It's amusing to me that Peter Manheim's debut EP features a solitary individual sitting behind a drum kit atop a mountain against the swirling, exposed background of the whirling cosmos. For one, Peter is clearly not an island, this little record is nothing if not a celebration of cooperation and teamwork, and further, I'm pretty sure the figure behind the kit in the referenced image is wearing glasses, or goggles, or some kind of reflective eye-covering, none of which are accessory that I have ever seen Peter photographed while wearing in public. So it begs the question, who is this lonely, mysterious individual, and why does Peter see him as the personification of his creative output? It's a riddle. Maybe this figure is like the Cigarette Smoking Man from the X-Files, an ominous minder directing clandestine operations from the shadows, or maybe he's more like Prismo from Adventure Time and a benign, wish-granting guardian of the universe- whatever his role, he's overseeing some real magic. As I mentioned before, the accomplished drummer's first EP, In Time (Ah... see what he did there), is carried as much by Peter's tight, seamless rhythms and as the other players who aid in implementing his vision. Every track possesses its own prism of the collective soul, beginning with the breezy Bossanova writhed zephyr of the pacifying "Peace Groove," which is brought to life by the balanced bawl of Tim Bennett's alto sax and the elegant, fluid articulations of Alex Cummings's willowy flute player. We are then met with a transition to the downtown bound, sub-tropical, crystal-incline fusion of "A Lonely Road," where Will Miller's trumpet work intersects with a stone-cold bassline courtesy of Dan Stein as the track moves through a future-haired mist of synths in a rendition of Miles Davis that would be appropriate sonic dressing for a hardboiled montage filmed for the original run of Miami Vice. Then there are the more concentrated collaborations, which ironically produce some of the most expansive tracks, like Peter's donuts ringing the ethereal strides of De'Sean Jones's sax lines on "The Gate," or the modal-Brazilian rain dance of the title track, featuring Mamadou Fantastic on a very conversation talking drum bantering with Eric Burns's silver tinted guitar chords. Surprisingly, it all culminates in the spacey, ozone-burning haze of "Faded," which gives a spotlight to Conrad Reeves's swaggering, blade-work-like guitar playing, which resembles what an '89 Firebird might compose if one had the wherewithal to pick up the axe- a surreal swirl of fiery evocation that seems to push against its confines until it punches a hole through reality and drags the listener through a wormhole and into the unknown. It's impressive that Peter could write such a diverse range of atmospheric jazz and rock numbers and even more remarkable that he could find the right team to pull it off. I guess you could say that this EP is not only In Time, but in-credible as well.
