Customer Reviews

Last Waltz: Final Recordings Live

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These unapproved releases of an extended club date just days before the pianist's death have an undeniably morbid fascination about them. Anyone who really "hears" Bill Evans hears in every note not merely the rapturous lyricism of jazz' most "romantic" poet but the "tragic" sense of beauty's fragility, the pursuit of the elusive and ephemeral moment that Yeats once referred to as "terrible beauty," sublimity purchased at a high price. "Last Waltz" is a remarkable collection of recordings that document the artist's death-defying act but also make apparent an often overlooked dimension of Evans' musical world--his need to communicate.

The music on this "last will" is best heard as Evans playing every note not as though his life depended on it but as though his listener's experience mattered as much as his own. During this entire last year, when the pianist appeared to regard every playing date as a "last goodbye," he also attacked his music with a pronounced vigor and uninhibited overstatement that suggest he wanted more than ever for his listeners to get the point.

As fascinating as the recordings of the pianist's final year are, they can also be disturbing--discomfiting even to the point of being painful. The recording made of his playing two weeks earlier at Ronnie Scott's in England, especially "Turn Out the Stars," sits somewhere between urgent expression and desperate rhetoric, while the albums made earlier during his final year, especially "The Paris Concert," perhaps come closest to the balance between personal creation and coherent communication that makes Bill Evans' music one of the rarest, most miraculous experiences many of us can lay claim to in a lifetime of listening to music.

"The Last Waltz" strikes this listener as the artist's consolidation of the various aspects of his career, a musical question answered by no small measure of acceptance. "My Foolish Heart" (played in the key of A Major!) recalls the fragile beauty of the first 1961 Vanguard recording; "Days of Wine and Roses" achieves a mid-stream F to A-flat modulation that's equal to the headiest improvisations of mid-career Evans; and the 6 explorations of "Nardis" are nothing if they are not revelatory of the pianist's dark and deeply felt affinities with his aesthetic and blood relatives (Bill was half Russian and loved the language)--Moussourgsky, Shostakovich, Dostoevsky, and above all the Tolstoy who wrote "Death of Ivan Ilytch."

About this collection it's probably safe to say that it's the most extraordinary valedictory recorded in the history of jazz.

I purchased this set several months ago. To my suprise, it is perhaps the finest of his works. I have collected most of Evans's recordings over the years. The sound quality is sensational and his feeling for the music is beyond most other musicians. I expected to hear some rushed tempos, but there are none to be found. It is glorious music, Evans at his best. I have a 6 CD changer in my car and four spots are for these CD's. While listening, I am often amazed and astounded by his passion.

This is how the piano was meant to be played.

