Brandon Miguel Valdivia often makes music for meditation, but his sound is more reflective of firing synapses in a mercurial mind. He weaves dynamics and serenity like a wizard, summoning ornate constructions that move with inexplicable grace. Fluid and florid, his intricate modes and melodies are fickle and slippery, melding cultures and styles from past and present into increasingly abstract expressions that flow like the currents of life.
Now London, Ontario-based, the Nicaraguan-Canadian musician, composer and producer found his artistic voice in Toronto. An avid collaborator and omnivorous scenester absorbing all he could, Valdivia worked with esteemed acts like Laraaji, Tanya Tagaq and U.S. Girls and spent time in everything from orchestras and free jazz ensembles to playing Indonesian gamelan and Zimbabwe mbira music, all while connecting deeper with his Nicaraguan roots and becoming a dedicated savant of global music traditions.
In his own way, Valdivia's working toward a vision of folk inspired by the communal music-making of Don Cherry and what he did with Ed Blackwell on their Mu sessions, binding innovative fusions of experimental free jazz with spiritual and cultural explorations. And undeniably, Valdivia's making his way there with an arsenal of instrumentation. 2021's Máscaras raised the status of Valdivia's Mas Aya moniker with refined sound and songwriting, finding him favouring strange tunings while delving further into Afro-Cuban and Latin American rhythms, electronic elements, field recordings, ambient soundscapes and political messaging with voice samples from Nicaraguan resistance movements. On Coming and Going, the new album from Mas Aya, Valdivia continues this course while inverting his focus, channeling inward while looking out.
In the pandemic's beginnings, Valdivia returned with his family to his parents' home, himself a new father. He spent time outside contemplating nature, finding joy in everyday beauty as the importance of family and community shone a light and fatherhood brought creative and emotional possibilities. There are threads of whimsicality in Mas Aya's music, and this quality comes through especially on Coming and Going, feeling informed by fresh hopes. See "Be," where, atop Josh Cole's groaning bowed bass amid swirling flutes, Valdivia transforms recordings of his daughter Martina saying "never gonna be" into an unconventional hook of youthful resistance as birds call in the distance and what sounds like a glockenspiel is playfully tinkered with, its innocent air swelling with a sense of discovery.
"Windless, Waveless" and "Tú y Yo" feature Valdivia's partner and Martina's mother, Lido Pimienta and some of the collection's most gratifying melodies. On the former, Pimienta is a wordless guide, gliding over a house heartbeat, burbling water and a sprawling mix of cascading tones. Then "Tú y Yo" spins moving melancholy with spellbinding widescreen sparkle, swaying through flourishes and a vibrant blend of congas, Batá drums, skittering synths and more that scatter like illuminated critters in a darkened night, given wings by Pimienta's pensive longings and uplifting declarations of change.
Opener "Dora" is a bit of a Rube Goldberg machine with pinballing vocal snippets and production that might tickle the fancy of footwork and braindance fans, yet despite its thumping freneticism, it can feel a bit aimless. Elsewhere, "What Shattering!" is a more straightforward shot of upbeat jazz propelled by hollering horns, bouncy keys, bounding bass and fiery hand blasts, given Afro-Cuban flair from guest percussionist Reimundo Sosa, who appears on half the tracks here. "Ocarina" drifts on flinty rhythms and waveform synths, basking in a tactile yet nebulous downtempo groove, a blissful Jon Hassell Fourth World-esque ambience shrouded in pitched horns and billowing bass.
Coming and Going feels more freeform than past works, but Mas Aya's more interesting music tends to offer vantage points into lively wonderlands, and this record holds many glimpses. Take closer "Abre Camino," a flip from the album's opening tension that brings Coming and Going's journey to a grounding close. Floating listeners down an enchanted canal teeming with life, its pitter-patter percussion, chime twinkles and dabs of pillowy pads dwell in chaotic yet calm harmony, amassing the atmosphere's wind and waves, its flora and fauna. The lush instrumentals abound with clamorous spontaneity, shimmering collisions and ricocheting rhythms. Its shifting structures gleefully defy logic yet strike odd, unnameable chemistry, feeling – like life's endlessly unexpected pathways – somehow perfectly out of place.