Michel Camilo
Why Not?

If one can imagine the suggestive, hypothetical fusion (complete with irresistible Caribbean accents) of the piano styles of Keith Jarrett, Chick Corea, and Herbie Hancock, one will have a first, albeit partial, idea of how Michel Camilo's music "sounds." When speaking of contemporary Latin Jazz, exotically tinted Fusion, and afro-Cuban rhythms immersed in the "mood" of the best '50s Swing, it is impossible not to mention this brilliant Dominican pianist to whom, over the years, even the demanding audience of the Montreal Festival and the most snobbish New Yorkers at Carnegie Hall have had to bow: too much talent, too much taste, too much technique, and, above all, class to spare, right from the splendid debut of "Why Not?" in 1985 that brought Camilo's name to the attention of international critics and beyond: extraordinary music for the most refined jazz palates and essential listening for anyone who wishes to appreciate the style and elegance of polished yet not overly lacquered sounds, compositions overflowing with drive and liveliness, but also with bittersweet twists and nostalgic, meditative, dreamy flavors. All of this perfectly coexists and integrates in the art (and the admirable "stylistic crossover") of the creator of a work that I have no difficulty in ranking among the milestones of the new "exotic" Jazz-Fusion of the '80s.

A precocious, very precocious, talent that of Michel (hailing from a family of musicians), who at just sixteen joined the National Symphony Orchestra of the Dominican Republic. Equally indebted to the most classic Ragtime and modal Jazz of the '50s/'60s, his piano style underwent a decisive evolution during a long period of study and research in the United States, in New York in particular (a city that effectively represents his second home). The official debut was alongside a monument like Tito Puente, who wanted him in his formation starting from 1983, exactly two years before this groundbreaking debut (in the meantime, the Cuban flutist Paquito De Rivera had also invited him to be part of his ensemble): debut recorded in February leading a formidable sextet of instrumentalists, among the most significant figures of the new Jazz of those years: an unsurpassable rhythm section, with Dave Weckl and Anthony Jackson, Lew Soloff on trumpet and Chris Hunter on sax, and two percussionists like Guarionex Aquino and, especially, the omnipresent Sammy Figueroa. But it's worth spending a few words on the great Dave Weckl: here very young and in one of his first sessions ever, the drummer knows how to effortlessly navigate among incredibly complex afro-Cuban rhythmic divisions, showcasing execution agility and especially that incomparable "feeling," that unique taste in spontaneous execution (complete with "ghost notes" and abundant, exquisite micro-variations) that would become his trademark: whether with Mike Stern, the Corea's Electric Band, or especially in his solo albums starting with "Master Plan," masterpieces of research and musical culture out of the ordinary; much, in the success of this album, is owed to his instrumental skill and that of the rest of the band, which Camilo managed to assemble with foresight and insight, duly considering the characteristics of the individuals.

To tie it all together is the leader's piano touch (as it couldn't have been otherwise) between geometries and asymmetries, delicate embroideries and passages of unusual "percussive" verve, furious and frantic syncopated phrasing, and more relaxed, romantic lines born of the musical tradition to which he belongs. The initial "Just Kiddin'" is a dazzling "carnivalesque" whirlwind of sounds and colors, percussions and instrumental virtuosity in quick succession: what's surprising is the rapport among the musicians, but also the contextual interventions of the percussive "background" that emphasize the solos of Soloff and, especially, Hunter, decidedly devoted to the high register before giving way to Camilo's piano and his spontaneous variations on distinctly Caribbean harmonic frameworks (impressive speed and precision, with the listener inevitably engaged to the fullest degree). "Hello & Goodbye" starts quietly but soon develops on the canons of an intriguing Samba, with refined details, featuring a leader's solo of almost three minutes and a long section reserved for Soloff's trumpet, before the closing tasked with reprising the initial theme in an "orchestral" manner. In "Thinking Of You" we reach the heights of romanticism, an essential component of Camilo's art, especially in the delicate but intense introduction played by the pianist in total solitude, in a swirling rise and fall of splendid harmonic scales interspersed with more poised, reflective passages: after about two and a half minutes, the soft rhythm of Dave Weckl emerges to create an unusually mysterious and "suspended" atmosphere before the piece takes shape again among sudden "peaks" and contextual "valleys," based on stronger support from Anthony Jackson's bass; nine minutes of pure enchantment, without the slightest drop in tension. The long "title-track" is tasked with once again transporting the listener amidst lively and dynamic rhythms, thanks mainly to the exceptional interludes of Dave Weckl and the pianist's boundless creativity, more than ever willing to tread paths always remarkable for variety and novelty. In the same vein moves "Not Yet," with supersonic electric bass phrasing and a nice sax solo by Chris Hunter, while the conclusion of "Suite Sandrine," as can easily be deduced from the title, is reserved for a composite collage of themes dedicated to improvisation, here closer than ever to the canons of modal Jazz. A closure in perfect style.

If I've convinced you, then don't miss the unique opportunity to engage with this gem of taste and style with few equals: the five stars are nothing short of pleonastic. Enjoy the listening.