It's always nice, at least in theory, when busy veteran musicians who've never attracted the renown with a date on one of the big labels come up with their own CDs. Guitarist Dan Rose, whose credits include work with Paul Bley and Steve Swallow, is one of those players and so is the rest of his quartet on The Water's Rising. Victor Lewis is probably the best known participant on this decidedly antediluvian release - though, to many, his work begins and ends with the seminal Woody Shaw albums in the seventies.
In any case, there can be no doubting the professionalism involved here, and the only wild card is Rose's own composing, which, obviously, can make or break any recording of originals, regardless of the solo talent involved. Fortunately, any fears are allayed on the opening "When Your Door Is A Jar," a jokey title that begets zippy, slapstick swing. The work in the backgroud by Lewis and pianist Peter Madsen is worth some reruns.
The rest of The Water's Rising is an exercise in easy momentum and short swathes of abstraction that lend, if a tad self-consciously, depth. There's some of Coltrante's huslte, though little of his chance-taking, which is fine with me given the quality of what's being done. Things like "Fountains" and "Splits" take an even-steven approach that's oh, so familiar by musicians who, well, aren't -- and therein lies the lion's share of the interest. Crucially, one comes away impressed with Rose's composing ability. The Water's Rising sweeps us, I suppose, from one far-off sea to another - a perfectly Monkish "What Happens Is Next" to "Teal Blue," where Rose is at his harshest, charged cumulus brooding over Lewis' thundering toms, to a slow, rocking "Vestiges".
Its confidence is magnetic, and, as is frequently the case with these projects, one steps away wondering what's keeping the big wigs from listening.