Album of the Week: Mulatu Astatke & Hoodna Orchestra

It’s hard to think of another subgenre more closely associated with a single artist than the Ethio-jazz that the vibraphonist and percussionist Mulatu Astatke architected in the 1960s. Django Reinhardt’s gypsy jazz comes to mind, but even that intensely swinging music grew out of more context; after all, Reinhardt had Stéphane Grappelli. Astatke’s great invention is the result of a lone visionary who had the means to travel and study contemporary Western music at its pinnacle.

It might be tempting to think his blend of American jazz, R&B, Latin rhythm and Ethiopian heritage was created intuitively, but the man attended Berklee and recorded in New York. His music—which permeates like a very funky, sexy, mysterious fog—was designed with precision and remains inimitable.

Well, sort of: Over the past three decades, Ethio-jazz has become essential listening for collectors and musicians with a bent toward stylish, curious, spirit-filling sounds. That has meant many worthy acolytes for Astatke to gig and/or record with, among them Massachusetts’ Either/Orchestra, London’s Heliocentrics and Melbourne’s Black Jesus Experience. Now comes the Hoodna Orchestra, from Tel Aviv, and the six-track release Tension.

Top to bottom, this is a success. To start, Hoodna’s original writing and arranging, as well as their musicianship, demonstrate a deep reverence for both Astatke’s history and their own ensemble identity. On the title track, the sinuous, global-noir horn harmonies and Eitan Drabkin’s spikes of retro organ deliver the Éthiopiques goods, while the orchestra’s groove lexicon is wider-ranging and more contemporary, with added oomph. Hoodna’s members are serious players, active in other buzzed-about projects (The Faithful Brothers, Sababa 5, SHALOSH), and it shows. Astatke contributes vibes, piano and percussion, and sounds at age 80 like you want him to; on “Delilah” he offers a marathon clinic in mood-setting, before guitarist Ilan Smilan takes up the torch, as if overdubbed from the cusp of the psychedelic ‘60s. Smilan co-produced the album alongside the Dap-Kings’ Neal Sugarman, who might be considered Tension’s secret weapon. Though the record was released by Batov, the Daptone sound is omnipresent here, and curveballs like “Major,” with its shades of soul and gospelfied Ornette, benefit immensely from its masterful balancing act: vintage yet robust, stylized but not precious.