Phil Broadhurst: Soliloquy
Rattle Records

Joe Hume: Ambience
Big Round Records

Emilio Teubal: Tides
Panoramic Recordings

The solo piano recording's enduring popularity is re-affirmed by these recent releases by Glasgow, Scotland's Joe Hume, Brooklyn-based Argentinean Emilio Teubal, and New Zealander Phil Broadhurst, whose Soliloquy was completed in April 2020, mere weeks before his passing.

None of the three is more accessible than Hume's Ambience for its inclusion of four familiar pieces, among them Bach's “Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring” and Satie's “Gymnopedie,” alongside seven originals. As his choice of covers suggests, Hume draws for inspiration in his playing and composing from the Romantic tradition and figures such as Chopin and Debussy. The forty-minute project came about when Hume moved to Paris for nine months in 2019 to work as a solo classical pianist, which in turn prompted the writing of “Café de Paris” and a piano arrangement of Barber's Adagio for Strings. After sharing them through music media channels and witnessing the warm reception they received, Hume decided to record an album-length set of melodic, atmospheric music.

“Café de Paris” instates the mood with a gently radiant piece that's uplifting yet melancholy, too. The music breathes expansively, its stateliness an effective evocation of the city's architectural grandeur, street life, and gardens; subsequent originals such as “Del Mar,” “Winter's Tale,” “Danny's Prelude,” and the lilting “Northern Shore” show themselves to be as melodically enticing. His rendering of Saint-Saëns' “The Swan” is as graceful and lyrical as one would expect, its modulations between major and minor striking to the ear, and “Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring” and “Gymnopedie” receive suitably dignified treatments. Barber's setting, here rechristened “Adagio for Piano,” is rendered with affection and deep feeling.

Hume's playing, which is neither minimalistic nor opaque, is a joy throughout. It's marked by effortless command, the pianist clear about the result he wishes to achieve and thoroughly capable of realizing it; consider by way of example his balanced handling of tempo, dynamics, and flow in “Nocturne.” In places the material's prettiness nudges the recording in a New Age direction, but that's hardly objectionable. Even if a couple of the covers are—for this listener, at least—a tad familiar, Hume's fresh take more than compensates, and the originals hold up well next to the established fare. A highly appealing and commendable recording, all things considered.

Teubal's Tides eschews covers for the pianist's own multi-stylistic settings, some composed and some improvised. Created during a concentrated period in 2019, the thirty-three-minute recording embodies anxious awareness on the creator's part of the world his son's generation's inheriting; the album title, for instance, alludes to global warming by way of its impact on ocean levels. Tides isn't, however, an environmentally driven polemic; it's more accurately an instrumental collection whose writing grew out of conscious concern for a planet with a precarious future. Teubal, whose playing deftly integrates elements of jazz, classical, and tango, brings ample experience to the solo piano genre, with more than twenty albums as a leader (four before Tides) and participant to his name.

An improvised “Preludio” finds his gifts alluringly displayed, its prettiness belying the foreboding associated with the environmental concept. The title track follows, its patterns convincingly intimating the lulling motion of the seas and the waltz feel reflecting Teubal's love of modern tango. Delivered at a rapid 7/8 clip, “Tortuga” ups the animated ante considerably without sacrificing any of the elegance or artistry thus far displayed. A sense of urgency is palpable as he pushes the material aggressively until an arrestation occurs, itself followed by a gradual reinstatement of that initiating urgency; spirited too is “Rio,” where a Brazilian influence can be detected in its joyous swing. The environmental concept emerges again in “Tectonic (plates),” not only in the title of the improvisation but in the suggestion of elements violently welling up from the earth. Teubal's classical side move to the fore in “Eyelashes” in dramatic, Debussy-like textures that eventually morph into cascading arpeggios. Whereas “Tiempo,” composed in honour of his father, is infused with nostalgia and affection, “Playing,” written with his son and nieces in mind, is light-hearted, its buoyant swing emblematic of the freedom from care children enjoy during that precious time in their lives.

“Postludio” neatly frames the release with spacious block chords evoking the reflective mood of the intro, the gesture intended to reinforce the recording's symmetrical design with the two acting as ascending and descending tides. He's clearly a virtuoso, but, wisely, technical ability is used in service to artistry throughout the release. As impressive as the performance of challenging material such as “Tortuga” and “Rio” clearly is, it's the expressive articulation captured in the gentler settings that speaks most powerfully on his behalf.

Of the three releases, it's Broadhurst's that is the most poignant, given its status as his final recording, and that it should be a solo expression makes it resonate all the more. Awareness of that detail shadows the listening experience, his playing a reminder of the individual artistry death stole away. Soliloquy is an apt title for this intimate collection: after a recording system was set up by co-producer Steve Garden and engineer John Kim at the pianist's home in New Zealand, he was able to record whenever the mood struck, and many hours of spontaneous recordings on his own Yamaha grand resulted in a thoroughly satisfying mix of improvisations, originals, and covers.

Broadhurst's playing is solidly in the solo jazz piano tradition, with themes and variations articulated with the easeful assurance that comes from a lifetime of playing and listening. His deep connection to his instrument is evident in the sensitivity of touch documented by the performances, whether it be a ballad reflection, blues treatment, or uptempo exploration. His playing's marked by refinement and sophistication yet isn't stuffy, and the sound of the piano is captured splendidly, its notes ringing forth with wonderful clarity.

Fourteen pieces appear on the fifty-two-minute release, with inspired treatments of the 1940 Brown-Kahn standard “You Stepped Out of a Dream,” Carla Bley's “Sing Me Softly of the Blues,” and Leonard Bernstein's “Some Other Time” (from On the Town) sitting comfortably alongside Broadhurst's own material. The Bley selection is an early piece by the composer, yet her individuating sensibility is already audible in the writing. A clear, coherent shape always asserts itself in these pieces, and eloquent settings such as “Sambal,” “Byways,” and “Simply in C” evoke the classic image of the solo musician extemporizing in a jazz nightclub surrounded by a rapt crowd. No performance is more moving than his stately, heartfelt rendition of “Some Other Time,” especially when the recalling of its lyrics as Broadhurst plays intensifies the ache (“Where has the time all gone to? / Haven't done half the things I want to / Oh, well, we'll catch up some other time”). As final statements go, this one's hard to beat.

July 2020