Brad Mehldau
Places

Utopia and disenchantment. Many things happen when you travel; certainties, values, feelings, expectations that you lose along the way [...] Other things, other values and feelings are found, encountered, picked up along the way. [...] Like in an archaeological dig, other layers of reality are discovered, concrete possibilities that have not materially realized but existed and survive in scraps forgotten by the race of time, in still open cracks, in still floating states. [...] The journey is also a benevolent boredom, a protector of insignificance. The most risky, difficult and seductive adventure takes place at home; it is there that life is played out, the ability or inability to love and build, to have and give happiness, to grow with courage or shrink in fear; it is there that you put yourself at risk. (Claudio Magris, "L'infinito viaggiare")

A poetic journey translated into music. This is the inspiring core of "Places," a commendable release from 2000 by the highly talented pianist Brad Mehldau, effectively supported by Larry Grenadier's bass and Jorge Rossy's drums.
After successfully exploring piano trio territories in various episodes (significantly named "Art Of The Trio"), and writing a magnificent and celebrated page in the anthology of solo performances with the magnificent "Elegiac Cycle," the chubby boy from Florida decides, at the dawn of the new millennium, to unify these two paths with a new compositional impulse: temporarily setting aside re-readings of standards and favorite songs from other musical realms (Radiohead, Nick Drake, etc.), Mehldau crafts 13 originals, partly for trio and partly for solo piano, titled after the places and cities he visited in the last year of touring.

The tracks, as in the aforementioned "Elegiac," are organized cyclically, balanced between syncopated rhythms full of swing and moments of melancholy contemplation, unified by the common denominator of representing, more than a travel diary, a collage of moments, sensations, moods, associated with the different "places" and filtered through the lens of memory and nostalgia: Brad himself, in the copious liner notes, invokes Goethe's "Sensucht".
From a purely musical perspective, the seductive alchemy emanating from the 13 tracks results from a spot-on and unrepeatable formula: a pianism that mixes Bill Evans' keen sensitivity to singable melody, Thelonious Monk's flair, Keith Jarrett's formal rigor, with a solid and internalized classical preparation, whose unmistakable indicators are the use of strict contrapuntal discipline and the undeniable influence of the Masters of romantic pianism, from Beethoven to Chopin, from Schumann to Liszt. All this translates into an exceptionally immediate and intense style, essential and elegantly detached, at times even shy and bewildered, with a daring use of the left hand bordering on audacious swagger. Never indulgent, however, towards sterile virtuosity, which he can also brilliantly display, Mehldau seems to obey only an irresistible instinct aimed at seeking the highest expressive quality, attributing equal importance, in the economy of the composition, to both sound and silence. In this atmosphere, it is Brad's piano that rises as the absolute protagonist, stealing the scene and spaces, leaving impeccables Rossy and Grenadier to play a residual role of fine rhythmic embroidery, precious and solid, but substantially subordinate.

The album opens with the metropolitan atmosphere of "Los Angeles," in a trio, whose melancholic and dreamy pace resolves in the brilliance of keyboard improvisation; the same theme is reprised and developed by solo piano, with different metrics, in "Los Angeles II," halfway through the album. Both episodes reappear in the last track "Los Angeles (Reprise)" to seal the cyclical nature of the entire work, of which they constitute the vertebral trunk and unifying principle: the city of angels, where Mehldau resides, seems to offer the artist an inspiration not compressible into a single track, consistently acting as the starting point, intermediate stop, and endpoint of his artistic and musical journey, as well as existential.
To crown this core trio, we find the rhythmic vehemence of "Madrid" and "Schloss Elmau," the soft waltz of "West Hartford" (Mehldau's hometown in Connecticut, which infuses the track with a climate of intimate and familiar serenity), the relaxation and sense of confidence in "A Walk In The Park," all trio tracks, with which Brad seems to restore the atmosphere of his very first works.
Certainly, more introspective and nocturnal are the solo piano tracks. Except for the hypnotic scales of "29 Palms," delicate and contemplative tones prevail, as in the soft "Am Zauberberg." Enchanting are the miniatures of "Paris," balanced on strong emotional tensions, of "Amsterdam," carefree and licentious, and, ultimately, "Perugia": to the city that consecrated him in various editions of Umbria Jazz, a grateful and emotional Mehldau dedicates a piece of austere, medieval severity and beauty.

A final word for the most particular track, "Airport Sadness." If you ever, returning from a journey, lay down on the chairs of an airport, waiting for the flight that takes you home, with the frames of the days just spent in your head, then perhaps you were prey to that bittersweet sensation of sad detachment from a place that, even if for a short time, you lived and loved; at that moment, the imminence of the return to domestic reality, if on one hand comforts you with its warm and familiar image, on the other hand scares and worries you, in recalling the tedious routine, daily responsibilities, problems, hopes, and illusions. Here, Brad Mehldau's piano captures this harrowing emotional flow focusing on the clearest photograph of your soul.

And you will want to travel again. And again. With Brad Mehldau's music.