Lacy/Waldron

Hatology 4-596

I’ve long treasured half of this recording, the half which I acquired when it was released as a Hat twofer called ‘Round Midnight (collecting two of the original four Hat Hut LPs, the other two of which were disc-a-fied as The Peak). Together, these four records document a week’s residency at Paris’ Dreher by the long-standing duo of ex-pats soprano specialist Steve Lacy and the melancholic piano master Mal Waldron. This is a fitting monument to one of the most inventive, enjoyable, and long-standing partnerships in improvised music, beginning with Lacy’s 1958 Monk program Reflections, continuing through their move to Europe, and lasting from their return to active partnership in the 1970s through their final tours (including one in the U.S., where they played magnificently) in the early 21st century (ending, sadly, with Waldron’s death in 2003).

Throughout their shared history, the two developed an extraordinary musical simpatico, a language of interwoven lines as dense as a double helix and equally mysterious. Yet these releases constitute their first official documentation as a duo. Over the course of these four discs (and here’s hoping that the Hat reissue program continues by the way, as it seems to with the recent reissue of the Giuffre/Bley/Swallow concerts), the decades-old friends cycle through familiar material – mostly Lacy originals, with the occasional Waldron tune, and a handful of Monks – but do so with an ever-present spirit of invention. No tired by-the-numbers playing, this is spontaneous music at its best. Even on pulse-based pieces like “Bone” (one of my personal Lacy faves), Waldron can – with that effortless architectural wizardry he possessed – divert the whole performance with an unexpected lyric fantasy pushing through his characteristic dark clouds.

There are also unexpected rarities, such as the delightfully abstract “I Feel a Draft.” The 17-minute reading of “The Peak” itself is something of a laboratory for these two singular approaches, ranging from concentrated lyricism to sudden jagged dissonances (which conjure up the imagery of the title) to down-low rhythmic movement. Lacy’s subtle alteration of his tone in mid-line, even mid-note, is captured beautifully here, as is Waldron’s now heavy, now fragile chordal architecture. It’s fascinating to hear how their moods change over the course of a set (and over the course of this brief club residency): at times they bounce from tune to tune, delighting in their rapport and improvising with playful freshness (say on Waldron’s “Hooray for Herbie”), while elsewhere they fall deep into melancholy and linger . . . And across these four discs, when Waldron is left to play alone, he often finds himself in a rhythmic space where he sounds as if he might break into “Snake Out” at any moment (he does so only twice).

It’s a real joy for me to revisit the music I’ve long known in context with the other half of these recordings. Though there is quite a lot of music here – just shy of 262 minutes in total – and it’s best absorbed one disc at a time, this is a sparkling example of two modern masters perfectly matched in their idiosyncrasy. Newcomers might scoff at the playlist and its apparent repetition; after all, there are multiple versions here of “’Round Midnight,” “No Baby,” “Well You Needn’t,” “Herbe de L’Oublie,” “Snake Out,” “Let’s Call This,” and “Epistrophy.” But that would be like saying about that beautiful Paul Klee hanging in your living room, “it always looks the same.” This music changes and grows with you, with each listening.