Benny Green – Renovation

The ultimate academic discipline in jazz: solo piano. This is the challenge Benny Green takes on during a live session at Dizzy’s Club in New York.

If Benny Green belongs to that select group of musicians, and pianists in particular, who need no introduction, it is nevertheless worth recalling his musical lineage and his fruitful collaborations with Freddie Hubbard, Ray Brown and Oscar Peterson, not to mention his highly distinguished tenure with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers. It is worth pointing out that Green performed the one and only solo-piano piece in the entire Jazz Messengers discography, with his recording of I’ll Never Be the Same.

His playing draws on a blend of influences from Barry Harris, Kenny Barron and Cedar Walton, alongside the rhythmic swing of Fats Waller and the elegance of Hank Jones.

Another major influence is Bobby Timmons, acknowledged here through a reading of This Here, while a nod to Duke Pearson comes with the opening performance of the eponymous For Duke Pearson, a piece originally commissioned by Wynton Marsalis for the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra.

A deeply committed and convincing exponent of the piano-bass-drums format, Benny Green now takes on the solo setting, seeking to recreate the atmosphere and conditions of a trio by incorporating bass lines and the rhythmic pulse of the drums into his piano playing. To appreciate the way he juxtaposes these imagined timbres, one need only listen to his brilliant reworking of Randy Weston’s Hi-Fly.

Perhaps he has even gone beyond it.

Benny Green represents both a formidable command of the piano in the service of constantly varied interpretations and a mastery of the keyboard that opens up a broad spectrum of temporal references, transcending stylistic boundaries. His touch is assured yet free, capable of stepping beyond the limits of academic convention while still respecting a strong sense of tradition (Wiggin).

The soloist’s art here lies in offering a wide range of harmonic constructions and carefully considered reinterpretations without ever falling into an excess of phrases. The word, like the touch, is simply: precise. Abrupt tempos (Sophy’s Chant) alternate with gentle melodic lines (Two Sleepy People); calculated silences and flashes of onomatopoeic invention all find their place in a recording that proves a masterclass in the art of solo piano.

And throughout, there is an almost paradoxical pursuit of perfection, an art of perfection that becomes the perfection of Art itself.

If Benny Green is not at the very summit of his art, he cannot be far from it.