Bill Evans & Jim Hall
Undercurrent
In June 1961, Bill Evans reached the pinnacle of jazz with his trio at New York's Village Vanguard. However, the euphoria was brutally cut short just days later by the tragic death of his bassist, Scott LaFaro. Devastated, Evans withdrew from the world and stopped playing for nearly a year. It was Jim Hall who gently pulled him out of the darkness. Undercurrent was that saving grace—a masterpiece born from raw healing and absolute creative empathy.
The visual gateway to this profound rebirth is one of the most hauntingly beautiful covers in jazz history. The striking image, captured by pioneering photographer Toni Frissell in December 1947 at Weeki Wachee Spring, Florida, depicts a performer suspended in crystalline waters like an underwater phantom. Her drifting white dress embodies the very essence of the album's title: a weightless, deep, and silent undercurrent that mirrors the quiet intensity of Evans' piano and Hall's guitar.
Yet, when turning over the sleeve of this deeply emotional and visual album, any collector expecting traditional, comforting liner notes is in for a shock. Instead, we run into a wonderful, cryptic anomaly titled "Wait Quickly", signed by the experimental writer Barry J. Titus.
Leaving the sacred jazz critics of the day aside, visionary producer Alan Douglas decided that this profound return to music shouldn't be explained, but rather translated into modern art. The result is a sharp literary fiction; a cross between hard-boiled pulp and William Burroughs' cut-up beat poetry, masterfully driven by the stream of consciousness technique immortalized by James Joyce in Ulysses.
Titus shatters syntax and discards punctuation, blending flashes of pure poetry with mundane, everyday thoughts—perhaps capturing the fragmented mind of a healing genius. Yet, through the apparent chaos, real clues from the studio remain: explicit mentions of the piano leg shadows ("piano leg shadows"), the instrument's keys ("fat ended keys"), and even the fetishized date of May 15th, 1959.
Do not look for linear logic here; this text has dated in a way the music never will, yet it remains a fascinating relic meant to be felt. Below, we share this visual and literary experiment for you to experience on your screen while letting the music play...
Rimmed iron wheels chew candy between tracks window smithers Xmas tree window silver money fleeing present unone given coca cola smiling blank wall perspires omens heads nodding close gaped lips seen stick stuck taxi sign disrobes May 15th, 1959, hanging about her knees mail bundle wheeled cripple clutches Read Wall Street clock white sun monocle IIV or VII long blink see eyes time? Appari-tional liquid hesitates a foot, a universe below the white paint-trussed varicose cieling. Liquid slips, drops, unoutlineable shape, presenting absence, glides unreal, an excuse for splattering focus, a school of Dolphins or a dark Grecian head. Virtu-oso: practice makes perfect. Two sharps. Ice crystal diamond egg frog oan wrkwrx-wrxwrx. Donned rubber belts nose mouth. Nub knuckled fingers bounce overfilled heat tear salt balling. Again. Two sharps: Ice crystal, diamonkey, egg, nail rubonk, snill. Huhhh. Snill. rubru, nail, frog, dia-mond many windows flash ice. Air out. Curtain fingers, cieling lines, French door bars gripped unstill sun broiling play, fat ended keys with black spines. “How could the Augsburg festival have been in Vienna, hah! Loewy?” Paint corner her jagged lip fingertips petrified red cream smile flicked starving grotto. “I mean is she a satirist or,” her tendon muscle stomach dieted twist the flat skirt front. “I think she needs a milk man, Loewy.” The shambled, bent, stripped fingers forked each others angles. His imagination chained in Veronica’s orange ochre wallpaper, blankets. A quick-silver limb paints the swamptoon. “Yes, I do!” shook, he shivered, remembering, room loose daggers broke ice bergs about them. Peanut butter note, Fang, Fang. Ice Fang back wriggled sorcerer hand hung dead skin frog fangs back Mama into Eassie leap shrunk from the door hid sharpened tusk hallway awwrice fang bump jump. “Six fifteen,” growled grate hunched on the sofa. “You’re presence is expiring, I mean, inspiring.” Blue, yellow tinged, Mars capillaried, eye, blue crystal, whites slash, “I know what I want! Why is it such a struggle for you? I feel revolu-tions.” Lie quicksilver idealisation limb delusion chrome rationalisation dance dragged curtained bog cracked ice ama-zon child’s burning nerves. Always left whiskers, uneven fingernails, premature orgasms hairy legs, long nose pranthula. Go play. Eat chocolate cake, peanut but-ter, pickles, but clean your room and wash your elbows. Ceiling lines, piano leg shad-ows, French door bars, eleven to four thirty. “Ma!” shook the still fingers. Rec-tangled silence coagulated, scraped wait-ing, dangling. Daddyeeee drove him smack clamored up back fallen stairs into the quilt where a silk wrapped, dark quaked moon bled tears. Run vanity open smear black commaed cheek. “Coups d’etat!” forehead burst powder, lipstick ribboned run eye shadow sink spit spigot greyened clear washed black rubbed lather pushed red pressed tan smeared blue smudged grey circled one eye deathlaughcue hic-cupping criggle vermouth spread on the table top gash crystal core neck glass cupped fingers polished green. A silver ghost hears. Life illuminates a paper screen. Eyes dance truth’s instrument. Sieve, sickle and sloat, the rad grimes grey molds parted skins furrowed tissue lives skeletal screams. Long brown stone blunt nose raised, “Naked day?” puffed sound hat swivel, “I don’t know what to say.” Jagged leaning brown limbed face. His eyes crumbled smiles smoke dust wound warm bricks.
