Bill Evans: “In Memory of His Father” (1966)
In February 1966, pianist Bill Evans put on a concert at Town Hall. The minute we heard of it, we knew we were going to it. We went and enjoyed it but it wasn’t as good as I’d thought it would be.
Part of the problem was the way it was structured. There were three sets, with intermissions between. First, Evans played with a full band, arrangements by Al Cohn. Second, Evans performed with his trio. Third, he played alone –one tune, twenty minutes long.
The band segment was disappointing. Cohn was a decent arranger but his arrangements and the format didn’t fit Evans’s then-current style. The tunes and arrangements were generic bop swing where Evans had made his name playing an introspective, subtly shaded music. Subtle these arrangements were not.
The trio set was better but pointed to another problem. Evans’s new drummer, Arnold Wise, wasn’t up to the challenge of playing with him. It wasn’t that he was awful. He just didn’t add anything. He kept time. That’s what he did, kept time. If you listen to the album from the concert (only the trio and solo portions are included), you’ll hear the bass player Chuck Israels bending to match Evans’s micro-changes in tempo and emphasis. Wise just churns ahead. Mostly on brushes. It’s dull.
In the solo session, Evans played a tune he composed as a memorial to his recently deceased father. He recorded it later as a ballad, under the title “Turn Out the Stars.”
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If you want to hear how Evans influenced his peers, listen to this short, beautiful cut by pianist Mitchel Forman, “How My Heart Sings,” from his 1992 homage album to Evans.
Mitchel Forman: “How My Heart Sings” (1992)
CODA: I wrote about that evening fifty years later, reviewing the concert album.
We were at this concert. I thought I’d burst, I was so excited. The concert was divided into three parts: Evans with trio, Evans alone (his moving remembrance piece for his dead father), and Evans with a big band, arrangements by Al Cohn. The band part was so-so –maybe that’s why it never was released on record. The trio was good but not as good as the classic trio (Evans, LaFaro and Motian) three years before had been, nor as some of his subsequent groups (notably with Eddie Gomez) would be. The solo section was great.
Listening to this trio fifty years later confirms my reaction at the time: masterful piano, solid and responsive bass, no more than adequate drums. Evans seems to play more block chords here, even when soloing, than he did on other albums he recorded around then. It was an approach he had relied on heavily in his very early albums and he did it so well that it’s certainly not a detriment here –just something I observed. Israels was always a solid bass player. He played deeper on his instrument than Scott LaFaro did and my observation –very subjective! —is that he didn’t stretch as far in solo as the brilliant LaFaro did, but there’s no question that he was a good player in the trio, who brought to it the bass counter lines Evans had grown used to with LaFaro and that added so much to the music. The drummer, Arnold Wise? He is barely adequate, better with brushes than sticks, and restricting himself too much to the snares instead of the cymbals. Good drummers with Evans –Motian, Philly Joe Jones, Jack DeJohnette, Shelly Manne- pushed him as much as they followed him. Wise’s timekeeping is okay but timid.
In sum, I’m glad I now own this album because it’s a memory for me. But there are many other albums by Evans that rank ahead of it. Except for the solo piece, it doesn’t spark.
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Before we left New York in 1967, we went with another couple to a dance club in Brooklyn one weekend. It was heavy duty swing dancing. Some of the cats on the floor could have danced with Ballanchine.
ADDITIONAL LISTENING
Bill Evans: “Peace Piece” (1958)