This week In Jazz Legends (Special Pianists) 02/52

1 . Chucho Valdes & Michel Camilo . Cumbanchero

Latin jazz rarely feels more dynamic than when two virtuosos like Chucho Valdés and Michel Camilo sit down at the piano bench to tackle a classic. “Cumbanchero,” a standard penned by Rafael Hernández, becomes something else entirely in their hands—part duel, part dance, part call-and-response. The result? A spirited performance that feels both wildly improvisational and meticulously crafted.

The Afro-Caribbean rhythms at the heart of the piece thrum with vitality, but what truly dazzles is the interplay between the two pianists. Each note played bursts with energy, with Valdés leaning into deep Cuban jazz traditions while Camilo brings his Dominican roots and a flare for the dramatic. Their styles occasionally pull in different directions but always resolve back into a cohesive celebration of the music’s origins.

Though “Cumbanchero” is a familiar melody to Latin jazz enthusiasts, this collaboration reinvigorates its essence, making the old feel thrillingly new.

Lifted from : Chucho Valdès records ‘Bele Bele en La Habana,’ an album for Blue Note (1998)

2 . Tania Maria . Intimidade

“Intimidade” by Tania Maria feels like an invitation to sit by a sunlit window, bathed in Brazilian rhythms elegantly intertwined with jazz sophistication.

Released in 2006 under Blue Note Records, the track is less about huge chart triumphs and more about creating a space for nuanced emotional exchanges.

Maria’s vocal tone drifts effortlessly, almost conspiratorially, alongside her dexterous piano lines, forming a dialogue that’s as much about withholding as it is about giving.

The theme—centered on personal connection and vulnerability—simmers beneath layers of Latin jazz warmth, offering equal parts intimacy and restraint.

While it doesn’t ride on obvious hooks or glossy productions, it stakes its claim firmly as a quietly confident piece of art.

There’s a charm in how it sidesteps flamboyance and instead thrives in its understated complexity, proving that understated elegance is often louder than showy bravado.

Lifted from : Tania Maria Trio is at Blue Note Milano (2015)

3 . Hiromi . I Got Rhythm

Hiromi Uehara’s take on “I Got Rhythm” is less a performance and more an audacious conversation with a jazz cornerstone.

Originally penned by George Gershwin, this piece has strutted through decades of jazz history with its iconic rhythm changes, but Hiromi doesn’t just play it—she twists, flips, and interrogates it with the kind of virtuosity that feels both playful and surgical.

Each note brims with a confident irreverence, as if she’s daring the past to keep pace with her sprawling, genre-blurring phrasing.

Known for breaking down the walls between classical precision and jazz improvisation, Hiromi launches into a complex weave of tempos that leaves you alternately awestruck and just a little dizzy.

The album “Place to Be,” from which this recording springs, reads like a personal travel diary, and her rendition here feels like a postcard from a parallel musical universe where structure collides with spontaneity in dazzling ways.

Dedicated to Oscar Peterson, her mentor of sorts, the piece doesn’t mimic his approach but channels his ethos—unbound creativity grounded in rock-solid chops.

Rather than simply honoring Gershwin, Hiromi manages to reinvent the standard without discarding its essence, a high-wire act few could pull off.

Her rhythm section? Nonexistent—this is a truly solo endeavor, yet it bursts with a fullness that makes you momentarily forget she’s the only one at the piano.

Jazz purists might balk at her unpredictable flourishes, but they’d likely find themselves tapping along anyway, begrudgingly or not.

Live performances of this track, particularly during her 2010 tour in Japan, reveal how seamlessly she animates piano keys with a sort of physical storytelling, her entire body complicit in the drama unfolding onstage.

Lifted from : Hiromi Uehara records ‘Beyond Standard’ with her group Sonicbloom (2000)

4 . Michel Legrand . The Summer Knows (w/ Phil Woods)

Anyone who’s ever wondered what a lush summer breeze might sound like would do well to sit with Michel Legrand’s “The Summer Knows,” especially in its 1975 iteration featuring Phil Woods’ alto sax on the album *Images*.

