In 2019, , lifelong New Yorker and stalwart of the city’s avant-garde jazz and improv scene, moved to Los Angeles with his partner. But before he left, the guitarist gathered some of the city’s best players, both contemporaries like bassist and longtime heroes like Steven Bernstein, and made one last New York record. Fittingly, is an album of patient, wistful explorations that seem unable to keep from casting their eyes California’s way, even as they celebrate a lifetime of rich musical relationships.
The album is at times funereal and at times shot through with optimism; its generosity of spirit shines so brightly, its desire to be in two places at once so palpable that it blots out all boundaries—between places, between jazz and noise and Americana, but also between the songs themselves. If that means it gets a little same-y, well, so does a cross-country move. Harrington first came to prominence in , his collaboration with electronic producer , where the hard slink of his stippling phrases—part soukous, part erotic murmur—dug creases in the otherwise placid surface of Jaar’s productions.
Listening to his playing on their instant-classic 2013 album sometimes feels like watching someone run their tongue over black velvet. A regular at eclectic Lower East Side club Nublu, he quickly installed himself at L.A.
’s ETA after the move, becoming a regular player in the surging local jazz scene. He also joined up with ’s Alex Bleeker and ’s Chris Tomson, as well a.