If the
key to a musician's growth and evolution depends on the constancy
of dissatisfactions he is able to cultivate in both performance
and composition, we shouldn't be surprised that Montreal's John
Roney, by stealth, has emerged as one of Canada's finest jazz
pianists. It may not be unusual for a jazz musician to be classically
trained, but what sets Roney apart is that he is comfortable performing
and recording in either genre. His chamber music debut, Silverbirch,
was nominated for both a Juno and Félix Award in 2010. With festival
season just around the corner, locals and tourists alike will
have ample opportunity to reconnect with or discover a gifted
musician who is “fluent in many centuries.” (Pico
Iyer)
For Montreal's 2015
International Jazz Festival,
Roney will be busy performing with the city's who's who in jazz.
On July 5, at Monument National (8 pm), in a menage à quatre,
he'll be exploring deep space with piano legend Oliver Jones,
and fellow pianists Matt Herkowitz and Julie Lamontagne. On July
3rd, at Salle Gesù (10.30 pm), he'll be waxing lyrical with bassist-supreme
Alain Caron (formerly of Uzeb), whose high-octane fusion Roney
has rewritten for a chamber sextet. I've heard a couple of tracks
and this concept has all the markings of being one of this year's
most talked about concerts.
If you're looking to hear more from Roney's 'but beautiful' CD
entitled Preludes (2013, Effendi), which features exquisite
improvisations on preludes from the classical genre, your best
bet is the Upstairs jazz club – where the pianist has never
turned down a request.
Jazzing up classical music is nothing new. Bach, in particular,
lends itself to jazz, but once the point has been made it is usually
quickly forgotten, in part because the contrived grafting on of
what is formulaic in jazz (cymbal tap + walking bass) invariably
stifles the music's emotive underpinnings.
Enter John Roney, who instead of simply juxtaposing one form onto
the other (think of the force-feeding techniques used in the production
of fois gras) -- out of his deep appreciation and love of the
genre -- stays true to the music's affective content while allowing
himself the latitude to go beyond conventional interpretation
of the original score by improvising and expanding upon the main
themes in order to more fully disclose that which the composer
has left unsaid.
Preludes, which will not appeal to purists, naturally
draws comparison with Julie Lamontagne's controversial Opus
Jazz, a more risky and radical undertaking. In the track
“Rachmania,” for example, based on Rachmaninoff Piano
Concerto No. 3, she keeps to the script until arriving at
an inviting fork in the score at which point she stops playing
the original and uses it as a springboard for her own creation.
She applies this same modus operandi for the entire album,
asking the listener to stop listening to the composer (Chopin,
Ravel, Brahms, Fauré ) and to her instead. To Lamontagne's credit
she manages to pull it off and offers new ways of thinking about
old music and the conventions (straight-jackets) imposed on interpretation.
Roney, in deferring to what is inviolable in the music, is less
ambitious. As such, if the listener should prefer the Roney take
on, say, the Debussy prelude, he would still be listening to what
is signature in the composer, albeit a more open-ended, contemporary
and highly personalized version. Roney persuasively argues that
more can be said than prescribed by the original notes, which
obliges him to break free from the constraints imposed by the
score, and follow his heart, which is but a heart-beat from the
composer's.
Roney's extensive training and career in jazz commands our respect
and attention. His ability to spontaneously feel -- without repeating
-- and reinvent the moment for the moment, all the while remaining
faithful to the original, is uncanny. In the Scriabin “Prelude,
Opus 28, No. 2,” he provides a lesson in right hand left
hand separation as his right hand wafts over and spins out melodies
that recall the vertiginous improvisational feel (which was unique
for its time) of Chopin's “Berceuse.” The limpidity
of his playing speaks to his much improved technique. He has not
only rewritten Scriabin, he makes the case that the original now
risks playing second fiddle -- so convincing and inventive is
Roney's take. He can't sign it, but we cannot listen to it without
ignoring his contribution, which speaks to an accomplishment that
goes far beyond making an older work more palatable to the modern
ear.
Preludes will invariably divide listeners into two camps:
button-down traditionalists will regard Roney's extravaganzas
as an unjust or unnecessary criticism of the original music, while
those for whom good music is its own best argument, will sing
its praises and look for more of the same – a felicitous,
mystical meeting of minds and unlike centuries.
John Roney, not being a lawyer but a musician, makes his ivory-shut
case by playing the music he loves the way it asks to be played.
I predict it will be listened to by many again and again and for
a long time to come.
PS. Not to be missed. This
summer at Orford, for the occasion of its 50th anniversary,
John Roney will be playing the entire Koln Concert
(Keith Jarrett).
