Avenging Angel
(ECM 276 3637)
If your only experience of pianist Craig Taborn has been with, for example, Tim Berne’s Science Friction band, then this solo piano disc might come as something of a surprise. It is for the most part fairly quiet, fairly reflective and the barely-held fury of the Science Friction music is rarely even hinted at. At the same time, that extraordinary precision of touch and tone that Taborn has, even when things are moving at quite a lick, is very much in evidence.
Taborn is one of the most fascinating and original pianists around, and the range of his listening and influences is particularly wide-ranging. Among the pianists he admires are, he told an interviewer, Hank Jones, Cecil Taylor, Earl Hines, Herbie Hancock, Monk, Art Tatum, Artur Schnabel, Nat King Cole and Muhal Richard Abrams.
This disc was recorded in an acoustic – the recital room at Lugano’s Studio RSI – that Taborn can really explore. It has quite an echo when he needs to exploit it with hard-hit high notes, yet he can soften and smooth it too when he wants to.
He describes his method with this music thus: “If the areas of improvisation that I deal with are always ‘compositional’ in a certain sense, in this case a very focussed compositional approach is applied, rather than allowing a broader exploration to yield a result. Throughout this recording I’m honing in on specific details. The music is really improvised: I just start. But having started, I try to relate everything that happens, like the motivic or rhythmic and textural detail, to the initial ideas as closely as I can.”
This focus of intention and Taborn’s clarity of execution makes his music communicate very efficiently – I might not be able to quite get my head around all that he is conveying to me on first listen, but I’m in no doubt that this is not for lack of articulation on his part. And, for such complex music as Taborn is able to produce, it really does communicate a lot, even on first hearing.
It also helps that he keeps his pieces quite contained: some are almost pop-song brief at around three minutes, while the longest is under ten. This is This Voice Says So, which has a remarkable intro of the most eloquent and minimal kind. The listener leans in to anticipate and absorb every note, and Taborn builds ever so slowly, never losing that initial kernel of an idea. The subtlety of his touch here is simply remarkable.
At the other extreme is Spirit Hard Knock which feels like the busiest of ebbs and swells up and down the keyboard in Cecil Taylor, percussive fashion.
Neverland has the feel of a Bach Goldberg Variation passed through a distorting lens, while True Life Near has the most poignant sense of yearning at its heart, and Forgetful could acquire a steadier beat and some lyrics to become a really compelling jazz ballad. Perhaps that is because it seems to get stuck on the opening notes of What Now My Love at one point?
One piece is called A Difficult Thing Said Simply – and that could be a nicely-put explanation of what Taborn is doing on this album. Except, of course, that his kind of simplicity is still pretty complex and most sophisticated musically.
I once had to collect Craig Taborn from Heathrow airport in order to drive him to the Cheltenham Jazz Festival. How will I recognise you, I asked him on the phone beforehand. “Oh, you will – I’m the guy with the blond dreads,” he told me. His sound is as immediately recognisable, and absolutely unique. One of the most brilliant pianists – and musicians – working today in jazz and improvisational music.
