‘For jazz musicians, the duo of piano and double bass is a perilous exercise in tightrope-walking, reserved for enthusiasts of extreme refinement, those who like to dance on the edge of abysses. Its alchemy is mysterious. It cannot be commanded; it exists right from the start, or will never exist at all; which is probably why examples of it are not exactly abundant in the discography.
The tandem formed by Stéphane Kerecki and John Taylor now marks a new landmark in the genre. Between these two musicians, the osmosis was immediate, self-evident, thanks to a set of qualities rarely assembled: fluidity of dialogue, beauty of sound, sobriety of gesture . . . and total confidence in each other, a solidarity which removes fear of the void, of missing one’s footing. From this vivid double bass and this colouristic piano emerges music that burns with a tranquil flame; music to get through the night. One might almost forget that it is invented on the razor’s edge . . .
Like close friends reunited after a long separation, the two musicians – who in fact hardly knew each other – at once start revealing their secrets. Their nocturnal conversation describes imaginary landscapes sketched out by the bassist’s pen, conjuring up in passing the presences of some poets of jazz: Bill Evans, Scott La Faro, Ornette Coleman, Paul Bley, Gary Peacock . . .
Serene though it is, it never flags, such is its underlying rhythmic energy. It drifts off to adventurous terrains where the unexpected lurks in each silence. By releasing the account of his brief encounter with John Taylor, Stéphane Kerecki does more than merely delight music-lovers; he proves once again that jazz cannot exist without sometimes flirting with the void.’
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