Monday, June 28, 2010

Frank Foster: A Tribute

Many "old school" Jazz drummers played a scaled-down drum kit which meant that they didn't use tom-toms or additional cymbals; nothing but a ride cymbal, snare drum, bass drum and hi-hat. To achieve a tom-tom effect, they turned off the snare drum strainer using a lever to separate it from the bottom of the snare drum. This set-up was the epitome of the Jazz drummer as time-keeper and colorist: setting the tempo, maintaining the time and shading the music, rhythmically. 

No drummer ever played such a limited drum set better than Kenny Clarke who, along with Max Roach is considered to be the father of modern Jazz drumming. Kenny had the tightest "chang-a-dang" cymbal beat of any drummer I ever heard and it generated a heightened sense of propulsion. In the hands of any, other drummer, the 18" ride cymbal that he used to create this momentum sounded like a trash can cover. Go figure?

Technically, Kenny was a very limited drummer, but his ability to swing any size Jazz group was phenomenal. 

You can hear Kenny's amazing abilities to perfection on this YouTube tribute to tenor saxophonist Frank Foster performing his original composition Gracias along with trombonist Benny Powell, pianist Gildo Mahones, and bassist Percy Heath.

As a point of interest, the "Latin" beat that Kenny Clarke initiates at 0:58 seconds is completely pseudo; an approximation and not at all authentic. 

But then, Jazz is all about originality, isn't it? [I always wished that I could play a ride cymbal beat like Kenny Clarke's - a true original].

The tune on this tribute to tenor saxophonist Frank Foster is Gracias, an original composition that appears on his Here Comes Frank Foster Blue Note CD. He and Kenny Clarke are joined by Benny Powell on trombone, Gildo Mahones on piano and bassist Percy Heath.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Philly Joe Jones - A Jazz Drummer Remembered

Phineas Newborn, Jr. [p], Paul Chambers [b], Philly Joe Jones [d], performing Clifford Brown's "Daahoud," 1961. This track is from Phineas' A World of Piano! [Original Jazz Classics OJCCD-175-2/Contemporary-S-7600]. Philly Joe trades eight-bar breaks with Phineas at 2:03 and 2:15 before beginning his own solo at 2:47. Checkout the big-band-styled "shout chorus" at 3:36 before Phineas comes back in to take the tune out at 4:02.

LATIN ESCAPADE - George Shearing

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

Sometimes I wonder if fans of Jazz who grew-up listening to the music in the 1940’s and 50’s realize how fortunate we are that so much of it has been re-issued in CD and Mp3 formats.

Since Jazz, in general, accounts for less than 5% of all recordings sold, it is amazing how much of it has been subsequently released in digital formats.

And yet, for a variety of reasons, more than occasionally we find that a favorite LP regrettably hasn’t been included in this transition.

One such album is Latin Escapade [Capitol T737] which features pianist George Shearing and his quintet. In addition to George, the quintet is made up of a guitarist, vibraphonist, bassist and drummer. Although these are all instruments that must be struck or plucked, George’s group has managed to achieve one of the more beautiful and easily identifiable sounds in Jazz.

The uniqueness of “the Shearing Sound” comes from the way the group states the melody of each tune. This is formed by Shearing playing blocked chords around the notes of the melody with each hand an octave apart and the vibes playing in unison up an octave from the piano’s right hand and the guitar playing in unison down and octave from the piano’s left hand.

When hearing "The Shearing Sound," essentially the listener is experiencing a melody that is harmonized into four-parts in which Shearing's upper melody note is doubled on vibes and the lower note is doubled on guitar.

You can hear this four octave span quite distinctly on every track of Latin Escapade.

The JazzProfiles editorial staff  has developed YouTubes featuring four [4] tracks from Latin Escapade and embed them throughout this feature to enable a Shearing Sound sampling of the music from the album.

The first of these uses Cuban Travel Poster Art with the Shearing Quintet’s version of “Yours.”

