-music transparency, a type of artistry trained both in classrooms and in clubs, equally adept at nested tuplets and fiery grooves. If we provisionally accept this emergent microgenre, we might similarly co-locate many of the artists’ older colleagues: Matt Mitchell, Patricia Brennan, Cory Smythe, Peter Evans, Aaron Burnett, Ingrid Laubrock, Jon Irabagon, Kate Gentile, Steve Lehman, John Hollenbeck, Miles Okazaki, Miguel Zenon, Dan Weiss, Aruan Ortiz, Craig Taborn, and Tim Berne, to name just a few.
I’ll now let on that I know Phillip Golub very well. I met him a decade ago, have followed him closely ever since, and would trust him with my life. He and Endectomorph founder Kevin Sun were among my “day-ones,” the group of students who gamely signed up to study with me upon my arrival at Harvard in January 2014. In the ensuing years, Phillip found his way to studies and apprenticeships with artists as disparate as Ran Blake, Jason Moran, Bruce Brubaker, Joe Morris, Chaya Czernowin, esperanza spalding, Wayne Shorter, Tyshawn Sorey, Amir ElSaffar, Carmen Lundy, Julian Anderson, and Michael Finissy. One can hear traces of all of their artistry in his: spectral awareness, formal fearlessness, radical inventiveness, exhaustive follow-through, and plentiful, dazzling musicianship.
Phillip’s ethical commitments are as progressive and thoughtful as his music, and he is a tireless advocate for human rights, musicians’ rights, and equity. That same heart beats beneath this music. As our wounded world undergoes seismic cultural and political shifts, we are perhaps finally ready for Phillip Golub, just as he is ready to share something exquisite with us. This album is cause for celebration, marking the culmination of a remarkable achievement, and the promise of much more to come. Listen well, and hear something you never thought possible – intelligent, courageous, full of soul, and teeming with life.
-Vijay Iyer-
Then a more overtly gridded rhythmic matrix arrives, mounting in intensity and exuberance. Instead of soloistic fire, we are offered genuine musicality; soon, an unaccompanied guitar moment offers an early indication that this is a band of composers, whose priorities are formal, ideational, discursive rather than “playerly.” Next, the group begins to offer something in the soloistic direction, in ebullient trading between piano and guitar across an intricate, mysteriously lurching groove, before giving way to new tableaus.
Time unfolds under extraordinary command; the music’s driving polyrhythms grind down into richly textured pools of apparent stillness, then snap back into sync, revealing an ecstatic, impeccable order, shot through with an appealing mischief. The pianist unifies the ensemble, binding it by hand, weaving in unisons across the ensemble tapestry: low-end detonations land with bass and drums, sinewy strains merge with cello, haunted refrains fuse with chorused electric guitar, filigreed parallel octaves stream across his own extremities. All of these doublings serve to stabilize and reinforce the music’s armature; they’re in this together.
As the material accrues, a composerly persona emerges, one bursting with ideas and plans, and an abundantly original sonic, harmonic, and timbral imagination: every sound ringing with larger purpose, each piece an extravagantly detailed mini-suite, every moment abuzz, vibrant, unpredictable. Nothing wears out its welcome; every formal element is subjected to directional development, careful layering, and welcome disruption. The ethos is further advanced by the ensemble’s remarkable sense of composure amid these intricacies; witness their nonchalant execution of impossible-sounding phrases, their sonic bravado, their genuine attunement, expressiveness, and sensitivity to sound, gesture, and ensemble.
Let’s call this the New Brooklyn Complexity, for its particular amalgamation of high-modernist compositional knowhow and cutting-edge improvisational expertise, its rough-and-tumble small-group flair and its chamber-music transparency, a type of artistry trained both in classrooms and in clubs, equally adept at nested tuplets and fiery grooves. If we provisionally accept this emergent microgenre, we might similarly co-locate many of the artists’ older colleagues: Matt Mitchell, Patricia Brennan, Cory Smythe, Peter Evans, Aaron Burnett, Ingrid Laubrock, Jon Irabagon, Kate Gentile, Steve Lehman, John Hollenbeck, Miles Okazaki, Miguel Zenon, Dan Weiss, Aruan Ortiz, Craig Taborn, and Tim Berne, to name just a few.
