Franck Amsallem: The Summer Knows (un été 42)

Not so young, but still foolish: arduous is the path chosen by pianist, composer and singer Franck Amsallem, a lesser-known figure—outside his immediate performance circle—even among some of the jazz world's most avid and encyclopedic enthusiasts. Nevertheless, this musician's name should appear in that roster of outstanding French baby boomer keyboardists mentioned in Pierre de Bethmann: Sharing a Musical Breakfast in Lyon.

There are several reasons for this unintentional and unfair ignorance: his current thematic approach, formalized in post-bop rooted in mainstream orthodoxy, combined with a format (the standard quartet and piano trio) quite common in the jazz universe, places him in an overcrowded silo where standing out—regardless of one's level of excellence—becomes an almost titanic challenge. Amsallem's personal piano style evolution does not help either. He is favored with technique as flawless as it is restrained, avoiding showy displays, unpredictable dynamics and the relentless building of that satisfying tension that some, including geniuses, have overused. Conversely, his music sketches a landscapes of gentle contours, where ostentatious or overloaded elements are unwelcome. Except in certain pieces, Amsallem's touch prefers to gravitate with the imperceptible, stealthy softness of an evening mountain mist, even when interpreting fiery standards of swing or bebop with controlled passion. Listening to his work, consequently, demands undivided attention and a certain knowledge of the genre's tradition and history to be fully appreciated—something, by the way, almost always advisable.

Finally, his popularity is further limited by the distinctive spelling of his French given name and a surname that remains unfamiliar to most in the English-speaking world: a combination that undoubtedly complicates searches on online platforms and websites and has led to regrettable errors in the past, such as with the first edition of Summer Times (Sunnyside, 2003). It is worth noting that the surname originates from Sephardic Jewish communities in North Africa and has some presence in France—clarifications that may seem initially irrelevant but shed light on Amsallem's life journey, born in 1961 in Oran (then part of French Algeria) and later immigrating to Nice, in the French department of Alpes-Maritimes. There, an interest germinated that led him eventually to the well-traveled route toward Boston's Berklee and its subsequent, inevitable leap to New York City, before settling back in France—specifically Paris—after several years.

His beginnings in the highly acclaimed Out A Day (OMD, 1992) now remain somewhat blurred, with its four stars from the Penguin Guide to Jazz On CD (2000) twinkling from what seem like light-years away. That album primarily features original works and clearly reflects the inspiration of giants like McCoy Tyner and Herbie Hancock. While these touchstones are still there, Amsallem's current style has shifted towards others—less well-known but perhaps more apparent—that will be revealed later. Nonetheless, his stylistic territory remains one still being tracked by cautious masters like George Cables or Kirk Lightsey. Over twenty years ago, Amsallem was already reflecting in Franck Amsallem Waits for His Time on his search for a simplicity that demands not to be confused with the easy or obvious. That was a turning point, both personally and musically, when the artist started recording standards—thematic material that until that moment had previously been secondary compared to his numerous own creations, a handful of which appear in various Real Books.

Despite his formidable previous quartet effort—Gotham Goodbye (Jazz&People, 2019)—mostly featuring original works, in The Summer Knows (un été 42), Amsallem returns to the trio and, mostly, to standards exploration, some of them quite obscure. He utilizes these elements to emphasize a search for essence and melodic purity, which guides his current creative focus. Unexpectedly, he does not sing on it, something he has been doing since 2009—somewhat suggesting a Tony Bennett without vibrato—in almost all his releases, whether explicitly or more discreetely, like in At Barloyd's (Jazz&People, 2018): nine records with piano as the main instrument, collected in a demanding yet stunning box set where Amsallem, alongside eight other French pianists, contributes a sober magnificence that manages to elude temporal and stylistic limitations.

It is interesting to quote some of Amsallem's comments on his most recent project and the trio that structures it. Regarding his sidemen, Amsallem states that "I wanted to surround myself with musicians who would give me a new lease on my musical life since they came of age 25 years after me. Discovering David Wong and Kush Abadey playing together, I realized immediately they would naturally grasp my very particular tempi and grooves." It is clear then that he aims to invoke a renaissance, not through a stylistic change, but by fostering renewed internal dynamics along with two vibrant, fresh and contemporary perspectives. Both Abadey and Wong are talented musicians with significant potential. They are in high demand and have collaborated with prominent artists such as Ethan Iverson and Melissa Aldana in Abadey's case, or Helen Sung and Samara Joy in Wong's. They also currently serve as the rhythmic foundation for Cecile McLorin Salvant's touring band. True to his words, the Franco-American prefers to share credits with them, rather than establishing himself as the leader of a new 'Amsallem Trio.' Regarding the album's content, it features a thoughtfully curated selection that blends jazz and non-jazz pieces by various artists with three original compositions by the pianist. No track exceeds eight minutes, and the solos, in turn, avoid disproportionate lengths, sometimes leaving listeners wanting more: restraint, restraint, restraint.

