Review
by Jan Stevens, webmaster
"The
new Bill Evans Album keeps changing." So read the half page
ad on page 35 of the November 25, 1971 issue of the (mostly) rock
music magazine ROLLING STONE, and they were right about this collection
of Evans' originals, for which he won TWO Grammy awards that year.
It's like a whole bunch of new albums in one album, the ad continued.
The sessions do have that special imprint of Bill's compositional
genius, and in its own way, the effect of the whole sounds like
its "always changing" -- due, I suppose, to the ever-whirling
colorful content of Bill's tunes. In the spirit of the times, Columbia
Records had signed Bill in 1971 as part of its attempt to "reach
out" and expand its jazz roster (perhaps on the strength of
MILES' then newfound popularity among younger listeners; other more
straight ahead jazz artists such as Dexter Gordon would soon follow
on the label). Evans did two albums for the label, one an uncomfortable
avant-garde orchestral collaboration with old friend George Russell
("Living Time") and this classic of all-Evans compositions
with the Gomez/Morell trio. It's about time they released it in
CD format --albeit twenty five years later.
Firstly, this reviewer must admit a particular bias to this recording:
After hearing some of the 1961 Vanguard sessions at a friend's in
1970, (and as a pianist myself, being blown away and knowing I'd
never be the same) the first Evans recording I could find anywhere
was the "Live in Montreal" album --and this album was
the second. I have worn out three vinyl copies before this CD release,
and know just about every Evans solo on it by heart. (I mentioned
this only as a compliment to Bill when we met later here in New
Jersey in 1978: modest man that he was, he was a tad embarrassed,
surprised "that anyone would do such a thing", as I recall
him saying.) Some have said that this period of the pianist's catalog
marked a turn from the sometimes pedestrian (for Bill) but nevertheless
fascinating mid-late 60s period. Eddie Gomez's interplay with the
master is in bloom, though not as totally assured as it would very
soon become. Still, there are quite a few impressive moments. Marty
Morell on drums sounds fine, though perhaps somewhat restrained
at times, though always with clean articulation, and supportive
of Evans' sparkling phrases and rich harmonies ."Funkallero"
leads off, Bill's C-minor blues blowing vehicle with its third phrase
borrowed from the bop standard "Dahhoud." He opens it
up on the Fender Rhodes electric piano, the instrument he helped pioneer well before its common
acceptability among jazz pianists in the mid-seventies. The CD reissue
contains an alternate take, which is conceptually similar in arrangement,
but as competent as it is, it just lacks some of the fire that characterizes
the originally released take. The bass often stays "in 2",
and Gomez does not appear to "push" Bill as much as in
the first one. It's also 1:35 shorter than the "accepted"
track.
The stunning
waltz "The Two Lonely People" made its first appearance
on this album, and it's fascinating to scrutinize the way he originally
conceived it here in all its pristine delicacy, as composed to the
later readings (especially in "live" versions with Johnson
and LaBarbara), where he often rushed the theme, emphasizing transition
chords, but making the melodic framework difficult to observe, notably
on the final Village Vanguard sessions of June 1980. For students
of Bill's compositional techniques, this tune is a theory lesson
in itself. The same could be said for "Sugar Plum" albeit
for different reasons. As explained in the original liner notes,
the tune was originated when a lyricist called Bill to let him know
he'd written a lyric based on a four-bar improvised phrase he heard
on one of Evans' records (it's from one of the tunes on the Jim
Hall collaboration, Intermodulation) "Sugar Plum" is a
short, repeated structure taking the player through all twelve keys.
Starting in G, it's Gma7-Fmaj7 twice then a ii-V-I progression to
C major, continuing on through the cycle of fifths. I have often
given it to piano students as a perfect and uncomplicated exercise
in navigating the transitional possibilities of key changes. My
favorite part is when Evans reenters with the electric piano after
the solo, giving it an unmistakable breath of fresh air, and with
a harder swing, giving it almost a whole new meaning. The way he
phrases the changes here there's a certain "rightness"
to it that proves once again Bill's immense powers of concentration.
