Björn Meyer – Convergence
In an era where virtuosity is all too often confused with speed and technical acrobatics, Björn Meyer offers something radically different: restraint as revelation. On “Convergence,” his second solo outing for the legendary ECM label, the Swedish-born bassist not only plays his six-string electric bass, but he also allows the instrument to breathe, to haunt, inhabiting the vast acoustic spaces between notes like a spirit searching for form.
Seven years after his acclaimed debut “Provenance,” Meyer moved his musical laboratory from Lugano’s responsive Auditorio Stelio Molo to the Bavaria Musikstudios in Munich, a space steeped in the tradition of film music. It is a fitting choice. These nine compositions feel less like conventional bass performances and more like cinematic soundscapes, with each track conjuring vivid mental images through Meyer’s masterful manipulation of texture, space, and time.
The opening title track immediately sets the meditative tone of the album. Rather than announcing himself with the chest-thumping confidence typical of solo bass records, Meyer chooses intimacy over impact, using delays, reverbs, and live effects to create what initially sounds like post-production wizardry but, on closer listening, reveals itself as a real-time ballet of technical control and artistic sensitivity. His instrument does not merely support melodies; it becomes a full orchestra in itself, capable of evoking everything from birdsong to the soft hum of awakening nature.
“Gravity” stands as the album’s most immediately gripping moment, showcasing Meyer’s elegant polymetric plucking that firmly asserts the physical presence of the bass while simultaneously transcending it. Like Jaco Pastorius’ “Portrait of Tracy” stripped of its flamboyance and reimagined as if viewed through an ambient lens, the track proves that the electric bass can sing with the emotional directness of any lead instrument when placed in the hands so skilled and thoughtful.
The experimental heart of “Convergence” beats strongest in “Rewired” and “Magnétique,” where Meyer employs bass techniques using magnets and metal rods to elicit percussive, metallic textures that nod both to John Cage’s avant-garde innovations and the hypnotic rhythms of African mbira music. These moments reveal that Meyer’s decade-long tenure with Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin was not just about keeping time; it was about understanding rhythm as architecture, the skeletal framework upon which entire sonic universes can be built.
“Hiver” captures something elusive, the specific quality of light arriving on a cloudy winter afternoon just before snowfall. Here Meyer’s growth as a melodist is most evident. The yearning, almost vocal quality of his lines demonstrates that technical innovation and emotional depth need not be opposing forces. Meanwhile, “Drift” lives up to its name, with its reflective textures pulling the listener into a stream of pure sound, transforming passive listening into active meditation.
Yet “Convergence” is not without limitations. Despite all his craftsmanship and imagination, the album occasionally struggles to maintain momentum over its full duration. The very qualities that make individual tracks so compelling—their spaciousness, their refusal to rush toward resolution—can make the overall listening experience feel static rather than transformative. Unlike his work with Tunisian oud master Anouar Brahem, where Meyer’s bass provided crucial counterpoint and dialogue, here he must hold interest alone, and the conversation sometimes feels one-sided.
The closing track “Nesodden,” placed here at the suggestion of legendary ECM producer Manfred Eicher, provides a satisfying resolution, with its classically oriented melody offering a gentle denouement that ties together the album’s diverse threads. It is a reminder that Meyer understands narrative arc, even in music so abstract, that he not only creates sonic textures but tells stories with them.
“Convergence” ultimately succeeds as a profound meditation on what the electric bass can become when freed from its traditional role as rhythmic anchor and harmonic foundation. Meyer challenges conventional notions of his instrument, sweeping them aside and revealing the electric bass as a vehicle for ambient exploration, minimalist composition, and pure musical poetry. While it may not reach the transcendent heights of ECM’s most iconic releases, it firmly establishes Meyer as one of contemporary music’s most fearless and innovative bassists, an artist more concerned with discovering new musical languages than perfecting old ones.
This is music for deep listening, for those willing to surrender to the conscious pace and carefully constructed atmospheres that penetrate the mind. In Meyer’s hands, the bass becomes not just an instrument but a meditation on space itself, the space between notes, between silence and sound, between what music is and what it could yet become. (7/10) (ECM Records)
