Home >> Bill Evans >> Conversations with Myself
Bill Evans
Conversations with Myself
Bill Evans,
Piano
Awarded GRAMMY BEST JAZZ ALBUM 1963
Inducted into GRAMMY HALL OF FAME 2000
Recorded
at Webster Hall
New York, NY
Ray Hall, Engineer
Recorded February 6, 9, 29, 1963
Remastered
by Suha Gur
Catalog Number:
314 521 409-2
Format: CD
Release Date: 1997
Label: Verve |
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Click on tracks
 to hear sound samples.
1. 'Round
Midnight (6:33)
2. How About You? (2:48)
3. Spartacus Love Theme (5:08)
4. Blue Monk (4:32)
5. Stella by Starlight (4:50)
6. Hey There (4:29)
7. N.Y.C.'s No Lark (5:34)
8. Just You, Just Me (2:35)
9. Bemsha Swing (2:54)
10. A Sleepin' Bee (4:10) |
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The maximum rating is five stars? Give it six!.. a joy unique in the history
of music.
- Leonard Feather,
down beat, 1963
When the date was ended, Bill listened to some of the playbacks, shrugged,
grinned, and said, “Well, I always wanted to be an orchestra.”
Then we all left. We walked along dingy 11th Street, heading west. Bill
was walking ahead of us, close to the buildings, looking thin and frail.
He has a somewhat pigeon-toed walk. Those hands were thrust in the slash
side pockets of his windbreaker, and he was all hunched up with bitter cold.
I thought: So that's what genius looks like.
– Gene Lees
A Statement from Bill
Evans
There is a viewpoint which holds
that any recorded music which cannot be produced in natural live performance
is a “gimmick” and therefore should not be considered a pure musical effort.
Because the performing and recording procedure used in this recording might
stimulate this issue to a question in some minds, I requested the opportunity
to state my firm belief in the integrity of the idea upon which this album
was conceived and some supporting reasons.
To the person who uses music as a medium for the expression of ideas, feelings,
images, or what have you, anything which facilitates this expression is
properly his instrument. Though one can argue that sirens, airplane motors,
ratchets, whistles, etc. are justified more on dramatic than musical grounds,
no such question is raised here. In my opinion the only solid and interesting
question that the music making here presents is that of whether this should
be regarded as a group or solo musical performance.Until the evolution of
jazz group improvisation the history of Western music or music as we know
it outside of jazz represents the reflection of one psyche. For the first
time in a music of Western origin, jazz group improvisation represents the
very provocative revelation of two three, four or five minds responding
simultaneously to each other in a unified coherent performance.
I remember that in recording the selections, as I listened to the first
track while playing the second, and the first two while playing the third,
the process involved was an artificial duplication of simultaneous performance
in that each track represented a musical mind responding to another musical
mind or minds. The argument that the same mind was involved in all three
performances could be advanced, but I feel that this is not quite true.
The functions of each track are different, and as one in speech feels a
different state of mind making statements than in responding to statements
or commenting on the exchange involved in the first two, so I feel that
the music here had more of the quality of a “trio” than a solo effort.
Another condition to be considered here is the fact that I know my musical
techniques more thoroughly than any other person, so that, it seems to me,
I am equipped to respond to my previous musical statements with the most
accuracy and clarity.
Yet, I hesitate to state this recorded result is identical to a trio performance
or more valuable aesthetically or in depth or intensity of emotion. It is
in the end still the product of one subject.
Looking at this album in reference to the preceding paragraphs, it would
be difficult or impossible to place it solidly in either the group or solo
category. For me, the unique and enjoyable experience of recording it was
answer enough, and as is always so the music contained therein is or is
not the positive evidence of its genuine quality.
I must extend my heartfelt appreciation to Creed Taylor and the expert engineers
who worked and waited patiently through so many hours of unanticipated mechanical
and musical problems until they were solved and we could proceed to get
down to music and recording.
If you are now about to listen, I hope that you will forget any extra-musical
questions, though they are often quite entertaining, and allow what I sincerely
hope to be an enjoyable and, perhaps, in some ways unique, musical experience
to take place.
- Bill Evans
Excerpt from Biography
of Bill Evans
Bill Evans is universally acknowledged
as the most influential modern jazz pianist since Bud Powell. He counted
Powell, Nat Cole, and Lennie Tristano among his greatest jazz piano influences,
but as has been often said, his playing and his compositions show a great
love of classical composers including Ravel, Debussy, Scriabin and Chopin.
