Medler Sextet | River Paths Review

By Darnell Jackson

River Paths is less a geographic river and more a psychic cartography, a charting of emotional tributaries, inner eddies, and communal undercurrents that converge and separate like the minds within the ensemble. Across six original compositions, Ben and Michelle Medler, in concert with their Portland-based sextet, give us free and orchestrated jazz as they offer a mirror, one framed by soul and swing.

It begins with the clang and bustle of transition, “Subway Jam (Morning),” not the chaos of the city but its choreographed urgency. The horns enter in conversation, strutting and circling, not unlike commuters caught in an unconscious daily ritual. Clay Giberson’s piano navigates his solo turns with elegance, while Todd Bishop on drums sets a pulse that feels good. One senses here what Charles Mingus meant when he said, “You can’t improvise on nothing.” The form may have a balance of open and preconceived moments, but the structure is felt in the bones.

If the morning jam sketches the city’s architecture, “River Paths” renders its internal topography. There’s uplift in its harmonies as a bright Latin straight eight feel is established. The melody stretches out without losing the ground beneath it. Michelle Medler’s tenor saxophone floats above the texture, delivering a deliberate, unhurried solo. Here, the sextet behaves like an ensemble, a collective.

Michelle’s composition “Smoldering” has a bolero pulse, creating a languid and smoky setting. The ensemble’s textures unfurl slowly, like smoke curling around a musical memory. The horns sigh and swell in tides, never crashing but always threatening to. There is a psychological truth here: some tensions don’t resolve. They linger. And in that lingering, beauty.

“Philly Soul Strut” moves with a joy that’s earned, not feigned. The rubato ensemble parts that open the piece create a sense of ritual preparation, like stretching before a run, or psyching up before stepping out. When the Fender Rhodes groove lands, it’s not just musical; it’s bodily. The trombone melody walks with confidence, echoed and answered by articulate counterlines from the horns. When Michelle enters for her sax solo, the sound is classic, evocative of soul jazz in its most sincere, unfussy form. And underneath it all, Ben Medler’s bass walks the line with quiet assurance, as if saying: We’ve got this.

If “Philly Soul Strut” is the public celebration, “Night Party” is the after-hours communion. This is no bacchanal, it’s social sophistication through syncopation. The medium-tempo jazz-funk feel carries echoes of urban nights where dancing is as much about recognition as release. The horn stabs are crisp, declarative. The groove is danceable but not obvious. It respects the listener. And John Moak’s trombone solo is an expressive statement, bold but never brash, like a seasoned speaker with a mind full of ideas.

Then we arrive at the dusk-lit mirror of the opener: “Subway Jam (Evening).” And the city, or the self, is changed. The energy is darker now, tenser. The ensemble plays with a cohesion that feels earned, like an unspoken agreement to keep each other afloat. The muted trumpet solo by Paul Mazzio is expressive. The ensemble evokes a different energy than the morning’s collective rush. And in the freer moments, the band allows something beautiful to happen: not a build toward anticipation, but a build toward release. The day exhales. The self expands. The subway doesn’t just carry bodies anymore; it carries stories.

River Paths is an a sensation of an unfolding musical ecosystem where every part breathes with the others. Ben and Michelle Medler offer enjoyable compositions and they curate emotional spaces with their sextet. It’s about reflection. On where we’ve been, where we’re going, and who we become in the spaces between. Like rivers, like paths. Always diverging. Always returning.