By Paul Acquaro
I recall the night of April 23, 2016 fairly well. I
was seated towards the right side, somewhat towards the back, of the seats that
had been set up in the big open space of the new Whitney Museum. I recall the set-up facing east-ward, towards Brooklyn, though the liner notes mention overlooking the Hudson River. Regardless, it had been
only a few days before that I saw an announcement on Facebook that a
performance by Cecil Taylor had been added to the series accompanying the exhibition showcasing his life’s work. Wow. I had been waiting for a good time to go to the museum and this seemed to be it. Lucky too, it also turned out to be the last time
that Taylor would play a public concert.
Just before the show was to begin, I did a drive-by of the display cases of
Cecil Taylor’s work in the exhibit. I had been absorbed in his graphic
notations and in awe of the legendary FMP box set. As to the concert, I was not sure what to expect, but that was secondary. Any chance to see this legend
of free-jazz was enough, and I certainly didn’t expect such a show of energy and
intensity from the frail 87-year-old pianist.
The show began, as the listener can experience here, with a few deliberate
notes from Taylor at the piano. As the ideas begin forming, tones from Okkyung Lee’s
cello begin shadowing the painist’s twisting melodic phrases. Jackson Krall’s drum rolls
started coming with increasing frequency as Harri Sjöström, who had worked with
Taylor in the 90s and was instrumental in organizing this appearance, added colorful motion to the growing music, his playing intertwining seamlessly with
the cello. Taylor’s long-time collaborator Tony Oxley, who was unable to play
drums at this point, adds electronic adornments to the music. Within minutes,
the group seems to gave gelled into the titular “new unit.”
The music is energetic and simply flowing. That this was the first appearance
of this quartet — and one that was pretty much spontaneously assembled just prior to
the concert’s start — is almost unbelievable. Cohesive, responsive and flowing, the quartet hit all the right notes. At about 35-minutes into
the spirited set, Taylor rose from the piano bench and began to speak.
Sounding a bit like late period William Boroughs, Taylor’s thin, lightly warbling voice
began discussing something between science, history and philosophy. I recall
trying to make sense of the sentences but losing the thread as soon as I
thought I had grabbed a piece of it. Silly me, this too was sound, words like
melodic snippets and chordal fragments. Taylor was not playing alone, the group was underscoring, accentuating and reacting like when deep into recitation, Taylor suddenly starts to
mimic the trilling saxophone, playing not just with the sounds of the words
but with the sounds of the big open hall. The words last almost 45-minutes and
end in an explosion of applause.
Taylor is in very good form on the recording, and apparently was not considering this to be a final performance either, however he passed away in
2018 without having given another one. So, Words and Music the last bandstand, released on
the prolific Fundacja Sluchaj label from Warsaw, is the grand master’s final artistic statement and it is a satisfying coda to a
remarkable career. Luckily preserved, even if it was not recorded perfectly, the label has done a wonderful job in making
it quite presentable. Hell, it gets five stars just because it exists – but it does muich more than that.