Along with vibraphonist, Cal Tjader, who had occupied the vibes chair in George’s quintet before forming his own combo, Shearing was one of the earliest adapters of Latin rhythms in a small group setting.  Many of his 1950’s album contained Latin Jazz tracks or were thematically based on Latin Jazz themes as was the case with Latin Escapade.

George developed such a deep interest in Latin rhythms that he went so far as to insert a segment in his club sets or concert performances that highlighted tunes with a Latin-flavor. During these Latin features, Shearing would augment his quintet with conga drums and timbales with the Jazz drummer in the group playing various Latin percussion instruments, thus creating the instrumentation for authentic Afro-Cuban rhythms.

Of course, George was always a very commercial-minded musician [in other words, he liked to eat regularly and pay his rent on time] and it certainly didn’t escape his attention that dancing to the [then, newly-introduced] Mambo rhythm was a craze that was sweeping the US in the 1950’s.

Hence, the following Mambo with Me cut from Latin Escapade which serves as the audio track to this YouTube tribute to the Mambo:

The long-playing record provided Jazz groups with room to “stretch-out” [i.e.:take longer solos] and it was not uncommon for Jazz LP’s to have 2 or 3 tracks that produced 18-20 minutes of music per side.

During his career, Shearing did make some LP’s with fewer cuts per side, especially with the quintet in performance, but he made many more with the more commercial or popular music format of 12 tracks per LP.

Although Latin Escapade belongs in the latter category, its finely crafted and well-executed arrangements, while easy on the ear, are anything but commercial.

With none lasting longer than 3:35 minutes, each of the album’s twelve tracks is a miniature musical masterpiece.

George is the only soloist and during his solos he reveals a thorough familiarity with Latin Jazz piano stylings; particularly the heavy use of riffs and “montuno” [repetitive refrains].

All of these qualities are reflected in this YouTube which uses vintage postcards of Cuba from the University of Miami’s collection and Mi Musica Es Para Ti [“My Music is For You”] from the album as its audio track.

George has always had an ear for pretty melodies. He can swing hard, too, but his affinity for appealing airs results in a healthy variety of ballads on all of his recordings. He always arranges his treatment of such tunes very artfully so as to further enhance their beauty and, in many cases, their romantic or alluring aura.

At a time in the 1950’s and 60’s when AM radio in Southern California still offered programs that specialized in “mood music,” it was not uncommon to hear a Shearing Sound ballad treatment during one of these late night broadcasts.

One such example of Shearing's charming way with a ballad can be found on his Latin Escapade interpretation of Ray Gilbert and Osvaldo Farres’ haunting Without You, the audio track to this You Tube commemorating The Shearing Sound.

Born in 1919, George Shearing is still with us although no longer performing. In 2007, he became Sir George Shearing when he was knighted by Her Royal Majesty, The Queen of England, for his services to music. Incidentally, I wonder if Sir George’s longevity is contagious as Latin Escapade guitarist Jean “Toots” Thielemans and vibraphonist Emil Richards are also still on board.

Over the years, in addition to leading his marvelous quintet, Sir George has performed with Nat King Cole, Peggy Lee, Mel Torme and a host of other vocalists. More recently, he has appeared in concert with guitarist and vocalist, John Pizzarelli.

In addition to the recordings that he has made with these artists, George has a substantial discography under his own name – none better than Latin Escapade [1956].

After sampling the music on this album, we hope you will agree.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Solo Vibes with Gary Burton

In the JazzProfiles feature on Larry Bunker and Gary Burton, mention is made of Gary's revolutionary 4-mallet technique. Here's a YouTube produced by KPLU/Jazz 24 that offers a close-up of Gary's brilliant technique and musical sensibilities in action. The tune is O Grande Amor. The editorial staff would like to thank Jim Meikel in Coquille, OR for bringing this clip to our attention.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Guitarist John Scofield performing his original composition "Carlos" with The Metropole Orchestra. Vince Mendoza conducts the orchestra. The concert took place on February 17, 2006 at Muziekgebouw aan't IJ [Amsterdam, The Netherlands].

