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MAN ON LAND, Echo the Hills

  • Writer: Jonathan Widran
    Jonathan Widran
  • Apr 23
  • 2 min read

On Echo the Hills, Boston-based trio Man on Land—pianist Brian Friedland, bassist Greg Loughman and drummer Austin McMahon—expand their deeply intuitive group language and aesthetic with the addition of soprano (and sopranino) saxophonist Lihi Haruvi, whose presence proves to be both a natural extension and a catalytic force. The result is a fluid, often shape-shifting modern jazz set that artfully balances atmosphere, lyricism and exploratory fire, with each piece unfolding less like a fixed composition and more like a living conversation.


The album opens with “Overture,” a dynamic mission statement that moves from boisterous, hard-driving interplay into a more lyrical swing, immediately establishing the quartet’s range—from fiery, whimsy-filled exchanges to more delicate, melodic storytelling. That sense of contrast and evolution carries into the title track, where a hypnotic piano motif and spacious rhythm section give way to Haruvi’s smoky, expressive lines, gradually building toward a more urgent, almost combustible group intensity. It’s a standout example of the band’s ability to stretch a mood without losing its center.


Elsewhere, the trio’s long-standing chemistry shines through in pieces like “Fremont,” which begins with an inventive bass feature before blossoming into a playful, rhythmically buoyant exchange between piano and sax. “Who Knows” follows a similar arc—starting with sparse, almost fragile gestures before expanding into a more daring, free-flowing immersion that underscores the group’s instinctive sense of pacing.


One of the collection’s most affecting moments comes with “Meditation for Chick,” an understated yet deeply felt tribute to Chick Corea. Built on brushed drums, a gently swaying groove and an elegant, impressionistic piano line, the piece channels Corea’s spirit not through imitation but through touch, space and subtle harmonic motion. Haruvi’s lyrical phrasing floats above the ensemble with quiet reverence, while Friedland’s piano gradually grows more animated, suggesting the influence without ever overstating it.


More playful textures emerge on “Toy Story,” where high-register piano figures and buoyant sax lines create a sense of childlike wonder, while tracks like “Chugging” and “In the Year 2023” lean into funkier, groove-driven territory, showcasing the quartet’s ability to pivot toward edgier, high-energy interplay without sacrificing cohesion.


Throughout Echo the Hills, what stands out most is the group’s commitment to listening—each musician shaping and reshaping the music in real time, allowing ideas to breathe, evolve and occasionally collide. It’s a quality that speaks to their long history together, as well as the seamless way Haruvi integrates into their sonic world. The result is an album that feels both grounded in jazz tradition and fully alive in the present moment—thoughtful, daring and consistently engaging.

 

 
 
 

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