He puts out albums under his own name so rarely, while amassing a discography as a sideman/co-leader that's almost unparalleled in its sheer size and stylistic breadth—with over 100 recordings to date, since he first showed up in saxophonist James Carter's groups of the mid-1990s—that it's cause for celebration any time pianist Craig Taborn gets around to releasing one. Whether expounding upon the more structured environs of saxophonist David Binney's Graylen Epicenter (Mythology, 2011), working the groove on saxophonist Chris Potter's Ultrahang (ArtistShare, 2009), or exploring a more extreme nexus of form and freedom with bassist Michael Formanek on The Rub and the Spare Change (ECM, 2010), Taborn has proven himself a player of almost unparalleled encyclopedic depth, a quality he brings to Avenging Angel, his first solo piano record and his debut, as a leader, for ECM.
On a label that, amongst many other accolades, has virtually single-handedly defined the remarkably high bar for the art of solo piano performance, Taborn joins a prestigious elite, rubbing shoulders with legacy pianists like Paul Bley and Chick Corea, and more recent contributors of lesser renown but equal esteem, including Marilyn Crispell, Jon Balke, Francois Couturier and Stefano Bollani—not to mention the man considered, by some, to be the litmus test of the genre, Keith Jarrett. While Taborn does, indeed, pull music from the ether with remarkable spontaneity, inherent virtuosity and expansive musical knowledge akin to Jarrett, he contrasts the iconic pianist's stream-of-consciousness approach with a more focused working of found motifs, exploring every nook and cranny of sometimes simple, other times almost impossibly complex spontaneously composed conceits—mining every seam while knowing precisely when he's reached the end of a path, with rare instinct and unerring accuracy.
Taborn unfolds the delicately ascending and cascading lines that form the basis of the relatively brief "Glossolalia," gradually building them in intensity, angularity and turbulence, even as he directs them—not so much through repetition, but more through a series of expanding lines moving upwards and outwards from the center—only to have them settle again, like ripples in a pond. Elsewhere, on "Diamond Turning Dream," a simple motif of but a few spare notes becomes an exercise in nuanced development, as Taborn shifts emphasis through dynamics and subtle temporal flexibility—a particular revelation of the remarkable natural acoustics in the recital room at Lugano, Italy's Studio RSI, where the pianist recorded Avenging Angel over two days, in the summer of 2010.
Taborn's primary purview may be jazz, but his sources reach far beyond even its furthest frontiers, the beginning of "This Voice Says So" referencing the tintinnabulism of Arvo Part and pieces like the Estonian composer's "Für Alina." Still, at the half-way mark, he breaks out of the delicate repetition of one note at the piano's extreme upper register to a more assertive stance that builds to a dramatic, maelstrom-like exploration at both ends of the instrument, ultimately resolving, again very Pärt-like, in its final two minutes, as a simple three-note motif with painstaking support, as it fades to slowly to black.
While it's never the raison d'être, Taborn's virtuosity is especially vivid on "Gift Horse/Over the Water," where a knotty left-hand pattern, peppered with unpredictable voicings by the right, suddenly assumes even greater power when both hands suddenly engage in contrapuntal interaction, leading to one of the few points where Avenging Angel feels like traditional soloing over a form, even though the form was pulled from the same empty space.
