Bill Evans: Explorations

It is not easy to review a masterpiece. The celebrated American intellectual historian Perry Miller was once reduced to muttering something like "What am I supposed to say about the damn thing?" The damn thing in question being Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. Professor Miller, meet pianist Bill Evans. Trying to say something intelligent about Bill Evans after so much has been written and said in the now nearly fifty years after his death defines a Fool's Errand. So why bother?

Since 1961, Explorations has been reissued in numerous formats in the United States, Japan, and the United Kingdom, on both CD and vinyl. It probably makes some sense to focus on the reasons for this reissue, presumably different because it is a "one step" pressing that comes much closer in sound quality to the original master tape. This in the "Small Batch Series," by Craft Recordings, an in-house label of Concord Group, which, in turn, was the successor to the Fantasy Label group. The basic selling point, at least among audiophiles and collectors, is sonic, although any limited release (and this series is 2,500 pressings) is apt to be viewed as a collectors' item and, depending on market demand, a potential investment as well. There are listeners—more than a few—who are simply crazy about Bill Evans, especially his celebrated trio with Paul Motian and Scott LaFaro. Some are "completists," who will seek out everything Evans did. And there will be those who are coming to the music long after the originals and some subsequent reissues were made. How well does Craft meet these varying needs?

First, of course, is what a listener hears. There are different ways of evaluating recordings, and people will have different preferences regarding instrumental balance, pitch, timbre. This one must be left to the listener, but at minimum, the sound quality is simply wonderful—no surface noise or distortion, even using a modest system and turntable—far from audiophile equipment standards. Listening to Evans is like walking into a special place. If the piano is not hushed and consequently, ringing out, the recording will not be true to Evans' touch. A second consideration is how easily can one follow the interaction between La Faro and Evans, which is so much of the novelty. On this score, again, exemplary. And then there is the physical production, which includes an all-analog mastering by Bernie Grundman, a foil-stamped linen wrapped slipcase, and new liner notes—unfortunately a bit difficult to read because of the font. That aside, anyone should be happy.

There is not much new to be said about the music, although repeated listening can always be fruitful. Listening to Evans on "Sweet and Lovely" suggests an ironic approach amplified by dissonances—a sense of humor from Evans that has been all too easy to miss.

All in all, a very worthwhile production for listeners serious about hearing Evans as he should have always been heard.