Friday, June 11, 2010

Bill Charlap

Bill Charlap: The Natural

He always leaves something to remember him by.

© -Whitney Balliett, copyright protected; all rights reserved. The New Yorker, April 19, 1999.

“There is a secret emotional center in jazz which has sustained the music since it outgrew its early melodic and rhythmic gaucheries, in the late twenties. This center, a kind of aural elixir, reveals itself when an improvised phrase or an entire solo or even a complete number catches you by surprise and sends tremors up your spine. When these lyrical bursts happen in night clubs or at concerts their lovely afterimages inevitably fade. Caught on recordings, though, they last forever

So here, in no particular order, are some classic recorded beauties: the first twelve or so bars of Louis Armstrong’s second solo on both takes of "Some of These Days," played in a revolving half time in his low register and unlike anything else he ever recorded (Columbia; 1929); the eerie, almost surrealistic melody that Paul Gonsalves fashions on the first bridge of a "Caravan" done with Duke Ellington (Fantasy; 1962); Charlie Parker's stunning two-chorus solo on "Funky Blues," replete with an opening now-listen preaching figure, a shivering, sotto-voce run at the start of the second chorus, and a dodging, ascending climactic figure (Verve; 1952); the cluster of soft, keening notes that Joe Lovano plays near the end of "Lament for M," a dirge by Gunther Schuller written in memory of his wife for "Rushhour" (Blue Note; 1995); the Sidney de Paris-Ben Webster-Vic Dickenson-James P. Johnson-Sid Catlett "After You've Gone," certainly as close to a flawless jazz recording as exists (Blue Note; 1944); and all of the remarkable pianist Bill Charlap's "Turnaround," an Ornette Coleman blues that he fills with huge, stuttering chords and sailing-along-the-tonal-edge single-note lines (Criss Cross; 1995).
Indeed, Charlap is a lyrical repository. At thirty-two, he is the best, but least well known, of a swarm of gifted pianists who have appeared in New York in the past ten years or so. He has already filled much of the sizable space once occupied by Bill Evans, who still reverberates almost twenty years after his death. Unlike many of the younger pianists, whose tastes tend to be parochial, Charlap has absorbed every pianist worth listening to in the past fifty years, starting with Art Tatum, Teddy Wilson, Duke Ellington, Jimmy Rowles, Erroll Garner, Nat Cole, and Oscar Peterson, then moving through Bud Powell, Thelonious Monk, Hank Jones, Tommy Flanagan, and Bill Evans, and finishing with Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, and Kenny Barron. His ballad numbers are unique. He may start with the verse of the song, played ad lib, then move into the melody chorus. He does not rhapsodize. Instead, he improvises immediately, rearranging the chords and the melody line, and using a relaxed, almost implied beat. He may pause for a split second at the end of this chorus and launch a nodding, swinging single-note solo chorus, made up of irregularly placed notes - some off the beat and some behind the beat - followed by connective runs, and note clusters. He closes with a brief, calming recap of the melody. His ballads are meditations on songs, homages to their composers and lyricists. He constantly reins in his up-tempo numbers. He has a formidable technique, but he never shows off, even though he will let loose epic runs, massive staccato chords, racing upper-register tintinnabulations, and, once in a while, some dazzling counterpoint, his hands pitted against each other. His sound shines; each note is rounded. Best of all, in almost every number, regardless of its speed, he leaves us a phrase, a group of irregular notes, an ardent bridge that shakes us.