With conceptual specificity providing its distinct approach at a time when so many pianists are exploring the solo context, Avenging Angel stands well above most. As exhilarating as it is serene, and as evocatively melodic as it is unsettlingly recondite, it's a masterpiece of invention and evocation that places Taborn squarely amongst those other esteemed pianists who've contributed to ECM's pantheon of significant solo recordings. - John Kelman / allaboutjazz.com
For fans of Craig Taborn's electronics-oriented recorded work or for those who prefer his early trio records or his sideman appearances with James Carter, a solo acoustic piano recording on ECM might come as a bit of a surprise, but it shouldn't. Taborn's been playing solo shows for over a decade -- most of them improvised -- and it's that part of his musical character that displays itself on Avenging Angel. Taborn has always been interested in the language of the instrument itself, the possibilities of its tonalities, spaces, textures, echoes, etc. The 13 pieces here, recorded on a gorgeous Steinway piano in Lugano, Switzerland, elaborate magnificently on all of those notions and more, without sounding overly ponderous or studied. These pieces range widely; each has its own motivation, form, frame, and intention; each arrives at a different destination. "The Broad Day King" begins with quiet, even delicate high-register notes that resemble wind chimes in a gentle breeze, and is colored as it evolves by descending chord patterns with deliberate spatial elements to delineate them from that intro while extending its memory. The title track commences with mildly dissonant two- and three-note chords in the lower-middle register, playing a pulsing if syncopated rhythm as the right hand adds accents and contrapuntal voicings to create the appearance of a dual melody, though only one eventually emerges. "Gift Horse/Over the Water" asserts a series of scalar studies before dynamically raising its head and using jagged chords to move from one half of the tune to the other. "Spirit Hard Knock" commences by using sharply angled single-note improvisation before assembling a dreamy series of lyric phrases. Taborn's use of the instrument itself is quite physical: at times he plays ppp (where restrained force is employed to push on the key just enough to get a sound), while other notes or short segments employ Sforzando. The elliptical nature of "Forgetful" is the set's most beautiful and elliptical number, emerging from the ghostly trace of a lyric melody into a fully realized spherical one; despite its dynamic changes -- which are gradual -- it never surrenders its deliberate spaciousness where sound itself -- the moments after single keys or chords are struck -- lingers and holds momentarily, before others replace them. Avenging Angel is not an intellectual exercise, it is a major contribution to the actual language of the piano as an improvisational instrument: its 13 pieces feel like a suite: seamless, economical, original, and visionary. - Tom Jurek / allmusic.com
If solo piano can be a rewarding gig because of the wealth of harmonic possibilities that the keyboard can offer then it can be exhilarating when a musician is brave enough not to avail himself of them. Doing little through choice is not the same as doing little through obligation. On several occasions on this beguiling, often icily beautiful set, New York-based pianist Craig Taborn creates such clarity through economy that the notes become comets in a broad expanse of night sky. On ‘Diamond Turning Dream’ he illuminates two soft legato notes with a kind of afterglow of two mid range notes that are then punctuated by sharp, high single notes, still in groups of two, with the attack increasing incrementally while a low chord discreetly ambles in, almost like a puffing tuba to the piercing trumpet of the other notes. On first listening, it appears an exercise in focused minimalism, how to create interest through spare phrasing but on repeat listening what comes through loud and clear is the way the whole performance amounts to a melody, but one that forms from fragments and flashes, the constituent parts building into a whole that reveals a bit more each time you lend an ear. Clarity may be something of a guiding principle but it in no way restricts the expressive spectrum of this work, which means that there is a more or less polar opposite to the aforesaid piece in the form of ‘Glossolalia’, which is a series of see saw like motifs that heave up and down with constant momentum, the lines regularly tightening into rapid sixteenth or thirty second notes that acquire some of the liquid, rushing quality of an old analogue synthesiser. Taborn's engagement with electronica, through work with Detroit techno hero Carl Craig to New York jazz kingpin Tim Berne, has possibly fed into his work here but perhaps of greater importance is the way that he draws together strands of African-American jazz vocabulary, European classical music and movie theme sensibilities so that echoes of anybody from Muhal Richard Abrams and Webern to Richard Teitelbaum and David Sancious are heard at various points. Yet there is an overriding sense that Taborn is not strictly concerned with the canon of jazz piano but is ultimately trying to capture something of many instruments, genres and simply new sounds within a solo piano framework. Pulling that off requires vision and strength of character as well as advanced technique and listening skills. Craig Taborn duly exhibits all of the above on this concentrated, compelling statement. - Kevin Le Gendre
Craig Taborn has spent years toiling in the trenches of other artists’ projects: he’s worked with Tim Berne, Roscoe Mitchell, Chris Potter, David Binney, and many others on a slew of highly-regarded recordings. But with just a few records so far under his own name, one gets the feeling that Taborn knew it was time to make a major statement about his unique talents as a pianist. With this solo piano record, there’s no question that he has done that. It is bold, challenging, and supremely thoughtful, and it cements Taborn’s reputation as one of the strongest pianists of his generation.
