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Re: Another Piano Prodigy
> I suppose since Glenn Gould didn't care much for jazz, this post will be
> a bit off topic,
Well, not really. People point at Oscar Peterson, whose connection to gg
is limited to their native city Toronto. But the connection to Bill Evans
is interesting since they share some personal traits. There used to be a
site (http://www.billevans.org/Archives/GGandJAZZ.html) that got destroyed
under a hacker attack, but luckily I cut&pasted the article and even found
it in the depths of my computer (of course in the so well organized
Linux-corner). You find the article below.
> Michael Kaeshammer was born in Germany but he is now a Canadian. He is
> 25. If you get a chance to attend one of his concerts, do yourself a
> favor and go. Outrageous things -- in the middle of a jam session of
> "On a Rainy Day" he played a section of Rondo alla Turca. The person
> next to me gasped "What is that?" I replied "Mozart." Kaeshammer is
> perhaps too modern for many jazz enthusiasts. He did prepared piano in
> one piece. Overall, his approach is very modern.
Now, that sounds intriguing. What was the setting he appeared in?
>From what you tell us, you should check out Lyle Mays as well
(http://www.openbook.gmxhome.de/index_5gazette.html has some bits on him).
Later,
Jost
"I have always preferrred playing without an audience."
Bill Evans.
Evans (1929-1980) was, by all available evidence, Gould's favourite jazz
pianist; his record collection contained seven Evans albums, more than of
any other jazz musician, and he also owned a score of Claus Ogerman's
Symbiosis, a work recorded by Evans. Indeed, Symbiosis, which most
critics
consider a relatively minor work in the Evans canon, held a special
interest
for Gould. In a 26 August 1977 broadcast in the CBC radio series Arts
National, Gould, as host, played part of the recording of Symbiosis, and
delivered the following brief commentary:
The producer, arranger, conductor, pianist and coach for the album
Classical
Barbra was the German musician Claus Ogerman and, when not advising
Streisand on the care and feeding of Handelian appoggiaturas, Ogerman
dabbles in several other musical areas as well. In 1973 he composed a
forty-minute work for piano and orchestra called Symbiosis, with the
piano
part being written for and, in its premiere recording, played by the
American, Bill Evans. I'm not really what you might call a jazz buff and
I've never been able to get interested in what the Americans would call
"third stream," [i.e., music that fuses classical and jazz principles]
which
roughly describes the territory explored by Symbiosis, but I think that
in
many respects this is a rather remarkable work. Much of it is what we
classical types insist on calling through-composed - music in which every
note is written out; other segments provide for only the harmonic
outline,
plus a generous helping of figured-bass, and the soloist is expected to
embroider accordingly. These sections are, to my ears, somewhat
underwhelming - there's just too great a discrepancy between the
spontaneous
(or supposedly spontaneous) noodlings of even so gifted an artist as Bill
Evans and the very sophisticated structural scaffolding which Ogerman has
erected. But the through-composed sections are really quite marvelous:
Ogerman has a staggeringly inventive harmonic imagination and the first
of
Symbiosis's two movements, in particular, is possessed of enormous sweep
and
drive.
In addition, the following quote attributed to "legendary classical
pianist
GlennGould," appeared on a 1994 CD release of Symbiosis, though I have
been
unable to trace the source for it: "What a tremendous impression it has
made
upon me. Symbiosis is very much my kind of music. I have been listening
[to
it] almost obsessively. ... [It has] had a particular influence upon me
over
the years."
Gould and Evans also enjoyed a personal relationship. Evans' biographer,
Peter Pettinger, refers to a friendship between the two; they apparently
talked often on the phone, and Gould even attended Evans' concerts in
Toronto (a letter written ca. 1972, to an unnamed fan, suggests as much).
