Brad Mehldau: Fantasy & Reveries

No matter how much one rightfully reveres Brad Mehldau for his countless, blissful moments of spirited melodic inspiration, quiet etudes, and pure pop, there are those moments (gratefully few and far between) when the pianist comes on a bit too purposeful. A bit too cerebral. When he pushes that former impulse aside, he creates one of those rare moments when everything goes right. And, when everything goes right, everything sounds right, making Fantasy & Reveries a warm, inviting, sincere communication among peers. And let us not forget we are all peers on this disappearing planet, no matter what our talents and circumstances prescribe or deny.

A campfire warmth envelops you as you embark on Fantasy & Reveries. Originally commissioned by classical pianist, Avery Fisher Prize recipient and MacArthur Genius, Jeremy Denk, "Fantasy for Piano" rolls out in that everyman/everyday classicism Mehldau exudes and excels in. And sure as the sky is blue, "Fantasy for Piano" bares hints of Bach's grandiosity and the pianist's own reverence, but it is played with a human touch, like Mehldau is actually in a room at home with a piano and a few folding chairs. He even supplies fourteen reveries as snacks.

Most similar to his Suite: April 2020 (Nonesuch, 2020) in its intimate resonance, all "Fourteen Reveries" harken moments of vulnerability, daydream, interaction, and reaction. "Fourteen Reveries: 6" echoes "Fantasy for Piano." But that is okay. We all echo someone. We are all peers after all.

Mehldau solo is always one of the great gifts the oligarchs will never strip away, and "Fourteen Reveries: 7" is all the proof anyone needs. So too the quiet recitatives numbered "Fourteen Reveries: 9" with its darkly beautiful hue of late autumn. The bluesy "Reverie: 3." The brief and bright lyricism of "Fourteen Reveries: 2." "Fourteen Reveries: 4" is that composer's moment wherein the listener trusts the orchestrator wholeheartedly. And if "Fourteen Reveries: 4" conjures visions of Keith Jarrett wheeling behind his keyboard, that is, again, very okay. We all echo someone. We are all peers after all.

Depending on how both the listener and critic listen to Fantasy & Reveries, it may or may not stand up against such mic-drop classics as Live In Tokyo (Nonesuch, 2004) or the magisterial, gem filled, 7CD set, Art of the Trio Recordings: 1996—2001 (Nonesuch, 2011) or even the humble, folk elegance of his first brilliant flash Elegiac Cycle (Warner Bros, 1999). But that is, to echo the sentiment, okay. It is very okay and very special to be truthful. Fantasy & Reveries is here and now and precisely what is needed to silence the extraneous info-noise of the day.