Jazz Review : Alan Broadbent Sets a High Double Standard

In a sense, all piano players worth their salt are ambidextrous. But few put both hands to use as effectively as pianist Alan Broadbent.

Broadbent’s appearance with bassist Putter Smith and drummer Paul Kreibich on Thursday at Kikuya Restaurant was a wonderful, two-handed affair as the keyboardist developed songs equally with right and left appendages.

While most pianists lead with the right and follow with the left, Broadbent gave both equal time, sometimes stating melodies in the lower register with his left hand while providing chordal accompaniment above middle C with his right. This technique imparted a serious, weighty feel to a tune’s lyric, especially when contrasted with upper-register embellishments.

More often, Broadbent’s hands worked in tandem, the left providing strong, broad-shouldered support for the soaring lines issued from his right. Sometimes they joined in unison played at an octave (or occasionally two) apart. These passages were often followed by dense, chordal constructions that were rich and warm at times, edgy and atonal at others.

The net effect was one of astounding virtuosity and remarkable expression. Broadbent’s play suggested the intensity of Bud Powell and the depth of Art Tatum but was never derivative of these late masters. Indeed, Broadbent seems to have studied the entire history of jazz piano in arriving at his own voice.

A pair of Thelonious Monk tunes that opened the second set was particularly revealing. “Blue Monk” found the pianist working with some of the quirkiness and dissonant accents that marked its late composer’s style. Broadbent then introduced “Well You Needn’t” with Monk-like, stuttering lines before evening out the calculated rough edges as he drove smoothly into a very un-Monk-like solo.

The evening was full of similarly contrasted moments. A warm, Bill Evans-flavored version of “Lover Man” was followed by a hyperactive reading of Freddie Hubbard’s “Joy Spring,” with strings of notes played so quickly they seemed to melt into one another.

A Latin-paced version of “Black Orpheus,” full of rhythmic high jinks, was followed by an emotion-charged presentation of “How Deep Is the Ocean.”

*

Bassist Smith is the perfect foil for Broadbent’s involved style. The onetime Thelonious Monk sideman supplied only what was necessary, and his solos were spare, thoughtful affairs. Drummer Kreibich was detail-oriented, often playing around the beat, while working at volumes suitable to the small room and the trio format. Together, Kreibich and Smith gave Broadbent the kind of minimal direction that allowed him to follow his every whim.

Even “Body and Soul,” that exhausted standard that seems dredged up every time a jazz trio forms, was given a fresh, moving reading. Broadbent stated the theme in deep tones played with the left hand, while the right provided inquisitive counterpoint.

Moving further inside his improvisation, he played with delicate emotion before establishing a more weighty group of chords. Never one to just let a tune trail off, he brought the number to a close with a series of classical flourishes.

Indeed, Broadbent’s more romantic moments often suggested the classical Impressionism of Debussy or Ravel. And his manner at the keyboard, as he sways and responds to his playing, suggests more of a concert pianist than a jazz keyboardist. But Broadbent transcends simple comparisons to genres and styles. He’s truly a one-of-a-kind musician.