Gene Lees, a prominent Canadian jazz musician and writer, and a friend of
both Gould and Evans, introduced the two in the early 1970s -
appropriately,
by phone - and later gave Gould some of Evans' albums. But the two
pianists
had already known each other's work for years. Lees recalled:
The relationship between Glenn and Bill Evans began just after Bill
recorded
Conversations with Myself [in 1963]. I knew how much he loved Glenn's
playing. Indeed, he'd said, "If I could play Bach like that, I'd be a
contented man." And Glenn had a new album about to come out - Mozart
sonatas, as I recall. I had what I thought was a stroke of genius. I
suggested to the editor of High Fidelity that we try to get Glenn to
review
Bill on one page and Bill to review Glenn on the other. Both of them
agreed.
I sent Glenn a test pressing of Bill's album, which caused him to say to
me,
"He's the Scriabin of jazz," an oft-quoted remark. (I did not know at the
time that Bill was a Scriabin lover.) I got a copy of Glenn's new album
for
Bill, and then the deal fell through: Bill chickened out. I think he was
daunted by the task.
In addition to a love of solitude, Gould and Evans shared many other
similarities, not the least of which was their nearly contemporaneous
lifespans. Evans listed as influences a group of composers all (except
one)
of whom were also favoured by Gould: Bach ("certainly essential to any
musician"), Brahms, Bartok, Hindemith, Schoenberg, Beethoven, and Mozart.
His posture at the keyboard was just as distinctive and brought his face
as
close to the keys as Gould's, though Evans slumped from above rather than
peeing up from below. "To be aware of the sound - that's why he hunches
down," explained jazz pianist Richie Bierach of Evans' posture. "When
your
head is like that, you hear the stuff, your ear is lower."
"I began with classical music and, hearing good music in jazz, I was
naturally drawn to it," Evans explained. His trios, especially the one he
led in the early sixties with bassist Scott LaFaro and drummer Paul
Motian,
often succeeded in their goal of becoming an improvising aggregation of
three equal voices, spinning contrapuntal lines of great complexity and
integration. Evans' harmony was the most complex that had been heard in
jazz
to that time; "a lot of Bill's harmonic conception, he told me, came out
of
playing Bach," said his friend and fellow pianist Warren Bernhardt. He
often
dramatically altered the harmonic structures of the pieces he played,
omitting the root note in his voicing of chords to create a constantly
evolving chromaticism that could be called "infinite harmonic
take-two-ness." It was probably Evans' harmonic originality that inspired
Gould's "Scriabin of jazz" remark. (His harmonic sensibility has much in
common with the high chromaticism of Gould's String Quartet, Opus 1.)
Evans
also shared Gould's fascination with serial composers and composed two
pieces - "T.T.T." and "T.T.T.T." - based on twelve-tone principles. His
compositions and improvisations are admired by musicians of all genres;
the
Kronos Quartet and pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet have made classical
recordings based on them.
Evans also experimented with recording technology. Gould owned a copy of
the
landmark 1963 record Conversations with Myself, on which Evans, perhaps
inspired by Tristano's earlier efforts, plays duets and trios with
himself
via overdubbing. (According to Pettinger, Evans recorded this remarkable
work on the Steinway CD 318 piano so beloved by Gould, who at the time
was
recording Bach's D-major Partita.) Gould also owned a copy of Evans' 1967
sequel, Further Conversations with Myself. Evans' intricate melodic and
harmonic interweaving on these albums may have influenced Gould's
"contrapuntal radio documentaries," in which multiple voices speak
simultaneously.
Gould evidently valued Evans' musical opinions. In his letter from ca.
1972,
he wrote that "a very celebrated jazz pianist, Bill Evans, was giving a
concert in Toronto and mentioned to me that on several recent occasions
he
had played and was enormously impressed by the Yamaha instruments." After
the demise of CD 318, Gould switched to a Yamaha piano, for such late
recordings as the second Goldberg Variations. He may have recognized, as
have many others, that the clarity and incisive touch of Evans' piano
style
closely resembled his own.