Jack
Reilly at the Bull's Head, London
by John Fordham, The Guardian, 29 NOV 2003 (UK)
Jack Reilly, the
hunched, avuncular, dome-headed pianist and educator from Staten Island,
is little known here, but deserved a lot more than two wet nights
at a west London pub.
A fine composer as well as pianist, whose methods seem to roll Duke
Ellington, Lennie Tristano, Bill Evans and George Gershwin into one,
he appeared with a British ensemble including saxophonist Bobby Wellins.
Reilly hasn't played in England for 13 years, but his work this week
would easily have justified inclusion in the London jazz festival.
Originally a classical player, Reilly— has appeared in all manner
of illustrious jazz circumstances and then vanished again, into the
study of Indian music, or writing jazz piano guides covering everything
from swing to free-improv. He writes words as copiously as music,
and has even been a mysterious liner-note scribe operating under the
alias Sean Petrahn. However, there are no mysteries about the quality
of his playing, which tells compelling stories by unpredictable and
restlessly shifting means.
Wellins, a frequently enigmatic and fragmentary constructor of sax
solos, balanced Reilly's richer and more comprehensive style well.
Drummer Stephen Keogh was a little loud and taut-skinned for him at
times, but deftly complementary on brushes. Bassist Dave Green underpinned
the music with his customary flexible sonority. Wellins and Reilly
conversed laconically on Slow Boat to China, with the pianist easing
seamlessly in and out of a loping swing. A classical-sounding liturgical
composition of seductive melodies and block-chord embellishments emphasised
the composer's narrative style. A similarly episodic feature operated
as a tribute to the late Ben Webster - passing through romantic movie-score
sweeps, subtle piano swings, a plummy solo from Dave Green and a brief
but eloquent finale from Wellins. The saxophonist delivered one of
his best sax breaks on Blue Skies. Unspectacularly distinctive music-making.
Jack
Reilly and Company Raise the Standards
a Jazz Review by Don Heckman
Special To The Los Angeles Times
November 20. 2000
Pianist Jack Reilly has never been content to simply
place himself at a keyboard and let his imagination fly. Despite his
considerable improvisational skills, his long career has been continually
infused with thoughtful probing journeys into the elemental aspects
of the way jazz is created.
A considerable number of those journeys have reached into the music
of Bill Evans, a longtime Reilly friend and one whose harmonic vision
has been a frequent source of inspiration. (Reilly's insightful book,
"The Harmony of Bill Evans," is an impressive technical
treatise of particular value to improvising players.)
Reilly, who is based on the East Coast, also spent a greater deal
of time offering his theoretical insights in educational environments,
from the New England Conservatory of Music to the New School and New
York University. It's unlikely, however, that his teaching admonishments
ever provided much advice about what do so while playing in a wind
tunnel. And while that might be a somewhat hyperbolic description
of what Reilly had to deal with Friday night when his trio (with drummer
Paul Kreibich and bassist Richard Simon) performed at the Los Angeles
County Museum of Art, it's a fair description of what it felt like
to be in the audience as a chilly, 15-to-20-mph wind whipped through
the venue's open courtyard.
To its credit, the Reilly trio appeared unaffected by the intemperate
conditions as it moved easily through a program largely dominated
by standards. The most appealing quality of the music was the consistently
rich harmonic schemes, especially noticeable in the ballads, in which
Reilly's playing supplemented, and occasionally altered, the songs'
original harmonies.
But he was also capable of shifting gears into blues-tinged groove
passages, and it was in these segments that he was especially well
aided by Simon's articulate bass work and Kreibich's ever-dependable
rhythmic propulsion.
In fact, the intriguing qualities of Reilly's overall presentation
led one to wonder whether his pedagogical activities have had a diminishing
effect upon his performance opportunities. Whatever the reason, his
playing - even in somewhat difficult circumstances - made clear that
he deserves a far wider hearing. |
£
Reilly is an elegant
and eloquent player who likes to gradually build up layers of intensity.
He can be heard at his most brilliant and intricate during the thick,
double-tempo impressionism that he generates during a seven minute
exposition of “With a Song in My Heart” or the swinging
double-tempo transformation of Cole Porter’s “Everything
I Love” where his passionate technique summons the ghost of
Tatum. Yet the elaboration is all Reilly’s not least because
“gradually” is rarely descriptive of the Tatum manner,
and Reilly’s double-tempo variations do not kick in until about
the 5:50 market in “With a song in My Heart,” while “Everything
I Love” unfolds in three sections with a sophistication and
scope that is Reilly’s alone. As a collection of improvised
ballads, this one sounds easy on the ear, being both soothing and
contemplative, and yet there is a lot more going on here than just
decorative and florid tinkling. At his best, Reilly generates rhapsodic
variations out of “All the Things You Are,” “Ghost
of a Chance,” “With a Song in My Heart,” “Can’t
Get Started,” “Summertime,” “These Foolish Things,”
“Nobody’s Heart,” Everything I Love” and “You
Don’t Know What Love Is” to reinvest these familiar songs
with a passionate intelligence that makes them sound fresh again.
Not only does he add his own insights into the lingering possibilities
for the great North American songbook – and it is clear from
the evidence here that its rich potential is far from exhausted
yet – Reilly’s evident artistry is confirmed by the power
of such original compositions as “Das Fryderyk” which
teems with intricacy and passion. Five originals close out this
project. “Kim” is a delicate portrait that puts me in
mind of Debussy, until Reilly lifts the performance with a lyrical
sparkle that recalls Bill Evans. 