Originally birthed in the wistful waters of the 1971 film *The Summer of ’42*, the track seems almost genetically designed to evoke nostalgia and the bittersweet passage of time.

If you’re expecting soaring choruses and cinematic fireworks, you’re in the wrong neighborhood; this is jazz at its most languid, with Woods gliding through Legrand’s elegant framework like a man in no particular hurry, his saxophone voicing unspoken conversations already lost to memory.

Recorded in February 1975 and nestled within an album that would go on to snag a Grammy for Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album in 1976, it’s safe to say this tune isn’t just atmosphere—it’s pedigree.

The theme of nostalgia is impossible to escape, not that you’d want to; Legrand’s orchestration is rich without being indulgent, shimmering with melancholic precision.

The Grammy context might add gloss to the track’s reputation, but its charm lies in subtler details: Woods’ breathy sax over Legrand’s tender piano and strings, neither attempting to outshine the other but standing together as a layered marvel.

Lifted from : Phil Woods release ‘Musique du Bois,’ . studio album recorded with Jaki Byard, Richard Davis and Alan Dawson (1974)

5 . Ben Sidran . Someday My Prince Will Come (w/ Michael Brecker)

Ben Sidran’s “Someday My Prince Will Come,” captured live at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1980, feels like opening a vintage jazz time capsule where every note exudes sophistication.

The interplay between Sidran’s piano and Michael Brecker’s tenor saxophone sets a warm, intricate atmosphere, with Randy Brecker’s trumpet adding bursts of brilliance.

Steve Jordan’s crisp drumming anchors the performance, keeping it buoyant without overshadowing the melodic delicacy at play.

Originally a Disney tune from *Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs*, this reinterpretation strays far from the shiny, innocent veneer, instead crafting something deeply introspective and mature.

The Montreux setting, with its intimate yet world-renowned charm, serves as the perfect backdrop for this polished act to stretch their creative muscles.

The recording walks the line between reverence for jazz standards and a playful reimagining, showcasing both tradition and individual flair.

Lifted from : We remember Michael Brecker. ‘Ace Brecker’

6 . Marcus Roberts . Delfeayo’S Dilemma (w/ Wynton Marsalis)

“Delfeayo’s Dilemma,” from Marcus Roberts’ 1988 live album *Live at Blues Alley,* is a tightly wound exploration of jazz virtuosity recorded in the smoky intimacy of a Washington, D.C. club.

The quartet, led by Wynton Marsalis and featuring Roberts on piano, thrives on tension and release, weaving complex improvisations over Marsalis’s composition with a palpable sense of spontaneity.

The rhythm section—Jeff “Tain” Watts and Robert Hurst—anchors the performance with sharp, syncopated precision, creating a foundation that simultaneously keeps the track accessible and elongated with bursts of experimental interplay.

Recorded over two nights in late 1986, the track exudes live energy, with Marsalis’s trumpet slicing through the air like a surgeon’s scalpel, alternating between lyrical detours and fiery declarations.

Roberts, meanwhile, channels a mix of soulful elegance and calculated risk in his piano solos, delivering a performance that feels at once cerebral and instinctive.

A curious blend of reverence for jazz’s history and a drive to innovate, this piece could be seen as a snapshot of an era when neo-traditionalism rebranded itself as the genre’s rebellious edge.

The album ascended to the second spot on Billboard’s Top Jazz Albums chart, proof of its resonance within a scene yearning for both nostalgia and progress.

Lifted from : Wynton Marsalis records ‘Black Codes (From the Underground)’ with Branford Marsalis for Columbia (1985)

7 . Dave Grusin . Medley (w/ Lee Ritenour)

The 1985 medley by Dave Grusin and Lee Ritenour, featured on the Grammy-winning “Harlequin” album, stands as a polished slice of smooth jazz blended with Brazilian undertones.

