Good moments scattered throughout, but the group never quite locks into Mitchell's vision.
After Fallen Leaves catches Roscoe Mitchell in an unfamiliar setting—improvising with Sweden's Brus Trio, musicians clearly prepared and willing but operating outside their usual language. The saxophonist brings his characteristic sparse, textural approach: extended techniques, silence used as actively as sound, a willingness to let space breathe. The trio responds with energy and commitment, but there's an unease running through the session, a sense that Mitchell's methods—his patience with abstraction, his way of building from nothing—don't quite align with what the Swedish players expect from a jazz date.
This is neither a disaster nor a triumph. Mitchell is too established and too secure in his voice to be thrown by unfamiliar collaborators, and the Brus musicians are accomplished enough to follow where he leads, at least some of the time. There are genuinely engaging moments: passages where the group finds common ground, where the trio's energy meets Mitchell's restraint in a way that produces something neither party could reach alone. But coherence eludes them. The session has the feel of a tour obligation that became a recording, not a project born from months of planning or a deep musical partnership.
For listeners already committed to Mitchell's work, this offers something worth hearing—a glimpse of him adapting, testing ideas against new ears. For those starting out with him, begin elsewhere. After Fallen Leaves (1989) works best as a footnote to a larger body of work.