Having garnered some of the most excited reviews of his career with last year’s trio record New Concepts in Piano Jazz, maverick pianist Matthew Shipp pivots to his other most well-known concept: an improvised solo record. Unlike, say, Keith Jarrett, Shipp prefers to record in the studio, and avoids being (overtly) influenced by piano lessons or classical training. If anything except his own shimmering imagination rules The Cosmic Piano, it’s the twin towers of Cecil Taylor and the blues.
Like Taylor, Shipp wanders all over the keyboard to seemingly directionless purpose; also like the avant-garde piano demon, deep listening reveals a method to the mania. Unlike Taylor, Shipp doesn’t try to dismantle the keyboard with hurricane speed – indeed, if anything Shipp reigns in the velocity in order to apply more force. Here’s where the blues come in. Outside of sometimes shifting into a warped, angular version of the classic I-IV-V progression, Shipp presses each note with feeling, pushing his own emotions down into the keys with a kind of melancholy whimsy. Thunderous chords alternate with bursts of speed, and his fingers dance across the black keys like a heartbroken rhinoceros – heavy, imprecise, but willing to follow his own steps no matter where they lead.
Unlike on some of his most recent work, Shipp isn’t particularly interested in pulling beauty out of scree here. But The Cosmic Piano is an excellent showcase of Shipp’s incredible, sometimes inexplicable ability to instinctively shape aggro fancy into a distinctive structure – one that speaks with no voice but Shipp’s own.