This collaboration doesn’t scream innovation, but its craftsmanship is undeniable, with each note meticulously threaded like a high-end tailored suit from GRP Records’ boutique roster.

The album benefited from the contributions of Ivan Lins and Harvey Mason, both providing texture to an already elegant sonic tapestry.

If you’re into technical finesse over emotional punch, this might feel like discovering a fine restaurant only to realize the portions are too small and the waiter’s being overly gracious about it.

“Early A.M. Attitude” did snag the Grammy for Best Arrangement on an Instrumental, which feels apt since the track itself is basically a masterclass in precision and polish, albeit without breaking much of a sweat.

Recorded across multiple studios, the medley and the album as a whole exemplify the tight-knit aesthetic that GRP became synonymous with—a sound that’s clean, cohesive, and occasionally so perfect it’s almost sterile.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Lee Ritenour. ‘Captain Lee’

8 . Bill Evans . Time Remembered

Bill Evans’ “Time Remembered” feels less like a jazz composition and more like a delicate, introspective conversation—you’d almost think he was whispering secrets into the piano.

Composed in the early 1960s, this modal jazz ballad sidesteps the usual bravado of dominant seventh chords, opting instead for a refined interplay of dorian, phrygian, lydian, and aeolian modes, like a quiet rebellion against harmonic clichés.

First recorded in 1962 for *Loose Blues* (only to gather dust until its posthumous release in 1982), the piece later resurfaced on the 1966 album *Bill Evans Trio with Symphony Orchestra*, wrapped in Claus Ogerman’s orchestral textures—an arrangement as brooding as it is stunning.

It’s a track that seemed to follow Evans through his career, cropping up in live settings and offering different shades of itself, including a poignant solo rendition recorded under Copenhagen’s moody November skies in 1965.

You’d be hard-pressed not to hear the influence of 16th-century polyphony and impressionist composers rippling through its meticulous structure, more suited for an art gallery than a smoky jazz club.

Despite its understated appeal, “Time Remembered” became a quiet cornerstone of Evans’ legacy, a fact underscored by its adoption into repertoires ranging from jazz prodigies like Joey Alexander to avant-garde ensembles like Kronos Quartet.

Lifted from : Bill Evans records ‘Since We Met’ with Eddie Gomez and Marty Morell at the Village Vanguard (1974)

9 . Alice Coltrane . Song Of The Underground Railroad

Alice Coltrane’s take on Dizzy Gillespie’s “Woody’n You,” performed live in 1960 at ORTF Studios in Paris, feels like watching an artist sketch a portrait with both reverence and rebellion.

Here, the bebop classic—originally composed as an ode to Woody Herman and historically immortalized by Coleman Hawkins in 1944—takes a distinctly Coltrane-esque detour, three years before Alice would meet her iconic husband, John.

While Gillespie’s composition shines with its intricate bebop layers, Coltrane’s interpretation hints at her future dives into modal jazz and spiritual explorations, blending piano notes with both precision and an undercurrent of unpredictability, as though she’s probing for new frontiers without leaving bebop’s borders.

The recording, helmed by Jean-Christophe Averty, has a vintage smoke-in-the-jazz-club vibe, but misses the crystalline cinematic polish you might expect, creating an atmosphere that feels wonderfully raw.

While not tied to any studio album, it captures a moment in time where Coltrane’s artistry began stretching its legs, yet wasn’t weighed down by her later spiritual convictions.

Fast forward to 1968, Coltrane revisited the piece on *A Monastic Trio*, swapping the Parisian stage for Impulse! Records’ studio walls. The song transforms again, shedding some of its bebop formality for a looser, more meditative feel.