I’ll now let on that I know Phillip Golub very well. I met him a decade ago, have followed him closely ever since, and would trust him with my life. He and Endectomorph founder Kevin Sun were among my “day-ones,” the group of students who gamely signed up to study with me upon my arrival at Harvard in January 2014. In the ensuing years, Phillip found his way to studies and apprenticeships with artists as disparate as Ran Blake, Jason Moran, Bruce Brubaker, Joe Morris, Chaya Czernowin, esperanza spalding, Wayne Shorter, Tyshawn Sorey, Amir ElSaffar, Carmen Lundy, Julian Anderson, and Michael Finissy. One can hear traces of all of their artistry in his: spectral awareness, formal fearlessness, radical inventiveness, exhaustive follow-through, and plentiful, dazzling musicianship.
Phillip’s ethical commitments are as progressive and thoughtful as his music, and he is a tireless advocate for human rights, musicians’ rights, and equity. That same heart beats beneath this music. As our wounded world undergoes seismic cultural and political shifts, we are perhaps finally ready for Phillip Golub, just as he is ready to share something exquisite with us. This album is cause for celebration, marking the culmination of a remarkable achievement, and the promise of much more to come. Listen well, and hear something you never thought possible – intelligent, courageous, full of soul, and teeming with life.
-Vijay Iyer-
Tropos: Live at 411 Kent (self-release, 2024)
On April 26, 2023, Mario and I came together after many months being separated by a pandemic to play an album release for our recording Shadow Music (tropos.bandcamp.com/album/shadow-music) at Shift 411 Kent in Brooklyn, NY. That show was recorded and we were quite happy with how it came out, so we decided to make it available for you to enjoy.
Tropos: Shadow Music (Endectomorph Music, 2023)
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released March 17, 2023
Phillip Golub, piano Mario Layne Fabrizio, percussion Laila Smith, voice Produced by Phillip Golub and Kevin Sun Recorded at Wellspring Sound on October 5, 2019 Recorded by Matt Hayes Mixed by Ted Reichman Mastered by Patrick McGee Cover Art and Design by Mario Layne Fabrizio Tropos would like to thank Rasmus Zwicki, Ruth Lepson, Loren Segan, Jeff Lantos, Kaeleigh Farrish, Rajna Swaminathan, Peter Golub & Cristina Warner, Michael Finnissy, James Baer, and Anonymous for their donations to support this project. |
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When originality is the goal, the proper mechanism is necessary to fulfill it. Improvisation can indeed be the thing that facilitates making imagined music that is just too complex—and too alive—to be conveyed effectively as a composition. State of the art improvised music requires a rigor arrived at with a precise understanding of methodology and operational strategies shared in conversation and rehearsal. The ability to decipher how the other players present and respond to material that emerges in the process of performance can result in uniquely cohesive and unpredictable music that can only happen once.
These three musicians have studied the full range of improvised music, can play it with great artistry, and can articulate the what, why and how of it better than most. I can hear their understanding of the composite methodologies of that music throughout these five tracks. They work together with a relaxed control that allows the music to breathe even in the silences.
I hear their deep expression in their restraint, which is both stark and always lovely. I hear their individual decisions as they navigate through the contingencies that emerge as they interact decisively with flexibility: leading, sharing, supporting, and contrasting, but never dominating or impeding the collectively generated elegant forms that emerge. The music never stutters, and nothing is forced. Instead, each sound has its own place in the perfect balance with silence.
This music may be spare, even sometimes stark, but it is also relaxed and comfortable, never contrived or precious. That requires the ability to mix logic with emotion, a factor that sets this apart from more static music in this vein. Having heard them perform works by Ornette Coleman, Albert Ayler, Cecil Taylor and Anthony Braxton, I know this work is connected to them even as it is also informed by their interest in Morton Feldman, John Cage, opera, electronic and pop music, and more. This recording isn’t an attempt to counter any single work, but to complement all of it. It isn’t an argument against density, melody, or accented rhythm; it is their presentation of other things to add to that collection of sounds—those that defy the notion of an exclusive culture or hierarchy. This is another beautiful example in the special continuum where courageous artistic expression made by vibrant young people is truly contemporary and inspiring.
Joe Morris
July 2022
These three musicians have studied the full range of improvised music, can play it with great artistry, and can articulate the what, why and how of it better than most. I can hear their understanding of the composite methodologies of that music throughout these five tracks. They work together with a relaxed control that allows the music to breathe even in the silences.