There is a lot of music here. The disc contains thirteen tracks, and at around 70 minutes of music, simply digesting all of it is a huge challenge. The record is completely improvised, built not around recognizable melodies but rather patterns of notes that Taborn explores over the course of each track. One of the pleasures of listening to the record is to follow the logic of Taborn’s ideas as he unfolds them in fascinating directions. Some of the tracks offer astonishing glimpses of Taborn’s sheer virtuosity as a pianist, as for example on “Glossolalia,” in which Taborn offers shimmering and skittering frenzies of notes up and down the keyboard, displaying equal facility with both his right and left hands. Or “Gift Horse – Over the Water,” in which after presenting some intricate interweaving lines, Taborn develops and sustains a complex left-hand pattern through the remainder of the song while with his right he comments and interjects, both with chords and long runs of notes, bringing both hands into a remarkable dialogue along the way. And then there’s “Avenging Angel,” the record’s title-track, in which Taborn builds off a repeating, surging sequence of chord-based patterns in the lower octaves of the piano that gradually evolve into multi-note patterns, all while staying in the bottom half of the keyboard, thus evoking the sense of menace that the name of the track would imply.
Despite the undeniable chops that Taborn brings to the recording, what’s even more impressive is Taborn’s fearlessness when it comes to using space and silence to articulate his musical vision. A number of the tracks involve Taborn tracing out just a few notes at a time, as he patiently explores wherever the notes will take him. Much of the opening track, “Broad Day King,” involves Taborn playing and repeating a single note with his right hand, while using his left to delve into various melodic possibilities. “Diamond Turning Dream” is even more illustrative, as Taborn traces out agonizingly patient sequences of notes, letting each fill the room and gradually die out before beginning the next sequence. As the track evolves, by the end Taborn has reduced the pattern to just three notes, with a low bass note and two treble notes hanging, suspended, until finally falling away. The overall effect is mysterious and hypnotic.
As is typical of recordings on the ECM label, both the acoustical space of the studio and the nuances of its Steinway piano are captured with amazing clarity. The ECM “house sound,” though it has its critics who fault it for its excessive sterility, is in this case essential to Taborn’s project, which is focused as much on exploring the sonority and feel of the instrument as it is in developing the melodic fragments of each track. Being able to hear Taborn’s subtle shifts in dynamics, or his willingness to explore the resonance of isolated notes on the keyboard, is vital to a full appreciation of what Taborn is trying to do here.
I’m sure Taborn will always have plenty of other musicians knocking down his door to hire him for their own projects. But it’s terrific to hear him have a chance to document his own personal contribution as a solo musician, and to do it so emphatically. - Troy Dostert / freejazzblog.org
El piano concentra y resume en sí mismo la totalidad del arte (Franz Liszt)
La primera evidencia documentada de la existencia del piano data de un inventario preparado en 1700 por un músico de la corte del Príncipe Fernando de Médici en donde se registra una invención atribuida a Bartolomeo Cristofori di Francesco descripta –textualmente- como un Arpicembalo ch fa’ il piano, e il forte, a’ due registri principali unisoni, con fond di cipresso senza rosa…” (“archicémbalo que produce sonidos suaves y fuertes con dos juegos de cuerda al unísono, con caja de resonancia de ciprés sin rosa…”). De ese archivo histórico se desprenden tres cosas: la primera es que Cristofori –probablemente- era italiano… convengamos que cuesta imaginarse a un vietnamita, un andorrano, un chipriota o un paraguayo patentando algo llamado arpicembalo ch fa’ il piano, e il forte o hablándonos de fetuccini a la putanesca y mucho menos diciéndole a un príncipe Non rompermi i coglioni, cornutto. La segunda es que su intención original fue que el instrumento se llamara archicémbalo (literalmente arpa-clavicordio) pero se vio obligado a desistir debido a una buena razón: el archicémbalo ya había sido inventado por un tal Nicola Vicentino ciento cincuenta años antes. La tercera es que la primitiva denominación de su invento fue, afortunadamente, mutando a través de los años hasta adoptar el abreviado nombre con el que hoy lo conocemos: piano.
Según algunos afamados musicólogos esto último se debe en gran medida a las continuas dificultades para hallar archicembalistas más o menos idóneos (si usted conoce alguno, me avisa) y también a la necesidad de atender las hordas de pianistas que exigían la creación de un instrumento que le diera razón a su existencia.
La aparición del invento creado por Bartolomeo Cristofori fue coincidente con el surgimiento del clasicismo, época en que algunos de los instrumentos esenciales del barroco como la viola da gamba, el clavecín y el laúd fueron dejando su lugar a nuevos instrumentos como el clarinete, el arpeggione (instrumento de cuerda de efímera existencia) y –muy especialmente- el piano. Este último -debido a sus características melódicas, armónicas, polifónicas y poli-rítmicas- ganó rápidamente un lugar central en el ámbito musical y comenzó aa ser utilizado como instrumento de composición, acompañamiento y también para conciertos solistas.
