Le note di copertina di Aaron Goldberg

To encounter a fine artist blindly, without preconceptions or expectations, is perhaps the purest experience a listener could have. Blame it on the jazz strain of American isolationism if you will: in any case, unfamiliar with the trajectory of his long career, this listener heard Franco D'Andrea play Duke Ellington with virgin ears: Though familiar with the piano of his (younger) peers and country men (e.g. Pieranunzi, Moroni, Chicco e Faraò), I had been ignorant of such biographical details as D'Andrea's age and musical history, primary influences and formative experiences: As a result, sitting before my stereo I was like a little boy attending a magic show, unaware of anything except for the musical sleight of hand passing before my ears: And I sat rapt as this man in top hat and tails pulled roses, rabbits and reindeer out of his instrument, all with confident grace and apparently minimal effort.

The best solo playing preserves the illusion of joyous freedom that marks ensemble work, masking the fact that a greater degree of underlying control is required in order to manipulate rhythm, harmony, texture and melody simultaneously, without ouside stimuli or support. The artist's primary goal is to create a sensation of trust in the belly of his listeners, convince us that we're safely ensconced in the palms of an expert. In the case of D'Andrea, our expert is a conjurer of stories and spectacles. From the first whole-tone peals that herald the approaching A Train, he earns our faith. Duke's familiar ouvre, deconstructed  here and rewoven with illuminative transitions, reveals its timelessness in a postmodern discourse with itself. D'Andrea is our worthy guide, and he consistently outwits us as he leads, skirting our expectations with segues, recapitulations and novel reharmonizations. He possesses all the tools and tricks of his trade, both the classic smoke and mirrors of the left hand and the contemporary gravity-defying feats of the right. From the opening curtain we know we are in for a good show; humour and surprise and lyricism are its themes. But then we realize that the magician metaphor has reached the end of the its rope, for now we turn to our left and find D'Andrea himself seated in the audience beside us surprising himself with his own unplanned excursions and creative feats.

A thinking inproviser, the pianist's agenda for this recording was not so prescribed as to proscribe the fortuitous. Fortunately, like the ablest creators, he trusts in his own predilection for good fortune. So we follow in confidence alongside, sit quietly in our seats with anticipation; when he finds himself suddenly discontent to settle for a mere Prelude to a Kiss, he gives us the Kiss itself in full, earthrumbling Vesuvian style. Just when the moment requires, The Mooche swings with a pulse both clearly implied and simply stated. The more we might feel that we've heard it all before. D'Andrea reminds us of the infinitude of richness still untapped in Duke's mines, for example what veiled beauties sit bejeweled in his Caravan. Each tune is a vehicle for multiple emotions, a broad array of moods arises out of varied material. Because nothing is assumed, everything remains to be discovered. And of course it could all end in any moment. Franco D'Andrea, his mastery the only given, knows how to tempt fate and emerge victorious. Such is the sign of the true magician.

Aaron Goldberg

Brooklyn,NY

March 14,2002