*"Wait Quickly" by Barry J. Titus (from the liner notes)*
This collaboration between Evans and Hall has resulted in some of the most beautiful, thoroughly ingratiating music it has been my pleasure to hear —now or any other time. Each of the selections is suffused with a lyric charm, a tenderness, an elegance, an unabashed romanticism that take one's breath away. These joint inventions have the stamp of inevitability about them, the ring of utter verity in every line and note —the result of a perfect meeting of minds.
Yet not only is the music remarkable for its delicacy and subtlety of interaction, it is immediately appealing for its manifest loveliness. Of the six selections, five are warm, ardent ballads. They are afforded reflective, luminous performances that emphasize to the utmost the lyricism of the songs, yet are never cloying or overdone. It would be difficult to imagine more perfect realizations of the songs —especially "Dream Gypsy" and Hall's attractive "Romain"— for on every one there are any number of moments of glowing, unalloyed beauty, as Evans and Hall spin out their shimmering entwining lines.
The sixth song, "Valentine", is something of a dark horse. Reportedly, United Artists wanted an entire collection of ruminative ballads on the order of the first five; but after the session at which the ballads were recorded, Evans and Hall continued to play for their own satisfaction. Fortunately, the tape machines were left running. Fortunately, because "Valentine" is sure to assume the status of a classic.
Taken at a medium-up tempo, the track is a truly astonishing display of collective creation, with two of jazz' foremost lyrical players at peak form, responding to each other's inventions in a ceaseless, probing, restless and powerful rush of extemporization, producing a seamless whole of force, intensity, and impassioned fervor.
On this track Evans plays in a harder, more jabbing, and extroverted style than has been his wont, supporting Hall's lead lines with a series of fragmented, angular, broken-rhythm chord patterns, and phrasing in his own solos in a lithe, muscular, fiery manner. It's an explosive, highly exciting performance, one that never lets up and which builds to a strong climax.
In the face of such blazing beauty, any attempts at description or analysis are bound to prove fruitless. This music must be heard, and I cannot recommend it highly enough to jazz fans of all persuasions. You can't help but respond to this, for music of this high order knows no age or school. Real art never does. *Pete Welding (Down Beat, November 22, 1962 [5 stars])*
1 - My Funny Valentine (alternate take)
(Richard Rodgers, Lorenz Hart)
2 - My Funny Valentine
(Richard Rodgers, Lorenz Hart)
3 - I Hear A Rhapsody
(Fragos, Baker, Gasparre)
4 - Dream Gypsy
(Judith Veevers)
5 - Stairway To The Stars
(Malneck, Signorelli, Parish)
6 - I'm Getting Sentimental Over You
(Bassman, Washington)
7 - Romain
(Jim Hall)
8 - Romain (alternate take)
(Jim Hall)
9 - Skating In Central Park
(John Lewis)
10 - Darn That Dream
(DeLange, VanHeusen)
Bill Evans (piano), Jim Hall (guitar)
Recorded at Sound Makers, New York City,
April 24 (#3, #5, #6) and May 14 (#1, #2, #4, #7 to #10), 1962












