Hank Jones, and the Art of Transformation
The voice of an artist changes, and we do too.
These past few days I found myself looking into the recording career of a jazz giant, the American pianist Hank Jones (1918-2010), discovering musical pearls particularly in his piano solo repertoire. While pondering on the depth and elegance of his style, I could not but notice how his playing changed through the decades. While in the early albums I would find intriguing how Jones’ style navigates with immense peronality the transition between ‘old’ Swing and ‘new’ Bop, and I would enjoy the variety of ideas, techniques, solutions he offers in between these two worlds, in his later music I find him relieved from precise stylistic references, his lyricism liberated, his piano virtuosity entirely dedicated to genuine expression.
What is true of Hank Jones could be said for many artistic figures, in music and elsewhere. True artists are so devoted to being authentic to themselves and their art that they are in constant search for a new way of expression, one that will fit as they change. A good artist seems to not only accept change, but to invite and welcome transformation in life: looked from the outside the lives of artists often follows a 360 degrees trajectory of experimentation and discoveries. For those who are not artists, who set themselves on lives that tend to be more linear and either goal or family oriented, the one of artists is a funny kind of commitment, no? I mean being committed to …nothing but change.
If you have followed closely any musician, composer or band, you probably have been intrigued, perhaps inspired, at times even disappointed by the direction he or she took. When a piece of music touches our hearts, we are inclined to develop some sort of relationship with the artist who created it and, especially with living artists, as they change through the years we are called to redefine those relationships. We might prefer the early works and dislike the late ones, or we might appreciate and understand better the later output but feel unattached to the early stuff. In the end, it’s always a story of transformation, theirs and ours.
Throughout the entirety of his career Jones seems motivated by one thing: bringing up to the surface his playful, lyrical, witty, elegant, soft-spoken, humble, insightful soul. The way he mostly accomplishes it is by interpreting Jazz, the music he grew up in. What characterizes his style the most to me is a constant element of class that, exactly like in many greats (including Mozart, Ellington, Schubert) becomes the foundation of his grammar. Every song he treats is now lifted to a higher standard, for the delight of us listening. In the world of Hank Jones interpretation has one purpose: to clean the dust from an old tune and reinvigorate it by turning it into a new, vibrant musical moment.
For many jazz musicians life is what happens between a tune and another.
Because that is all it is, a musical moment. Jazz musicians live on a stream of musical moments: while a classical concert performer might prepare a set repertoire for a year before recording and performing it on tour, a jazz musician tends to perform the tune that happens on a given occasion. They work on craft and style, and when it’s time, either on a stage or in a recording studio, they are ready to interpret the tune of the moment. For many jazz musicians life is what happens between a tune and another. Hank Jones is no different, he takes very seriously his responsibility of making that moment count, filling it with delight and inspiration, while also accepting the brevity of those moments. He doesn’t seem interested in making his art sound profound or transcendental, he knows the tune will be over soon, so he summons all his powers and fills the moment with as much beauty as he can, projecting a refreshingly serene and humble attitude.
The piano music of Hank Jones perhaps is helping me these days putting the finger on the power of transformation in music. While staying true to his vocation all throughout his career, Jones lets his own voice change, but rather than instructing such change, he allows it. Transformation is something that happens TO him. His style slowly transforms through the decades, his phrasing becomes less intricate and more linear, his melodic trajectories are longer and filled with lyricism, the richness of his harmonies and textures expands, while technical prowess is overcome by pure playfulness.
A story of transformation that, in its authenticity, might resemble the story of many of our lives: from a youthful desire to master and impress to a more mature sense of openness and acceptance; complexity, angularity, intricacy leave the room to sobriety, smoothness, humour; attention to detail integrates with wider and farther looking perspectives on form, expression, and life.
Even within a single album you might notice how the artist’s voice changes from one piece to another, and you might think of your favorite artist and how many different selves he/she seems to inhabit in only one album. What is an album after all if not a collection of different explorations into someone’s world, all coming out of the same period of time? Each track is the result of the artist looking, interacting, playing with one portion of his/her reality, and we long to see the world through their many eyes. In Jones’ recordings one can get hypnotised by the never-ending creativity of his improvisations, only to be woken up in the next tune by the straight forward, lyrical, almost simple elegance of his touch, or by the irony bursting through his vibrant sense of Swing. Perfect case of music being alive.
A single tune can be the opportunity for a short, yet whole journey of transformation: when the artist accepts the profound responsibility of the moment, he leaves the listeners no chance than to join. I can almost see Hank Jones smiling as he performs, confident that his audience is letting itself go in a moment of delight. The music starts, we are open, and as the music unfolds, we smile too. There is so much truth in those short moments of beauty that we can become blind to it: it takes the wisdom of a real artist for us to see.
Transformation is the name of the game. The voice of an artist changes through the decades, what he says changes from a tune to another, his tone and intention guides the listeners from the beginning to the end of a single tune: he is always himself, but never the same. To join the artist we must transform too: leave expectations behind and accept what is offered in this strange way of ‘sharing what matters’ that is music. How do we fully listen, how can we really immerse ourselves in a world of marvel like the one Hank Jones is putting forward? Forget yourself, open your ears and let him do the job. Happy journey!