Bill Evans
At The Montreux Jazz Festival

The most surprising thing about beautiful music, the kind one can comfortably call "artistic," is its ability to pass through time unscathed, cutting through this physical entity with the ease of the proverbial knife through butter; time's passage does not affect Her (excuse the capital letter, but I am an old-fashioned type and pay the due respect to true ladies, those with class): no wrinkles or bags under the eyes, in fact, her beauty grows to such an extent it borders on legend, prompting audiences to lower their gaze and hold their breath, almost inspiring a sense of reverence.

And it is in this spirit that I prepare to talk about a very special and interesting work, namely "At The Montreux Jazz Festival" by Bill Evans, accompanied for the occasion by Jack DeJohnette on drums and Eddie Gomez on bass: a true dream team! Of course, many will say that the partnership between Evans, Scott LaFaro, and Paul Motian is incomparable and unbeatable, both in terms of interplay and purely technical aspects, and I certainly do not wish to argue otherwise, heaven forbid! However, the lineup I wish to discuss today possesses something incredible as well, a nearly tangible energy and cohesion that exemplifies the very concept of a "band", "group," "musical collective," or however you wish to define a number of individuals who, gathered together, create music.

The album in question is a recording of the concert held by our artists on June 15, 1968, at the prestigious Montreux Jazz Festival, and it also boasts winning a Grammy in 1969 for Best Instrumental Jazz Album, an award that Evans had already won previously and would claim again in the future, but that is, as they say, another (I would add: splendid) story. Returning to this live performance, what I wish to emphasize is not so much the performance of each trio member, which is obviously perfect and technically impeccable, but the humility with which each musician made themselves available to the others and, consequently, to the music itself, which to me is the true essence of a trio formation—reserving one's individuality for the solo moment (Jack DeJohnette's solo is very beautiful) and for the rest of the performance, allowing themselves to be guided solely and exclusively by the pieces, without overshadowing the others or engaging in a "war" of digressions or extensions that detract from the initial mood of the album (a risk that Keith Jarrett's Standards Trio certainly does not face, just to preclude some justifiable criticism).

Based on what has been said so far, it would seem we are facing a masterpiece, a kind of classic album, perhaps worthy of being recommended alongside the likes of Davis' "Kind Of Blue," Coltrane's "Giant Steps," or Dave Brubeck Quartet's "Time Out" to anyone wanting to delve into a particular genre like Jazz; indeed, I believe this is exactly the case! Because in a work like "At The Montreux Jazz Festival," there is everything a novice should know and learn to appreciate about this musical expression: we have technique, interplay, passion, and above all, atmosphere, that sense of physical and mental well-being that only great albums manage to provide. In fact, by listening to this performance, in the end, it is as if one is catapulted to another time and place, and then, when it unfortunately ends, there is almost a desire to applaud and stand, convinced of being there, in Montreux, in 1968, not in one's home, sitting on an armchair, and in 2012! This is what I said at the beginning: great music does not fall victim to time; instead, it bends it to its will, and if Evans, Gomez, and DeJohnette have decided to take you back more than forty years, I can assure you, they will succeed, because in the end, that is what art is, if not an anchor for dreamers, for those who, after a day amidst noise and futility, are moved by a sequence of sublime musical notes, or who rush home to visit their paper friends to see if they will manage to escape some strange design of fate; but there are also those who get lost in a palette of colors or who, in a painted face, see the ideal of a woman, or a man, that they are so staunchly seeking.

I could go on for hours, but in the end, I prefer to conclude by dedicating this little piece of writing, perhaps poorly crafted and insignificant, to all the dreamers navigating cyberspace in search of something they themselves aren't entirely sure about, I want to bid you farewell with a little purchase advice, it's called "At The Montreux Jazz Festival" by Bill Evans, Eddie Gomez, and Jack DeJohnette, it certainly won't change your life, but I can assure you that if you need something beautiful, it will always be ready to provide it. "At The Montreux Jazz Festival": Bill Evans, piano; Eddie Gomez, bass; Jack DeJohnette, drums.