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Death is a unique, painful, agonizing experience: it leaves indelible and lasting traces. However, it is also a fundamentally important experience in terms of knowing ourselves, allowing us to discover aspects of our being that we most often did not even imagine we had.
Bill Evans knows this well, having had to live with the pain of death for a long time; a coexistence that left marks not only on the man Evans, but also on Evans the artist. A deep mark, which certainly carved a groove into the American pianist and naturally also spilled over to the piano with which Bill was simply one: impossible to separate them.
"Moonbeams", recorded in May/June 1962, is a work centered on the theme of premature disappearance, recalled here not in an overly somber manner, but in an almost candid, lucid, dramatically human way. The album indeed represents Bill Evans' first recording with his new trio since the death of bassist Scott LaFaro, which occurred just two weeks after the historic June 25, 1961, live of the Evans Trio at the Village Vanguard (a date etched in the memory of all jazz). Between the tragedy and his return to the studio, there was much suffering for the shy pianist, a suffering so strong and profound that it led him to consider withdrawing from the jazz world. Fortunately for us, this did not happen, and, pushed also by the group's new bassist, Chuck Israel, Evans confronts the memory of LaFaro in his own way: producing a record of solely ballads called "Moonbeams", indirectly dedicated to his friend.
The opening with "Re: Person I Knew" is indeed somewhat surprising given the premises: after a piano introduction, the entry of the drums (it's always the trusty Paul Motian behind the skins, an element that will prove crucial to the success of the album) stabilizes the groove on a medium tempo on which Evans unleashes the first improvisation on a modal progression dear to him: the touch is unmistakable, with that unrivaled swing wisdom, impressionism, and classic echoes of "Debussian" derivation. A new element compared to previous works is certainly Israel's approach, and it couldn't be otherwise. Israel is a different bassist from LaFaro, less "soloist" and energetic: his approach is more subtle, careful to insert himself into the piano folds of Evans, in a different, but no less effective dialogue between piano and double bass. His capacity for response to the piano and his highly empathetic feel will be much appreciated by Evans.
The album unfolds subsequently between one ballad and another: one of these is "Stairway To The Stars", magnificently accompanied by Motian, always a supreme and imaginative innovator of his instrument, possessing one of the most beautiful "brush stroke" sounds in all of Jazz - at least according to the author. His incredible ability to make the drums a spacious instrument, stretching the rhythm to the limit and making use of pauses in a highly original way, makes him a fundamental ingredient of the trio, and here his ability to respond to Evans is among the best things on the album. Equally noteworthy are the final waltz "Very Early", penned by Evans, with one of the rare double bass solos by Israel, and "It Might As Well Be Spring", conducted masterfully by Evans on piano, with delicacy and taste that still surprise and enchant today.
Indeed, it is the lyricism of Evans' piano that is at the heart of this work: even with, as mentioned, a solid base of absolute interplay between the three musicians - and between Motian and Evans in particular, truly almost inextricably linked -, it is those crystalline, dense, and touching piano notes that brand the work remarkably, also appreciated as a novel element for Bill himself, whom we find here on "Moonbeams" more introspective than ever, very withdrawn, expressing what LaFaro's passing had left him. The interpretation of "Polka Dots And Moonbeams" is heart-wrenching in this sense, suspended halfway between dreamlike sounds and glimpses of veiled sadness that Evans distributes without reserve, giving us what is surely the gem of the album and probably one of his most beautiful interpretations ever.
Miles described Evans' style "like crystal notes or sparkling water cascading down from some clear waterfall". If you want to hear some drops, "Moonbeams" is a good start. Afterward, just let yourself go.
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