Enrico Pieranunzi, Marc Johnson, Joey Baron
Live In Japan

For me, art is an escape. A long mental run into a dreamlike world that mixes the real with its own perception generated in me by the sensory experience itself: a painting, a novel, a poem, all contribute to the journey. With music, especially with Jazz, everything becomes more rarefied and subtle, images flow quickly like brief flashes. Yet they remain etched in the mind and heart in a different way, perhaps more intimate and private. I believe each person has a hidden side, which isn't necessarily dark and evil, often it's something profound and maybe even sweetly melancholic. A secret refuge, a sort of sanctuary where one can hide and finally feel at home. But I'm digressing too much, so let's get to the point and specifically to the album I want to talk about today, which is "Live In Japan" by the Roman pianist Enrico Pieranunzi, accompanied for the occasion by Marc Johnson on bass and Joey Baron on drums. Those who have read some of my other Jazz reviews will know that I have a certain fondness for trios, especially the classic piano-bass-drum trio. A love that I believe resides precisely in that sense of intimacy I mentioned earlier. There's something strangely collected in this type of musical ensemble, an alchemy that never ceases to fascinate me and make me fall in love with every note, accent, chord, or melody. Pieranunzi is then an artist of elegance and refinement that are truly rare to find nowadays, characteristics that permeate every composition presented in this double album recorded in Japan in the summer of 2004, showcasing a set of dynamic, full-bodied, and richly nuanced pieces. We are faced with almost two hours of music that nonetheless can captivate the listener with such force that it compresses time and makes it fleeting as if trying to catch water with your hands hoping it doesn't slip away through your fingers. To talk about a work like this, the splendid artwork with which CamJazz decided to present it to the public comes to my aid: a pair of ideograms on a red vertical band with the musicians' names alongside and the title of the work at the bottom, all framed in a picture with soft gray edges, itself immersed in a white background. Simple, linear, and elegant, an excellent calling card that well foreshadows what we are about to listen to. The trio moves on improvisation where the leader plays with fun (notably the splendid "Impronippo") and gives us moments of technique, melody, and fantasy that surely made those lucky enough to attend this great performance happy. As we know, the Japanese are not very participative during live performances, preferring composure over the physicality typical of Western audiences (obviously, it's a jazz concert, so one isn't expecting wild mosh pits, I think that's obvious) yet throughout the listening, the audience is somehow felt. There's a pleasant underlying tension that makes the atmosphere even more sparkling and dynamic, an almost palpable vitality well tied to an interplay between musicians that is fluid and without dead moments. If I close my eyes, I can imagine them signaling to each other and letting rivers of notes flow until the applause marks the end of a piece. An almost ethereal elegance that for me is a breath of fresh air, a journey that for those scarce two hours really takes me to Japan. In some moments, the bass strings of Marc Johnson, when plucked by the musician's fingers, remind me of bamboo canes bent by the wind, an ancestral sound that smells more of suggestion than reality, a fantasy punctuated by Joey Baron's sticks so fluid that they create around you a scaffolding made of cymbal passages and plays perfectly balanced with the work of his companions. Maybe it's madness, but in the end, this is the artistic experience for me, something capable of transforming gray into vivid and bright colors, feeling intelligence dart under the notes of "Mio caro dottor Grasler" or "Tokyo Reflections" reminds me that there's much more in the world than what I have in front of me every day. That being said, in conclusion, it feels natural for me to thank these three splendid musicians for the journey they give me every time I play their album. Music is a shield, a superb protection against evil, and if you too, from time to time, need a little place to take refuge, I can only recommend a small venue where three great musicians play whenever you want, sure, it's located in the East, but it's still easily reachable... Trust me, it's really worth it.