Some of my favorite jazz music is made by jazz flutists. Or flautists. I’m pretty sure the first jazz record I bought with my own money was Hubert Laws’s In The Beginning, and pretty soon after that I procured Milt Jackson’s Goodbye “with Hubert Laws” both back in the mid 1970s. And both remain among my favorite jazz albums. I’ve also listened to a bit of Herbie Mann, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, and Yuseff Lateef over the years, but jazz flute music is not all that common. That’s one of the reasons I’m so happy to have this new one from Norwegian flautist Henriette Eilertsen Trio. The other reason is, it’s just great music!
It’s the first recording from the trio and follows her critically praised solo debut, 2021’s Poems For Flute. On Moder (“mother”) she and her collaborators — Joel Ring on cello and electronics, and Øystein Aarnes Vik on drums, with guest Jon Balke playing piano on three tracks — make some significant knowing glances toward the soul jazz of the ’70s but mostly blaze their own path of modern jazz that’s tuneful and rhythm forward.
The opening track “Fly Ikaros” draws you in immediately, with those soul jazz nods and as an introduction to the unusual nature of this ensemble that substitutes cello for bass. In addition to the catchy head melody we get an early look at Eilertsen’s fanciful improvisations and plenty of texture from drums and cello both bowed and plucked.
Moder has an air of free experimentation that I associate with Nordic jazz, but is not confined to any particular region for its sound and feel. Eilertsen draws inspiration from all over the place, including New Orleans on the groove-heavy “Meeting Joyce,” spiritual jazz on “So Ro” (so calm), Tuareg desert blues on the loping “Tretakt,” and classical counterpoint on “Medieval + Moren” and the engaging, brief closing track “LOKK.”
The program gets more and more experimental as it goes on, or so it seems to me. I’m fascinated by the hypnotic penultimate track “Darn den draumen” (damn that dream).
It opens with Eilertsen playing a fluttering ostinato over a solemn repeated cello arpeggio and a drum pattern that combines a hint of hip hop groove with a martial tattoo. The tune builds slowly on that structure until a wash of electronic distortion enters about halfway through the six minute run; the white noise, which includes a severe reverb on the snare, grows to nearly engulf the proceedings as Eilertsen’s flights become ever more strident and frantic — think a mashup between the outros to “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” and “If 6 Was 9,” with better fluting — before segueing into a peaceful coda. It’s emblematic of the creativity that elevates this whole album into four-star territory.
(Motvind, 2026)