Extraordinary.Incredible.Fantastic.Outstanding.
Here are the first half of the last recorded works of Bill Evans (August 16,1929-September 15,1980),one of the most singular of all jazz piano players,and one of the greatest too.The second half of these last recordings can be found in the "consecration" set of 8 CDs;both were recorded at the same time."The last waltz" is composed of the second sets of Bill Evans' concerts,while "consecration" is made of the first sets.All of these CDs were recorded during what will happen to be Evans' last but one gig,at the Keystone Korner,San Francisco,between August 31 and September 8,1980.The last gig,a one week one,which turned to be a two days one,happened at the Fat Tuesday,NYC;after two days of playing,Evans was much too sick to go on,and he died three days later,of bronchial pneumonia and stomachal hemorraging ulcer.The material recorded at Fat Tuesday's has never been released until now.
William John Evans died like Lester Young (1909-1959) did,of despair,committing something that can be called a long suicide.One of the tunes that was part of Evans' repertoire during his last years was "Theme from MASH",aka "Suicide is painless".
Everyone knew that Bill Evans had strong drug troubles for many and many years;a very sensitive man,who was deeply affected by every life's event.One of the first ones was Scott LaFaro's tragic death,in 1961,ten days after the miraculous "live at the Village Vanguard" session;bassist LaFaro was the perfect partner to Bill's music,and his loss was a tragedy for the pianist.
Almost twenty years later,June 1980,he recorded six magnificent CDs ("Turn out the stars",at the Village Vanguard again);he was backed by Marc Johnson,bass,and Joe LaBarbera,who played with him for some two or three years;they both recorded a very great concert,November 26,1979 ("The Paris concert",edition one and two).I think they were perfect partners for Bill;maybe not as great as Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian were in 1961, but 19 years later,Bill Evans,who was dying and who was conscient of that,needed more space to play his music,because he knew that each gig could be the last one.And their discretion,although they play what had to be played,gave Bill the opportunity to denude in public,to let his music explode like it never happened before.Don't mistake,here are (like in the "consecraion" set,or the "turn out the stars" one) some of the most lyrical,and yet emotional music you'll ever listen to.Here are the same skin-deep emotions you can feel in Lester's,or Billie's,or Paul Gonsalves' last recordings.
The repertoire,in these second sets at the Keystone Korner,is made of 32 tunes.Here are outstanding versions of "Nardis" (6 versions),here are some new tunes,like "Yet ne'er broken"(an anagram for the name of his drug connection),"Tiffany",dedicated to Joe LaBarbera's daughter,"Letter to Evan",written for his five years old son,or "Knit for Mary F";here are old tunes,"waltz for Debby","turn out the stars","haunted heart";here are wonderful standards,"a sleeping bee"(the lyrics were written by Truman Capote),"Polka dots and monnbeams","Like someone in love","My man's gone now",or Tadd Dameron's "if you could see me now".Here are some eight hours of the most swinging,emotional,and essential music ever played.Bill Evans happened to be one of the most talented jazz pianio players of all times;he also was deeply influenced by classical music,and this is obvious here.Mostly,he was a man who suffered for most of his life;I don't know why.Why was he so affected by each event that happens in every human beeing's life ? Why did he decided to use drugs to try to cancell these pains ? I don't know,neither for Lester or Billie;maybe he was too weak.BUt waht does it means,beeing strong,and able to defy everything and to be unaffected by what happens around you,or beeing weak,and unable to resist to the events of life,and the things which destroy the poor people's life,next door to yours ?
Think of all that,while listening to these hours of very great music;the music of a dead man,and a dying man,but a music which is full of life;I own some of 40 records by Bill Evans,but here are the most essential recordings he made.Here is a set each and every jazz lover should own.A real treasure.

I held off buying this box set for months, asking the same questions I'm sure those considering purchasing "The Last Waltz" want answered. Loving Bill Evans' art as I do, will I like what I hear on these surreptitiously taped performances when the man was literally dying as he was playing that poignant eight-night gig - his last - at San Francisco's Keystone Korner? Do these performances do justice to Evans' musical legacy or was he gasping to the finish, running on creative fumes, rather than drawing from a newly tapped reservoir of inspiration?

Let me allay any concerns and state outright that these recordings represent Bill Evans at his most lyrically imaginative, romantically inspired, and emotional. Make no mistake - these performances are better than anything previously released by Evans. Notwithstanding the synergistic brilliance of the 1961 Village Vanguard recordings with Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian, they do not match the majesty, musical maturity, and emotional effusiveness of the playing memorialized on these discs. Nor could they, as "The Last Waltz" represents Bill Evans at the end of a life's journey filled with tragedies and bittersweet triumphs.

Evans' gorgeous pianism displays a breadth of experience and wisdom that could not have been possible twenty years earlier. His playing is much more confident, vibrant, and full-bodied. Evans' was always regarded as the Chopin of jazz, and as true as that statement is, what these performances show is that, while his flowing melodic lines have retained their Chopinesque quality, his harmonic textures now compelled comparison to Rachmaninoff.

In addition, Evans rethinks his approach to most of these works in a way that revitalizes them. You can tell he has brought the fullness of his knowledge, experience, and intuition to tap the musical and emotional potential of these songs. All the while, his grasp of a piece's formal architecture imbues it with a rock solid integrity, as well as an unfolding sense of drama in its exposition, development, and climax. In short, Evans creates a musical universe distinct to each work. He instills these works with melodic beauty, harmonic heft, and a palpable yearning.

