John Taylor
Tramonto

John Taylor piano
Marc Johnson double bass
Joey Baron drums
Concert recording, January 2002
CBSO Centre, Birmingham
Engineer: Curtis Schwartz
Cover photo: Jean-Guy Lathuilière
An ECM Production
Release date: September 19, 2025

As a dedicated ECM listener, few things excite me as deeply as seeing a neglected catalog number filled (in this case, 2544) and the unvaulting of an archival recording from a musician no longer with us. To have both in one release is a cause for rejoicing. 

Pianist John Taylor (1942-2015) has a storied history on ECM, having made his label debut on 1977’s Azimuth with Norma Winstone and Kenny Wheeler, and since appearing on projects with John Surman, Peter Erskine, and Jan Garbarek, among others. The present recording, captured live in January of 2002 at the CBSO Centre in Birmingham during a Contemporary Music Network Tour, predates the classic Rosslyn with the same trio by only a few months. In fact, “Between Moons” is shared between the two. The bandleader’s ballad walks amiably from shadow to streetlight, letting its thoughts wander as they will to places and people yearned for. With a tenderness only visible behind closed eyes, it slides into delicate propulsions without a hint of force.

Yet it’s in “Pure and Simple,” another Taylor original, where the concert begins by throwing us into the deep end. The title is an ironic one, as there’s nothing pure and simple about it. This chameleonic tune changes colors and faces at the drop of a hat, dancing its way through a gallery of scenes, influences, and moods. The interplay is cosmically telepathic, treating every shift as a stage of development in an organism that still feels like it’s growing all these years later. Johnson manages to both stay within the lines and leap beyond them with great joy, while Baron anticipates every move with fluid precision.

Steve Swallow’s “Up Too Late” is the set’s juicy center. An epic romp through boppish territory, it finds Taylor exuberantly balancing play and rigor. Despite the robustness of its dramaturgy, there’s a masterful restraint that holds its own in the first act before the keyboard unleashes a deluge of liberation. This inspires Baron to unpack his snare like a bag of rattlesnake eggs as Taylor defenestrates his allegiance to form and Johnson sings through his arco vibrato.

The title track by Ralph Towner, first heard with its composer and Gary Peacock on 1994’s Oracle, brings us back to center with Johnson plucking by his lonesome before Taylor emotes his way into frame. The resulting carpet is unfurled one careful turn at a time, a plush and forgiving surface on which to travel toward the 15-minute juggernaut that is Taylor’s “Ambleside.” Opening with finger-dampened strings and percussive tapping, it courts us with understated allure before the theme introduces itself forthrightly. The resulting groove inspires playful turns from all concerned. Baron is on point with his hand drumming, leading the trio into a most delicate and ethereal finish.

Fans of Taylor shouldn’t even hesitate to make this album a part of their collection.