Charlap has a narrow, handsome face, attentive eyes, and a direct, ready-to-laugh voice. He talks fast, and when he talks about his music he gradually accelerates. Here is what he said recently: "I don't ever remember not playing the piano. Everything was by ear at first, and I'd pick out everything I heard. When a teacher came to the house, I'd charm my way through the lesson. It was very painful and slow for me to learn to read music. The songs of Arlen, Gershwin, Porter, and Berlin were paramount in my house, so jazz is about vocalism for me. Even a drum is vocal. To me, there are three steps in improvisation. The first involves the player's concentration, his heavy thinking. In the second, he becomes almost blasé, and he lets his fingers do the walking. And in the third he is detached from what he is doing. He's moving the pawns of the music, yet he has become a listener, who's, like, sitting there and watching what he's doing. From this stage, you go on to experience that supreme feeling, that omnipotent feeling at the heart of improvising."
Charlap knocks out both his musical contemporaries and his musical elders, some of whom are almost twice his age. The matchless bassist Michael Moore made a tight duo album with Charlap in 1995 (Concord), and has said of him, "So many players of Bill Charlap's generation haven't digested Jimmy Rowles, maybe haven't even heard of him, one of the greatest pianists. A lot of the young piano players today take themselves so seriously that sometimes their solos turn into complete piano concertos. They eat everything on the musical table and leave nothing for anyone else. But Bill goes right through each tune to the bone. He has a great imagination, and he has lightness and humor, even the pratfall kind of humor. We played a kind of Mafia Christmas party a while back, and when the guests sang the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' Bill played something totally different behind each person. He did Stockhausen behind a guy who couldn't carry a tune, and he played the 'St. Louis Blues' behind a woman who thought she could sing."
The guitarist Gene Bertoncini is another Charlap admirer, He was part of a spectacular trio that included Charlap and the bassist Sean Smith and drew S.R.O. crowds on a 1996 jazz cruise on the S.S. Norway. (Selections from the trio's three spacious performances are available on a Chiaroscuro CD, "Gene Bertoncini with Bill Charlap and Sean Smith.") "What I admire, aside from his playing, is his incredible knowledge of songs," Bertoncini said recently. "Whenever I work with him, he'll say, 'Gene, have you heard this song from 1947, or this song from 1938?' So in that way, although he's only thirty-two, he's an old man."

Born on East Fifty-first Street, in New York, Charlap grew up in a musical and theatrical atmosphere. His mother is the singer Sandy Stewart, and his father, who died when Charlap was seven, was the songwriter Moose Charlap. Moose wrote most of the music, with Carolyn Leigh, for the Mary Martin "Peter Pan" that was on Broadway in the mid-fifties. And he wrote the music, with Eddie Lawrence, for a still lamented 1965 musical called "Kelly," which got terrific reviews in Philadelphia but was disastrously fiddled with at the last minute by its producers and closed in New York alter one night. Lawrence has said, "Moose loved to laugh, and he loved to sing. He had a gravelly, wonderful voice - a rough kind of thing, like Aznavour. When he died, we were working on a musical about Paul Gauguin." Bill Charlap went to the Town School and to the High School for Performing Arts when it was still in a dilapidated building on West Forty-sixth Street. He spent a year or two at SUNY-Purchase, and he studied classical piano, but, he says, "My classical piano was not authentic. I was speaking classical piano with a jazz accent. A teacher I had asked me why I played everything with street rhythms." Gerry Mulligan hired Charlap in the late eighties, and he has since divided his time between his own trio and random gigs abroad and with the Phil Woods Quintet.
You have to search for Charlap in New York. He did four nights at the Knickerbocker Bar & Grill, on University Place, in January, and he was at Zinno, on West Thirteenth Street, with his trio-Peter Washington on bass and Kenny Washington on drums-for five days, in March. The gig at the Knickerbocker was hard work. Most people go there to eat and drink and talk, and the piano is almost an afterthought. It sits on the floor hard by a low wall that separates the huge main room from the thundering bar. Charlap's first number on his third night was a medium-tempo version of Kurt Weill's "Here I'll Stay." It was full of backpedaling chords, loose, almost atonal single-note lines, and a couple of mercurial arpeggios. The din in the place was palpable, but Charlap's passion for his music was immediately clear in his playing and in his bobbing, tightly masked face, which stayed a foot or so above the keyboard. Six people near the piano clapped at the end of the tune. His next number, Gerry Mulligan's "Curtains," got eight claps, and Irving Berlin's "The Best Thing for You" got ten. Cole Porter's "All Through the Night," played at an up tempo, was the last number in the set and, when it began, a heavy, middle-aged, wool-wrapped Irish couple stood up in the bar to leave, stopped ten feet from the piano, and listened, their big Irish faces still and pleased. They clapped twice before they left, and there were twelve more claps from the main room. Charlap has said of the Knickerbocker, "It's a great place to practice when you're not working that night."

