Bill Evans Stan Getz
But Beautiful

It's only been three days since this record arrived, but it's already playing non-stop in the player. I practice my daily elliptical cycling (let me preempt you: no, it doesn't have wobbly wheels! Get informed, you darn jokers!) and put the CD on in the background.

According to Bill Evans: "I am a ¾ person," which means something like "I feel completely at ease with odd times," that is, for the less involved, the waltz or something like that (one-two-three, one-two-three…). This was said at the time with all the romantic soul that informed the fine intellect of the artist. Furthermore, right from the start, despite the best collaborations he had throughout his career, it is clear that the great amount of original ideas and his incredible "new jazz conception" certainly give their best within the strong, perfect, and eternal triangle formed by piano, bass, and drums.

Despite the above, evidently every rule has its fair exceptions, and the record in question, recorded during a European tour in 1974, is an authentic gem. Recorded on the day of Bill's 44th birthday (and other surrounding days), it features the then Evans trio on stage, with Eddie Gomez on double bass and Marty Morell on drums, and finally Stan Getz as an added saxophone sidekick. The collaboration between Evans and Getz had already taken place in the studio in '66, with a perhaps somewhat interlocutory result. The account of this recording, now more "history" than "chronicle," begins with a sweet and captivating piece (in waltz time) not very often played:

1) Grandfather's waltz. After a romantic and dreamy intro—theme exposition in "no-time" by Bill, the characteristic "blown" and very personal sax of Stan Getz arrives. It's definitely the most intelligent relaxation: made of beautiful and well-placed notes. After which, the floodgates open: contrary to precise preliminary agreements expecting a specific setlist or a predetermined group of pieces to perform in concert, the saxophonist launches into an improvised

2) "Stan's blues." Bill initially plays an entire accompaniment round, perhaps thinking that a known theme would soon follow, as often happens among jazz musicians; unfortunately, Stan continues in the banal and classic "warm-up" blues cycle. Then Evans stops completely: all the way to the end. The piece is brought to completion heroically yet with absolute ease by Stan Getz, Eddie Gomez, and Marty Morell. Since not all misfortunes come to harm, here one witnesses a high-class performance by the three: Getz is stellar, inventing chorus after chorus, while Gomez is literally everywhere, both harmonically and as rhythmic support; at one point, he also seems to launch into a solo but legend has it he is stopped by Evans with an icy look. Following this moment of absolute embarrassment comes

3) "But beautiful" in which the communion of the quartet fully regains its shape, with Bill Evans now in great form and deliberately much more on time than usual; sometimes it seems like listening to Oscar Peterson. The exchange of empathy with Getz starts from the icy lands where it was stranded and gradually takes flight to unimaginable levels. Great record. Already here: just at the beginning of the third track! Well-recorded and with each instrument beautifully and rightly highlighted.

4) "Emily" is evidently a conversation between musicians of galactic stature: empathy among human beings on codes we established to create something that transcends the boundaries and physical limits imposed by time and nature, through simple pieces of wood or metal that we call musical instruments!

5) "Lover man" in this version is another merciless and great metaphor of life. A standard now performed in absolute ease and "drinkable" listen after listen without fatigue. I confess to having replayed, at the beginning, this piece at least three times consecutively in astonished admiration. It hasn't happened to me personally since I was sixteen, trying to "pull down" the solos from John Mayall's or Led Zeppelin's LPs (so much water under the bridges!). This CD makes Miles Davis's statement about Evans clearer: "He plays the piano the way it should be (played)" meaning that such an accompaniment is delivered by few. An artist, great in his own right, who perhaps reaches this level is Pieranunzi, not coincidentally Evans's biographer and worthy disciple. Brad Mehldau in trio is valid and original; perhaps a bit less as an accompanist. So on and so forth.

6) "Funkallero" is a simple-little theme executed at high speed as a clever vehicle for tasteful logical musings, which testify to Evans's preference for explicit swing and great care in phrasing, the custody of an inexorable and precise time. Getz always arrives a bit "seated" on the beat but is punctual and aggressive; like a mastiff that doesn't let go and doesn't miss a note or a phrase. I confess to having little of Getz, but if this is the average quality, I think I should start to open and "scrutinize deeply" the chapter.

7) "The peacocks" is performed in a duo solo of sax and piano; the piece constitutes a moment of intense communion between Bill Evans and Stan Getz. A heritage bequest to future generations of a remarkable baggage of class, elegance, and sobriety. Despite having high-caliber arrows in the quiver, they prefer to whisper a melancholic story to each other; "narrate" would perhaps be the most fitting term. The theme is not easy to execute, but Getz gets "in the mood" immediately. Masterpiece. At the end of the "peacocks," Stan offers a tribute and perhaps ideally extends a hand to Bill by performing the melody of "Happy birthday to you" solo for about two minutes, before transitioning to

8) "You and the night and the music" which starts slowly, a bit subdued, like an express train from the Central Station of any metropolis. The rhythm pulses and the rhythm section confirms to be stellar for the entire duration. Again, Oscar Peterson comes unstoppably to mind. Evidently, Bill Evans's habit of preferring gigs in venues where Oscar had just performed, ensuring a top-quality piano, has somehow homeopathically allowed something from one to pass directly from the keyboard to the other's fingers. Again, I find myself replaying a track from the start! Frankly, I don't understand why, surfing the net, one might also find not too enthusiastic reviews of this record which, for the writer and whatever it may be worth, is undoubtedly beautiful; didactic as well as perhaps eternal. I'm getting old. Clearly. The tape remained in the record company's drawers from 1974 to 1995. Incredible things happen.

9) "See saw" and 10) "Two lonely people" are finally performed only in trio, without sax and they provide yet another proof of what it means to make art in a piano trio at the highest levels of all time. Jarrett has drunk deeply in these parts. A pinch of greater interpretative space is finally granted to the two in rhythm in the two pieces in question, and a consequent dynamic response from the pianist enriches the tracks in the best way.

High-quality music. We all need it; as Maurizio Pollini also says "… because quality is good for you". I sign up. You really must get it, trust me!!! V. ;-)