Violist and composer Mat Maneri has an incredible resumé, playing with everyone from Cecil Taylor to Matthew Shipp to Paul Motian. Of late he’s led his eponymous quartet, enlisting the services of bassist John Hebért, drummer Randy Peterson, and old pal Lucian Ban on piano. Maneri is usually associated with free jazz and the avant garde, and while Mist won’t disabuse anyone of that notion, it’s not the full story, either. Rarely the guns a-blazin’ type, Maneri uses this combo the way a painter uses colors – following instincts over structure, but all in the service of beauty. There’s an unease to tunes like “Achlys” and “Paul Motian” – like the titular bandleader in the latter tune, Peterson shifts around the beat like it’s radioactive, never settling into a groove, while his buddies poke and prod at the empty spaces between his cymbal and snare hits. But while Maneri leans into the most melancholy tones he can coax out of his axe, he smooths out the tension – even his most discordant lines work with the gentle chaos beneath them, rather than fighting it, giving even the darkest ambience a rich and hopeful vibe. The anxiety on the surface of these tracks certainly meets the moment of 2026, but Maneri clearly refuses to give into despair. Hope may be fragile on Mist, but it’s there in every stroke of his bow.