In the meantime, before Charlap's next New York gig (with Phil Woods at the Iridium, early in June, and with his trio at Zinno later in the month), find his newest CD, "All Through the Night" (Criss Cross), and listen carefully to the start of the second full chorus on Alec Wilder's "It's So Peaceful in the Country." Charlap, leaving a beautifully chorded and measured melody chorus, steps off into a handful of unevenly spaced single notes, a firm four/four rhythm underneath, and the earth suddenly moves.”

Friday, June 4, 2010

Fellini Jazz

Enrico Pieranunzi's quintet performing Nino Rota's title track to Fellini's "Il Bidone" with Chris Potter [ts], Kenny Wheeler [tp], Charlie Haden [b] and Paul Motion [d], followed by "Fellini's Waltz" played as a duo by Pieranunzi & Haden.

Enrico Pieranunzi: Part 3 – Solo Piano & The Italian Film Composers

“Pieranunzi is not an extravagant virtuoso; his self-effacing manner recalls something of Hancock, but he uses all the ground-breaking modern discoveries in modality, rhythm and the broadening of pianistic devices to his own ends.”

- Richard Cook and Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.

“…a luminously lyrical pianist, with a constant flow of ideas.”

– Nat Hentoff

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

Spending time with the music of Enrico Pieranunzi while preparing this retrospective, one is amazed at its range. Perhaps diversity would be a more accurate term.  It is a though he is constantly challenging himself with new quests in search of some kind of Holy Grail of Improvisation.

Changing musical formats, performing with a wide-variety of different cohorts, composing original compositions, adapting music from other sources into Jazz; Pieranunzi’s music is always fresh and full of surprises.

In more recent years, two themes have become central to Enrico’s music: [1] he has added more solo piano to his repertoire and in a sense returned to his roots by [2] adapting the work of Italian film composers to a Jazz context.

In this concluding segment of our three-part feature on Pieranunzi, we will briefly highlight each of these focuses.
© -Laurent Poiget, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

Laurent Poiget, writing in French on his blog, and very freely translated into English for our purposes, had this to say about the 2007 release of Pieranunzi’s  Parisian Portraits, solo piano CD [EGEA 137]:

“Enrico Pieranunzi has been called ‘The European answer to Bill Evans,’ and while there is some truth to this stereotype, as there is in all stereotypes, this effort to typecast only offers one aspect of the total ouevre of his musicianship.

Because of their unadorned and unaccompanied nature, the eight original compositions and four standards that make-up Parisian Portraits allow the listener entry into Pieranunzi’s complex musical world and a basis for judging whether he is but a replica.

As an example, one could use Bill Evans' treatment of Cole Porter’s What is This Thing Called Love from the 1959 Portrait in Jazz album and compare it to Pieranunzi’s version on this recording. 

In doing so, the listener will no doubt hear in the Evans treatment, a more traditional rendering with Porter’s theme expressed faithfully and in an immediate recognizable manner from the start.

With the Pieranunzi interpretation, over forty years later, it is as if a century of the music has been crossed. We are in the presence of the musical equivalent of a Cubist, a déconstruite; one must concentrate to perceive traces of the tune as the melody is never clearly exposed.

