Myra Melford - Satoko Fujii: Katarahi

When four hands meet across 176 keys, is it even possible for pianists to check their egos at the stage door? Piano duets, by their very nature, often invite comparison—even confrontation. Consider the 1977 encounter between Mary Lou Williams and Cecil Taylor, the high-profile 1978 concerts by Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea, or Kris Davis and Craig Taborn's Octopus (Pyroclastic, 2018). Each of these pairings carried the tension of a musical grappling match. Even Bill Evans' overdubbed Conversations with Myself (Verve, 1963) suggested an internal struggle. If that competitive impulse is the norm, then Katarahi by Satoko Fujii and Myra Melford stands as a striking exception.

Fujii and Melford's connection stretches back to 1994, when Fujii studied with Paul Bley at the New England Conservatory. Her debut recording, Something About Water (Libra, 1996), a duo with Bley, reflected his influence while already hinting at her emerging voice. The pairing with Melford began in 2007 with a performance in Tokyo, later documented on Under the Water (Libra, 2009). Since then, the two have reunited periodically across Europe and the United States, developing a rapport that deepens with each meeting. Katarahi, recorded live at the 2024 Jazzfestival Leibnitz in Austria, captures that relationship at a mature and intuitive stage.

From the opening "Interlude I," a composition by Melford, their shared language is immediately evident. Lines interweave with a sense of purpose rather than competition, the two pianists moving as if guided by a single intention. Fujii's "Signpost" expands into an extended improvisation, yet the sense of unity remains intact. On "Pairs," the music builds from quiet exchanges into surging momentum, a dynamic interplay that balances delicacy with force.

What is most striking is how indistinguishable their voices become. Even attentive listeners would struggle to identify who is playing what at any given moment. Both pianists adjust their touch, phrasing, and timing to meet the other, creating a seamless blend. The fact that they switch pianos midway through the concert further dissolves any attempt at separation; the left and right channels offer no clues. The music resists individual attribution, favoring a collective identity instead.

It is only in the closing piece, "From Sometime," that the performance takes a more turbulent turn. The simmering energy finally erupts, with both pianists exploring the instrument's interior, drawing out raw, percussive textures that edge toward chaos. Yet even here, the intensity feels shared rather than contested, a culmination rather than a clash.

Katarahi ultimately redefines what a piano duo can be. Instead of rivalry, Fujii and Melford offer reciprocity; instead of display, they create dialogue. Their music suggests that when two strong voices truly listen, the result is not competition but convergence, a single, expansive sound that could only exist in the space between them.