Tommy Flanagan: Solo Piano

A solo piano outing is the perfect opportunity to experience the style of a pianist in its purest form. Without the interaction with other musicians, there is only the instrument and the artist, and every musical trace and train of thought can be followed. Unfortunately, it is also rare sometimes to experience such musical soliloquys. While great pianists like Art Tatum and Thelonious Monk have often explored the medium, others are far more reluctant about playing piano alone and recording solo recitals. That is why it is nothing less than a small event that the solo piano album of Tommy Flanagan, simply titled Solo Piano, is back in circulation because Flanagan did not record many solo albums.  

The album was originally released on CD in 2005 by Storyville Records and contains previously unreleased solo recordings from Zurich in 1974. However, the release history of the album is a bit muddled. Besides the eleven tracks that make up the reissue of the album on vinyl, also on Storyville, an additional nine tracks could be found on the original CD version. It turned out that those additional recordings were not by Flanagan, as pointed out by writer Ken Dryden in his Allmusic.com review.

Now that the error has been corrected, Flanagan's artistry is allowed to shine without distractions, and there is still more than forty minutes of superb music to be enjoyed. What is remarkable about Flanagan is his sense of balance. Balance between bop modernism and swing. Balance between notes and space. Balance between the resonance of the pedal and the dry, clear sound of the tangents. Finally, and not least, balance between the pure beauty of sound and the pleasure of melody.

The compositions he plays here are not his own but belong to the great tradition of jazz, and yet he makes them his own, from the opening with two Bud Powell tunes, "Parisian Thoroughfare" and "Wail," to a Billy Strayhorn medley that is a musical tour de force. There is something light and unworried about Flanagan's playing. He brings out the sunshine in Powell and Monk, whose melody, "Ruby My Dear," is carved out in stone like the sculpture of a great master.

Even when he is alone, Flanagan can swing like a full band, but it is the ballads, like the aforementioned "Ruby My Dear" and the standard "If You Could See Me Now" that show his abilities as the storyteller he really is. Anyone who wants to understand why a great contemporary pianist like Eri Yamamoto is so enamored with Flanagan can start here.