Bill Evans

The Grammy winner, and one of the finest live recordings Evans ever made. Jack DeJohnette had just joined the trio, and his presence transforms the group's energy. DeJohnette was not a subtle drummer in the Motian mold; he was a force, and his propulsive swing on "Nardis" and "Embraceable You" pushes Evans into some of his most rhythmically assertive playing on record.

Gomez rises to the occasion, playing with more confidence and fire than on any previous recording. The audience response is audible and enthusiastic: the European festival crowd understood immediately that something special was happening. "One for Helen" has a tenderness that balances the more extroverted tracks, and the solo introduction to "Someday My Prince Will Come" is one of Evans's most beautiful unaccompanied passages.

This is the only recording of Evans with DeJohnette, who would go on to become one of the most important drummers in jazz history. It remains a tantalizing glimpse of what a longer partnership might have produced.

Evans at the piano without overdubs, without a trio, without anything between the listener and his thought process. Unlike the Conversations records, there is no technology to mediate the experience: this is simply one man playing six sessions' worth of music over two months, and the best of it selected for release.

"A Time for Love" won a Grammy for Best Jazz Instrumental Performance, and it deserved to: Evans plays the Johnny Mandel ballad with such sustained beauty that the seven-minute performance feels like five. "Never Let Me Go" and "Here's That Rainy Day" are equally fine, Evans's left hand providing a harmonic richness that makes you forget no bass or drums are present.

This is the definitive Evans solo piano album: more focused than the Conversations records, more emotionally direct, and more representative of what he sounded like sitting alone at a keyboard. If you want to understand what made Evans's harmonic approach revolutionary, start here.

The debut of drummer Marty Morell in the Evans trio, and a guest appearance by flutist Jeremy Steig that divides Evans fans sharply. Steig plays with an aggressive, sometimes overblown energy that sits uneasily next to Evans's delicacy. On the best tracks, the contrast is productive; on the worst, Steig simply overwhelms the piano.

The trio tracks without Steig are the more successful. Morell's drumming is clean, precise, and unobtrusive: exactly what Evans needed after the intensity of DeJohnette. He would stay for six years. Gomez is settling into the role, his technique now fully integrated into the trio's sound.

Not the strongest entry in the catalog, but historically important as the beginning of the Evans-Gomez-Morell trio, the group that would produce some of Evans's finest work over the next half-decade.

Shelved studio material from 1969, not released until nearly two decades later. The Evans-Gomez-Morell trio is still new here, and the music has a tentative quality that explains why Evans may not have felt it was ready for release. But there are pleasures to be found: Evans's ballad playing is as refined as ever, and Gomez's bass tone has a richness that the live recordings of this period do not always capture.

The title track and "Alfie" are the highlights, Evans treating both with the careful attention to voicing and dynamics that characterized his best studio work. Morell is workmanlike and reliable, which is exactly what Evans needed.

For completists rather than newcomers, but it fills in the sonic picture of the trio's early months together. The playing is consistently good even when it fails to reach the heights of the trio's best work.

The sequel to Alone, recorded seven years later and released on Fantasy. Evans's touch is heavier here than on the Verve record, his left hand more assertive, his rhythmic approach more grounded. The repertoire is broader too: "People" from Funny Girl is not a song most jazz pianists would attempt, but Evans transforms it into something unexpectedly moving.

The playing is consistently beautiful but lacks the revelation of the first Alone album. Evans was a more experienced solo performer by 1975, and that experience shows in the confidence of his phrasing, but the spontaneity of discovery that made the earlier record so compelling has been replaced by mastery.

A strong solo piano record by any measure, and one that stands well on its own. It is only in comparison to its predecessor that it falls slightly short.

Evans on Fender Rhodes electric piano with orchestral accompaniment, and it is as awkward as that description suggests. The electric piano robs Evans of his most distinctive quality: his touch. The Fender Rhodes has a uniform attack that erases the dynamic subtlety that makes acoustic Evans so compelling, and Mickey Leonard's string arrangements are pleasant but generic.

"What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life" is the best track, Evans's melodic sense strong enough to survive the limitations of the instrument and the arrangement. But most of the album sounds like a jazz musician trying to make a crossover record, which is exactly what it was.

Evans himself was not proud of this record, and most Evans fans treat it as a curiosity at best. The electric piano experiments would continue sporadically, but Evans always sounded most like himself on an acoustic instrument.

A live recording from Amsterdam, captured in November 1969 but not released until 1981 on the Affinity label. The Evans-Gomez-Morell trio is now a year old, and the group has settled into a working rapport that the earlier studio recordings only hinted at. The live setting brings out a warmth and relaxation that suits the material.

The title track is Denny Zeitlin's composition, and Evans plays it with an intimacy that justifies making it the album's centerpiece. Gomez's bass is prominent in the mix, his arco playing adding a textural dimension that the studio recordings sometimes suppress. Morell keeps time with quiet authority.

A solid live document rather than an essential one. The trio would go on to produce better recordings, but this catches them at a moment when the chemistry was still fresh and the possibilities still felt open.

Another European live recording from the same November 1969 tour as Quiet Now, this one from the Jazzhouse Montmartre in Copenhagen. The sound quality is adequate rather than excellent, and the repertoire overlaps heavily with the Amsterdam set. Evans plays "Turn Out the Stars" and "Nardis" with characteristic beauty, and Gomez takes several extended bass solos that showcase his extraordinary technique.

Not released until 1987, and the delay is understandable: this is not a bad recording, but it does not add much to what the authorized releases already documented. For the completist, it offers another angle on the trio during this productive European tour.

A three-star record that would have been a four if the sound quality matched the playing.

Evans in a quintet with Lee Konitz and Warne Marsh, two Tristano-school saxophonists whose cool, linear approach was a natural match for Evans's harmonic sensibility. This is one of the most conceptually coherent collaborations in Evans's catalog: all three soloists share a devotion to melodic invention over rhythmic display, and the result is a session of almost classical poise.

Konitz and Marsh had not recorded together in years, and their interaction has a competitive edge that energizes the music. Evans comps behind them with a subtlety that only close listening reveals: his chord voicings shift with every phrase, supporting and reharmonizing the soloists in real time. Zigmund and Gomez provide a rhythm section that never pushes the temperature above room level.

Not a flashy record, but a deeply satisfying one for listeners who value melodic invention and harmonic sophistication over volume and energy. It is Evans at his most collegial, delighting in the company of musicians who share his values.