First Impressions: The Eternal Now by Chip Wickham

In many respects, life is a series of either/or conceits, but with each choice meaning less than we like to think. Decisions made, delayed or even refused are no different than missed turns on a drive, be it to a grocery store or a far-flung destination. Sure, it sometimes takes a while to double back to the correct exit—but even if one refutes Siri’s chiding demands to turn around, there’s almost always another way to reach one’s destination.

The same’s true when it comes to music. When young, peer pressure often pigeonholes our tastes; we tune into the same radio stations (and, these days, playlists) in order to conform our likes with those of our school-bus compatriots. No one wants to be standing outside a club at closing time, after all. We all long to be inside with the hustlers and losers, and the dancers. Am I right?

Maybe. Maybe not. (It may well depend on how much one dislikes the smell of stale beer.) Regardless, it’s safe to say that each of us acts and reacts to the musical nuclei of our specific milieus—in my case, late 1970s/early ‘80s American suburbia, where AOR radio and, later, MTV pushed the illusion that their scopes were limitless when, in reality, they reined in diversity. I think of that often, these days, especially when listening to albums such as Chip Wickham’s The Eternal Now. It would have sounded foreign to me at 18 years of age. Now? It jells with my soul.

The fifth studio set from saxophonist, flautist and composer Wickham, in other words, is a jazzy treatise that trades in the divine one moment and modal hard-bop the next. To borrow from its Bandcamp page, the nine-track outing channels “the classic sounds of 60s British jazz and the more contemporary sounds of artists such as Jazzanova, The Cinematic Orchestra, and Nicola Conte.” Back in the day, I’m sure “smooth jazz” would have been mentioned, too, as some tracks—“Drifting” and “The Road Less Travelled,” for example—possess a gentle flow. “Nara Black,” released a month ago, is another example; while it features a luscious lead vocal by a singer called Peach, the vocals are secondary to the lilting instrumental passages. It’s an epiphany set to song, if that makes sense.

In the weeks prior to our journey up north, the album was in heavy rotation here in my den, where it proved to be a perfect soundtrack to my early mornings. It’s the sound of the waking day, from the first cracks of sunlight to the initial sip of coffee, to the birds that chirp outside the window. Listening to it yesterday and today confirms that impression. It’s a wonderful set that jazz fans old and new should enjoy.