Following in the footsteps of Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Foetus, Caspar Brotzmann, John Zorn, Mike Patton and, ultimately, Frank Zappa, Francesco Cusa – a jazz drummer with several illustrious collaborations under his belt (among them Paolo Fresu, Riccardo Pittau, Tim Berne, Steve Lacy and Flying Luttembachers) – also throws himself into a variety of side projects. Sicilian by birth – just like Zappa, as it happens – since the early '90s he has scored short films, feature films and theatrical works, as well as founding the improvised-music collective Bassesfere, running his own label (Improvvisatore Involontario) and being an integral member of numerous jazz ensembles.
"Skruch" is one of the projects in which he takes on the role of bandleader. The primary aim of this quintet (made up, alongside Cusa's drums, of Carlo Natoli on baritone guitar, Paolo Sorge on guitar, Gaetano Santoro on tenor sax and Tony Cattano on trombone) is to recreate noir atmospheres, tracing the path of American avant-garde jazz of the early '80s. "Psicopatologia del Serial Killer", his long-awaited debut, gathers sprawling compositions penned by Cusa himself that give this vision a stable, coherent form.
Very often, though, everything else is reduced to a mere vehicle for the drummer's acrobatic flourishes (stylistically a cross between Furio Chirico, Damon Che Fitzgerald and Max Roach). Take the Crimson-esque fanfare of horns and strings in "Blatta", stretched out to allow for excessive displays of virtuosity, followed further on by a figure of harsh notes again built ad hoc for another drum excursion and a suspended ending. Or take "Dr. Akagi", where the drums grow sharper with Bruford-like time changes, accelerations and whirlwind breaks, while the rest of the ensemble certainly doesn't just stand by: first and foremost a Sanders-like sax soars, backed by a figure derived from Area, before a guitar worthy of a grotesque Nels Cline joins in.
There's no shortage of convincing pieces, in which Cusa proves himself an all-round competent leader, equal both to the underlying theme and to the role of creative leader at ease with moderate boldness. There are, first of all, introductions built from musique concrete and field recordings, tasked with guiding the listening experience, or at least setting its mood (the album's own overture, "J. D. H.", unveils a sinister sample of windy crackling, along with a breathless spoken-word reading). In "Nonsense" it's a music-box-like little tune, its unease further heightened by the low, muted accents of the instrumentation, out of which first emerges an intricate Henry Cow-like theme, and then a repeated Magma-style progression from the rhythm section. "Psycho Jogging", instead, opens with hushed murmuring introducing a rhythmic fragment reminiscent of the Magic Band, ferrying the listener into a rarefied zone with sampled spoken inserts, before ending in a collective improvisation. The closing track/ghost track pairing wraps up the album with further musique concrete oddities.
From Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye" and from Zappa's autobiographical writings, which lend it a dark inspiration, Cusa fashions a jazz-rock prose novel that reaches for the best of both worlds: composition and improvisation. Themes and forms of an EP, the scope of a double album, the fastidiousness of a symphonic poem: what results, more than a concept album, is a haughty sonic parable, whose latent musical substance doesn't always land. The author's advice: "Best listened to on a dark and stormy night." Dedicated to the memory of Bara Nicabaricevic and Alfredo Impullitti.
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30/04/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Michele Saran, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.