El piano, en sus orígenes, estuvo relacionado socialmente a la aristocracia y la burguesía, ya que no sólo permitió a esas clases acceder a la práctica y los conocimientos musicales sino que, además, la presencia de dicho instrumento en los hogares de las familias más adineradas posibilitaba la celebración de tertulias en torno a él y era sinónimo de elegancia y poder. Situación que, por cierto, iría cambiando con el tiempo hasta hacer que el instrumento sirva -por dar un ejemplo más o menos actual- para que una curvilínea señorita envuelta en un ceñido vestido de alta costura se recueste en él y cante mientras el pianista la toca… me refiero a la canción… también.
Hoy en día el piano ya no es convocante para tertulias, cenáculos o elegantes reuniones pero sigue siendo sinónimo de poder… De poder… meterlo en un mono-ambiente y sin vernos en la obligación de usarlo al mismo tiempo como mesa, perchero, bodega y lugar designado para que el gato deposite sus detritos.
Lo cierto es que las formas musicales para el piano han ido evolucionado y variando en cada época. Durante el clasicismo las formas predominantes fueron la fantasía, la sonata y las variaciones; en el período romántico surgieron formas más libres como el nocturno, la balada, el scherzo, la rapsodia y, además, dio nacimiento a la idea moderna del concierto para piano. El Impresionismo propulsó una amplia variedad de obras para piano y orquesta, los preludios, las suites y los estudios; en tanto que la música contemporánea amplió la literatura pianística merced a las invalorables exploraciones estéticas realizadas por compositores de la talla de Igor Stravinski, Bela Bartok, Arnold Schoenberg, Aaron Copland o Dimitri Shostakovich, entre muchos otros.
La historia del piano no sólo abarca el ámbito académico sino también a diversos géneros musicales de raigambre popular e incluso alguno de éstos –como en el caso del jazz- ha sido de capital importancia en la evolución de las técnicas interpretativas del instrumento. El piano -debido a su rol multifacético y la naturaleza armónica y melódica que lo distingue- ha sido un elemento integral del jazz desde sus comienzos pero también fue ocupando, paulatinamente, un sitial de privilegio en el desarrollo del concepto de la improvisación solista. En ese historial se fueron concatenando las formas arcaicas asociadas al ragtime, desarrolladas por Scott Joplin, con el nacimiento del jazz propiamente dicho a partir de Jelly Roll Morton. Desde ese entonces se enlazaron sucesivamente el acercamiento al stride desplegado por Fats Waller con el estilo de viento o tercera rama del desarrollo pianístico temprano representado por Earl Hines; la idea acabada de virtuosismo aplicada al swing por Art Tatum con el uso extensivo del contrapunto materializado en Lennie Tristano; la consagración definitiva del jazz moderno a través de Thelonious Monk y Bud Powell con el surgimiento del jazz modal de la mano de Bill Evans; los radicales conceptos de improvisación enarbolados por Cecil Taylor con la liberación de formulismos implícitos en el estilo de Andrew Hill y las particulares nociones de improvisación absoluta impulsadas por Keith Jarrett en sus ya míticos conciertos de música improvisada para solo de piano.
En ese punto imaginario en donde se encuentran parte de la historia y la evolución técnica del piano ya mencionadas, la amplitud estilística asociada a nuestro tiempo y la avanzada de la improvisación puesta al servicio de la música para solo de piano, nos llega hoy Avenging Angels, el fenomenal álbum de Craig Taborn.
