Michael League, Pedrito Martínez & Antonio Sánchez – Elipsis
In jazz, an ellipsis represents the unspoken, those pregnant pauses where meaning hovers between notes. For Michael League, the five-time Grammy-winning architect behind Snarky Puppy, the concept has taken on physical form: three master musicians, three distinct cultural traditions, three dots pointing toward an unknown future. “Elipsis” isn’t merely a collaboration; it’s a manifesto for what happens when musical borders become irrelevant.
League, who relocated from New York to a centuries-old house in a Catalonian village in 2020, assembled this project with two of the most formidable percussionists in contemporary music: Antonio Sánchez, the Mexico City-born drumset wizard whose Oscar-nominated “Birdman” soundtrack redefined cinematic percussion, and Pedrito Martínez, the Havana-born conguero and Yoruba priest who carries within him the sacred chants that survived the Middle Passage. If you’ve ever wondered what it would sound like if Miles Davis’s electric period collided with a Santería ceremony in a Brooklyn warehouse, this record offers a compelling answer.
The genesis of “Elipsis” reads like a pandemic-era fairy tale. After a spontaneous, improvised concert at the 2018 North Sea Jazz Festival, the trio spent years circling each other creatively. In 2021, Sánchez and Martínez locked themselves in Manhattan’s Power Station Studio for two days of pure rhythmic conversation while League watched via Zoom from Spain, later shaping their raw improvisations into architectural form. The result feels less composed than conjured — music that seems to have existed eternally, merely waiting to be discovered.
Opening track “Obbakoso” arrives already in motion, like stumbling into a ceremony that began before you were born. Martínez’s voice multiplies into what sounds like a small crowd rather than a single singer, a technique he developed by layering improvisation upon improvisation until five distinct Pedros emerge, each following its own melodic path. When League’s bass finally drops in, thick and insistent as a heartbeat, the track briefly takes on the weight of prime-era Fela Kuti before dissolving back into pure rhythm. Think of it as “Lingus” meeting the streets of Havana, Snarky Puppy’s groove sensibility filtered through something far more ancient.
The album’s production deserves particular attention. Despite its density, layers of congas, drum kit, electronics, ngoni bass, baritone guitar, and clavinet competing for space, everything remains remarkably clear. On “Caminando,” a chanting choir repeats a hypnotic phrase over a driving bass line while Sánchez’s Mellotron adds unexpected prog-rock textures. It’s a bold choice, invoking Herbie Hancock’s more adventurous moments while never losing the Cuban pulse at its core.
Not every experiment succeeds equally. “Variant” opens with metallic, sci-fi textures that feel disconnected from the album’s organic heart. The electronics circle rather than integrate, and when Martínez’s vocals finally arrive three minutes in, the relief is palpable. Similarly, some of League’s edits feel abrupt, tracks occasionally cut off without resolution, leaving the listener suspended mid-thought. Perhaps that’s intentional (an ellipsis, after all, implies continuation), but it occasionally frustrates rather than intrigues.
The album’s true revelation is “Suuru,” a six-and-a-half-minute meditation that showcases all three musicians at their most vulnerable. Here, the percussion conversation becomes genuinely conversational, Sánchez and Martínez completing each other’s rhythmic sentences while League’s bass provides gravitational anchor. It’s the kind of deep listening that separates master musicians from mere virtuosos.
What makes “Elipsis” significant extends beyond its considerable musical achievements. At a moment when cultural boundaries feel increasingly contested, here are three immigrants — Cuban, Mexican, American — demonstrating that tradition and innovation need not be adversaries. Martínez carries the Yoruba chants he learned as a teenager in Havana; Sánchez brings his cinematic sensibility and jazz vocabulary; League contributes his groove architecture and production wizardry. The result honours all three traditions while creating something genuinely new.
The album clocks in at a compact 32 minutes across six tracks, which feels both too short and exactly right. Like the grammatical device that gives it its name, “Elipsis” implies rather than states, suggests rather than explains. It demands repeated listening, revealing new details with each pass. If Snarky Puppy runs like a finely tuned machine, this feels more like a storm, restless, charged, and always in motion.
For listeners seeking a reference point: imagine if Weather Report had been founded by Cuban emigrants rather than Austrian and American jazz musicians, then fast-forward fifty years and add contemporary production techniques. That comparison inevitably falls short; “Elipsis” sounds like nothing else because it comes from nowhere else. It exists in its own territory, three dots pointing toward jazz’s possible futures. (8/10) (GroundUP Music)