In the Pieranunzi adaptation, the Porter standard is little more than a vehicle upon which to base an improvisation; one that is filled with an increasingly rich and dark tension that concludes with a contrasting series of soft phrases.

I went on to listened to recordings of this tune by fifteen, different pianists made over the past forty years and none of them compared to Pieranunzi’s re-creation.
With What is This Thing Called Love and the “charms” of other music from Parisian Portraits in mind [like many Italian musicians, Pieranunzi is a great “seducer],” I wonder how he could ever be viewed as merely a clone of Bill Evans?

While listening to Pieranunzi’s music, one feels the quality of touching that allows for the exploration of nuances; the richness of the harmonies; the absence of chattering; the compactness of the musical statements.

This is a disc that you will return to your CD player on many, future occasions.”

With apologies for the somewhat flowery translation, in this review, Poigret makes the important point that with Pieranunzi, we are in the presence of a unique and mature musical mind.

His is ability is such that he is able to go anywhere he wants to in the music.

Another example of Pieranunzi’s, at times, astonishing musical acumen can be heard in what he does on Parisian Portraits with My Funny Valentine. What he manages to do here is create a melody that is almost as gorgeous as the original theme – which he never plays! You can hear this superb creation via this YouTube link.

Taking music from one context while making it his own in another is also evident in Enrico’s Jazz adaptations of the music from Italian film scores.

Pieranunzi Johnson Baron Play Morricone  [CamJazz 7750-2]
“The expression ‘special project’ is now a very fashionable term, and not only in jazz. Well then, to carry out this project has truly represented something special for me.  During the 1970s and 1980s, I indeed had a very close encounter with Ennio Morricone’s music, playing as a studio man in dozens in films whose soundtracks were composed by him. To find myself now arranging that music, and structuring it so that it could work as an extemporization vehicle for the trio has been, as is easily understandable, a very special experience, a breathtaking full immersion. It has represented the opportunity of blending my musical world with that of a musician whose sonic world is full of suggestions and mastery, able to create and enormous range of emotions. The other reason that makes this CD very special to me is that I realized it with two great musicians like [bassist] Marc Johnson and [drummer] Joey Baron, extraordinary for sensitivity, feeling and fantasy. Those passionately fond of jazz already know something about our past in common (this is the fourth CD we record together). Marc, Joey and I have been sharing, over time, a long and important musical path. Well, once again, thanks to the music put together for this CD, the ‘miracle’ has happened again. What I like to call ‘the trio of my heart’ allow me to again experience … some of the most intense and profound moments that a musician could live.”  – Enrico Pieranunzi 2001

You can sample of the music from the Morricone CD by clicking on this YouTube link to Addio Fratello Crudele.

“Surprised!  I was very surprised on first impact when I listened to the beautiful elaborations by my dear and esteemed friend Enrico Pieranunzi, of Marc Johnson, and of Joey Baron. Surprised, in admiration, euphoric about the positive performances where the original pieces, rediscovered and respected, have a new physiognomy, and the jazz interpretation of these three great soloists doesn’t destroy the pieces, but values them. I can only dearly thank Enrico for all that he has included in this CD, for his musical culture and for his greatness. I shall listen to this brilliant endeavor with much joy, again and again. – Ennio Morricone 2001

Although, strictly speaking, Doorways [CamJazz Cam 5001] is not an adaptation of film music to Jazz, Ira Gitler’s review of it does relate to his subsequent insert notes to Fellini Jazz [CamJazz 5002] and is included here for purposes of continuity.

“In the space of a couple of days last November, I received two e-mails, one from Santiago, Chile and the other from London. Both of them were in praise of Enrico Pieranunzi’s Fellini Jazz. In of itself it was not surprising that two knowledgeable jazz observers recognized the singular experience of this CD but to hear from both of them in such a small window of time was unusual. It was gratifying to know that Enrico and CamJazz were reaching foreign shores. The few reviews I saw here in the United States were laudatory but too many people outside of Italy (where, in Musica’s Jazz critics’ poll, he was voted Musician of the Year and Fellini Jazz was named #2 Record of the Year) are asleep on Pieranunzi.

