Michel Petrucciani: Kuumbwa

Recorded live on May 11, 1987, at the Kuumbwa Jazz Center in Santa Cruz, California, this album catches pianist Michel Petrucciani during an inspired phase of his career. It was not his first visit to the venue. While living in Big Sur—about an hour south of Santa Cruz—Petrucciani had befriended saxophonist Charles Lloyd, who was on a hiatus from music. Encouraged by the young French pianist, Lloyd gradually resumed playing, eventually forming a duo with Petrucciani that performed at the Jazz Center.

Petrucciani was born with osteogenesis imperfecta ("glass bone disease"), a condition that severely stunted his physical growth. He died at just 36, making him only 24 at the time of this Kuumbwa recording alongside bassist Dave Holland and drummer Eliot Zigmund. In the album's accompanying notes, Zigmund reflects on his nearly five years performing with Petrucciani. Having previously worked with Bill Evans, Zigmund offers fascinating comparative insights into the two piano greats—though by the time of this concert, Petrucciani had long grown beyond the Evans comparisons, showing instead a strong influence from French pianists Martial Solal and Bernard Peiffer.

Produced for release by Zev Feldman, the album is meticulously curated and accompanied by insightful liner notes. Feldman assembled reflections from Alexandre Petrucciani (the pianist's son), French journalist Thierry Pérémarti, Kuumbwa founder Tim Jackson, and Italian pianist and Petrucciani admirer Enrico Pieranunzi.

In his notes, Pieranunzi remarks about Petrucciani that it "saddens me that he has been somewhat forgotten over the years." If true, it is an unfortunate indictment of the jazz audience that such a monumental figure could fade into obscurity. Petrucciani's legacy extends far beyond sheer pianistic skill; he triumphed over physical hurdles that might have resigned others to a lifetime of self-pity and depression. Instead, he channeled his life force into music that was joyful, exuberant, rhythmically propulsive, and spontaneous. His unrelenting drive and passion rightfully secured him a place among the genre's finest pianists.

Petrucciani displays his Gallic roots on "Autumn Leaves."  After Holland introduces the piece, Petrucciani unspools a series of brilliant variations, at times veering beautifully close to abstraction.

"My Funny Valentine" is taken at a brisker pace than usual. Whenever Petrucciani flirts with sentimentality, he swiftly course-corrects toward a more assertive, hard-hitting mode. Here, Dave Holland solos magisterially, delivering lines full of depth and a resilient swing.

Afforded ample solo space throughout the recording, Holland's presence is significant. His bass playing is unique in its combination of an exceptionally strong time feel and genuine melodic independence. With a deep, dark sonority and rich, sinewy elasticity, Holland propels the music forward. His powerful technique and strong ideas command attention, perfectly complementing Petrucciani. Rather than treating the bass as a mere foundation, Holland uses it as a conversational instrument—moving fluidly between supportive rhythmic structures and leading melodic roles. His improvised bass lines routinely sound like fully realized melodic statements rather than ornamental decorations.

To capture Petrucciani's essence, Pasqual Anquetil, head of Le Centre d'Information du Jazz, wrote: "It is difficult to summarize a personality so rich and full of contrast in a few words. Like all great artists, he was everything and its opposite—at once joyous, cheerful, serious, tender, direct, available, attentive, charming, capricious, tolerant, violent, joking, crafty, festive, and bawdy—Rabelaisian in his enormous appetite for life. He was also an incorrigibly sentimental man who was never embarrassed to cry when emotionally moved."

This is an album that is a wonderful memory of a lost genius who had a blistering talent.  Petrucciani is all about vitality, passion, speed and an unceasing desire to swing with an increasing torrent of ideas coupled with introspective lyricism.

Musician and writer Mike Zwerin—who observed Petrucciani for years, wrote "It can be said without rhetoric that he was the personification of the victory of the spirit over the flesh."