I'd like to comment on one selection, in particular. Evans is heard playing "But Beautiful," one of his favorite ballads and certainly one of the most stirring ever penned, three different times in succeeding sets. He approaches the opening section of the song (before the middle improvisatory bars) differently in each performance, using chords, voicings, and rhythm to wonderful and evocative effect. How wonderful it is to witness Evans' mind constantly working, seeking an approach not thought of before - never settling into a preconceived mold. His playing on other songs - "My Foolish Heart," "After You," "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," "Noelle's Theme/I Love You, Porgy," and "Your Story" - will break your heart. Those seeking an antidote to the balladry can find it in spades in his rendition of "Some Day My Prince Will Come." Here, Evans displays an explosive virtuosity that is as incandescent as Art Tatum's, as he executes improvisatory runs at lightspeed with every note articulated and exquisitely controlled. Prepare to be astonished.

Evans' fans have cause to be grateful for this live document of a creative resurgence cut short in the middle of its bloom. It is Bill Evan's final bittersweet triumph. In the end, "The Last Waltz" provides a peak into what the future held for Evans' art, and in that sense, gives the world a picture of a life unlived. What a loss it is to no longer be in a world that has Bill Evans in it.

Prior to buying "The Last Waltz", I bought and listened to the "Secret Sessions" box set. At the time I was very excited to hear what patrons at the Vanguard heard over a 12 year span when Evans played there, and I was willing to ignore the so-so recording quality and the background patron noise. To my great delight, I find "The Last Waltz" has much better, brighter sound quality. Evan's piano playing seems much more advanced and focused and coherent. The trio work is excellent. It's a beautiful set of 8 CDs. Evans sounds so alive, so in command, that's it hard to grasp he really died within two weeks of these recordings. Evan's voice is clearly heard on several of the cuts as he introduces songs. He sounds perfectly healthy. I highly recommend this set of 8 CDs. To me, this is his best work of all the many CD's of his I own. It's stunning to think that this is the same man who helped start a musical revolution by playing piano on Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" album.

this set of concerts found mr. evans playing jazz with an ebullient swing. this music is as full of life and joy as anything he recorded in his storied career. mr. evans was a master of introspective meditation as he approached the jazz canon of standards, weaving great musical tapestries from basic melodies and themes. the results were intellectually challenging and deeply moving interpretations as mr. evans forced us to look inside a song for its deepest feeling. often this meant his music was tinged deeply blue and was filled with quiet somberness (e.g., listen to his first great trio with scott lafaro and paul motian from the late '50s). here, he explores the melodies involved, but with an ear for joy and swing. the irony, of course, is that mr. evans would die from self-destructive addiction shortly after these recordings were made. that makes this music haunting and somewhat eerie to listen to, perhaps most tellingly on the takes of "letter to evan", dedicated to his son who would turn five the week of these concerts.

just taken as is, though, the music is extraordinary. this trio worked extremely well together and even on long numbers ("nardis" gets a couple of nearly twenty minute workouts, there is energy and dynamism throughout.

mr. evans was a master of quiet music, one the things miles davis was intrigued by when he hired him for the "kind of blue" sessions. that mastery is revealed here in force. this is a wonderful set full of surprises and turns that re-listening allows to unfold and develop. a great reminder of a talent that was.

Pianist Bill Evans died 20 years ago yet his music continues to enrich our lives. This 8 CD boxed set was recorded live in a series of shows at the Keystone Club in San Francisco from 31 Aug. to 8 Sept. 1980 on a Teac reel-to-reel recorder in the club's tiny sound booth. This consummate work was performed with his last great trio, which featured drummer Joe LaBarbera and bassist Marc Johnson. Evans, a 51-year-old former heroin addict, had been shooting cocaine. He died seven days later of bronchial pneumonia and a hemorrhaging ulcer.

