Ron Carter & Yotam Silberstein: Duets

The concept of virtuosity is often misunderstood as an outsized display of technique.  In truth though, by definition and in reality, it's about mastery.  Such expertise is just as likely to be shown in measured command as it is to appear as fireworks, and this absorbing duo date is a firm reminder of that fact. 

Legendary bassist Ron Carter and eminent guitarist Yotam Silberstein each possess extraordinary skills and have the wisdom and experience to know when not to flaunt them.  That balance between sparkle and spare elegance is what makes Duets such a delight to behold.  Crafted in part as a tribute to the late Jim Hall and a nod to the Carter-Hall partnership—and recorded, by divine coincidence, on Hall's birthday—this music, nevertheless, speaks to its own creative duo-logue.

Across eight performances, Carter and Silberstein traverse styles, language and states of being.  Opening on "Nova Ilusão," this pair demonstrates the draw of a gentle Brazilian sway.  Carter's work is supportively buoyant, his note choices providing better direction than any compass could, and Silberstein's melodic suggestions and flourishes mesh beautifully with his low-end companion's perfectly placed lines.  "Love Letter" swings and sings brighter than many a take on that Victor Young and Edward Heyman classic.  Carter delivers a walk to remember, Silberstein shines with both single note splendors and quality chording, and all is right and tight in the flow.

Two Silberstein tunes—the album's only originals—follow that opening diptych and prove complementary.  "Blues for Brother Malone," dedicated to noted guitarist Russell Malone, a longtime member of Carter's musical circle who passed away while on tour with the bassist in 2024, lives in the composer's and honoree's shared wheelhouse.  Tempo and tone are all about downhome sophistication, a "Sonnymoon for Two" quote serves as the baton handoff between solos, and an earthy grace prevails at every turn.  "Rain Again," in a different vein, is purity in precipitation and conversational blend.

"The Lamp is Low," born in the '30s and bound to Ravel-ian influence, offers energy without ego.  Both musicians find a swinging stride and pace each other throughout. Vernon Duke and Yip Harburg's "What Is There To Say?," another standard drawn from the same era, is firm finesse close to the heart.  In both tracks/cases, Carter and Silberstein captivate by finding something new to say in the most well-worn of settings.

Irving Berlin's "They Say It's Wonderful," in penultimate placement, unfolds with sprightly significance, reflecting its own aura and optimism through singing strings.  Then it's a bop-leaning bon voyage in the form of tenor saxophone slinger Johnny Griffin's "Mil Dew." A lively and interactive exit, this performance affirms what can be heard all across Duets—virtuosity in its truest form.