by Brice Boorman
The River by Silvano Monasterios invites us to listen deeply to its rhythm, its space, and its carefully sculpted sound. It is a suite of seven compositions that feels alive in its writing and performance, a fusion of Venezuelan pulse, modern harmony, and masterful playing. As both composer and performer, Monasterios designs a sonic environment where every player and texture has purpose. The result is an album that speaks to the heart in a flowing dialog of elegance through modern Venezuelan informed jazz.
The title track is a rhythmic marvel, built on counterpoint that feels organic and architectural. Paired instruments play distinct rhythmic cells that interlock like gears. Beneath this structure, the rhythm section, Ricky Rodriguez on bass, Jimmy MacBride on drums, and Luisito Quintero on percussion, creates layers of density and release. What makes it extraordinary is how Monasterios orchestrates rhythm as emotion, the ebb and flow of tension and release mirrors the river’s current. Each rhythmic entrance adds another current to the flow, culminating in an ensemble groove that feels suspenseful, beautiful, and distinctly Latin in color. The production captures this perfectly, with every instrument in balance and brimming with life.
The suite’s solo piano centerpiece, “Ambar,” reveals Monasterios at his most intimate. Without accompaniment, we hear the subtle command of his touch as he shapes voicings and melodies with nuance and clarity. The harmonic language bears the fingerprints of Latin jazz tradition but extends into modal and impressionistic territory. Every voicing breathes, each phrase finding space to resonate. You can hear the physical connection between pianist and instrument as the keys are played to yield emotion, the sustain pedal shaping air into color. This is a composition about how harmonic motion can be grounded and fluid, full of beauty and daring.
“Ambar’s Courage” is an example of engineering and ensemble balance through orchestration. The stereo image allows each part of the arrangement to breathe, letting listeners trace the dialogue between percussion, winds, and piano. Troy Roberts’ tenor saxophone solo is a highlight, expertly recorded, revealing the breath between phrases, the tactile sound of keys, the nuanced glissandos that shape his emotional arc. The background writing supports him with subtle swells, never intruding, while Rodriguez’s bass and MacBride’s drums provide a resonant foundation. Every sonic detail captures the air around the instruments, the warmth of the piano, the way reverb enhances without exaggeration. This is composing and orchestration to allow expressive emotions to pass through the players to the listener.
Across the suite, Monasterios builds momentum through subtle recurrence. Rhythmic motifs, melodic shapes, and harmonic colors appear and evolve, unifying the album without repetition. The journey moves through states of tension, serenity, and renewal, tied together by the composer’s Venezuelan identity and his deep understanding of jazz’s global language. The pacing is architectural as each track is a movement in a living structure. It is this pacing where the space between explosions of energy and quiet introspection gives The River its emotional gravity.
Silvano Monasterios stands here as an architect and storyteller, shaping the compositions and the air they occupy from the piano. The River is a record where composition, performance, and ensemble chemistry merge into a single expressive continuum. It offers masterful examples of rhythmic layering and harmonic sophistication. It demonstrates how clarity, placement, and restraint can elevate a recording to art. And for listeners, it flows with feeling, like the river itself, carrying us forward while reflecting the world around us.
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