Label: Northern Spy Records, 2020

Personnel - Josh Johnson: saxophone, keys, bass clarinet; Jeff Parker: electric guitar; Matt Ulery: electric bass; Paul Bryan: electric bass, synth; Jeremy Cunningham: drums, percussion, Wurlitzer + guests Jaimie Branch: trumpet; Ben LaMar Gay: vocals, electronics; Dustin Laurenzi: tenor sax, OP-1; Tomeka Reid: cello; Chicago Drum Choir (Jeremy Cunningham, Mikel Patrick Avery, Makaya McCraven, Mike Reed).

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Chicago-based drummer Jeremy Cunningham composed the music on The Weather Up There in response to the loss of his brother Andrew, a victim of gun violence in a home invasion robbery occurred 10 years ago. His band features bassist/synth player/co-producer Paul Bryan, bassist Matt Ulery (he can be heard on three tracks), multi-instrumentalist Josh Johnson, and guitarist Jeff Parker, who also co-produces. A bunch of special guests help coloring the drummer’s sonic landscapes.

The album kicks off with no electric bass but synth bass instead. “Sleep”, aptly narrated with dreamy tones, includes solemn cello bowing, contiguous bass clarinet, percussive rattles, and synth effects. Cunningham then starts a warmly brushed rhythmic musing with a triple time feel, over which a saxophone dances freely. The other two bass-less pieces are “All I Know”, which features the fulgent trumpet of Jaimie Branch hovering atop the gutsy drumming, and “Elegy”, where samples of interview narratives from three family members and a close friend have the percussive flow of Chicago Drum Choir in the background.

Accentuating the first and third tempos, “1985” brings Jeff Parker’s guitar to the center, veering from melodically popish to Zappa-rock irony. The guitarist exhibits crunchy chords on “It’s Nothing”, an expressive pop/rock piece that, just like the yearning ballad “He Pushes Up”, is prone to sadcore.

The psychedelic “The Breaks” starts off as a polyrhythmic collage made out of delayed saxophone, spatial guitar loops, and relentless bass figures. Everything is unified by Cunningham’s energetic rhythm. This particular mood contrasts with the pacifism of “Hike”, where an illuminated smooth jazz à-la George Benson unfolds with expressive melodies.

The group probes ambient electronica during the initial stage of the title track due to a methodical arrangement designed with looping phrases and the undeviating comping provided by bass and drums. Yet, Parker’s soloing triggers a change in the atmosphere, time when a soulful, mellifluous, groove-leaning funk imposes.

Synthesizing the deep emotions of Cunningham’s painful loss and his ability to speak musically, this recording is a very personal statement.