Review Summary: Have a little Compassion.
For some people, music is not a variable. It is interwoven into the very fabric of their being, and present in every aspect of their life, however subconsciously. These people have a unique gift to translate their internal world into a tapestry of sound, and music simply becomes an extension of every triumph and struggle they endure. Vijay Iyer's personal journey with music began at three years of age with classical violin training, but when it comes to the piano, he is largely self taught, often referring to his own progress as a "series of happy accidents". Perhaps this gives credence to the wild, free-flowing and rebellious nature of his playing that canvases this album. There are no rules for Iyer to be governed by, only emotion, and a master of emotion he is. Now with nearly half a century (!!) of musical application under his belt, Vijay Iyer has returned with
Compassion, a second offering of jazz compositions from his trio, featuring Linda May Han Oh on bass, and Tyshawn Sorey on drums—both with impressive credentials and experiences of their own.
Compassion is, as the title suggests, a practice in empathy and mutual understanding. The emotional arc of this album is immensely satisfying, with an ebb and flow of energy that often spans across multiple pieces. Early standout "Overjoyed" (a rendition of Stevie Wonder's classic) quickly sets the baseline for what the trio can do at their most jubilant and uplifting. There are a few deeper cut renditions on this album too, including Roscoe Mitchell's "Nonaah", and a curious mashup of John Stubblefield's "Free Spirits" and Gerri Allen's "Drummer's Song" to close out the album. Don't expect anything overtly familiar about these songs though. The ghosts of the original compositions still float deep within the harmonies, and emerge from time to time with a familiar run of the keys, but they have otherwise been expanded upon and transformed into something utterly unique and memorable in their own right.
Much of the album occupies the realm of quick-footed and frenetic glee, but songs like "Prelude: Orison", "Where I Am" and "It Goes" are great examples of the band slowing down to a crawl to bask in moments of somber reflection. There are hints of sadness here and there, but I wouldn't go so far as to say these are sad pieces—just holistic ones which expound upon the yin and yang of life, a reminder that there is no joy without sorrow. "Tempest" does a great job at exemplifying this duality by clashing a river of cheerful piano chords against the tumultuous undercurrent of the rhythm section that threatens to overthrow our sense of security. It ends up being one of the most anxiety inducing pieces on the album simply due to the uncertainty it conveys.
The aforementioned "Nonaah" is particularly interesting as well. It is the shortest song on the album, at only two and a half minutes, but it is the most condensed blast of intensity on the album. It stands right on the edge of pure chaos, and the original composition has a fantastic back story to boot (it deserves it's own review). These moments of controlled chaos feel like a necessity though, not just to show off how wild and estranged from one another the trio can become without collapsing, but because chaos is an intrinsic part of life. We have to push through these moments of turmoil in order to appreciate our own resilience. In that way, "Nonaah" almost feels like an act of self-love. It's gripping the handrails and not letting go, because you know something better is around the corner.
And there is always something better around the corner. The trio's chemistry is simply intoxicating as they build upon their own powerful bonds of trust to deliver us a series of impeccable highs and disorienting lows—moments both comforting and deeply sobering. Linda May Han Oh's bass lines are just magic. They shine especially during the beginning of "Panegyric", where her inflections take on a conversational tone like she is tumbling through a speech of heartfelt confessions before a toast carries the band away. Likewise, there are countless moments across the album where I wished I could silence the piano and bass just to focus on Sorey's intricate dance on the cymbals. And leading them is Vijay Iyer, whose playing is both fearless and deeply evocative.
Compassion covers an impressive amount of ground in its hour run time, but I keep wishing there was more. There is just an incredible amount of depth to these compositions that cries for your time and attention, which is super easy to give when the return for your investment is nothing short of bliss.
