Some albums hit you on beat one. ‘Niebla’ rolls in like fog.

NYC-based, Puerto Rican-born guitarist/composer/visual artist Gabriel Vicéns built a world here, not just a record. He fuses Afro–Puerto Rican bomba and plena with New York School experimentalism a la Morton Feldman and John Cage, free jazz, and Cuban changüí. The result is boundary-pushing jazz where silence punches as hard as a solo.

Vicéns assembled a band that is locked in: Roman Filiú on alto sax, Vitor Gonçalves on piano, Rick Rosato on bass, E.J. Strickland on drums, and Victor Pablo on percussion. Same crew from 2021’s *The Way We Are Created*, minus Glenn Zaleski. They recorded at Sear Sound in May 2025 with Chris Allen engineering, David Darlington mixing/mastering. The whole project was backed by Chamber Music America’s New Jazz Works program and funded by Doris Duke. The recording is clean and crisp, leaving the listener the impression that they are in the room with the band. 

Vicéns is thinking like a filmmaker here. He cites Antonioni, Tarkovsky, Béla Tarr, and Akerman as touchstones. Slow cinema logic applied to jazz. Painters like Rothko and Ryman are in the mix, too. That explains why *Niebla* demands your full attention and pays you back in full. The album is intellectual yet wholly relatable, with Vicéns’ passion for the creation evident in every note. 

“El Fin de la Noche” kicks things off with Vicéns’ solo acoustic guitar. The song is a doorway, not an intro. Vicéns and Gonçalves set the terms: step in slowly or don’t bother. It’s a lovely way to start this journey. 

The title track, “Niebla,” states the mission. Filiú’s alto slashes through the mist. The alto toys with the listener, while Rosato and Strickland churn underneath. Vicéns’ tone ties it together: ancient, unsettled, alive. We are now on a wondrous journey. 

“Vejigante”  finds electric guitar and alto sax locked in a playful dance. Pablo’s percussion drops you straight into Afro–Puerto Rican ritual. Then Vitor Gonçalves’ piano teases the main theme before providing a flight of fancy solo section. 

Menacing one bar, celebratory the next, “Vejigante”  does not disappoint. 

Epic in scale, “900–50–80” verges on majestic. Gonçalves builds the rooms. Vicéns tests the walls. Strickland knocks them down with angled, subtle drumming that lets the track breathe.

“tu anhelo” is two minutes of suspended longing. Nylon string guitar and piano float, then vanish. You don’t get closure. You get the feeling and anticipation. 

The centerpiece of the album, at 15 minutes, is “Ramaje”. The entire band gets to stretch. Filiú spirals. Vicéns answers in shards. The rhythm section breaks and rebuilds in real time. Dense, but every line has air. This is propulsive rhythm, shifting time, and textural improv at its best. Vicéns’ arranging skills and production shine through as the band develops on his compositional foundation, occasionally taking a left turn when you thought they would go right. 

“Stray Dogs” emotes pure tension. Filiú and Vicéns circle each other while Strickland keeps the leash short. Cinematic, restless, and seemingly unresolved on purpose.

The album closer, “y la Lluvia,” brings us full circle and back to solo acoustic guitar. The fog lifts. The record dissolves itself. Vicéns calls it “the slowness thing.” It forces you into the present, yet ir also reminds you of what has gone before. 

‘Niebla’ makes you work and then wrecks you in the best way. Vicéns, Filiú, Gonçalves, Rosato, Strickland, and Pablo create a suite where space and sound carry equal weight. This is jazz as atmosphere, as resistance, as presence, and as passion.