Album Review: Anour Brahem – After The Last Sky (ECM)

Anour Brahem (oud); Anja Lechner (violincello); Django Bates (piano); Dave Holland (double bass)

How to start this review? Perhaps by referring to Elgar’s Cello Concerto which was his requiem for the fallen of the First World War? Brahem’s new album performs a similar function for the Palestinian fallen of the ongoing Israeli/Gaza conflict. The most recent figures, from February 2024, suggest that around 44,000 of Gaza’s people have been killed, but that figure is over a year old and there has been hardly a let off in the fighting since then. There will need to be a lot of exhumations before Trump can guarantee a golf course where the greens will run true. There’s no let off for Hamas in the sleeve notes, either, with references to the October 7 attacks that provoked this current conflict. I know that there are decades, if not centuries of history that we can go through, but there isn’t the space here to do that.

Brahem is a long time ECM artist, his break-through coming with Blue Maqams in 2017. That album included Jack DeJohnette on drums and his substitution for Anja Lechner is the only team change for this album. On Blue Maqams DeJohnette fulfilled quite a playful role, poking and prodding with spare percussion, almost as if he was drawing a maze for Brahem to follow, this way, then that. The use of maqams as the lead driver on Blue Maqams combined with the ‘standard’ jazz trio made for a very original sound, to these ears, at least. Lechner’s violincello plays a completely different role here, for there is no instrument more mournful than the cello, as Elgar showed. What this album lacks in the novelty provided previously by the use of maqams it makes up with the fathomless depth of its emotion.

Opening piece, Remembering Hind, is a brief sweeping statement for cello and piano before the intensity of the title track which winds itself down an ever tighter spiral with cello and piano again leading, Holland’s increasingly busy bass adds depth with simple motifs. Brahem comes more to the fore in a duet with Lechner on Endless Wandering where his oud rises out of the wash of her cello for brief flurries of notes that humanise in contrast to the background drone. It is meant to evoke the generations of Palestinians forced out of the homes, but also reminds of those in Gaza in the last two years who have been forced to move from one ‘safe place’ to the next. 

The Eternal Olive Tree is a Brahem/Holland duet with each pushing the other to raise their game. Holland sets out persistent, pulsing bass dances and Brahem darts runs over the top, springing out from Holland’s rhythms. Bates is at his most evocative and lyrical on Awake whereon his long delicate piano runs flow beautifully over the long notes of Lechner’s cello and the push of Holland’s bass.

In The Shade Of Your Eyes restates the mournful theme of the album with the oud more prominent this time, echoing as if against the walls of empty streets under a hot sun. Lechner’s cello again, provides support but from much further back in the mix before her voice comes to the front to provide a stately closing section. Dancing Under The Meteorites provides the contrast in pace and tone with all four instrumental voices contributing to a dancing swirl, joyful and defiant. This hope carries forward into The Sweet Oranges of Jaffa, an optimistic portrait, open and uplifting, of better days past and possibly future.

Never Forget is another bold statement. The opening hope fades away as the track progresses. The separation and the coming together of the instruments as the flow around each other is striking. Bates’ piano is the dominant voice, rich and fluid with Lechner, as ever, prominent just behind him. Bates piano also leads Edward Said’s Reverie, his notes ringing out and echoing before a delicate, pensive duet with Lechner brings the short piece to a close. Vague closes the album; Lechner’s cello is played in a higher voice, sounding more like a cry than a drone or a wail. Bates underpins her call.

This is not an album of conventional rhythms and melodies, rather the musicians feed off each other and the music, in which space plays such a major part, is linear, building on whatever comes and constantly moving forward. The stated aim of illustrating that he could ‘no longer perceive the world without the filter of the tragedy’ of Gaza is perfectly achieved. It is music that draws you to the fate of the Palestinian people since the October 7 attacks and asks questions about the indifference of the world to the suffering enacted in Gaza. There is even space for some hope and more joyful remembrance of happier times. It is a greatly affecting album. Dave Sayer