By Michael J. West | Published October 2026
Even as determined as he is not to repeat himself, Söwt is like nothing else in tenor saxophonist JD Allen’s album-per-year catalog. Even using lush chordal accompaniment, as with pianist Brandon McClure on last year’s Love Letters (The Ballad Sessions), Allen has reserved for himself a spacious approach where he can pursue his melodic and harmonic fancies. This one, recorded in Morocco, dispenses with that for the trancelike drones of the Gnawan musical tradition. The results couldn’t be more wonderful.
Allen leads an international quintet including French pianist Leonardo Montana, Cuban drummer Ruy Adrian López-Nussa and Moroccan bassist Hamza Souissi and guembri player Yazid El Alaoui. However, it’s El Alaoui, the Gnawan, who sets the tone with his one-chord ostinatos on each song. Souissi and López-Nussa maintain a low simmer alongside him, though both are more improvisational (particularly the drummer, who continually finds new syncopations and textures inside the groove). It’s Montana and Allen who do the building on that foundation — and generating friction with it.
Said friction comes in ways subtle and not. In the former case, there’s the opener “Kin,” on which Allen’s solo comprises short, jagged phrases that he places just barely out of step from El Alaoui and López-Nussa’s four-bar riffs. Later, on “Solid,” with Souissi more prominent in the rhythm section, Allen’s improvised phrases are in step, but just outside the harmony instead. The title track finds Montana playing an even neater trick. He raises the temperature enough that he threatens to boil over; he doesn’t, but riles López-Nussa into doing so instead. On the not-so-subtle side, Allen plays long, slow, noirish figures over a weirdly harried rhythm section on “Found,” Montana responding with thick, oddly shaped chords. If it’s a battle of moods, Allen’s slinkiness wins — but it’s the battle itself that’s compelling.
“Found” notwithstanding, the Gnawa meditations are the defining feature of this music, not least because of softly muttered chant-singing from El Alaoui (with an uncanny resemblance to singer Damo Suzuki of the classic German band Can). They usually manage to overtake — beautifully so on the captivating “Moussayé,” where stormy playing on both sax and piano isn’t enough to drown out the gorgeous repeating figure on the guembri. Things are just as compelling when Allen and Montana put aside the tensions and go with the flow, as on the lyrical “Lil Lullaby.” It would be out of character for Allen to tackle this concept again, but, oh, how I hope he does.
