Art of the Trio 4, the [Import, Live]

The very first track, a driving but swinging rendition of "All the Things You Are" in 7/4 is absolutely SICK (sick in a good way). If you are not giggling half way through Brad's solo, then you are just not listening hard enough. This track sets the tone for the whole record. I do not mean to say that the energy stays the same throughout the album, but there is a persistent spirit of adventure - a desire to open up and allow for liberal "play" of ryhthm and harmony. Excitement is the key word here. This music "rocks" for lack of a better term.

If you like butt-kicking, swinging, intense jazz, this record is for you.

Volumes 1 and 3 are studio recordings; volumes 2 and 4 are live (I don't have volume 5, yet, another live volume, this one on 2 CDs). I think Mehldau is great, and I especially like the studio recordings. They are lyrical and melodic, whereas the live recordings tend more toward pyrotechnics and displays of virtuosity.

If you like the kind of music Bill Evans played, you'll certainly like volumes 1 and 3. You may prefer the live ones, especially if you're into Keith Jarrett (at least Mehldau doesn't grunt and squeal all the time). In any case, this is great music, well played and the trio has a great rapport.

No matter. Mehldau is good enough in his own right to be forgiven his sophomoric indulgence in what Harold Bloom calls an artist's "anxiety of influence." Moreover, although the first few measures of "All the Things You Are" carry some of the harmonic resonances that made Evans' a distinctively fresh new sound, the dissimilarities soon become more apparent. For one, Bill's inimitable, "living and breathing" piano sound--based on his extraordinary physical mechanics and the quality and evenness of pressure on each of the keys--is not as yet a part of Mehldau's technical or expressive vocabulary. Nor is the ability to create tension and release through subtle inner voicings and delicately shaded, impressionistic dynamic contrasts alternating with profoundly expressionistic Russian thunder.

Mehldau's is a baroque and classical voice, given to the virtuosic, even overcompensating, technical flourishes and taccota passages of the piano prodigy that he no doubt is (his disdain for anything resembling a "crowd-pleasing" closing cadence on each of the songs seems pretentious if not amusing). Notwithstanding, his piano technique and compositional flare along with his undeniable improvisational fire combine to make this recording one of the most engaging piano sets of the last ten years (taking me momentarily away from Jarrett but not necessarily Geoff Keezer). But one has only to listen to Mehldau's "Solar"--with its coarser phrasing, senseless repetition, questionable melodic direction, absence of tonal "body"--to appreciate the unique moment that was Bill's at the Village Vanguard in June of 1961.

Mehldau's naive rejection of any association between the artist's life and his music is understandable. He is no romantic and, unlike Bill, appears to have arrived at his gift at a very early age. Bearing in mind that Evans' unabashed romantic period, along with his most passionate and expressive playing, did not come until the last two years of his life, a listener might do well to keep track of this young improviser's quest to lay claim to a similar spot within that legacy.