Many young musicians are trying to put a personal stamp in their interpretations in the long and varied tradition of the jazz mainstream but so are some older masters and we should listen to them well. Pieranunzi is one who has absorbed the music of Charlie Parker, Lennie Tristano and Bill Evans (who himself listened beneficially to Tristano) and internalized it within his Italian heart and soul: an intellect that never forgets to feel.  Anyway from the piano he can talk about music insightfully but he doesn’t just ‘talk a good game,’ he plays one as well. By using varied contexts and instrumental combinations of different sizes Pieranunzi continues to stimulate his imagination and ours as well. Basically, Doorways  is a series of duets between Pieranunzi and drummer Paul Motian with tenor saxophonist Chris Potter making a trio on three numbers.
‘All the material included here,’ says Pieranunzi, ‘was conceived and composed especially for this session.  Nothing was a previously composed piece, re-arranged for the duo or the trio. Every tune was written, having in mind the combination of piano and drums, a sound I had already experienced with Paul (a live concert performed in 1992 and issued on CD by Soul Note as Flux and Change in ’95) or the combination with Paul and Chris, a young musician of whom I have the highest opinion because of his ability to combine the tradition with a very, open-minded improvisational approach.

I’d also like to remark here, as a pianist, that this kind of music is possible with a very few drummers in the world and Paul Motian is among these. He widened the conception of drumming. Showing how to make the instrument a perfectly melodic one, able to play “lines” that perfectly interact with the ones played by other instruments.’

Each “Double Excursion,” 1,2, and 3 is totally improvised and different from its mates in length and detail. Motian shares co-composer credit with Pieranunzi. Their telepathy is evident throughout the three versions and in #3 Paul sets the table.

Enrico named “No Waltz for Paul” to ‘ironically stress the original, unique way Paul plays a waltz. It’s so special that sometimes a waltz played by him doesn’t even sound like a waltz. The title is also a tribute to his artistry.’

“No Waltz for Paul” and the other material, more ‘charted’ by Enrico than “Double Excursion,” will, no doubt, yield new improvisatory shapes and sounds in any given future performances. The two versions of “Utre” give more than a hint of this. The title, as Pieranunzi explains it, ‘comes from combining the first two musical notes. These notes, are, in fact the two notes on which the main motif is based. Actually, in Italian these notes are named “do” and “re.” I preferred to use the old Latin name of the first note,”ut.” Hence, “Utre.”

Walk through these Doorways and discover for yourself one of the world’s true musicians and highly talented cohorts, stretching boundaries without neglecting form and (as Pieranunzi always does), giving us foord for the mind and balm for the soul, although not necessarily in the same composition. Enrico the Enricher! 
– Ira Gitler 2002

Fellini Jazz [CamJazz 5002]

“In the period following World War II there was a renaissance in the film industry of Italy. Roberto Rossellini’s Roma, citta - aperta (1945) and Paisa` (1946) – known respectively, in the United States as Open City and Paisan – heralded the arrival of Italian neo-realism and were artistic and commercial successes on both sides of the Atlantic.
Frederico Fellini, then in his mid-20’s, served as a screenwriter on the first of the two films and as an assistant director on the second. In the 1950’s he blossomed as his own as a director.  I remember well the impact I Vitelloni had on me (and my friends) when I first saw it. I had been attending foreign films in my pre-teen years and was not intimidated by reading the subtitles. (This was far better than the later alternative of dubbing. I unequivocally boycotted all dubbed foreign films.) Although I was looking at images and simultaneously reading titles I was also hearing the actors. Even if, for the most part, I didn’t understand the language, the very sound of it and the expressiveness of the actors voices added to the total experience. The, of course, there was the universal language – music.

As I continued to view Fellini’s films I came to know the memorable themes which complemented the cinematic necromancy of the director and learn the name of his chief musical collaborator, Nino Rota.