With its cover bearing the air of an antique print that carefully folded and wall-to-wall hung, has survived various moves, The Summer Knows (un été 42) is dedicated to the memory of drummer Anthony Pinciotti, who suddenly passed away at the end of 2024. The album opens with a galloping "Blue Gardenia," echoing Ahmad Jamal's early work from the very first note; however, looking even further back, one can also glimpse traces of Erroll Garner and Nat King Cole, who, with his orchestra, first recorded this piece. The refined moderation and confident melodic clairvoyance of the Montgomery-born—surely better known for his melodic singing than for his role as an important pianist and innovator—persists and renews itself in Amsallem's hands. The next track marks a significant thematic shift: "La chanson d'Hélène" is a song from the 1970 film Les Choses de La Vie, originally sung by Romy Schneider and Michel Piccoli, the film's protagonists. This is an intensely romantic theme, which Amsallem somewhat relieves of its dense glaze while maintaining full respect for its formal roots, all under Bill Evans's attentive gaze. Bass and piano emphasize a shy rhythmic motif amid the overall softness, and Amsallem successfully captures the longing for an illusory past, with Abadey providing subtle drive. After such soothing near-somnolence, "Unforgettable" gently jolts us with another dose of swing. Amsallem re-establishes his pianism in the '30s and '40s of the last century, insisting on his references to Cole, who first recorded the piece, which means going back to Teddy Wilson... and beyond. His playing exudes 'joie de vivre' and evolves gracefully, exploring endless melodic and harmonic possibilities, while Wong emerges with authority to channel Ray Brown's spirit.

"You Won't Forget Me" invigorates the version that most listeners probably have in mind (with Keith Jarrett's permission)—that of the incomparable Shirley Horn... with some trumpet involvement, of the unmistakable kind; even more so with its first rendition, sung by Helen Merrill in 1955, with the momentary presence of another of Amsallem's models, Hank Jones. In contrast, this reading features a treatment with a certain Tyner-esque quality in the right-hand attack, though it is softened by a left hand that is far less explosive than that of the renowned Philadelphia jazz giant. This measured tension is welcome, and Wong and Abadey weigh in with controlled but vigorous enthusiasm, particularly evident in the drummer's excellent solo. In sharp contrast, Michel Legrand's highly familiar "The Summer Knows" (another cinematic material, very dear to a notable contingent of jazzmen) reestablishes a nostalgic and introspective mood that illustrious predecessors like Tommy Flanagan would gladly sign. Amsallem remains particularly faithful to the source, drawing brilliant motifs in the upper register as he immerses himself in a concentrated exploration, seeking the melodic marrow of the song. He is superbly assisted by Wong, who excels in both comping and a succinct, cantabile solo.

Similar vibrations are present in the album's third slow, "It Never Was You," which was composed by Kurt Weill for a 1938 Broadway musical and later covered by iconic voices such as Judy Garland and the afore-mentioned Bennett. Amsallem, so, continues his mission to rescue old works that have long been overlooked, giving them a well-deserved opportunity for revival. On this occasion, the pianist sutures the sentimental vein through timeless emotional depth, highlighting the melancholic melody and its fascinating bridge with exquisite finesse. The result is a beautiful ballad that evolves in rubato, like the languid waves of a smooth and tranquil sea, and paradoxically, it stands out as one of the disc's most substantial tracks.

"Morning Star" is the last track based on others' creations. This piece by composer Rodgers Grant was initially covered by Hubert Laws on a 1972 release of the same name. Amsallem grants it an atmosphere à la Cables, with subtle tautness in the exposition followed by an incisive and well-constructed solo, possibly his best and most complete on the recording, revealing more of his rhythmic and harmonic abilities. Later, Wong joyfully explores his bass's highest register and Abadey joins the celebration in the frugal final climax.

Special recognition is deserved by the three new original compositions included here. The first, "Agrigento," is perhaps the most interesting, a suggestive mid-tempo whose atmosphere transports us to James Williams' territory. It is dominated by a vamp as simple as it is magnetic, introduced in the initial exposition but, as is proper, reserved for a resplendent finale. Along the way, Wong and Abadey endorse Amsallem's previously quoted phrase about his new collaborators' qualities, spurring the leader and interacting with him with discreet mastery. The second new piece is introduced by a wordplay that hints at a possible continuation of Duke Ellington's nearly homonymous theme, though endowed with an irresistible hard bop feel. "Cotton Trails" unfolds with a sometimes nervous execution, with Amsallem displaying deft rhythmic manipulations and non-confrontational disharmonies in the low register. The three musicians build a crescendo leading to the final exposition, sharply emphasized by Abadey. Finally, "Disclosure" closes the album with syncopated tension, featuring the leader delving deeper—though briefly—into Tyner's universe; but Thelonious Monk is also present, with those skillfully disguised yet easily noticeable dissonances. At the same time, Amsallem brings us back to his earlier style in the '90s, as well as to his always more energetic live performances. Wong delivers another impeccable intervention, leading to a conclusion that is the only one on the entire disc that ends abruptly.

'Old Wine, New Bottles'? True, Amsallem's musical approach might not be considered revolutionary. Still, there is a quiet rebelliousness in going against the flow. Amidst a growing compartmentalization of tastes and trends—ranging from cheerful yet fossilized neotraditionalism, a decaffeinated coffee shop jazz, a neo-bop as muscular as it is often soulless, to a genre-blurring electric/soul/funk/rap-jazz fusion that routinely loses its core—this Amsallem's proposal stands apart. It offers an almost-maverick yet superb option for those more hesitant to embrace abstraction, who still believe in the validity of swing, bebop, cool, hard bop and that resulting conglomerate called mainstream, as well as in their multiple evolutionary possibilities, conceived without amputating some non-negotiable core features. That said, we fear that the substance and form of his proposal— these are bad times for subtlety—guarantees Amsallem, as the 2003 interview on this website announced, will continue "waiting for his time" for a while. Needless to say, we hope this period is as short as possible, and we genuinely look forward to witnessing its arrival and, most importantly, to hearing it.

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