I hear their deep expression in their restraint, which is both stark and always lovely. I hear their individual decisions as they navigate through the contingencies that emerge as they interact decisively with flexibility: leading, sharing, supporting, and contrasting, but never dominating or impeding the collectively generated elegant forms that emerge. The music never stutters, and nothing is forced. Instead, each sound has its own place in the perfect balance with silence.
This music may be spare, even sometimes stark, but it is also relaxed and comfortable, never contrived or precious. That requires the ability to mix logic with emotion, a factor that sets this apart from more static music in this vein. Having heard them perform works by Ornette Coleman, Albert Ayler, Cecil Taylor and Anthony Braxton, I know this work is connected to them even as it is also informed by their interest in Morton Feldman, John Cage, opera, electronic and pop music, and more. This recording isn’t an attempt to counter any single work, but to complement all of it. It isn’t an argument against density, melody, or accented rhythm; it is their presentation of other things to add to that collection of sounds—those that defy the notion of an exclusive culture or hierarchy. This is another beautiful example in the special continuum where courageous artistic expression made by vibrant young people is truly contemporary and inspiring.
Joe Morris
July 2022
Rag Out! (self release, 2022)
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released June 2, 2023
Phillip Golub - Piano Recorded and mixed by New England Conservatory Recording Department, Dir. Aaron Saidizand Mastered by Sam Minaie at Birdfood Sound Album art by Ege Yumusak & Phillip Golub Improvisation on an original period rag Recorded live on November 19, 2018 at Jordan Hall, New England Conservatory on a Gunther Schuller memorial concert. Thanks to Bruce Brubaker and Ken Schaphorst for inviting me to play on this concert. |
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Filters (Greyfade, 2022)
again and again. loops are everywhere: meme culture, hold music, tiktok. today, loops pervade our consciousness. loops are everywhere. in pre-digital music like brian eno’s music for airports from 1978, loops were created by connecting together the ends of a piece of magnetic recording tape, so that it could be played continuously, the recorded sounds repeating, again and again. there are “loops” in old art: repeated phrases, sequenced passages, in 18th-century european music, in early novels. loops are not new; but today they are inescapable. in part, this may be a manifestation of the integration of non-western thought about time, awareness, and the cycles of life into western conscious ness. what attracts us to repetition? in an uncertain, dangerous existence, does the predictable attract more? do we crave sameness, or ritual? can hearing loops quiet the mind, or even become a practice of wellness? phillip golub’s loops are not identical repetitions. the human hand is audible. these are almost familiar sounds. sometimes our attention might drift; and then come to focus acutely on the tiniest changes, shifts, sonic details. phillip golub’s loops evolve, they develop. brian eno and peter schmidt have written, “repetition is a form of change.” but there can be no repetition without change. we ourselves evolve, we develop, and so what we hear changes — as we listen we complete the musical “circuit” differently each time. again and again.
-bruce brubaker
-bruce brubaker
Committee to Save Christmas (self release, 2020)
Tropos: Axioms // 75ab (Biophilia Records, 2020)
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released May 15, 2020
Voice: Laila Smith Alto Saxophone: Raef Sengupta Piano (& aux percussion): Phillip Golub Bass: Zachary Lavine Drums & Percussion: Mario Layne Fabrizio Recorded Oct 5 & 6, 2019 at Wellspring Sound. Engineer: Matt Hayes, Ryan Gallagher, Matt Swanton Mixing Engineer: Ted Reichman Mastering Engineer: Jon Rosenberg Produced by Ted Reichman, Phillip Golub, and Mario Layne Fabrizio Special thanks to Joe Morris, Ted Reichman, and Ruth Lepson |
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These performances of compelling new and original music by members of the ensemble, set alongside probing versions of classic Braxton compositions from the 1970s, reflects the wide expressive range and dynamism to be experienced on this album.
-George Lewis
When I was studying with Anthony Braxton in the early 90’s, if your teacher told you to get a Real Book, you would go to the main street in a town in Central Connecticut and there was this luggage store that didn’t seem like it sold very much luggage and you’d go down to the basement and there would be an old man there and you’d tell him you wanted to buy a Real Book and he would open a naugahyde suitcase and it would be full of Real Books. Imagine what he had in the other suitcases. Now, imagine an alternate universe version of that story where the Real Books are full of the mid-70’s compositions of Anthony Braxton.
