‘Luna’ Reminds Me of L.A. Somewhere in the Clouds…Between ‘70s Rapture and 2020 Regret
By: Carol Banks Weber
Tags: Jazz, Mauricio Morales, Album Review, Aga Derlak, Music

‘Luna’ Reminds Me of L.A. Somewhere in the Clouds…Between ‘70s Rapture and 2020 Regret

Running down a dream, from childhood to present: Mexico City-born, L.A.-based composer/arranger/bassist Mauricio Morales debuts “Luna” on Outside in Music Feb. 26, 2021.

“‘Luna’ is a tribute to childhood. Every song depicts a different layer of my own growth. Conceptually I am attempting to tell a story through my music. Each piece represents a chapter in the journey that ‘Luna’ is meant to be.”

Maybe it’s the strings sweeping away the rough debris we placate ourselves with, dribs and drabs of darning socks, getting gas with gloves on, and doing the same damn dishes in between this strange, striking emptiness that visits us in the middle of the night, after the ambulance-chasing news actors go to bed and we go, “Alexa, play ‘Eleanor Rigby.’” For company.

Nothing, nothing, nothing at all. Then, everything at once, warp speed.

Welcome to Luna, a jazz maverick’s salvo in this brave, new world.

Bassist Mauricio Morales’ debut album (Outside in Music) is hard to pin down, but a rush of sensation just the same. The arranger/composer’s Feb. 26, 2021 recording’s one-two punch — the title and last track, “Garden Of Hope” — comes at you at once, awash in sepia tones, cinematic in scope, uplifting in places where darkness can’t reach, where memory unfolds in a musical spiral of light, sound, feeling.

If these two sweeping instrumentals are any indication, you’re in for a wild ride through your own childhood, compelled to remember the people who’ve left a mark, somewhere between your head and your solar plexus.

The Mexico City-born L.A. transplant wrote and recorded Luna, a textured, immersive, seven-track original album as “a tribute to childhood. Every song depicts a different layer of my own growth. Conceptually I am attempting to tell a story through my music. Each piece represents a chapter in the journey that Luna is meant to be.”

Luna riffles through a condensed, charming simulation of his childhood’s greatest hits, buoyed by “childlike peace of mind and excitement about life.”

In the opening track, “Luna,” you certainly get the feeling of sitting shotgun on a memorable road trip, eyes closed, heart wide open, as memories flicker and flash, flooding in, unimpeded.

The musical pieces ricochet from one exciting trip to another, often on one track. Laced throughout with Morales’ pop, heavy rock, video gaming, and TV/film influences.

“I was a sponge, for any kind of art that had an impact on me,” explained the Berklee-trained musician. “I came to understand over the course of time how cathartic and liberating it was to recognize the freedom that improvised music represented. That was the moment of realization for me, and I knew I wanted to play jazz.”

He plays jazz with a freedom, wonder, and gratitude that’s refreshing and rare. Especially for an aging genre whose cynical members only tend to cling to their aging, clique-ish traditions.

“Garden of Hope” soars on a crest of fantasy-rock-meets-video, guitar fury and angel wings whipping through clouds. Real Chariots of Fire, Gregory’s Girl epic type shit. Redemption in curvaceous, pleasing melodies, centered around Morales’ over-arching theme, “There is hope no matter what mistakes you make.”

When Roni Eytan’s plaintive, jagged, harmonica cries are met with Aga Derlak’s shadowy, lofty jazz contrasts and the tender, silky threads of violinist Megan Shung’s emancipation, Goose Bump City.

“Luna,” the first track, references Morales’ Mexican heritage in the tradition of the Jan. 6th El Día de los Reyes Magos, as does the cover of a young Robin Hood dangling from a blood-red moon balloon. The holy Epiphany celebrates the night three kings gifted baby Jesus in Bethlehem with frankincense, myrrh, and gold. In Mexico, people release helium balloons to the sky, with written wishes for their own gifts.

A lot rides on the balancing act of Morales’ electric bass action — pulling every nuance, tone, and color imaginable, Aidan Lombard’s twittering, thundering trumpet, Aga Derlak’s lopsided piano hunting ground (what a gem), and the ample backbeat of drummer Gene Coye, comprising their own holy of holies…all banking up against the curtain swooshing romance of those alabaster strings.

“Our family always celebrated this time-honored tradition, but I was three when I first celebrated it, and my mom filled out the gift card for my balloon. She asked me what I wanted, and I said the moon. The song represents the innocence of a kid who is so unaware. I wanted to make the music sound magical and special.”

That he does.

Personnel includes college friends gliding along with Morales (who’s been living and working in L.A. since last year): pianist Derlak, trumpeter Lombard, and harmonica player Eytan. “I knew violinist Megan Shung from working with her on different projects,” he added. “I was relatively new in L.A., so I didn’t know a lot of people, especially string players. I wanted to do something different, the music was already written and arranged, and she instinctively pointed me in the right direction. They create such a different texture for the music that is perfect. The collective energy and focus from all musicians involved is what created a perfect outcome.”

Artist quotes from a DL Media press release.