Saxophonist and composer Kevin Sun gets busy with his eight and ninth solo albums by releasing them at the same time. Closely related (what Sun describes as “a pair of video games set in the same universe”) but not mirror images of each other, Kevin Sun, I and Kevin Sun, II both consist of songs and arrangements constructed to maximize chances for improvisation, but come from very different directions.
Recorded with guitarist Max Light, bassist Walter Stinson, and drummer Jon Starks, I kicks off with “Go In,” a fast-paced blast of energy that breathlessly lays out the album’s thesis. Scene set, Sun and company proceed to wander through the wilderness, picking up interesting leaves, examining wild plants, and paying respects to the critters they meet along the way. “Scrollwork” and “Between Night and Day” spiral around loose tonal centers without losing sight of the end goal; “Hold Music” waxes fractured, yet intense – thus evoking the rising frustration of being on a ninety-minute hold with the I.R.S., as Sun was when he was conceived it. The soothing ballad “Bedrooms” follows rock’s verse-chorus structure without losing the improvisational nature. Sun also visits the repertoires of a couple of favorite composers, turning Ryuichi Sakamoto’s “Riot in Lagos” into a frenetic anti-anthem, and giving Yuji Takenouchi’s “Souls of Fire (A Moment’s Piece),” from Dark Souls, a lovely and unsettling read in keeping with the video game’s unforgiving tone.
Exploring a more traditionalist sound, Sun and Stinson join forces with pianist Christian Li and drummer Kayvon Gordon on II. The quartet revisits the Dark Souls universe immediately with a two-part nod: a Sun-penned prologue entitled “Unformed, Shrouded by Fog,” followed by “Souls of Mist,” a theme from Dark Souls prequel Demon Souls composed by Shunsuke Kida. Both lean heavily into atmospheric balladry (though driven by Gordon’s ‘round-the-beat kitwork) to beautiful effect. The band does the same with Sun’s “Forest Corridors III” and Angelo Badamenti’s sultry “Laura Palmer Theme” from Twin Peaks, on which Li makes the heaviest impression. With such a ballad-heavy album, Sun smartly inserts some bebop-influenced tracks – his “Belong, Sonny” swings through a breezy but heartfelt tribute to Benny Golson and Sonny Rollins, while he transforms Sakamoto’s waltz “Chanson” into a common-time jazz gem. Lush and accessible, II is a worthy companion to I.
Sun’s ambitious vision and attention to craft make I and II examples of an artist who reveres tradition, yet wants to push it into new places. Modern jazz could use more of his like.
