Myra Melford: Splash

Pianist Myra Melford returns to the classic piano trio format for the first time since The Guest House (Enja, 2011), her acclaimed outing with Trio M with Mark Dresser and Matt Wilson. This time, the lineup is no less formidable: bassist Michael Formanek and drummer/vibraphonist Ches Smith—both commanding improvisers and bandleaders—join her for a set that reaffirms the trio as a site for invention rather than formula.

As with her 2022 quintet project For the Love of Fire and Water (Rogue Art, 2020), Melford's compositional spark here comes from the art of Cy Twombly, whose work blends abstraction and symbolism in ways that find an analogue in her own methods. Across ten compositions, she frames clear thematic architecture while granting her co-conspirators ample freedom to roam within the conceptual boundary fence, an approach that favors interplay over display.

The opener, "Drift," immediately confirms, this is ensemble music. Formanek's pliant bass riff and Smith's buoyant pulse provide a launchpad for a piano theme tightly coiled yet porous enough for spontaneous detours. Melford builds from the material without severing melodic or rhythmic ties, while bass and drums free up in that amorphous realm between commentary and dialogue, before cresting in a muscular climax. Formanek answers with a pizzicato solo—staggered, lyrical, and buoyed by chiming piano and Smith's resonant vibes—until the percussionist transitions gradually back to the kit for a taut recapitulation.

Melford's openness is especially pronounced in the three "Interlude" tracks. On "Interlude I," Formanek's bowing rises and falls like an incantatory supplication, as piano and vibes entwine in a motif of crystalline clarity. "Interlude III" features Smith's metallic clank and shimmer over rippling bass and forceful piano fragments. As in his tenure with Tim Berne's Snakeoil, Smith's idiosyncratic mastery of the vibraphone serves as more than ornament—it extends the harmonic and textural range, something Melford exploits to the full, as it surfaces on almost every cut. A piano/vibes axis might summon thoughts of chamber intimacy, but while there are moments of bucolic gentleness, they are more than offset by unfettered eruptions.

That volatility explodes on "Wayward Time," where Melford's terse, declarative phrases meet a thorny weave of bass and percussion. The pianist's two-handed flurries slice through the thicket, riding the trio's shifting density rather than imposing over it. On "Dry Print for Twombly," she unfurls into a cascade of closely knotted figures, evoking a crammed minimalism, before spilling into sweeping glissandi—an assertion of the piano's percussive potential that complements her structural acuity.

Rather than treating the trio as a reduction from larger groups, Splash envisions it as an expansion inward, revealing how much space and drama can be conjured from three distinct yet deeply attuned voices. Melford's writing gives shape without constriction; Formanek and Smith respond with a shared vocabulary that makes each piece a sustained act of collective creation. It is a reminder that the piano trio, in the right hands, remains one of jazz's most elastic and exploratory vessels.