From the May 2011 issue of The New York City Jazz Record:
—
Pianist Dan Tepfer has absorbed untold wisdom through his many duo engagements with alto great Lee Konitz, but at Cornelia Street Café (April 9th) it was time for the young Tepfer to face another giant, bassist Gary Peacock. (Konitz was on hand to hear it.) “I’ll Remember April” made for an exploratory warm-up, with a strong but loosely felt tempo and streams of harmonic depth and fullness, qualities that spilled into the original material that followed. Inspired by long conversations at Peacock’s rural home, Tepfer wrote several new pieces with titles drawn from the bassist’s actual words. “If You Fail” was a hovering waltz with dark melodies and free-form episodes, rich in dialogue. “He Just Takes the Sticks and Plays,” a reference to Paul Motian, had a saucy midtempo swing bounce, harking back to the interplay of the opening standard. “The Gratitude That I Can Still Play,” an oddly configured ballad, gave Peacock one of many opportunities to show that yes, he most certainly can; his commanding solo spots and pithy responses to Tepfer held the room in rapt silence. The duo also tackled two of Peacock’s compositions: “Moor,” recorded as far back as 1963 with Paul Bley, began with weighty solo bass and grew from spacious lyricism to some of the night’s freest, most unsettled playing. “Lullabye” was the high point, however: a slow-crawling web of arpeggios and unisons and orchestrated give-and-take, ominous yet somehow delicate, proof that this pairing can do magic. (David R. Adler)
~
Ascend to the bandstand with pianist Martial Solal, relentless as ever at 83, and you’re going to have a challenging time of it. But bassist François Moutin faced the unusually daunting task of playing duo with Solal for a week at the Village Vanguard. At the outset of their Thursday late set (April 14th), Moutin stayed out the way while Solal got into Rodgers & Hart’s “There’s a Small Hotel,” but their swinging chemistry ignited soon enough. For all of Solal’s lightning runs and flurries, he pinned his ideas to the main melody to a remarkable extent. At full steam, however, Solal will change keys at will in the middle of a section, or quote whimsically at length, then return to the tune he left behind and have it make sense. “All the Things You Are” and “Tea for Two” found themselves commingled. “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You” somehow became “Stardust” and then ended, abruptly. Ditto “Caravan” and “Prelude to a Kiss.” Moutin’s reaction time through all this was swifter than anyone could rightly expect, and his solos were often as captivating as Solal’s. The two have a similar sort of wild proficiency, and the duo format gave them a unique space to roam — although Solal’s recent trio discs NY1 and Longitude show the focusing effect a drummer can have. Here tempos were taken up and cast aside, whether on ballads like “Lover Man” and “I Can’t Get Started” or romps like “I Got Rhythm” and the jubilant encore “The Last Time I Saw Paris.” (DA)
Comments are closed.