He knew he was dying and put everything he had into this last recording session. Many of the cuts are standards that he was reworking and bringing to a higher level. The Miles Davis classic "Nardis" is given an extended exploration. Originals such as "Letter to Evan", written for his son who turned 5 the following week, and "Turn Out the Stars" are massaged until they seem to melt in your ears. "Waltz for Debbie" aptly demonstrates Evan's genius as he moves through the nuances of the music and brings this classic to larger than life.

Rumor has it that Evans was unaware that his performances where being recorded and his trio members agree that they didn't know the tape was running. However, with the richness he infused during the recordings, that would not seem to be true. I suggest you buy this wonderful collection of music and decide for yourself. Don't forget to light the candles and let the wine breathe a bit.

Bill Evans knew he had little time left on earth. He was determined to perform, to continue to explore and share his musical vision, rather than refocus his energy and passion on recovery.

We have been gifted with an extraordinary series of sets, performed over several evenings in the intimate space that was Keystone Korner. Evan's trio - who can recall a pianist who explored the trio setting more deeply than Bill - comprised of Marc Johnson and Joe LaBarbera on bass and drums, seem to have been empathically locked into their leader's mission. They softly or silently supported him when he explored familiar tunes or discovered his newer compositions. And they stepped up when it was time to power through as an ensemble, becoming much for than the sum of their three voices.

We are treated, over the course of recordings, to multiple interpretations of many of Evan's favorite songs. From Miles Davis' Nardis, an early mainstay, to Letter to Evan, written by Bill many years later for his son. To my knowledge these are the first recordings released of this gorgeous song by Evans. (Check out Andy Lavernes' stunning arrangement for string quartet on Liquid Silver (DMP) if you can find it) Evans stretches in a mature yet fresh way, never going beyond the bounds of his prodigious technique.

The recording itself is excellent. Producer Todd Barkan and his engineers did a great job of capturing, preserving, and finally mixing and releasing this music. The sound is clean, the sound stage is well defined, and the overall feeling of the recording is true to the space, and the phenomenal circumstance, within which it was recorded.

This is beautiful music. Thank you Todd and Fantasy. Thank you Bill.

I've heard Evans play on records, once in person and on CD's for over 40 years. I have all his early stuff and in recent years have been getting more and more of this last trio. I didn't expect much from this box set as I'd heard that it was unauthorized and that Bill didn't think it warranted release. I don't know about the authorization, but I do know that if he did say it wasn't good enough then I'd chalk that up to his being overly critical of himself. As one other reviewer said, there may be some sloppiness (infrequently), but it's due to him reaching for chords and runs that were far beyond what most anyone else could pull off. I've been very happy hearing these renditions of mostly his same old favorites. As I always knew of his playing, he could play the same song a hundred times and each time it would be different. In other words, he played each song the only way every time he played it. Amazing musician. For my money he's the best jazz piano that ever lived. Tatum could play more notes, but Bill had the never ending cascade of musical ideas. If there's a heaven, he's there, and I'll bet he's still spinning out new renditions. I'd like to note that some of the solos here are ones Thibaudet used in his album, "Conversations with Bill Evans".

From the first disc on -- with an incredible version of Nardis -- it's clear that one of the tragedies of Bill Evans' death is that he had jumped up another quantum level in his playing just before he died. The music here is so youthful in its striving, so modern, a little sloppier compared to his earlier work but that's because he's reaching for so much, grabbing for huge handfuls of notes, busting up the cliches of his own style that took over his playing for so many years (I can't enjoy "The Secret Sessions" because it's variations on the same hurried-up riffs he played night after night for a decade and a half). For this set, Evans works the whole keyboard, playing left-hand thunder that strays from Debussyville into the Henry Cowell Quarry. Instead of the polite displays of virtuosity and sentiment you hear on a lot of his late albums, this is the sound of a passionately searching musician again. Amazing! If you like the Paris Concerts -- which, absurdly, have never been released domestically on CD -- this is more in that direction.