Jazz is generally considered an accretive art, infinitely layered; its conventional history describes a succession of influences, paraphrases, permutations. So it’s a big deal when someone comes along fully formed, speaking a musical dialect rooted in common language but fundamentally singular in syntax, usage and tone. Such was the case with Brad Mehldau. Over the past decade, the pianist has mined an aesthetic with many antecedents but no close parallels -- helping reinvigorate not only the jazz piano but also the piano-trio format in the process.

Mehldau essentially made his big entrance in 1994, as a member of the Joshua Redman Quartet. The following year, Warner Bros. released his solo debut, and already the hallmarks of the pianist's style -- fluid ambidexterity, expressive clarity, harmonic depth -- were intact, as was his working group. The extrasensory-perceptive trio featuring drummer Jorge Rossy and bassist Larry Grenadier has now played together on seven albums; their last, Art of the Trio, Vol. 5: Progression (Warner Bros.), confirmed their stature as one of the most consistently stellar acoustic trios in modern jazz.

Yet during a recent appearance at the New School (as part of a series of alumni and faculty piano recitals), Mehldau downplayed the notion of group-as-entity. "Often when I think of a band," he mused, "it's almost a retrospective kind of thing. You're starting to develop a way of conversing with each other, call-and-response kind of things, certain harmonic and melodic empathies that you have together, and then you retrospectively realize, ŒThis could be something like a band.'" In much the same way, he contended: "When I developed a trio, it wasn't so much, ŒI'm going to start a piano trio,' per se. It was more, ŒI'm going to find some musicians that I want to play with.' It happens to be these two guys; OK, it's a trio, or whatever. But we weren't setting out to play in the Œpiano-trio tradition,' whatever that would be. I think I'm pretty wary, along with most musicians that I like, of getting into a thing where you're playing an idea of something."

The statement seems somewhat disingenuous, given that five of Mehldau's albums have borne the portentous moniker "The Art of the Trio." In fact, it's a defensive posture -- a response to the many critics who continue to place his music in line with that of Bill Evans. The sound of Mehldau's ensemble can indeed be a luminous melancholy, as was the Evans trio in its prime. But there's a sense of harmonic and dynamic expansiveness that sets it apart; the trio's performances can seem variously pointillist, cubist or abstract (whereas Evans primarily tapped an impressionistic vein). What fuels the analogy, really, is a host of superficial resemblances: Like Evans before him, Mehldau is a sensitive white pianist who slouches over the keyboard, plays standards in trio, records at the Village Vanguard, and acknowledges a history of heroin abuse. The reluctant would-be heir, who once bemoaned the comparison as "a thorn in my side," said at the New School that he's become "sort of used to it." (This from a guy who composed and twice recorded a song called "Resignation.")

Actually, Mehldau might not have to bear the burden much longer. Largo, his forthcoming Warner Bros. release, ventures into brand-new territory, safely out of reach of the pianist's putative influences. The album, recorded a year ago, is the result of a collaboration with underground pop producer/songwriter/performer Jon Brion, whom Mehldau befriended during a five-year residence in Los Angeles. It marks a conscious move away from "The Art of the Trio" -- for reasons of instrumentation, production, repertoire and vibe. While it should come as no great shock to those familiar with his oeuvre -- Mehldau's affinities with both Schumann and Radiohead are well-known -- the new disc will surely cause a few stern ripples in the jazz world.

Meanwhile, Mehldau unaffectedly heeds his muse; at the New School, he played a lyrically unadorned "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face," a dirgelike "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" and a breathtaking reading of Brahms' Intermezzo Opus 118 No. 2. His expansiveness ("eclecticism" being too trivial a word) would augur well for the state of jazz piano, if only it weren't so unabashedly personal -- so unequivocally his.

The Brad Mehldau Trio plays Thu.-Sat., June 6-8, at Chris’ Jazz Café, 1421 Sansom St., 215-568-3131.

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March 11, 2004
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