New CD 2012 - Part Three

Bill Evans ( with Eddie Gomez and Marty Morell )
Momentum

By Ken Dryden
During the last decade of his life, Bill Evans had developed such a devoted fan base that many of his performances were audience-recorded, particularly when he toured Europe. This previously unissued concert was recorded in Groningen, The Netherlands with the approval of the pianist's manager Helen Keane, but remained in private hands until its release four decades later. The music was well recorded and the tapes were properly stored, so there is no problem from aging. Evans' trio with bassist Eddie Gomez and drummer Marty Morell is in top form throughout this concert, while the repertoire will be familiar to the leader's fans. The pianist is in a reflective mood, especially on his introspective "Re: Person I Knew." Evans' former bassist Scott LaFaro had died tragically just days after the trio's historic Village Vanguard recordings, but LaFaro's driving "Gloria's Step" remained in Evans' repertoire for the rest of his life; Gomez's adept playing is a highlight of this hard-charging performance. Composer/pianist Denny Zeitlin believes that Evans' performance of his requiem-like ballad "Quiet Now" is among the finest interpretations of Zeitlin's well-known work.
The second set finds the trio stretching out a bit more, with a brisk take of "My Romance" and a sparkling rendition of Evans' delicate ballad "Sugar Plum." The pianist's emotional side is prominent in his ballad "The Two Lonely People" and the moving take of Michel Legrand's timeless ballad "What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life," while he turns "Who Can I Turn To" into a playful, upbeat celebration, showcasing Gomez's brilliant solo. Sadly, the engineer ran out of tape before the trio could complete their inevitable closing number, a tense setting of Miles Davis' modal masterpiece "Nardis," which became a signature song for the pianist not long after he recorded it as a sideman with Cannonball Adderley. The detailed liner notes by several contributors provide additional historical and critical perspective.

New CD - 2012 - Part Two

Bill Evans

The Sesjun Radio Show 

by Ken Dryden
Bill Evans was frequently recorded for radio broadcast during his various European tours, many of which ended up as bootlegs with incorrect song and personnel listings, poor audio, and incomplete tracks. Fortunately, everything is done right in this two-CD set, which is compiled from three separate performances between 1973 and 1979. The first five tracks are from a duo tour with the phenomenal bassist Eddie Gomez, who spent over 11 years with the pianist. The absence of a drummer (Marty Morell was evidently not a part of this tour, though he played with Evans into 1974) gives Evans a more intimate sound; Evans seemed to achieve an incredible E.S.P. playing with the talented Gomez. Following a buoyant opener, "Up with the Lark," the duo's moving setting of Evans' bittersweet, lyrical "Time Remembered" is a reminder of the pianist's total mastery of ballads, as is his equally touching "The Two Lonely People." There are plenty of fireworks in the pianist's "T.T.T. (Twelve Tone Tune)" as the two musicians use his dissonant theme as a jumping-off point for brilliant improvisations. The 1975 set adds drummer Eliot Zigmund, who spent four years with Evans. In these trio selections, the pianist introduces each theme alone, though it is a diverse five-song set. Evans' upbeat "Sugar Plum" showcases the leader extensively, with the rhythm section coming in several minutes later. There were several modern pop songs that drew the pianist's attention, including Bobbie Gentry's "Mornin' Glory" (which incorrectly lists Glen Campbell as co-writer), which Evans transformed into a potent jazz ballad. Evans' "T.T.T.T. (Twelve Tone Tune Two)" is even more demanding than its predecessor, with the trio navigating its pitfalls with ease in a wild, breezy performance. The 1979 tracks will be of great interest to Evans' fans. The new trio, with the brilliant young bassist Marc Johnson and superb, subtle drummer Joe LaBarbera, achieved a level of playing close to the pianist's group with Scott La Faro and Paul Motian. The trio selections cover familiar territory but find the band at its peak, highlighted by the lightly swinging take of Tadd Dameron's "If You Could See Me Now" and Evans' always introspective exploration of Miles Davis' "Nardis," the latter tune individually showcasing all three musicians. Harmonica virtuoso Toots Thielemans, who appeared on Evans' Affinity album, is a special guest on the last five songs, adding a sizzling solo to "Blue in Green" and getting to play his signature song "Bluesette" with the trio as well. The temporary quartet also nicely gels with a romp through Evans' longtime set closer "Five." The Sesjun Radio Shows is an essential collection for fans of Bill Evans.


By Dean R. Brierly (Studio City, CA)
Few jazz artists end up profoundly changing the way subsequent musicians approach their particular instrument. Bill Evans was one. Miles Davis recognized this fact when he hired Evans to play on the seminal recording "Kind of Blue." But even if that historic encounter had never occurred, Evans would still have been known as a pianist's pianist, a man whose unique phrasing, rhythmic sense and emotional color put him in an exclusive category of one. Like most great musicians, Evans was at his best in live settings, as his early 1960s and 1980 Village Vanguard recordings attest. Now, with this Sesjun Radio Shows two-disc set, fans have further opportunity to appreciate the deepened levels of his art throughout the 1970s. The pianist, who was to tragically die in 1980 at the age of 51, is featured in concerts from 1973 (a duo setting with bassist Eddie Gomez); 1975 (with Gomez and drummer Eliot Zigmund); and 1979 (with bassist Marc Johnson, drummer Joe LaBarbera and harmonica legend Toots Thielemans). Each of these concerts is distinct in character while remaining true to Evans' sound. The 1973 interplay between Evans and Gomez might be my favorite. Gomez matches Evans note for inventive note, and the minimalism of the setting really seems to inspire both men to greater heights. Evans' music has been described in lots of different ways, but I always think of him in terms of transfiguration. You can hear in his playing a continual attempt to keep setting the bar higher for himself, to say something new and profound each time his fingers touched the keyboard. And from a listener's perspective, one nearly always comes away from an Evans performance feeling a tangible sense of renewal and optimism. You can't ask more from music or a musician.