Pat Thomas: HIKMAH

Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery—except, perhaps, when pianist Pat Thomas takes on the music of jazz legends. In those cases, what emerges is not imitation at all, but transformation. On albums such as Plays the Music of Derek Bailey & Thelonious Monk (FMR, 2008) and Pat Thomas Plays The Duke (New Jazz and Improvised Music Recordings, 2022), Thomas engages directly with the work of others, yet always sounds entirely like himself. He is, in every sense, the genuine article.

Thomas' piano—and occasionally his electronics—has been heard alongside Evan Parker, John Dikeman, John Butcher and Thurston Moore, and in some of the most forward-thinking ensembles in contemporary improvisation: Shifa (with Rachel Musson and Mark Sanders), اسم [Ism] (with Joel Grip and Antonin Gerbal) and أحم [Ahmed] (with the addition of Seymour Wright). Across all of these contexts, his sound remains unmistakable: intellectually probing, physically assertive and spiritually attuned.

Hikmah, which follows two recent solo releases—The Bliss of Bliss (Konnekt, 2025) and The Solar Model of Ibn Al-Shatir (Otoroku, 2024)—reaffirms Thomas as a singular voice in improvised music. The title track, "Hikmah" (meaning "wisdom" in Arabic), alternates between moments of meditative stillness and percussive bursts of energy. Thomas invites the listener both to focus deeply and to drift freely, as though caught between prayer and dream. His left hand often provides an anchor, while the right hand ventures into the unknown.

"For Caroline L. Karcher" begins with a loping, deliberate gait that gradually gathers intensity, boiling over with Thomas' robust, physical attack. "The Shehu" unfolds like a slow-motion stride piece, its pulse steady and its harmonies exploratory. "For Toumani Diabaté" radiates gentleness and reverence, its phrasing imbued with a quiet spirituality. In contrast, "For Luqman the Wise" is performed entirely inside the piano, its resonances felt as much as heard, while "For McCoy Tyner" bridges the instrument's interior and exterior worlds; an homage that captures both Tyner's power and Thomas's inventiveness.

Across Hikmah, Thomas balances contemplation with confrontation, humility with boldness. His playing seems to ask: What is wisdom if not the ability to listen—to oneself, to silence, to the vibrations of others? In exploring those questions, Thomas reaffirms that imitation has nothing to do with mimicry. For him, it is a dialogue with history, and in that dialogue, his voice rings clear and true.