La destacada trayectoria desarrollada por el pianista, tecladista y compositor Craig Taborn tiene su epicentro en el jazz pero también incluye experiencias en el campo de la música electrónica, el tecno y el dark ambient. Entre sus labores más recordadas (además de la producción discográfica como líder que comprende a los álbumes Craig Taborn Trio de 1994, Light Made Lighter de 2001 y Junk Magic de 2004) podemos mencionar sus participaciones en las bandas de James Carter, Dave Binney, Chris Potter y David Torn, la protagónica intervención en grupos como Hard Cell y Science Friction (ambos liderados por Tim Berne) y sus colaboraciones con Matt Maneri, Lotte Anker, Dave Douglas, Evan Parker y Susie Ibarra. No obstante, a su lustroso pasado debe agregarse un presente inmejorable que engloba una cardinal intervención junto a William Parker y Gerald Cleaver en el magnífico trío Farmers by Nature, los aportes realizados como miembro del cuarteto de Michael Formanek en el impactante The Rub and Spare Change de 2010, la renovada sociedad con el legendario Roscoe Mitchell materializada el último año en el álbum Far Side, una reciente intervención en el Nicole Mitchell’s Sonic Projection y su cooperación en 2011 en el debut discográfico del Gerald Cleaver’s Uncle June. A pesar de los prestigiosos antecedentes que distinguen la carrera de Craig Taborn, el álbum Avenging Angel posee atributos únicos e irrepetibles en donde parecen confluir naturalmente: el especial enfoque otorgado por el intérprete a sus improvisaciones, la inmejorable acústica del Studio RSI de Lugano, el inconfundible sonido del Grand Piano Steinway D y la ejemplar calidad de grabación con la que el experimentado Manfred Eicher suele dotar a los discos del sello ECM.
Desde el inicio, con The Broad Day King, se puede apreciar que Craig Taborn avanza a paso firme en dirección al pináculo integrado por las grandes obras en solo piano del último decenio. La elegancia de su fraseo, la suavidad en los ataques, el profundo dominio técnico, la mesura y musicalidad en los ornamentos, la ausencia de efectos gratuitos y la claridad de un lineamiento melódico asociado al clasicismo, dan como resultado una verdadera lección interpretativa. En tanto que los veloces arpegios a dos manos de Glossolalia nos conducen a transitar la avenida del jazz de vanguardia con envidiable autoridad expresiva. El envolvente Diamon Turning Dream se convierte en un ejercicio de desarrollo de matices y texturas dotado de una sutil flexibilidad dinámica que parece interactuar con las cualidades acústicas del estudio de grabación.
El tema que da título al álbum se funda sobre un continuum dramático sustentado en un reducido número de motivos que ofician como variaciones sobre un bajo continuo.
La primera parte de This Voice Says So remite, por sus armonías simples, notas sueltas sin adornos y acordes triádicos a la música “tintineante” de Arvo Part; pero luego el piano pasa a fluctuar entre los registros más extremos para dominar la densidad espacial en un crescendo que – tras un abrasivo clímax- converge en el motif germinal.
Los laberínticos contrapuntos de Neverland brindan la relajada sensación de estar escuchando a Glenn Gould tocando una pieza de Bach pero con el aderezo de inesperadas resoluciones armónicas provenientes de Thelonious Monk. Luego se suceden: la belleza en estado puro de la balada True Life Near, un ejercicio rítmico con reminiscencias de Chick Corea en Gift Horse/Over the Water; las contrastantes resonancias creadas por la combinación simultánea de secuencias largas o cortas y fuertes o débiles de A Difficult Thing Said Simply, el obsesivo arrebato de los fraseos de Spirit Hard Knock, el rigor estilístico del intenso Neither-Nor y un lirico abrazo a la tradición del jazz con el exquisito Forgetful. Finalmente, la mágica introspección y el buen gusto que emanan de This is How You Disappear brinda el cierra apropiado para un álbum notable, sorprendente y extraordinario, de principio a fin.
En síntesis: No nos sorprendería que Craig Taborn, con Avenging Angel –además de todo lo mencionado anteriormente-, se haya asegurado un lugar de privilegio en la historia reciente de la música improvisada para solo piano.
Una improvisación en solo de piano es una experiencia misteriosa, única e irrepetible en donde todo lo que somos concurre mágicamente en un mismo tiempo y lugar (Keith Jarrett)
Sergio Piccirilli / elintruso.com
Tracks
01. The Broad Day King
02. Glossolalia
03. Diamond Turning Dream
04. Avenging Angel
05. This Voice Says So
06. Neverland
07. True Life Near
08. Gift Horse / Over The Water
09. A Difficult Thing Said Simply
10. Spirit Hard Knock
11. Neither-Nor
12. Forgetful
13. This Is How You Disappear
CRAIG TABORN piano
Music composed by Craig Taborn
Recorded July 2010 at Auditorio Radiotelevisione svizzera, Lugano
ECM Records – ECM 2207