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Rating:
In 1978, Van Halen and the Police were exploding, AC/DC were more in shape than ever, Black Sabbath had already lost Ozzy, Led Zeppelin had experienced and done everything a rock band could possibly have and do (and perhaps be), punk was in full destruction phase and within a year would already begin to veer towards the dark with Joy Division, Italy was suffering from its decay with the Moro case, the long pontificate of Pope Wojtyla was beginning, and alongside Rino Gaetano, the jukeboxes were continuously playing "Una donna per amico" and "Figli delle stelle"; then the illusions of peace in the Middle East, but hatred renders things banal, and alas, evil is banal, as Hannah Arendt noted. Amidst all of this, here’s the antidote: Bill Evans was still alive.
Keith Moon wasn’t, nor Lennie Tristano. But Bill Evans was, thank heavens. And he had found yet another "elective affinity" with none other than Toots Thielemans. In hindsight, it seems obvious, and it’s surprising they only recorded one album. It’s especially disappointing, really. This is a peculiar album, starting from the cover, in the worst "silver-bomboniere-you-saw-as-a-child-in-grandparents’-display" style. Bill Evans, Toots Thielemans, Marc Johnson, Eliot Zigmund, plus occasionally Larry Schneider on sax. Some consider it disappointing, others boring, and yet others — the majority, it seems — one of the pianist’s best works. Naturally, I am among the latter.
Bill’s last trio takes shape, a young Marc Johnson makes his first appearance, and he does it splendidly. A round sound, first-class swing, fantasy and solidity. After more than ten years of Eddie Gomez, let’s admit, it wasn’t easy… Zigmund on drums is elegant, discreet, and graceful as always, an underrated drummer, but in my opinion one of the best who worked with the great pianist. Yet after this album, his third time with Bill, he will be replaced by John LaBarbera. Schneider does his work honestly, sometimes with a bit of extra flair, but upon prolonged listening, he almost seems unnecessary in an album offering moments of fullness that leave a dizzying sense of satiation.
Toots Thielemans is simply Bill Evans’ equivalent on the harmonica. Stunning intensity, soothing softness, and a full and emotional sound. There are piercing and sad ballads sometimes with the acoustic piano ("I do it for your love", cover of a song by Paul Simon!, "The days of wine and roses"), others with the Fender Rhodes and its vibrant song ("Jesus last ballad", breathtaking opening, "The other side of midnight"), of a faint glow. Notes to heighten the pain of solitude, and to emerge from it sooner, held by the hand by Beauty itself.
There are surprising Latin rhythms, with playful themes ("Tomato Kiss"), and there’s the immortal jazz waltz ("Sno peas", I’d like to say magnificent but I feel so monotonous…), almost the trademark of Evans' works (I believe there isn’t even one of his albums without at least one 3/4 track). Two tracks remain a bit anonymous, excellently played but almost anonymous in this overwhelming company, "This is all I ask" and "Body and soul". But it’s understandable, moreover at a certain point we are struck...: are you familiar with the magical theme of "Blue in green" in "Kind of Blue"? Well, add choruses in 3/4 (eh, one only track wasn’t enough), Thielemans' tortured harmonica, Johnson and Zigmund's groove and you get "Blue and Green", the bittersweet "revenge" of Bill on Miles Davis who reportedly stole the authorship of the original track from him, and which actually surpasses the original in the almost mystical unfolding of the theme.
Five stars to soar high, among unusual combinations, and the customary, enormous class of this pianist, the philosopher's stone of jazz that turned every note flowing from his spirit into gold.
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