Over the past few years Catalonian jazz bassist Manel Fortià has risen to the top tier of musicians I hold in high esteem and always enjoy listening to. Whether with his trio, or with singer Magalí Sare, or with his ensemble Libérica, I know I can expect excellence and passion. Since the critical and popular success of Libérica’s first outing Arrels in 2022, Manel Fortià & Libérica have played concert and festival stages across Europe, and now they’re following up with Alé: Iberian Chants. It’s an even stronger program that unites jazz, improvised music, Iberian folk songs and fiery flamenco.
What initially caught my eye on Alé was the first song, the Catalonian folk song “El Rossinyol,” or The Nightingale, the passionate lament of an unmarried woman, which has been a favorite of mine since Joan Baez sang it on her 1973 Spanish language album Gracias a la Vida. This version begins with a supple plucked bass line from Fortià, introducing the hushed first verse sung by longtime bandmate Pere Martinez. The emotions rise as pianist Max Villavecchia and drummer Oriol Roca join in, followed by a steamy solo from the amazing Aina López on alto sax, who proceeds to alternate improvised flamenco soleá choruses in dialog with Martinez.
It’s an exciting introduction to this powerful album, which takes us on a musical journey, both geographically through Valencia, Catalonia and Andalusia, and through time as we explore regional folk songs that have been magically translated into the flamenco-jazz idiom.
Next up is a sublime vocal duet between Martinez and Antonio Lizana, matched by the post-bop dialog between Fortià and drummer Raphael Pannier on the Catalonian lullaby “Sant Joan Feu-lo Ben Gran.” Trumpeter Alba Careta duets with Aina López’s saxophone while Martinez and Carles Dénia sing a vocal duet on the Valencian song “Malagueña de Barxeta.” The Granadan style of flamenco (its rhythm similar to a bolero) is showcased in “Granaïna de Montaverner,” which segues into a zippy bulerías after a hot free improv interlude. We catch our breath during the brief, languid granaína “Lo que lloró,” sung by Martinez in a high register accompanied only by piano and Fortià’s percussive double bass. That slides directly into my favorite on the album, the classic flamenco song “La Tarara,” from verses by Federico Garcia Lorca that paint a picture of a disturbed woman who dances about the countryside.
There’s even more on this fabulous album — the Catalonian song “Comte Arnau” with its five-beat rhythm that showcases the saxophone of Antonio Lizana in solo and in duets with Fortià and Careta, the 12-beat alegrías that open and close “Canción del Lladre” where Martinez’s vocals and Fortià’s bass weave a tapestry together, and the joyous closing track “El Garrotín” that wouldn’t be out of place in New Orleans. Together these songs bring us something new and unexpected by stretching the boundaries of jazz, flamenco and Iberian traditions. Highly recommended for fans of all three.
(Microscopi, 2025)
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