Trumpeter Arturo Sandoval Takes to the Piano With a Tad Too Much Passion

Arturo Sandoval’s credentials as a trumpeter and a jazz artist are well established, his wider visibility enhanced by the biopic featuring Andy Garcia as Sandoval. Less known, even though he displays it fully in his live performances, has been his skill as a jazz pianist. He finally has had a long-desired opportunity to document that skill in a recorded outing.

“My Passion for the Piano” (***, Columbia) is well titled. If there is anything that bursts through the 12 far-ranging selections, it is Sandoval’s fascination with the instrument and with its potential for personal expression.

The first thing that needs to be noted about his playing is that it is technically adroit, fully up to the virtuosic demands he frequently makes of it. In fact, virtuosity is the keynote throughout the album, with Sandoval rarely slowing down to play anything as measured as simple eighth notes. Whipping through nonstop runs and fast-paced scales and arpeggios, he seems determined to prove to any doubters that he is up to the task of competing on piano at the same high level at which he functions as a trumpeter.

For the most part, he succeeds, most effectively with some of his own material: “Romantico,” “Marianela Says Goodbye” and “D.A.S.S.” But there also are passages in which he appears to be surprisingly out of touch with the rhythmic flow--”Blues in F.” And, despite the awe generated by his sheer mechanical dexterity, there are times when his musical effectiveness would have been enhanced by fewer notes and a lot more open space.

Interestingly, his live performances on piano often exhibit less of a desire to prove his virtuosity in every measure. As good a pianist as Sandoval is (especially given his extraordinary talents as a trumpeter, a singer and a drummer), his passion for the piano would be far more effective if he took a few more deep breaths.

Although his piano work is almost universally admired among jazz musicians, George Cables isn’t heard as much as he should be. In part, that may be because, at 57, he belongs to a kind of in-between generation of jazz artists--too young to have participated in the bebop glory days of the ‘50s, too old to be included among the so-called “young lions” of the ‘90s.

That said, however, Cables’ resume is filled with major engagements via performances or recordings with (among many others) Freddie Hubbard, Art Blakey, Sonny Rollins, Art Pepper, Dexter Gordon and Joe Henderson. Still, highly regarded though he may be as a dependable rhythm section player, Cables rarely has had an opportunity to display his wares as a composer/arranger.

“Shared Secrets” (***1/2, MuseFX Records) solves that problem with a program of music almost completely devoted to Cables’ compositions. (Originally released privately last year, it is now available in wide distribution.)

Although he has written for relatively small ensembles--never more than eight pieces--with limited instrumentation, Cables has produced a splendidly diverse set of works. In some cases (the unusual sounds on “Phantom of the City” are a good example), he makes use of the electronic Emulator to add textured layers. But he does so with an obvious desire to retain as acoustic a quality as possible, integrating the synthesized sounds smoothly into ensembles that feature trumpet, saxophone, flute and rhythm.

His pieces are well crafted and melodically appealing. One or two have the accessibility of smooth jazz without paying the price of musical simplicity. And his funky, revisionist version of “Let My People Go,” with Gary Bartz’s insinuating alto saxophone upfront, brings new life to this venerable song without diminishing its importance as a social document.

Equally important, Cables plays each of his instruments--from acoustic and electric pianos to Emulator--with a feel for each of their qualities. His marvelous electric piano solo on “Just Suppose” defines the instrument as a jazz voice, and his fluent improvising throughout make one wonder why this enormously talented artist continues to labor in such relatively low visibility.

The piano trio is one of the jazz world’s essential chamber ensembles, as vital and expressive within the genre as the string quartet is for classical music. Pianists from Earl Hines and Bud Powell to Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett have managed to find unique ways to use it as a vehicle for improvisational expressiveness.

The diversity present in the basic trio instrumentation--piano, bass and drums--is noticeably apparent in two new recordings from two very different players, Michel Camilo and Lynne Arriale. Although they choose technically similar paths by emphasizing the connection between piano and drums, and placing the bass in a more supportive role, they come up with dramatically different results.

Camilo, born in the Dominican Republic, was the winner of the best Latin jazz album award (for his CD “Spain”) at the first Grammy Latin Awards in 2000. His “Triangulo” (***, Telarc Records), due March 26, juxtaposes his fluent piano playing against the colorful drum set and percussion work of Cuban-born Horacio “El Negro” Hernandez. The results are stunning--impressively so in pieces such as “Mr. C.I.”--with their back-and-forth exchanges serving as the heart and soul of the album. Anthony Jackson, a quintessential rhythm section artist, takes a supportive role, which he handles with strength and subtlety, as, so to speak, the wings beneath the Camilo-Hernandez musical flights.

Camilo’s originals are typically tinged with body-moving Latin qualities (check out his tribute to Tito Puente in “Descarga for Tito”), and he adds a turbulently rhythmic version of Ernesto Lecuona’s classic “La Cumparsa” as well as an airy rendering of Dizzy Gillespie’s “Con Alma.”

As with Camilo, the nexus of Arriale’s trio is her interplay with a drummer, in this case, Steve Davis. The very first track of “Inspiration” (***, TCB Montreux Jazz) makes that link crystal clear via a percussive romp through Leonard Bernstein’s “America.” “It Don’t Mean a Thing,” immediately following, is an even more appealing version of the drums-piano alliance, simmering with an undercurrent of sensual rhythm tinged with a slight touch of reggae. On yet another exceptional track, loose, freely improvised segments of sound and rhythm coalesce into Thelonious Monk’s “Bemsha Swing,” gradually reconstructing the piece into a funk-energized groove.

Arriale and Davis, along with bassist Jay Anderson (who gets the opportunity to step out on his own in Lennon & McCartney’s “Blackbird”), have been working on their musical togetherness for years, and the resulting intuitive compatibility is obvious.

Despite that long-term relationship, there are moments in which Arriale’s Evans-influenced harmonic style doesn’t adapt well to the constant drum presence. In ballads such as Keith Jarrett’s “So Tender” and “The Nearness of You,” for example, Davis’ cymbal ticks and pops simply distract from Arriale’s beautifully floating lines. That caveat aside, Arriale, like Camilo, deserves praise for offering yet another perspective into the seemingly infinite appeal of the jazz piano trio.

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Don Heckman writes frequently about jazz for The Times.