John Donegan: Interfuse

When jazz musicians reach the autumn of their years, they tend to go one of two ways artistically. The first, and perhaps the most common path taken, is to slow down; composing dries up and the gaps between recordings inevitably lengthen. The second way is to burn with even greater creative fire, becoming more prolific than ever before. John Donegan, the Cork-born, England-based pianist, belongs in the latter category. Over half a century after cutting his teeth on the jazz scenes in Cork and Dublin, Donegan has hit a purple patch in his eighth decade, with Interfuse being his fourth album in as many years.  

Whereas Shadows Linger (2022), Light Streams (2023) and We Will Meet Again, Sometime. (2024)—all on Jayde Records—were sextet outings, Interfuse strips things back to a piano trio setting—with multi-reedist Richie Buckley weighing in on a handful of tracks. Donegan cites his primary influences as the key post-bop pianists, and his playing and composing, at times, is overtly derivative. Thelonious Monk's blueprint is all over Donegan's bouncing delivery on "Blues Jive," while Buckley's handsome solo points to Blue Note Records—the era of Cannonball Adderley and John Coltrane—as Donegan's compositional touchstones.

 In the melodic lilt and rhythmic lift of "Five To One"—inspired by a quintet of great Irish writers—there are shades of both Vince Guaraldi and Dave Brubeck, while "Rumba de Ciudad" leans towards a pleasant, old-school Afro-Cuban vibe. All but two of these compositions have surfaced on previous Donegan recordings. Such recycling and reconfiguration of material is nothing new in jazz; it was bread and butter to Duke Ellington for one—a pianist whose unflashy yet elegant style is reflected to some extent in Donegan's approach to his instrument, especially on ballads. Though Donegan burns it up on album bookends "Blues Jive" and "A Kite for Kate"—the title track of his 2019 album—his most affecting playing here is on the tender solo piano piece, "Song for Clara," where every note is rendered in a heartfelt manner.

In drummer John Daly—the beating heart of jazz in Limerick—double bassist Bernard O'Neill and the aforementioned Buckley, Donegan is lent sympathetic support. The playing is engaging throughout, but it is only on the fade-out of "Five To One," when the unit is swinging and Buckley is flying all sails to the wind, that the ensemble's potential to go beyond formulaic structures suggests itself. A little more of such open-ended adventure would have elevated a perfectly decent recording- -one not without its highlights—onto a more rarefied plane.

In his prolific latter years, Donegan might just concur with Samuel Beckett, whose character Krapp ventured in Krapp's Last Tape (1958): "Perhaps my best years are gone... But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now."