While in the midst of writing these notes I happen to come across a documentary about Fellini on the Sundance television channel. In it there is a section devoted to the relationship between Fellini and Rota: the ambiguous requests to Rota (“Give me a happy song but make it sad” and so forth); and Fellini calling Rota “a magician … the melodies are already out there in the air and he finds them. He’s like those people who find water with a stick.

In one scene Rota is seated at the piano. Fellini has told him that he needs music for a new film. Rota begins playing a melody, expansively, its bittersweet nostalgia sweeping up and down the keyboard. “That’s it,” he says to Rota, and there he has the theme song [to the film] Amarcord.

Enrico Pieranunzi considers this project “one of the most exciting and challenging in my musical life, both for the musicians involved and for the music I was asked to arrange.” First of all, Pieranunzi pointed chose Chris Potter, Kenny Wheeler, Charlie Hayden and Paul Motian. He and producer Ermano Basso agreed, as Enrico explains it, that “these musicians were the best actors for such a difficult musical, film. “I tried to conceive these arrangements by relating them to the specific peculiarities of the players … when I heard them in the studio it was a dream coming true.  “

Pieranunzi draws an analogy between how jazz musicians play and a director such as Fellini shaped his films. “There is in common the tendency to always look beyond, for what is under such things,” he says, “a constant, tireless effort to express the mysterious, hidden areas of ourselves that have their roots in the subconscious, human reality.”

You will notice that all the movies from which the music derives (save Amarcord and La Citta` Delle Donne/City  of Women, both of the 1970s), are from the 1950s. These are Pieranunzi’s favorites. “I think that these movies bear a perfect balance between realism and the introspection of the characters: realism and imagination.”

“These movies remind me a lot of my childhood. Atmosphere – moods that these movies show are still inside me. Incidentally,” he continues, “I was three years old when I Vitelloni was made and at that point I had already been well-nourished with a lot of Charlie Parker, Django and Lennie Tristano whose music my father used to play on his 78s.”

It would be a hollow experience for me to attempt to describe the feeling that … [Pieranunzi and his colleagues] bring to these recordings, whether playing themes or improvising on them. I must, however, stress how everyone immersed themselves in the music, sonically and ‘wig-wise.’

As I implied earlier, after experiencing Fellini’s films not only the images but the music remained in my head; now these themes and the brilliant interpretations resonate in a new way as I sit in the darkened theater/illuminated screen of my mind.”  Ira Gitler 2004

Since this piece about Pieranunzi and his music has now run to over 30 pages in manuscript form[!], and while there is so much more of his music to listen to and to write about, we will stop for the moment and conclude this visit with a few remarks from other Jazz writers.

Hopefully, this three-part feature will have served as a beginning or an entrée into the music world that is Enrico Pieranunzi.


Samuel Chell … allaboutjazz… his voice-leading …  is complex and masterful, making the most unexpected harmonic progressions seem inevitable. The other strength of the Italian pianist is the singing, aria-like quality of the tone he is able to extract from his percussive instrument.

John Kelman …allaboutjazz …The simplest stories often reveal the greatest depth. So, too, can the simplest songs yield richer meaning. Italian pianist Enrico Pieranunzi makes that abundantly clear with Ballads, an album so gentle it can almost pass by unnoticed. But pay attention and what may appear to be a collection of easy-on-the-ears songs prove to be much more.
Alone Together

Dave Nathan… allaboutjazz…The pianist, like one of his influences Bill Evans, manages to combine elegance with thoughtful demeanor.

Dream Dancing

John Kelman … allaboutjazz … Pieranunzi has yet to attain …  iconic status, but as the years pass he's becoming increasingly influential


Thomas Conrad … The recent Ballads and the double album Live in Paris (on Challenge) are among the essential piano-trio recordings of the new millennium, because Pieranunzi’s vast technical expertise is creatively informed by a single purpose: to make the piano sing.