There is something unique in the music of pianist Giovanni Mirabassi. Not that his approach to improvisation is as it could be typed in a Brad Mehldau example, not because his skill is more famous (it is not less either) than that of any other famous jazz pianist. It is more tenuous, more underground. There is the deep fabric of identity: in his attitude, his temper, his choices and his meditations. A feeling of reverie. Romantic things to say as I think.
When I write romance, I do not mean that romance is slowly now, of what imagery was widespread in (silly stereotype of the poet transit arm crowded with bouquets of lilac), but this original romantic, philosophical, child Germans then adopted by the Latin world. This combination of sensitivity and restrained violence, introspection rebellious beauty and fantasy, this love of melancholy: we find it in the music of Mirabassi. But also. Something Italian, very Italian. The acceptance of another strong identity: lyrical, demonstrative, almost shameless, passionate, abundant, torrential.
This singularity Mirabassi holds perhaps all these years he learned the piano by himself, constantly discouraged by a father yet music lover who does not wish to see become a penniless musician. Child of Perugia, Mirabassi therefore wait to have sixteen years to study with a master and finally discover jazz. What were the songs preferred by Mirabassi, then place it on his keyboard, before he found Trane, Monk, Powell, Art Tatum and others. The tarantella, old popular songs of the region of Umbria, dripping with sweet melodies sung by a caricature of the Italian voice hoarse and hair slicked back? Some classic tunes, played by ear, repeated over and over so, all this agglomerated necessarily constituted a folklore internal staff. Everything comes perhaps from there. Great musicians are unique because they have particular histories, because they are porous, something has twisted. They are, in their way, a beautiful representation of defects imagined by Darwin.
At 16, we said, Mirabassi began his studies. They should already be well underway since a year later only, trumpeter Chet Baker and commits debauchery at his side. Then it was Steve Grossman, who takes him under his wing. And others. What is so recalcitrant father? The story does not say. The a vita va piano piano!
20 years later, Mirabassi, who now resides in France is one of the most leading experts of his instrument, a sort of balance between unbridled romantic, joyous improviser and composer without apparent limit. A symbol of impeccable elegance. Returning to his discography, you realize the slow progression of the musician. "Architecture," "Avanti", "Prima O Poi", "Cantopiano" even lyricism constant will always move forward. If hypnotic earn his compositions with time harmonic complexity, if they still show the time advancing, a willingness to explore new lands, still the same frame, same old identity Italian who married so strokes and tenderness, joy of being alive and melancholy solitude ingrained, inherent to the human condition.
Over time, it also seems that Mirabassi will be found training that suits him perfectly. A trio designed to offer maximum freedom. In this set, we find bassist Gianluca Renzi and drummer / percussionist Leon Parker. The ideal complex. Sensitive guys who can get angry and then play in silence, whip and caress, carry and slowly let it fall. Musicians who share the same love and patience, a love themes, melodic developments. Musicians free, a little angry, a little jokers, guys that are doing a theater from scratch, in just a few accents. Renzi-virtuoso, the pimp and the usurer. Parker, a drummer with a thousand rhythms, which you transformed an idea into a few scholarly syncope. Mirabassi, the brave, the fierce, impetuous. These guys are resilient. The last two discs of the group, "Terra Furiosa" and "Out of Tracks" will tell you better than me. They are genuine internal travel. Rhythmic, jerky, and then untied. Demanding and simple. The themes are bop and captivating, then Latin, then canto. We hear the sonatas here, there "Song of the Partisans", nestled blues here, tortured, then races euphoric. Respecting the identity of each to serve for a common pact, sealed. A pact with Italian! Everyone knows we do not mess with oaths. That are of love, friendship. They sing patriotic songs or the open (s) world (s).
Yes, there is indeed something unique in Mirabassi. A familiar voice, embedded in you, whom you speak, that tells you otherwise things we said to you a thousand times. Who, long after listening, still beats you.
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