McCoy Tyner “Illuminations” 2004 TELARC
McCoy Tyner,
piano
Gary Bartz,
saxophones
Terence
Blanchard, trumpet
Christian
McBride, bass
Lewis Nash,
drums
What does it matter if a review is
belated? It’s not a preview—that
would be different. Great music is timeless anyhow, while extemporized jazz is
already old before it’s mixed & mastered.
#1 Illuminations
(Tyner) kicks off with Lewis Nash’s tight skinwork and disciplined horns—then
Blanchard takes it, paced and deliberate through a celebratory hard-bop
mysticism until Bartz completes his thought with deft agility that bespeaks a
mystery lurking beneath the pulsating surface of rhythm sustained by Nash,
Christian McBride and Tyner, who now takes over and lets rip—a very different
pianist than used to lay the harmonic foundations for Trane—then suddenly
segues into a bass solo by McBride of rare staccato reverberation—a bit of
ensemble, some more feisty drumming by Nash and a lingering flourish to bring
the track to a close.
#2 Angelina
(Tyner)
Intro: more the
familiar modal Coltrane-Tyner sound, although smoothed and softened with the
years; that Latin tinge sparks up, then we are lulled back into dreamy
indolence, wisps of other great keyboardist/composers like Hancock and Corea,
then McCoy lays on sharp, spare notes emphasizing modality before proceeding to
shred the changes—a pause, a question mark?—and Bartz suggests a tentative
answer, building confidence as he builds tension until his spectral possibility
becomes an affirmation. Blanchard takes his time as if testing each note before
he takes us on a journey, an impassioned pilgrimage inside the harmony. Now
Nash gets deep into an introspective meditation but before you can say “Om” the
lulling, seductive head returns, somehow richer and more evocative now that we
are all a little wiser from the experience.
#3 New Orleans
Stomp (Tyner)
Marching snare
snaps into Beethoven-heavy creole piano riff funky as Hell—surprisingly this
one is also a Tyner original—Blanchard hits some hot, blues-inflected frontline
jass and gets you shakin’,
underpinned by Tyner’s insistent comping, Bartz interweaves a few lines before
taking the stand himself, swinging legato and then punctuating rests like a
trumpet player (effecting a labial, rather than interdental stop, for the
linguists out there—the reed players out there know better than I how feasible
this is vis-à-vis their embouchure) winds to a perfectly cadential close, the
band makes a dynamic pause before Nash and McBride take a relaxed, casual
stroll through the French Quarter, McCoy gives us a few more tinkles and the
whole ensemble flare up again to bring this delectable little number to a close
(if you’re like me and can never get enough hot sauce you may want to repeat
the track again.)
#4 Come Rain or
Come Shine (Harold Arlen)
As usual, Nash
sets the pace, this time with a highly syncopated and ponderous post-bop
rhythm—Tyner quickly moves from sparse chords to quicksilver runs, smoking
minarets that tower above us in sheer cliffs which drop off abruptly, leaving
us alone with McBride’s best solo thus far, all muscle and sinew; then McCoy
and Lewis trade 4’s, Tyner builds it back up to an urbane blues, finishing with
that glassy twinkle that is the timbral envy of any pianist, jazz or classical.
#5 Soulstice
(Bartz)
This is a
brilliant composition by Gary Bartz. Christian counts the tempo with a Blakeyan
fill before the quintet take off in a sophisticated melody reminiscent of
Shorter-era Miles—Bartz dazzles with ribbons of silken metal before Blanchard
chills on the downpulse, subdividing into a crescendo of assured pleasure—then,
oh boy, we’re given the Real McCoy, chords stacked like brick and suspended,
while Tyner moves ivory faster than a Portuguese privateer—a contemplative solo
from McBride swings into a brief spotlight by Nash, again conjuring the bop
greats, and then a hurried finish.
#6 Blessings
(Blanchard)
This number by
Terence Blanchard is a dramatic pivot from the preceding—plaintive, rich
harmony, a Silenian lament; Blanchard shows off Milesian arrogance before Bartz
ponders the meaning of it all in rich tenor vibrations—McCoy gets vaguely Latin
again, a-la a hungover philosopher poolside at the cabana in Havana; an almost
tribal, insistent statement by Nash (so far my only complaint with this disc is
the brevity of the drum solos; clearly L.N. could keep at it, heavy and
inventive, for many a measure without dulling.)
#7 If I Should
Lose You (Leo Robin, Ralph Rainger)
Sweet and soft,
this piece, Tyner’s reverberations of marble giving way to demonstrations of
ferocious virtuosity, fingers that know every scale and chordal
extension…McBride gives one of his heaviest, drowsiest, most lolling yet
precise solos, then Bartz picks up a higher-register sax and lays lyrical lines
reminiscent of Coltrane near his relaxéd best. A pure, perfect ending.
#8 The Chase
(Tyner)
Exciting,
down-South N’Orleans feel again, courtesy of Tyner’s profound grasp of rhythm
and harmony which he can bend to any occasion—quickly becomes an insane
bopacalypse of almost arbitrary harmonic tension, all driven by purposeful
rhythm and Nash’s indefatigable yet never repetitive trap work. Despite the
fabulosity of the horns and the enviably sharp but resonant timbre of McBride’s
double-bass, this group is never as exciting as when McCoy and McBride are
trading and interweaving their contrapuntal apotheoses.
#9 West Philly
Tone Poem (McBride) is rich in angular melodies and incessant rhythms and
#10 Alone
Together (Arthur Schwartz) is best left for the listener to discover without
further descriptor.
No comments:
Post a Comment