Masabumi Kikuchi: Hanamichi--The Final Studio Recording Vol. II

Japanese pianist Masabumi Kikuchi (1939 -2015) enjoyed a decent profile via his albums under his own name—30-plus discs—and from his work with drummer Paul Motian and bassist Gary Peacock in his Tethered Moon group. But he deserved more. He was an original who worked in an inspired—if somewhat quirky—journeyman fashion until he bloomed in his late career with a pair of excellent albums on the ECM Records label—Sunrise (2009), a trio outing with bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer Paul Motian; and 2012's Black Orpheus, a solo, in concert album.

By this time his career was almost over—he succumbed to lung cancer in 2015—and had found his voice. He played out his notes parsimoniously and slowly. It was a spare approach, somewhat akin to Paul Bley's work on Open, To Love (ECM Records, 1972). His improvised pieces were invocations; his takes on the standards were revelatory.

The posthumously released Hanamichi: The Final Studio Recording (Red Hook Records) was offered up in 2016, featuring music from a 2013 studio session produced by Sun Chung, who had started the Red Hook label after ten years of working with ECM Records. It was an excellent session, capturing Kikuchi playing when he had attained the perspective that allowed him to reduce the music to its pure essence—a taciturn, beyond time and tempo style that allowed for the savoring of the beauty he was creating.

This brings us to Hanimichi: The Final Studio Recordings Vol. II, recorded at the same session as the first Hanamichi. This follow-up is every bit as compelling as its predecessor, in the use of silences, delicacy of touch, juxtaposed with bursts of garrulity—used sparingly—and a floating sound and harmony.

Kikuchi presents four standards separated by three craggy and angular improvisations. He treats the Great American Songbook like a slab of malleable clay. "I Loves You Porgy" seems more improvisation than a covering of a standard, with fleeting bits of melody that hold it in the orbit of familiarity, just barely. "Manha de Canarval" is a piece of off-center beauty, truer melodically to the original perhaps than "Porgy," and Kurt Weill's "My Ship" has a quiet grandeur. The improvisations have a searching quality played out by Kikuchi's curious nature, using what he called "cloistered originality."

Kikuchi was unconventional. His music came from his soul, and his soul was a beautiful thing.

Comments