Brad Mehldau’s three trio concerts in the UK in June showed what it is he does so brilliantly. The group (with bassist Felix Moseholm and drummer Jorge Rossy) played with a freedom and a sense of flow in their musical conversation, a sense of collective listening which were astonishing. And there is another remarkable thing. Mehldau wants to cast his musical net wide; the three played a completely different setlist for each of their concerts.
Mehldau also likes to focus on his particular fascinations, and has several good reasons to make Ride into the Sun (Nonesuch), an album in tribute to singer/songwriter Elliott Smith (1969-2003). Indeed, he recently expressed surprise to one interviewer that he didn’t do it earlier. The two are of the same generation, Mehldau born one year later than Smith. Also, at the end of the 1990s, when Mehldau moved to Los Angeles, there was a connection around the club Largo where Mehldau heard Smith perform, both of them being strongly linked to producer Jon Brion, who went on to produce Mehldau’s albums Largo and Highway Rider, and Mehldau and Smith also played together. Mehldau also feels – as he expresses in his liner note essay – strong emotional affinity. Mehldau sees Smith (and also Nick Drake) as belonging to a “small group of angels – visionary depressives”.
Mehldau’s note dwells on all that, on the particular moods of Smith’s songs, the harmonic subtlety, the mood creation, the “smiling through tears” in Smith’s songs which the pianist is particularly drawn to. When Mehldau plays solo, or explores the songs with lyrics in the company of mandolinist/vocalist Chris Thile, a frequent collaborator, or vocalist/ guitarist Daniel Rossen, there is a palpable feeling of a fully authentic attempt to convey the value of these songs.
But I had a particular problem with the album as a whole: I found that the aggrandising of Elliot Smith’s songs with a studio orchestra, on seven of the album’s 16 tracks, worked considerably less well. The orchestra is conducted by composer Dan Coleman who is also credited as producer alongside Mehldau. The first time we hear the orchestra is just short of two minutes into the first track, when the orchestra is suddenly bolted on to Mehldau’s reflective, poised, truly beautiful, poignant and wistful solo piano playing. The juxtaposition at this point is so jolting, I couldn’t help incongruously remembering that remark by Sinatra about the Count Basie Band at The Sands: “How did all these people get in my room?” In the tracks with orchestra, a sincere attempt to make an affecting, unique and personal tribute to Elliott Smith comes unstuck, as emotions are de-personalised. The rest is wonderful.