Bill's signature tune"Waltz For Debby" follows, opening
warmly and contemplatively in an A MAJOR (!) rubato, with much inner
voice movement, till the tune's cadence, where he modulates down
to G and then to the original key of F, playfully opening up the
melodic contours on Rhodes with the right hand, while the left comps
on acoustic. Gomez then solos, with the pianist unable to resist
a few whimsical comments of his own toward the end, which lead into
a nicely muscular locked hands piano solo while Morell swings hard,
changing to sticks. The alternate take released here is basically
the same approach, although Bill's intro is more tentative than
the master take, and, intriguingly, Gomez sounds more playful throughout.
According to Orrin Keepnews' excellent reissue notes, this was the
last tune recorded for the sessions. The accepted album version
is certainly more authoritative than the alternate by contrast.
"Re: Person I Knew", Bill's intriguing composition named
as an anagram for Keepnews, has its alternate take issued here for
the first time too, and it's every bit as "good" as the
released take. That version had Evans begin the tune on electric
piano, which added yet another air of mystery to the haunting C-pedal
theme. The alternate take swings a little harder it seems, with
Marty Morell playing more freely than he seems to do elsewhere on
the CD. An interesting project for Evans aficionados would be to
put all the "Re: Person.." tracks he ever did all on one
tape. Comparisons to both the earlier performances and the later
versions with Johnson and LaBarbara would be instructional, if not
stunning.
It's quite difficult to put all my feelings about "Comrade
Conrad" into words, but I should say here that this would have
to go into my personal list of all-time favorite Bill Evans tracks.
The tune seamlessly moves between 3/4 and 4/4 and, according to
Bill, in the 1971 notes, "We tried playing it a couple of times
on the gig and it never really worked out, but I felt it could."
It's hard to believe, considering the ease and versatility that
the trio displays here -- moving through its complex time and various
changes of key. It's a unique tour-de-force and, indeed, he only
returned to it once more in the last official release before his
untimely death, the quintet date "We Will Meet Again."
Bill's playing is distilled and controlled, yet flexible enough
(like the left hand punctuations in the second solo chorus), His
lines just sing, and Gomez's playing is especially attentive on
this track to the interplay possibilities, showing a concentrated
empathy with the pianist's ideas throughout. He contributes a particularly
strong solo here too. However, I've always wondered whether or not
either Eddie or Bill gets momentarily lost -- around the 19th bar
of the bass solo (the third bar of the change to 4/4 time): Bill
hits a change or two that don't quite sound right, and Eddie's on
his own until anchoring once again a few measures later. No harm
done; the ensemble is in full swing when Evans returns with a Rhodes
chorus while Gomez makes effective use of double stops.The piece
closes with Bill alone at the Steinway -- and it's also one of my
favorite of his patented endings -- that last chord sounds like
it could go on forever.
An editorial opinion here about Keepnews' liner notes: he has always
spoken eloquently, sensitively and knowingly about Evans' work --after
all, he produced Bill's first Riverside albums and the two remained
fast friends -- but since Bill's death in 1980, he seems to bring
up the well-known drug problems all too often. Although the time
frame of this album was apparently unaffected by them, one wonders
why Keepnews often makes a point referring to it. He seems to dredge
it up whenever he annotates a posthumous Evans release. Nonetheless,
his writings here on these sessions, the problems of setting up
the CD release (those unnumbered takes on the tape boxes!), his
sensitive comments on the late Helen Keane (and especially on the
discrepancies in the original liner notes) -- are compact, intelligent
and revealing. He has championed,Bill's genius quite articulately
at every opportunity and should, in the final analysis, be forgiven
for this seeming lapse in judgment.
"The Bill Evans Album" is one of the pianist's greatest,
with Bill clearly in coherent and melodic form, playing his own
compositions. Repeated listenings are richly and unexpectedly rewarding,
and the album remains as glorious today as it was in 1971. And with
three bonus alternate tracks to boot! All in all, if one were allowed,
let's say, only five Evans albums (a most unpleasant choice) I would
think this would have to be one of them. Bill's singular vision,
flawless line construction, lavish chordal tapestries , trio interplay,
and the timeless beauty of his compositions are just a few of the
reasons why. If you've come this far you're obviously more than
a casual listener. This is one CD you just can't afford to be without.
For drummer
MARTY MORELL's coments on this album, see our
interview with him here.
. May be freely reproduced
or reprinted only with the authors' permission,
with credit given.
