If invitations to jam can give any hint of a musician’s reputation, then Craig Taborn has to be one of the most admired jazz pianists in the world. He’s released a handful of albums under his own name, beginning with a hard-to-find 1994 debut on the DIW label. But Taborn has been featured in a sideman role on a stunning array of sessions. Of late, he has delivered vigorous free-improv work alongside Art Ensemble of Chicago co-founder Roscoe Mitchell. And he has also played some of John Zorn’s most lyrical pieces in a trio that included the fiercely swinging bassist Christian McBride.
Central to Taborn’s wide appeal is the way he can thread “free jazz” style playing inside more conventional structures. A knowledge of funk and electronic music informs his ability to create catchy, short vamps, in the midst of otherwise frenetic solos. In his original compositions, Taborn’s playing has an exquisite rightness—even during the most out-there passages. If he starts playing motifs in different meters, in each hand, it’s not because he’s in a particular hurry to show off his chops. When a rush of tricky rhythm hits, it’s clear that the tune has been building toward that density. The fact that Taborn can shift into this experimental high gear so casually helps keep his music feeling poised and approachable.
Since signing to ECM earlier this decade, Taborn’s output as a leader has ticked up in pace a bit. A 2011 solo piano album, both impressionistic and intense in character, served as his label debut. A trio record of subtle heat followed in 2013. The peaks of bash that Taborn produces elsewhere were mostly absent on those outings. (It’s not a complete surprise, given ECM’s focus on serene aesthetics.) The trend continues on Taborn’s new quartet album, Daylight Ghosts, but on this occasion, he sets a quixotic challenge for himself. The pianist and his bandmates find ways to make the music sound raging despite the moderate dynamic levels.
Opening track “The Shining One” creates drama through jagged switches. To start, drummer Dave King—most famous for his work in the Bad Plus—teases listeners with a brief solo groove. Then he’s gone, leaving Taborn and tenor saxophonist Chris Speed to voice the piece’s winding, long-lined theme together. When the rhythm section comes back in, the beat is free. Taborn dives with precision over the keyboard during his solo, while Speed rephrases portions of the main hook, rooting the performance.
The contrasts here—between fixed and free rhythms, between melody and cacophony—are wild. Still, the group’s collective touch remains gentle, sublime. As they eventually converge on a beat that recalls King’s opening, there’s a sense that the music is fulfilling an inevitable destiny. This all happens in three and a half minutes: an economy of duration that is rare in exploratory modern jazz.
Nothing else on Daylight Ghosts repeats this pattern, though several other tracks manage to be equally surprising. On “Ancient,” an introductory solo from bassist Chris Lightcap has a solemn spirituality. The rest of the ensemble enters gingerly—yet by the end of the tune, they’re all engaged in an ecstatic group dance. The title track’s initial chorus and solos sound bummed out beyond belief; soon, the cloistered vibe gives way to a minimalist theme that suggests rising spirits. “Abandoned Reminder” is driven by noir sonics before a Taborn riff puts the tempo into urgent overdrive. On “The Great Silence,” Speed switches to clarinet—and Taborn’s arrangement responds to the reed player’s lustrous tone with an electronic percussion part.
In between those unpredictable statements, Taborn provides a few palette-cleansers that are more direct. “Jamaican Farewell,” his cover of a Roscoe Mitchell ballad, is handled gorgeously, as the bandleader oversees a slight electronic sheen. And “New Glory” doesn’t shroud its intentions at all. It’s simply an uptempo shot of Taborn’s gift for joyous, funk-inspired riffing—as well as a look at his ability to ornament a catchy melody for as long as he wants.
The final cut, “Phantom Ratio,” is a fitting capstone for an album with this much range. The lengthy track features droning tones that would fit in well in a concert of contemporary-classical chamber music, but it’s also driven by an electronic keyboard loop. This is the sort of fractured, almost-danceable motif that Taborn has occasionally toyed with since his influential 2004 fusion album Junk Magic. Here, the stylistic distance from vintage IDM trends is greater. A brief electronic percussion pulse rounds out the performance—and the album—much as a brief hit of King’s acoustic drumming started things off. From its grand design down to its smallest quirks, Daylight Ghosts shows that Taborn is much more than an elite jazz piano shredder. He’s a compositional force, as well.