These pieces from the 23 series or the 40 series look like they could be in the Real Book. They fit on one page. You can improvise on them in ways that aren’t totally foreign to mainstream jazz practice. They should be in the Real Book. Now that I’m the teacher who sends the students to the virtual luggage store, these are the compositions that I’m hoping they’ll find. This record is evidence of what happens when people find them, when they make the connection.
-Ted Reichman
-George Lewis
When I was studying with Anthony Braxton in the early 90’s, if your teacher told you to get a Real Book, you would go to the main street in a town in Central Connecticut and there was this luggage store that didn’t seem like it sold very much luggage and you’d go down to the basement and there would be an old man there and you’d tell him you wanted to buy a Real Book and he would open a naugahyde suitcase and it would be full of Real Books. Imagine what he had in the other suitcases. Now, imagine an alternate universe version of that story where the Real Books are full of the mid-70’s compositions of Anthony Braxton.
These pieces from the 23 series or the 40 series look like they could be in the Real Book. They fit on one page. You can improvise on them in ways that aren’t totally foreign to mainstream jazz practice. They should be in the Real Book. Now that I’m the teacher who sends the students to the virtual luggage store, these are the compositions that I’m hoping they’ll find. This record is evidence of what happens when people find them, when they make the connection.
-Ted Reichman
as a side-person
Layale Chaker's Sarafand Ensemble – Radio Afloat
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Layale Chaker - violin, voice
Jake Charkey - cello Phillip Golub - piano, microtonal keyboard Sam Minaie - bass John Hadfield, drums Recorded by Alex Conroy at Bunker Studios, Brooklyn NY September 5th - 7th, 2023 Produced by Sam Minaie, Layale Chaker & Phillip Golub Mixed & mastered by Sam Minaie |
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Aaron Edgcomb Quartet – Centripetal Grid Myth #1
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Aaron Edgcomb (drums/comp)
Anna Webber (tenor saxophone) Phillip Golub (piano) Eva Lawitts (bass) |
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Layale Chaker's Sarafand Ensemble – Inner Rhyme
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Layale Chaker, violin
Jake Charkey, cello Phillip Golub, piano Nick Dunston, bass Adam Maalouf, percussion Recorded at The Rift Studio, Brooklyn, New York Recording & Producing: Radwan Ghazi Moumneh Mixing: Radwan Ghazi Moumneh at Hotel2Tango, Montreal Mastering: Harris Newman, Grey Market Mastering Illustration, visual conception, design: Joseph Kai |
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selected concert works
Home Song (2020)
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commissioned by Long Beach Opera for 2020 Songbook
Premiered Nov 15, 2020 in livestream concert Voices: Kelly Guerra (mezzo-soprano) Eden Girma (music starts at 0:29 in video) |
Text: Editorial, The Financial Times, April 20, 2020 [excerpt] The Black Death is often credited with transforming labour relations in Europe. Peasants, now scarce, could bargain for better terms and conditions; wages started to rise as feudal lords competed for workers. Thankfully, a much lower mortality rate means such a transformation is unlikely to follow coronavirus. Instead, policymakers must prevent a stunning rise in unemployment from scarring a generation with lower living standards.
Amtrak 71 (2017-18)
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Sarah Thornblade (violin)
Genevieve Lee (piano) recorded live April 28, 2018 on the Hear Now Music Festival in Venice, CA |
The Necessity of What is Unnecessary (2017)
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Performed by EXAUDI; conducted by James Weeks
March 3, 2017; Milton Court Concert Hall Text by Phillip Golub after Abul ʿAla Al-Maʿarri (973-1057) |
We are breaths of Earth
Bodies of Dust
Quake with a doubt uneasy
A blind man reads his fingers’ ends
Quake with a doubt uneasy
Blind, reading their fingers’ ends
Will you excuse me
For Coughing
Comet-dust and humankind are kin
Bodies of Dust
Quake with a doubt uneasy
A blind man reads his fingers’ ends
Quake with a doubt uneasy
Blind, reading their fingers’ ends
Will you excuse me
For Coughing
Comet-dust and humankind are kin