We always want life to make sense, yet despite our best efforts, it does not. This is the starting point for Asymmetry, which distills a lifetime of thoughts and emotions into 88 keys. Alex Kozobolis is no stranger to such efforts; his seasonal quadrilogy, The Seasons Are Not Four, swept 14 tracks into four quadrants, a tidy project, although as the title indicates, the “real” seasons seep into their neighbors’ yards.
Asymmetry includes wholly original tracks, plus a couple reimaginings; the slightly jazzy tone represents a shift from the composer’s prior works, but a holiday spirit bubbles below; at times the tender notes call to mind Vince Guardini’s classic Peanuts score. As early as opening track “Lost Hours,” one can hear the snow beginning to fall. A combination of wistfulness and playfulness continues throughout; there is obvious joy at the bench.
When the title track arrives, the flurries begin to arrive in batches. Moments of silence allow the sounds of the listener’s home to enter, producing an intimate feeling. It’s worth mentioning that the music doesn’t sound asymmetrical, but orderly and assured. This confidence is on full display as Kozobolis offers his own take on “Clair de Lune” in “Moonlight,” a dialogue across the ages. The very next piece, “From Montjuïc,” is the album’s centerpiece, but also the LP’s outlier. The piano is obscured for the first half of the piece, which seems like a dream, with backward masking, quiet textures and a faint hint of “Auld Lang Syne.” Partially inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, the track revisits the artist’s “Barcelona” and was initially titled, “From Montjuïc to Batlló.” One can still hear the aspects of travel, whether by car, plane or imagination.
Later in the album, “A Garden for Fellini” folds in subtle electronics as well, including loops from Erland Cooper, whom some may remember as the composer who literally buried the only copy of his last album for a fan to find. These loops sound excavated, lending the track an abraded timbre suitable for looking back. Lean in, and one can hear hints of Kozobolis’ pitched-up voice. The final tracks return to solo piano, the quest for symmetry continuing alone. The title of the lovely closer, “When This Is Over,” is open to interpretation, but the hopeful message is soft and clear: we’ll get through this, whatever this is, and on the other side everything will make sense. (Richard Allen)