Rescensie verschenen in Jazz Nu Jaargang 26 n°3 “Ancesthree” Contour 2002

Ancesthree is één grote lofzang op mooie, melodieuze mainstream jazz. Dit Belgische Trio bestaande uit altsaxofonist Ben Sluijs, gistarist Hendrik Braeckman en bassist Piet Verbist, speelt jazz waar de melodie met een grote M wordt geschreven. Ze creëren dromerige muziek en houden de sfeer consistent vast. Toch is de mix van nummers gevarieerd, met als hoogtepunt een lyrische uitvoering van “Portrait in Black and White” van Carlos Jobim. Er is hier vast sprake van telepathie als je hoort hoe de drie muzikanten elkaar aanvullen, stiltes laten vallen en gedrieën de draad weer oppakken. De muzikanten treden met hun improvisaties in de voetsporen van illustere voorgangers als Paul Desmond en Jim Hall. Deze fraaie huiskamerjazz werd live opgenomen in “Opa Tuur” in Gent. met een muisstil publiek dat deze speurtocht naar muzikale schoonheid aan het eind van elk nummer beloont met klaterend applaus.
Sjoerd Van Aelst

Review published on the All About Jazz website, September 19, 2005

Ancesthree is a live recording by three estimable Belgian jazz musicians. This is music of the deepest intimacy, a three-way conversation of tangible substance, and one that dances forward with sturdy, lilting swing. With their seemingly casual brilliance, these musicians have created a genuinely great jazz record.

Ben Sluijs plays alto saxophone on Ancesthree. At times, his long, spiraling lines might recall Lee Konitz. But Sluijs plays with a robust, slightly jagged sweet-and-sour tone that is quite unlike any other one I’ve heard. His improvisations build powerfully with steady, almost relentless, intensity, and even as he goes outside at times, he swings consistently. He is certainly one of the finest alto saxophonists in jazz.

Hendrik Braeckman, the superb guitarist on Ancesthree, also favors long, fluid lines of improvisation. His capacity for extended invention seems limitless. At times, when Braeckman and Sluijs improvise contrapuntally, their interplay carries a hint of Lennie Tristano. Yet Braeckman generates a rolling, steady swing that sneaks up on the listener.

Without a drummer, it falls to bassist Piet Verbist to hold this music together, which he does in splendid fashion. With a booming sound and implacable swing, Verbist moves this music forward. His rapport with Braeckman is exceptional, sometimes bordering on the supernatural.

Sometimes an album comes along in which everything is right, in which the music achieves a state of grace. Ancesthree is one of those albums.

Marc Meyers