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The word "undercurrent" suggests a subterranean current, invisible on the surface, yet endowed with a powerful magnetism, that attracts and chains the deepest feelings. A truly fitting title, because this polished music, never over the top, ultimately proves capable of captivating and absorbing the listener far more than any dazzling display of instrumental virtuosity. The legendary Anglo-Saxon "understatement" also comes to mind, the typical ability, particularly unknown to us Italians, to say without saying, to communicate much without having to shout and gesticulate. Well, this album, besides being a masterpiece of jazz of all time, is also a splendid lesson in understatement from two masters of their respective instruments, meeting at the height of their artistic maturity, already consecrated, yet both without the pretension of outshining each other, which would have been legitimate. Especially for Bill Evans, already in the elite of the best jazz pianists thanks to his trio work, but above all thanks to his contribution to "Kind Of Blue", a milestone by Miles Davis. But also for Jim Hall, who was beginning to draw flattering comparisons, for example with Charlie Christian, one of the greatest jazz guitarists of a then relatively recent past.
From the sparse biographical news about the two (interview with Jim Hall) it seems that the proposal came from Bill Evans in the simplest way, like "Would you like to make a record, maybe just the two of us in a duo?" What is certain is that the execution was so perfect and balanced that it still stands today as a model of refinement and, most importantly, is listened to with the absolute enjoyment that only a timeless record can provide, and this not only thanks to the impeccable technique of the two musicians, but also thanks to a recording "lifting" that does not make a single wrinkle appear on a record that is still dated 1962. As happens to great classical soloists, who when playing chamber music in duo (or in trio) forget for a while their prima donna narcissism and displays of prowess, so in this exemplary essay of "chamber jazz" the guitarist serves the pianist and vice versa, and throughout the album, one seems to grasp a tacit understanding in exchanging the roles of soloist and accompanist, often multiple times within the same piece. If Bill Evans comes out into the open with his velvety touch, more classical than jazz, Jim Hall covers him with essential and detached notes, and the same does Bill's piano when Jim's guitar unfolds its delicate chains of pearly notes (those accustomed to thunderous rock guitars will be somewhat surprised by the delicacy that can be drawn from this instrument).
The choice of tracks is typical of Bill Evans' other works: classic standards stand out like "My Funny Valentine" (Rodgers-Hart) and "Stairway To The Stars" (Parish), plus a delightful waltz by John Lewis ("Skating In Central Park"), and other less famous melodies but equally suitable as a basis for a sweet and wise chatter between piano and guitar. The sole and beautiful "Romain" is a work by one of the two (Jim Hall), but from the piano introduction one can notice that Gershwin of the "Piano Songs" was not forgotten by our guitarist. But it is truly impossible to find anything amiss: no excesses are even mentioned, no boredom affects this album, despite fifty minutes or so of sweet, melodic music, of soft "ballads" like "I Hear A Rhapsody" and "I'm Getting Sentimental Over You" that might raise that fear.
There's little to be done: when technique is so absolute and the wisdom in interpreting not always top-notch pieces is such that it turns them into just as many jewels, then one can also do without or almost rhythm, while still remaining in jazz. Sublimated, transparent, and almost ethereal, yet great, immortal jazz.
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