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Rating: A velvety, nocturnal, meditative world. A soft-lit environment, where you might get lost in a memory, sipping cognac mixed with nostalgia. Melodic sparkles that stand out to light up a sea of harmonies like lights at sunset. Intimate and crepuscular music, incredibly simple in its naturalness. I still remember well when I glimpsed this CD. I had a "child-in-front-of-a-pastry-shop" effect. I couldn't resist, despite doubts and ignorance. Chris Anderson? Ecchièmmaiccostui? The question, à la Don Abbondio, prose-style, endangers the wallet every time you buy sight unseen. But with a name like Charlie Haden in a duo, you must trust. You must trust like when a friend introduces you to a new friend.
And it only took the long, meditative introduction of "The night we called it a day" to dispel any doubts. Anderson, a self-taught pianist afflicted by a severe bone disease, is a marvelous interpreter of "ballads," virtuous in his linearity and intensely focused on every note. The thirteen minutes of the first track thus open the gates to a record full of poetry, a musical territory where lyricism and reflection reign supreme. A record where silence represents the necessary prelude to making music. Where the stylistic universe is dominated by Anderson's pianism, and enriched like lifeblood by the velvety voice of Haden's bass.
Music to dance "cheek-to-cheek," with intimacy reaching absolute heights in pieces like "The Things We Did Last Summer", or nostalgia turning into a rogue in "Good Morning Heartache", or even tenderness surprising you as Anderson loses himself accompanying his chords with a gentle grunt. A physical way of living music and the piano, like Glenn Gould or Keith Jarrett. But a physicality that always sublimates into diamondlike sounds, into an ever-clear and rich sound in its simplicity.
To savor slowly like vintage wine, at sunset, or on a night with a slice of sky and a sprinkle of stars to gaze at.
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