Nothing is so entrancing as a hearing a musician who has the combination of impeccable virtuoso technique and musical vision and creativity required to make them world-class, and this duo comprises two such performers. Gwilym Simcock and Yuri Goloubev create intricate, precise, elegantly executed, intelligent, deeply felt music which is uncompromisingly theirs. They are so at home with their instruments that one feels the music is flowing directly from their creative cores, unimpeded, and their duo playing displays all the hallmarks of a long musical friendship, with beautifully tight ensemble and almost magical intuitive communication. The rare success of their fusion of two musical genres stems, undoubtedly, from their mastery and deep understanding of, and affection for, both classical and jazz music.
As the first chords of the first piece sounded, I was struck by the sweetness and velvet softness Simcock was drawing from the Steinway grand, and, during the evening, he and Goloubev made full use of the enormous range of tonal colour afforded by their instruments. Both Goloubev's upright bass and the piano beneath Simcock's fingers brought percussive attack, warm roundness, and tender brittleness, and the bass, when bowed, a rich and unexpected cello-like song with an exquisitely measured vibrato.
The evening's programme was a rendition of the whole of the duo's most recent album, Reverie at Schloss Elmau, plus two beautifully personal renditions of jazz standards: Anyone's Song But My Own and I Hear Rhapsody. The second of these was preceded by an extended solo improvisation by Simcock which had all the gently restless, scientific, four-square elegance of Bach's Well Tempered Klavier.
I particularly enjoyed Simcock's spoken introductions to the pieces, which gave interesting and entertaining background to the compositions and enjoyable insight into his creative processes. Best of all was the story behind Antics, a piece he was commissioned to write and perform on the fifty pianos installed in public spaces around London as part of the Olympics celebrations. Simcock conveyed the fun he had had, creating music to be danced to by modern dancers, and which had to suit pianos which would almost certainly be broken and out of tune. The resultant piece revelled in a deep groove and the interweaving of complex polyrhythms around a steady, pop-ish beat.
The programme's variety was partially due to the two musicians' distinct composition styles. Goloubev's melodies owed much to the grandeur of the Romantic era. Lost Romance blended elements of French cafe accordions and the slippery chromaticism of Chopin, over dark organum-styled harmonies, and Non-Schumann Lied displayed the luxury and poise the title would suggest, over an almost walking bass. Simcock's influences, however, felt cleaner, fresher. The angular, unpredictable theme of Pastoral, for example, felt very reminiscent of those in Prokoffiev's early works, and Flow, an admiring tribute to Golubev, was full of ecstatic be-bop sunbursts.
This was the first time I had attended a concert at the the Church of Saint John the Evangelist and I was delighted by both the organisation and the venue. The organisers were friendly and professional, and the beautiful church was warm and welcoming, with a sweet, clean acoustic that meant not a single note was lost.
Gwilym Simcock and Yuri Goloubev are giants of jazz and musicians of the highest order. If you get the chance to hear them play live then jump at it. I'm off to buy the album.