Johannes Enders - Dome

The antidote to constantly changing modish behavior.

On Dome Enders celebrates the physical beauty and mystical transfiguration of the pure note that stands for itself.

Projects like Enders Room and the Tied & Tickled Trio have made saxophonist Johannes Enders famous far beyond Germany’s borders. If he is now marking out new musical territory on his Dome CD, there is no need for concern that he might not remain true to himself. The very title of the album refers to Enders Room. And yet here the room is polarized quite differently than what we are used to from Enders. From the first note, it becomes clear that he is looking for an entirely different resonance here than an ordinary studio can offer. In the Romanesque church of St. Michael in Altenstadt in Bavaria, Enders found a space suitable to realizing this project.

Syntheses of European sacred music and jazz or other improvised music are common. But Enders has managed to make an album that is unique in this country. Concrete and mystical spaces interpenetrate one another; mental landscapes are absorbed in the niches and vaults of these consecrated walls. Time congeals in space. Enders is not looking for a simple translation of ancient sounds into contemporary music. He is more interested in the ancient within himself than in the past of history. “I have always been fascinated by sacred space,” Enders admits. “Today there are only a few places left that produce a vacuum. Independently of religion, every church develops its own sound. This old Romanesque basilica near Schonau is utterly undecorated. I always wanted to explore this space. I wrote these pieces with John Hollenbeck and a few others in mind, and we recorded them in two sessions. At some point there was an interface between the electronic space of the church and the electronics. I worked on many of the recordings afterward. These sounds from the church gave me so many ideas that I would have considered it a shame not to open up this other space as well. There is surely a lot of Enders Room in there too, but the point of departure was the church.“

Dome revokes time as a chronological process. Johannes Enders reaches back to an era long before ours that today we understand as tradition. He does not, however, allow himself to fall into the past entirely; rather he initiates a dialogue. In that respect, his album can be considered an antidote to constantly changing modish behavior. Every drop of zeitgeist one allows to trickle into this music is distributed in the ocean of all events that have ever occurred and will ever occur. The music is marked by a burden of centuries that nevertheless feels quite light. And it is touched by a kind of melancholy that does not obscure the gaze forward. “I am entirely open to all emotional worlds,” Enders says. “I had lots of time to think about this album. This kind of church space has the advantage that time stands still. The spaces of churches and monasteries have always been places where people sought answers. I always have the feeling that today people give up the search too quickly. I find that a shame.“

The CD also tells of an arrival. It describes a situation. Other CDs by Enders always transport the listener to a sate of internal and external movement. Dome, by contrast, is a call to pause. It grabs hold of the listener and expands time rather than compressing it. “That is perhaps a question of identity,” the saxophonist speculates. “Enders Room is composed of a number of influences. And my jazz CDs contain many American ingredients. In Enders Room I tried not thinking of anything at all. Even when composing I reflected on my Western identity. Church spaces play a formative role there. I come from a very religious family. Although I am not Catholic myself, spirituality is something very important to me. “

The title Dome may sound a little sweeping, but it refers not to the size of the space but to its spiritual nature. The music quickly reveals an affinity to meditation and asceticism. “I am intrigued by the question where I stand vis-à-vis such a bare space without letting myself get distracted.” This confession leads directly to the personality of this sensitive jazz musician. Dome uncovers human facets of Johannes Enders that have stood in the background on his previous albums. He is an artist who plans things out carefully and leaves little to chance. Before getting carried away by a rash statement, he prefers to think about it three times. In face-to-face conversation he always expresses himself slowly and carefully. With every sentence he makes it clear that he takes full responsibility for his statements and that the phrase “inessential matter” does not exist in his vocabulary. This pensiveness is echoed on the CD.

Even far beyond German borders the Weilheim scene has a reputation for being a paradise of musical freedom. Along with the Acher brothers, Johannes Enders is considered one of the driving forces of that biotope, which bold journalists have compared with the multiple styles that define the musical scene in Chicago. For Enders, one important aspect of this openness is proximity to nature. “Nature always calibrates me toward the center,” he says, almost seized by emotion. That is why he had no need to flee into the musical world of the Middle Ages in order to establish his personal relationship with the sacred stone. “I have been tinkering with this music for years. When I wrote the pieces for the record, early music was certainly an inspiration. But I did not want to imitate Gregorian chant but rather address the question what music would suit this kind of church space.“

On Dome Enders finally betrays a close physical bond to his instrument and to every single note. Together with the Norwegian trumpeter Nils-Petter Molvær, the Munich-based tonbak player Saam Schlamminger, bass clarinetist Ulrich Wangenheim, drummer John Hollenbeck, and organist Ralf Schmid, Enders celebrates the physical beauty and mystical transfiguration of the pure note that stands for itself. Ecstasy resides in the interstices. “That is surely because this church space is so sensitive. I always have to take care not to overburden it. This space reacts quite differently to the individual note than do the spaces I am used to. In that sense, my personal style as wind player comes across totally differently than it does when I just start playing with a percussionist. “