Lifted from : We Remember Alice Coltrane

10 . Duke Ellington . Satin Doll

Released in 1953, “Satin Doll” represents jazz mastery from the golden era, penned by none other than Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn, with Johnny Mercer later lending his lyrical touch.

The tune lives somewhere between smooth elegance and sly sophistication, much like the “elusive woman” it’s supposedly about, though Strayhorn’s original lyrics—rumored to be a tribute to his mother—remain lost to history.

The melody, written by Ellington, serves as the backbone, while Strayhorn’s genius shines through in the lush harmonization and intricate orchestration, a signature of their restless experimentation with jazz structures.

Despite initially debuting as an instrumental piece, its popularity skyrocketed, gracing concerts (frequently as a closer) and receiving countless renditions from jazz royalty like Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra.

Its swing-infused coolness doesn’t just invite listeners—it practically sashays into the room, dressed to the nines and entirely aware of its charisma.

Lifted from : Duke Ellington . His Orchestra tape . film (1962)

11 . Tommy Flanagan . The Man . Love (w/ Ella Fitzgerald)

Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of “The Man I Love,” accompanied by Tommy Flanagan on piano, is an understated masterclass in jazz minimalism.

Performed live in both Cologne and London in 1974, each setting offers a distinct ambiance: Cologne feels reflective, while London’s Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club radiates intimacy.

The song, penned by the Gershwin brothers, carries a kind of wistful longing that Fitzgerald interprets with both precision and warmth, managing to sound tender without tipping into sentimentality—a delicate balance few vocalists achieve with such consistency.

Flanagan’s piano accompaniment, often overlooked in broader discussions of jazz, is a study in restraint, creating a spacious canvas for Fitzgerald’s phrasing while adding subtle flourishes that reward attentive listening.

The recording for “Ella in London” benefits from Norman Granz’s production, capturing an almost tangible closeness, but neither live version feels polished to sterility; there’s an organic quality that elevates their live interplay.

The absence of Oscar Peterson on piano in the studio album “Ella and Oscar” (1975) leaves Flanagan to shape the harmonic landscape alone, resulting in a more subdued but equally poignant treatment of the track.

Historically, it’s intriguing that “The Man I Love,” initially cut from *Lady, Be Good*, gained transatlantic appeal before conquering its home shores—perhaps an ironic twist for a song that speaks so poignantly of longing and unfulfilled connection.

In both live recordings and the studio version, Fitzgerald’s voice is the gravitational center, unfurling the song’s melancholy themes with a clarity that transcends trends or eras.

Lifted from : Ella Fitzgerald records ‘Fine and Mellow,’ an album for Pablo (1974)

12 . Big Tiny Little . The Spaghetti Rag, Caledonia(w/ Lawrence Welk Orchestra)

Big Tiny Little’s performance of “The Spaghetti Rag” delivers a raucous blend of ragtime and jazz, his fingers darting across the piano with the kind of precision that feels both studied and spontaneous. The backdrop of The Lawrence Welk Show, with its immaculately polite audience, serves as an amusing contrast to the lively disorder of the music. It’s a piece that seems destined for a speakeasy, yet somehow finds itself performed for primetime television.

The follow-up, “Caledonia,” amplifies the segment’s absurd charm. Blending his adept piano skills with an animated vocal delivery, Big Tiny Little manages to turn a fairly traditional jazz tune into something that feels faintly ridiculous yet undeniably compelling. You can hear echoes of New Orleans in his intonation, but it’s filtered through a Midwestern TV lens, leaving everything just a bit too polished to be truly gritty.

What makes these performances memorable isn’t simply the music itself but the odd space they occupy in the cultural zeitgeist. Here’s a man with undeniable talent, performing music born from raucous saloons, featuring on a show synonymous with buttoned-up civility. That tension—between the anarchic roots of ragtime and the carefully curated wholesomeness of 1950s television—gives the performances a surreal, almost camp quality.

Lifted from : On TV today, ‘The Lawrence Welk Show’ (1958)