Bill Evans: At The BBC 1965

Pianist Bill Evans' only performances at London's British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) were taped in March 1965 and broadcast in May and December of that year in two half-hour segments. As it is impossible to invoke Evans' name without adding the word "legendary," that will be done now to avoid needless repetition.

This was Evans' second working trio, with bassist Chuck Israels answering the call after Scott LaFaro's untimely death. Larry Bunker replaced Paul Motian, who had taken another gig. There is no perceptible loss of quality, as Evans, Israels and Bunker had been working together for a couple of years before the BBC performances were taped.

The televised programs, Jazz 625, were hosted by bandleader Humphrey Lyttelton. Evans wrested no new items from his customary musical playbook, choosing instead to follow a rather straightforward path that consisted entirely of time-tested standards and original compositions (including two of his own), most of which he had played many times before. The better-known composers include George and Ira Gershwin, Harold Arlen, Victor Young, Irving Berlin and Miles Davis. Evans wrote "Re: Person I Knew" and "Waltz for Debby," Earl Zindars penned "Elsa" and "How My Heart Sings," John Carisi wrote "Israel." British composers Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse weighed in with the lovely ballad "Who Can I Turn To."

Lyttelton is heard briefly on both sets introducing the trio, while audience reaction to each number is either wildly enthusiastic or electronically enhanced, which is odd considering that Marc Myers refers, in his excellent liner notes summary of the concerts, to the audience's "subdued reaction." As presented on CD, the response is far from subdued. It is, rather, more akin to overzealous.

This is vintage Evans, at the zenith of his power, and there is not much more anyone can add to that. The music is charming, the trio alert and harmonious, the jazz component exemplary. The lone downside—if indeed there is one—lies with occasional distortions that serve to remind the listener that these tapes are, after all, more than sixty years old. Israels and Bunker suffer more from those flaws than does Evans, although the piano has its moments of imbalance as well. Even so, this is the (fill in the blank) Bill Evans, which should provide more than enough pleasure to override any minor glitches in the tapes.