Julian Lage opens a new chapter with Scenes From Above, a sharply focused album that captures the guitarist working inside a true band dynamic rather than standing at the center of it. Produced by Joe Henry, the record introduces a quartet that feels both inevitable and long overdue, pairing Lage with bassist Jorge Roeder, drummer Kenny Wollesen, and keyboardist John Medeski. Four longtime collaborators who, until now, had never documented this chemistry together.

The album grew out of urgency. In the final stretch of 2024, Lage entered what he called a writing sprint while preparing for a four day residency at SFJAZZ and the debut of this very lineup. Instead of refining ideas endlessly, he set a timer for twenty minutes, wrote a tune, recorded it once, and moved on. The goal was not perfection. It was conversation.

That mindset defines Scenes From Above. Where 2024’s Speak To Me showcased Lage as a commanding bandleader guiding a larger ensemble, this album flips the perspective. These nine tracks were written with specific players in mind, shaped around how they might respond to one another in real time. The result feels less like a showcase and more like a shared language being spoken fluently from the first downbeat.

One of the earliest pieces to emerge was “Storyville,” a quick, flickering idea that became the blueprint for the session. The tune offered just enough structure to invite response, leaving space for the band to discover its personality together. That sense of openness runs throughout the album, recorded live at New York’s Sear Sound over two days with minimal takes and maximum trust.

Lage was also deep in a period of listening that stretched far beyond jazz tradition. Folkloric music from across the globe informed his writing, from Susana Baca’s Peruvian songcraft to early calypso, American blues, and the way Béla Bartók folded regional melodies into modern composition. Those influences surface quietly, not as references but as atmosphere, shaping how melodies breathe and move. Texture became just as important as harmony. Lage deliberately avoided the predictable habits of a guitar and organ lineup, sometimes switching to acoustic guitar to pull Medeski into unfamiliar territory. The restraint pays off. Nothing feels crowded. Every idea arrives with intention.

Despite the caliber of musicians involved, most tracks stay lean, hovering around four minutes. The exception is “Night Shade,” a seven minute centerpiece built around Medeski’s glowing organ lines and Lage’s expressive, blues shaded phrasing. Even here, the band resists excess. The music swells, threatens to spill over, then pulls back, choosing awareness over volume.