Music and Recording Reviews

Randy Ingram: Sound Within: A Celebration of Bill Evans
Ingram, piano; Rufus Reid, bass; Joe La Barbera, drums
Chill Tone CT0008 (CD). 2026. Ingram, Julian Shore, prods.; Chris Leon, eng.
Performance ****
Sonics *****

The great jazz writer Gene Lees once described the experience of hearing Bill Evans for the first time: "Until then, I had assumed, albeit unconsciously, that I alone had the feelings therein expressed." Bill Evans is personal to people. But is it a good idea for another jazz pianist to record an album of pieces that Evans once played supremely? The answer in this case is yes.

Randy Ingram has said, "The thing that's most important to me about Bill Evans is ... the sound of the piano, and that's something that comes from deep inside. He was never faking anything on an emotional level." Ingram's tribute album works because he too is honest, and the emotions he renders are his own. He starts over with these songs. "Turn Out the Stars" was Evans's requiem for his father. Ingram's version, in 5/4, is also fervent but more restless. Ingram's "My Foolish Heart" is startling. Evans's version, recorded at the Village Vanguard in 1961, was one of the pinnacles of his creative life. It is so haunting, and casts so profound a spell, that it cannot be improved.

Ingram doesn't try. He begins with a free, floating, fragmentary prologue over the urgent stirrings of the brushes of Joe La Barbera, who was Bill Evans's last drummer. Ingram allows the melody to slowly coalesce, as if on its own, then marks it out deliberately, revealing that wistfulness is only one of the song's inherent emotions. It is also a surrender to the revelation of love.

"For All We Know" is an intriguing choice because Evans only recorded it once, in 1979, a year before he died. His version is an elegiac abstraction of a great song. Ingram's interpretation, like everything here, is lush, individual, and deeply felt.

Bill Evans is always in the room when you play this beautiful record, like a benign spirit, an artistic ideal to aspire to.—Thomas Conrad

Matt Slocum: A Revolving Alliance
Slocum, drums; Emmanuel Michael, guitar; Larry Grenadier, bass
Sunnyside SSC 4041 (CD). 2026. Jerome Sabbagh, prod.; James Farber, eng.
Performance ****
Sonics *****

Matt Slocum is an astute drummer and a committed bandleader. His records reflect meticulous attention to detail. One of the production values he pays attention to is sound. He works with two of the best audio minds on the jazz scene, producer Jerome Sabbagh and engineer James Farber. A Revolving Alliance was brilliantly recorded (in first takes) live to two-track analog tape.

This reviewer almost never assigns five stars for sonics; the rating is necessary here. What's more, on Slocum's eighth album as a leader, he does something new, something more important than sound: He introduces a major new talent.

"Introduces" requires qualification. In the last two years, Emmanuel Michael has played on four other albums as a sideman. These few appearances, plus his gigs, mostly at the Jazz Gallery in New York, have started a loud buzz on the street. A Revolving Alliance justifies the hype.

On the opening title track, Slocum initiates a drum pattern that will eventually become a mix of meters. When Michael's guitar emerges in the left channel, all bets are off. He doesn't sound like anyone you know. Because he sustains multiple lines of thought at once, he sounds more like a guitar choir. Layers of calls and responses coexist in the same solo.

As tracks proceed, you encounter many more of Michael's sounds. He can be hard and edgy even as he surrounds himself with diaphanous atmospheric clouds, as on "a disappearing path." He can generate mysterious sonic phenomena, as on "a dissolving alliance." He can spread ringing tones across the musical landscape, as on "new dream." He can adopt a country twang, as on "solstice." Slocum calls Michael "an artist who can reimagine the possibilities of the art form and [his] instrument." It is high praise and deserved.—Thomas Conrad

Kenny Barron/Ray Drummond/Ben Riley: So Many Lovely Things: Live in Brecon
Barron, piano; Drummond, bass; Riley, drums
Elemental 5990464 (2 CDs). 1995/2026. Zev Feldman, Jordi Suñol, prods.; Jed Williams, eng.; Marc Doutrepont, mixing, sound restoration.
Performance ****½
Sonics ****

The "Historical" category is a large part of what remains of the jazz record business. It includes reissues and previously unissued recordings. Often, historical releases are rescue missions: They preserve music, or an artist, or both, in danger of being lost.

Kenny Barron is in no danger of being lost. He is still kicking ass today, at 83. He still places at or near the top of the jazz polls on piano, and he has a large discography. So why was it important to put out this album (which comes from a performance with bassist Ray Drummond and drummer Ben Riley at the Brecon Jazz Festival in Wales in 1995)? The reason is simple: If So Many Lovely Things were a new recording, it would be one of the best piano trio records of 2026.

Barron is not lost, but he is somewhat taken for granted. He is so fluent, so tasteful, so dead-on reliable that he makes everything sound easy. He is not a major innovator, but he is the next logical step in the Tommy Flanagan/Hank Jones mainstream piano progression. Everything that flowed from him on this night in 1995 is elegant and proportional. There is an original ballad, "Nikara's Song," written for his granddaughter, that never became a standard despite its lovely, life-affirming melody. Two other slow songs, "The Very Thought of You" and "Ask Me Now," reveal Barron's flawless timing. He knew exactly when to hold a ballad back and when to release it. On burners like "The Surrey with the Fringe on Top" and "Up Jumped Spring," his natural poise enabled him to generate digressions and addenda at warp speed, without seeming to hurry.

Last point: When Ray Drummond passed in 2025, a certain kind of clean, clear, concentrated, melodically pertinent bass solo became harder to find.—Thomas Conrad