The first five notes of Bill Evans’s take on the Gershwin/ Heyward folk opera aria “I Loves You Porgy” are an intoxicating, atmospheric invitation to one of the most beautiful collaborations by a jazz trio, rivaled (in my mind) only by that same trio’s rendition of another tune from Porgy and Bess, “My Man’s Gone Now.”
The track begins with Evans playing a single note on the keyboard, and as the melody builds slowly upward, a line descends from the initial tone until the chord is fully realized on the downbeat. The bass joins with a dull pluck balanced by the first of many extended shimmers from the cymbal. It’s expected at this point for the musical tension of an introductory partial measure to be resolved, but in this case we gladly endure the suspense of an extra note (the first syllable of “Porgy,” if you’re familiar with the lyric).
This is the musical equivalent of being asked to lean in closer and closer by a masterful storyteller who, conscious of his audience’s growing interest, intentionally withholds gratification simply to prove he can. While it’s true that this tension is inherent in the Gershwin score, Evans executes it with such clean elegance and simplicity, it’s hard to imagine it being performed with any more grace, intelligence, or integrity.
I feel it’s especially appropriate to discuss the music in terms of the relationship between artist and audience in this case, as “I Loves You Porgy” was recorded live as part of the now legendary sessions at the Village Vanguard. Consequently, present from the start of the track (and throughout) is the lively murmur of the crowd, complete with clinking glasses and dinnerware, punctuated occasionally by laughter.
Far from distracting, I find the audience noise an integral part of the beauty of this recording, putting us in a particular night with a particular crowd in that cramped room in the basement of a building in the West Village. Bill Evans, Scott LaFaro, and Paul Motian perform not in spite of the audience’s noise, but because of the people gathered there to listen.
The song continues in the style of the opening phrase, opting for clarity of line and reveling in the natural ebb and flow of the music’s romance. Just the players seem delightfully lost in the improvisational atmosphere they’re creating, they sober up at the five minute mark and return to the deliberateness of those opening five notes. As we hear the line “I Loves You Porgy” this time—the final time—the tempo slows and any of the song’s playfulness fades into dignified reflection.
And the audience applauds.
This is the opening entry in an ongoing series reflecting on particularly influential or outstanding tracks from favorite albums or artists.
FilkBlog: The Scott Filkins Experience 