Tongue firmly in cheek, applied to baroque and chamber styles with a fine string section.
When Fancy Chamber Music arrived in 1998, it landed as a curveball — Carla Bley, the jazz iconoclast, turning toward baroque forms and chamber aesthetics. The critical response was immediate and warm. AllMusic reviewer Tim Sheridan caught the essential tension right away: here was Bley applying her skills to classical idioms, but not reverently. The approach had humor in it, mischief even. The Penguin Guide to Jazz offered the kind of shorthand that suggests they recognized something familiar: "Very little to separate the fancy from the funky. Vintage Bley." That last phrase is the key. This wasn't Bley reinventing herself or chasing legitimacy through classical form. It was Bley being Bley — the same irreverent sensibility, the same refusal to stay in lane, just dressed in a different costume.
Recorded in England in 1997 and released on the Watt/ECM label, the album occupies an interesting place in her catalog. By this point Bley had long since proven she could work in almost any musical context. What makes Fancy Chamber Music worth hearing is precisely what the reviewers spotted: she wasn't pretending to be a classical composer. She was a jazz musician with baroque manners, a trickster in a powdered wig. The string section grounds the pieces in genuine chamber textures, but the sensibility underneath remains hers — playful, unsentimental, refusing easy answers.