Evans developed an incredibly personal style, virtually reinventing chordal
voicings, expanding the linear approach to improvisation, and utilizing
rhythmical displacement. Beginning with his first “official” trio in 1959,
he had an almost telepathic interplay with bassist Scott LaFaro which greatly
expanded the jazz trio's traditional roles. Those who saw Evans perform,
especially in his earlier years, recall his intense concentration as he
bent closely over the keys and focused his entire being on coaxing each
nuance, each color from the instrument. His playing was, as biographer Peter
Pettinger states, “a craft of distinction.” Bill was blessed with incredible
technique and could easily play high speed lines with great clarity and
depth – yet often preferred emphasizing the “singing” quality of each improvised
phrase itself, and working through the moving contours of his rich harmonic
framework. Although often singled out as the great romantic of jazz piano,
he could also swing like mad, as any of the recordings with Philly Joe Jones,
and some of the later “live” dates will attest to. He rarely, if ever used
jazz “clichés” or well-worn blues riffs, yet his style is instantly recognizable
after hearing just a few notes. Evans was probably the first jazz pianist
to stress the importance of touch – surely a result of his intense classical
music instruction. Visitors to his home recall him sight reading through
a complex Rachmaninoff or Scriabin score, if he wasn't plunked down on a
sofa reading philosophy or spiritual tomes. He was a highly self-disciplined
artist and, besides his own compositions, he preferred the rich possibilities
of the songbooks of Rodgers and Hart, Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Ray Noble,
Harold Arlen, et al., often revitalizing some obscure old show tune and
reharmonizing it, and yet he was never guilty of rank sentimentality.
– Jan Stevens
Excerpt from the liner notes
Creed Taylor was the producer at Verve and an important reason why Evans
decided to go with the label. Recalling his time at Verve in a 1976 interview,
Evans said, “Creed was very shrewd and did a lot of good things. He got
some commercial success out of jazz artists, which no one else had been
able to do... He's still doing it, and it's to his credit.” Evans had been
a sideman on several Taylor-produced sessions before either of them was
associated with Verve, most notably on Oliver Nelson's Blues and The Abstract
Truth for Impulse.
The idea of the jazz man as a one-man band probably first came to fruition
in 1941 when Sidney Bechet, taking his cue from a classical recording in
which an oboist dubbed his part after the original session took place, overdubbed
clarinet, soprano and tenor saxophones, piano, bass, and drums to make a
unique recording of the “Sheik of Araby.” Guitarist Les Paul, whose jazz
credentials include an appearance at the first Jazz at the Philharmonic
concert in 1944, used overdubbing and other electronic manipulation with
great success on his recording of “Lover” in 1948. And with the general
availability of tape recording technology beginning in 1949, it wasn't long
before vocalists from Patti Page to the Chipmunks were singing duets and
trios with themselves. Jazz purists, however, took a dim view of such manipulations;
the general feeling was that a real jazz musician wouldn't “stoop so low”
as to overdub. Conversations was important in overcoming this prejudice,
paving the way for general recognition of the recording studio itself as
a valid tool for musical expression...
An important precedent [of Conversations] was Sing a Song of Basie, an album
Taylor produced in 1957 with Lambert, Hendricks and Ross, in which the vocal
group sang all the horn parts of some of Count Basie's best-known arrangements,
backed only by a rhythm section. As many as thirty overdubs were done before
the album was completed. Taylor later told Mike Hennessey of Jazz Journal
International, “We finished up with a tremendously interesting album musically
– and a tremendous amount of hiss.” The album effectively launched the career
of Lambert, Hendricks and Ross, who nevertheless did not repeat the overdubbing
concept.
– Phil Bailey, May,
1994
Review
Upon signing with Verve in 1962,
Evans was encouraged by producer Creed Taylor to continue to record in more
varied formats: with Gary McFarland's big band, the full-orchestra arrangements
of Claus Ogerman, costar Stan Getz, a reunion with Hall. The most remarkable
of these experiments was Conversations With Myself, a session where Evans
overdubbed second and third piano parts onto the first; this eventually
led to two sequels in that fashion. In his only concession to the emerging
jazz-rock scene, Evans dabbled with the Rhodes electric piano in the 1970s
but eventually tired of it, even though inventor Harold Rhodes had tailored
the instrument to Evans' specifications. Mostly, though, Evans would record
a wealth of material with a series of trios. Through his working trios would
pass such players as bassists LaFaro (1959-1961), Israels (1962-1965), Gary
Peacock (1963), Teddy Kotick (1966), Eddie Gomez (1966-1977), and Marc Johnson
(1978-1980); and drummers Motian (1959-1962), Larry Bunker (1962-1965),
Arnie Wise (1966, 1968), Joe Hunt (1967), Philly Joe Jones (1967, 1977-1978),
Jack DeJohnette (1968), John Dentz (1968), Marty Morell (1968-1975), Eliot
Zigmund (1975-1977), and Joe La Barbera (1978-1980). After Verve, Evans
would record for Columbia (1971-1972), Fantasy (1973-1977), and Warner Bros.
(1977-1980). The final trio with Johnson and La Barbera has been considered
the best since the LaFaro-Motian team – Evans thought so himself – and their
brief time together has been exhaustively documented on CDs.
Though Evans' health was rapidly deteriorating, aggravated by cocaine addiction,
the recordings from his last months display a renewed vitality. Even on
The Last Waltz, recorded as late as a week before his death from a hemorrhaging
ulcer and bronchial pneumonia, there is no audible hint of physical infirmity.
After Evans' death, a flood of unreleased recordings from commercial and
private sources has elevated interest in this pianist to an insatiable level.
– Richard S. Ginell
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Run-through 1
The basic track (1st of 3) on "Round Midnight"
Run-through 2
At home - A private classical hour
Gary McFarland, Bill and Creed
Photos by Chuck Stewart |
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