Album review overview: John Patitucci, Chris Potter & Brian Blade and more

Dozens of new albums arrive at Maxazine’s editorial staff every week. There are too many to listen to, let alone review them. It ensures that too many albums are left behind. And that’s a shame. That is why today we post an overview of albums that arrive at the editors in short reviews.

Photo (c) Jorge Fakhouri Filho

Bloodstain – I Am Death

Bloodstain is a promising young band from Sweden. The band members are 18/19 years old, and at the time of recording this six-track mini-album, the guys were 17 years old. I don’t share the superlatives used in the accompanying band bio. For instance, drummer Benjamin Norgren is compared to Dave Lombardo, and singer/guitarist Linus Lindin to Mark Osegueda of Death Angel. However, they’re not quite there yet. Nevertheless, the guys have good instrumental control, and their early Metallica-influenced compositions already sound quite mature. The opener and title track “I Am Death” is based on the film “The Seventh Seal” by fellow Swedish director Ingmar Bergman, in which the protagonist plays a game of chess with ‘Death’. For the excellent sound, Bloodstain had help from some well-known names. Producer Simon Johansson of Soilwork, co-producer and father of drummer Benjamin Norgren was Stefan Norgren, who is part of the bands Sorcerer and Seventh Wonder. The album was mixed and mastered by Ronnie Björnström, who recently worked with Meshuggah. The musical style is best described as an old-school Bay Area thrash with many NWOBHM influences, which are particularly evident in the guitar work. Many beautiful and good (twin) guitar solos. Bloodstain doesn’t have a record deal yet, but that’s just a matter of time once record executives have listened to this excellent debut. A band to keep an eye on! (Ad Keepers) (7/10) (Valfrid Musik)

John Patitucci, Chris Potter & Brian Blade – Spirit Fall

With “Spirit Fall,” three veterans pick up the thread they dropped in 2000 with “Imprint.” Bassist John Patitucci, saxophonist Chris Potter, and drummer Brian Blade form a trio that sounds like a warm reunion between old friends. Their paths crossed earlier with greats like Wayne Shorter and Chick Corea. Now, under Patitucci’s leadership, they bring ten pieces rooted in the bebop tradition but swinging like a contemporary jam session. Their interpretation of Shorter’s “House Of Jade” cleverly nods to their shared history. The trio format gives each musician room to excel. From the energetic “Think Fast” to the subdued title track “Spirit Fall” – the virtuosity shines through. The production perfectly captures the vibrancy of their interplay, while the clarity in the mix ensures you can follow every detail. “Spirit Fall” isn’t a revolutionary album, but a confirmation of their mastery. It’s an album that jazz lovers can appreciate with a seven out of ten – not groundbreaking, but consistently engaging. (Jan Vranken) (7/10) (Edition Records)

Horsegirl – Phonetics On And On

And so there you are, somewhere between Chicago’s dusty rehearsal spaces and the gleaming studios where Cate Le Bon operates the controls, with Horsegirl’s second album. “Phonetics On And On” is like a road trip where you’re not quite sure if you took the right turn. Where their debut burst with youthful energy, the trio now opts for a more barren landscape. Le Bon’s production strips everything to the bone, a brave move that sometimes works (“2468,” “Where’d You Go”) but more often gets lost in monotony (“Sport Meets Sound,” “In Twos”). The songwriting remains stuck in sketches – simple “la di la la” refrains and notebook poetry that promises more than it delivers. It’s like an indie film so eager to be art that it forgets to tell a story. Still, this record deserves respect for its ambition. Horsegirl tries something here that few bands dare on their second album: starting completely anew. The result is an album that both fascinates and frustrates, experimenting with silence but sometimes forgetting to fill that silence with meaning. A brave but unfinished document of a band in transition. (Jan Vranken) (6/10) (Matador)

Kelela – In The Blue Light

In the weathered walls of The Blue Note, where once John Coltrane made his saxophone sing, Kelela has written a new chapter. “In The Blue Light” feels like a nighttime ride through Manhattan, where jazz and R&B meet in the twilight zone. Over twelve tracks, Kelela takes you on an intimate journey, where her voice – like a vintage Cadillac on velvet tyres – glides smoothly through the arrangements. The production is crystal clear as if you’re sitting in the front row of that legendary jazz club, while the band, like a well-oiled machine, elevates each number to new heights. The absolute highlight is her interpretation of Joni Mitchell’s “Furry Sings The Blues.” Where Mitchell’s original portrayed Memphis’s melancholy, Kelela transforms the song into an almost spiritual experience, her voice falling over you like a warm New Orleans night. Yet this isn’t the best album of 2025. Despite the flawless execution and magical moments – especially in songs like “Better” and “Bank Head” – you sometimes miss that feeling of total transformation that characterizes the greatest live albums. But with a solid 8, Kelela proves she belongs in the pantheon of artists who have made The Blue Note holy ground. (Jan Vranken) (8/10) (Blue Note)

Richard Dawson – End Of The Middle

Somewhere in a corner of the British folk scene, where the raw edges of tradition are still tangible, Richard Dawson has been carving his path for years. Like a stubborn miner refusing to put down his tools, even when the mine has long been abandoned. However, with “End Of The Middle,” he seems to have gotten lost in his artistic maze. The nine tracks on this album sound like field recordings from an alternative reality where production value was never invented. The opening number “Bolt” is reminiscent of Jandek’s early, unpolished recordings – but without the fascinating alienation that makes Jandek’s work so intriguing. Dawson’s vocal exercises are like a conversation between a rusty weathervane and an out-of-tune tuning fork. Where his earlier work, like the ambitious “Peasant” from 2017, still had a certain rough charm, here every attempt at melodic coherence seems to have been abandoned. The detuning of his guitar is no longer an artistic choice but a metaphor for the entire album. The textual structure wobbles like a house of cards in a storm. Where traditional folk live by the grace of its metrical precision, as we know from masters like Martin Carthy, Dawson seems to be improvising on the edge of chaos here. It’s as if he read the songwriting manual but decided to apply it backwards. This is DIY in its most extreme form, but without the urgency that could justify such raw productions. Where an artist like Will Oldham uses his lo-fi aesthetic to create intimacy, Dawson here unintentionally builds walls of inaccessibility. For the curious listener, there might be something to gain from this sonic struggle, as an anthropological study of the limits of anti-commercial folk. For everyone else, this album is like a long walk in the rain without a coat – an experience you’d rather avoid. (Jan Vranken) (1/10) (Domino Recording)