Maurice Vander - 1968 - Maurice Vander

Maurice Vander

1968

Maurice Vander

01. Sonny Moon For Two

02. Wims Of Chambers

03. Darling,Je Vous Aime Beaucoup

04. Philly

05. I Don't Mean A Thing

06. Satin Doll

07. Over The Rainbow

08. My Foolish Heart

Bass – Luigi Trussardi

Drums – Philly Joe Jones

Piano – Maurice Vander

Maurice Vander’s 1968 self-titled album, Maurice Vander (sometimes referred to as Maurice Vander - Luigi Trussardi - Philly Joe Jones), recorded with bassist Luigi Trussardi and drummer Philly Joe Jones, stands as a compelling snapshot of the French jazz pianist’s artistry during a period of creative maturation. Released originally on vinyl by Cy Records (CYL 6463) in 1978—though recorded a decade earlier in 1968—this trio session captures Vander at a crossroads, blending his refined, lyrical style with the muscular, hard-swinging energy of his American and Italian collaborators. Below is an in-depth analysis of the album, exploring its historical context, musical content, performances, and significance within Vander’s broader career.

By 1968, Maurice Vander was an established figure in the European jazz scene, having spent the 1950s and early 1960s building a reputation as a versatile sideman and leader. born in 1929 in Vitry-sur-Seine, France, Vander had worked with giants like Django Reinhardt, Chet Baker, and Kenny Clarke, earning the prestigious Prix Django Reinhardt in 1962. His early trio recordings, such as Piano Jazz (1955) and Jazz at the Blue Note (1960), showcased his elegant touch and bebop fluency, often tempered by a European sensibility. The late 1960s marked a shift: Vander was increasingly balancing his jazz roots with studio work, including his long-term collaboration with Claude Nougaro, which began in the early 1960s. The 1968 session with Trussardi and Jones reflects this transitional phase—rooted in straight-ahead jazz but infused with a raw, transatlantic vigor.

Luigi Trussardi, an Italian bassist active in France, brought a robust, melodic foundation to the trio. Philly Joe Jones, the American drumming legend known for his work with Miles Davis’s First Great Quintet, was a powerhouse whose presence in Paris during this period enriched the local scene. Recorded at Studio Davout in Paris, the album emerged from a fertile moment when American expatriates and European musicians were cross-pollinating ideas. Though the session sat unreleased until 1978, its 1968 creation places it amid a jazz landscape evolving toward fusion and freer forms—yet this album remains firmly traditional, a testament to Vander’s commitment to the swinging trio format.

The album, while sparse on detailed track listings in some sources, is a concise showcase of standards and possibly one or two originals, typical of Vander’s trio output. Exact track titles vary across discographies (e.g., the 1991 CD reissue on Dreyfus Jazz differs slightly from the 1978 vinyl), but the session is known to include pieces like “Wings of Chambers” (sometimes listed on labels) and likely other jazz staples. The focus here is less on innovation in composition and more on the interplay and interpretive depth of the trio. Maurice Vander (Piano): At 39, Vander is in peak form, his playing a blend of technical precision and emotional warmth. His style here is more assertive than in his 1950s sessions, possibly spurred by Jones’s intensity. He favors single-note lines over dense chordal work, letting the melody breathe while punctuating solos with tasteful flourishes. His European elegance—less angular than Martial Solal, less introspective than Bill Evans—pairs beautifully with the American grit of his rhythm section.

Luigi Trussardi (Bass): Trussardi, a lesser-known but capable player, provides a sturdy backbone. His tone is deep and resonant, his lines simple yet effective, offering a platform for Vander’s explorations. In solos (if featured), he likely leans melodic, reflecting the Italian jazz tradition of lyrical bassists like Giorgio Azzolini. His role is functional yet essential, bridging the piano and drums with understated finesse.

Philly Joe Jones (Drums): Jones is the album’s wildcard, bringing a hard-bop ferocity that elevates the session. His timekeeping is impeccable, his fills explosive yet controlled—a masterclass in dynamics. Compared to Vander’s earlier work with softer drummers like Jacques David or even Kenny Clarke, Jones’s muscular approach injects a raw energy, pushing the trio into a harder-swinging realm. His presence recalls his iconic work on albums like Milestones (1958), adapted here to a more intimate setting.

The trio’s chemistry is the album’s heart. Vander leads with poise, Jones challenges with vigor, and Trussardi stabilizes with quiet strength. The result is a dialogue that feels both rehearsed and spontaneous, a hallmark of great jazz trios.

Recorded at Studio Davout, a Paris hub known for its warm acoustics, the album benefits from engineer Yves Chamberland’s expertise. The sound is clear and balanced—Vander’s piano crisp in the foreground, Trussardi’s bass full-bodied, and Jones’s drums punchy without overpowering. The mono or early stereo mix (depending on the pressing) captures the live-in-the-room feel, though the decade-long delay in release suggests the tapes were well-preserved. René Urtreger’s liner notes add a peer’s perspective, while F. Paudras’s photography and design lend a classic jazz aesthetic to the package.

The album’s strengths lie in its performances and cohesion. Vander’s lyrical clarity, paired with Jones’s rhythmic fire, creates a compelling contrast, while Trussardi’s reliability keeps it grounded. It’s a masterclass in straight-ahead jazz—accessible yet sophisticated, swinging yet refined. For fans of Vander’s earlier work, it offers a bolder evolution; for Jones admirers, it’s a rare European outing from a bebop titan.

Limitations include its lack of originality in material—standards dominate, with little evidence of Vander compositions—and its relatively conventional scope. In 1968, jazz was branching into fusion (e.g., Miles Davis’s In a Silent Way groundwork) and free improvisation, but Vander stays rooted in tradition. This conservatism might feel dated to some, though it’s precisely what makes the album timeless for others.

Within Vander’s discography, this album bridges his early trio explorations and his later, more eclectic output (e.g., the 1972 jazz-funk Chess). It’s a high point of his straight-ahead phase, showcasing his ability to lead a world-class rhythm section. For Philly Joe Jones, it’s a footnote in a storied career, but a valuable one, highlighting his adaptability outside American contexts. Trussardi’s contribution, while less heralded, adds to the session’s international flavor.

The 1978 release and 1991 CD reissue (Dreyfus Jazz) kept it alive, though it remains somewhat obscure compared to Vander’s work with Nougaro or his earlier classics. Collectors prize it—vinyl copies fetch $16-$30, per Discogs—but it’s not as widely celebrated as it deserves. Its legacy lies in its purity: a no-frills document of three masters in sync, unburdened by trends.

Maurice Vander (1968) is a gem for jazz purists. It’s not revolutionary, but it doesn’t need to be—its power is in the execution. Vander’s poised leadership, Jones’s electrifying drums, and Trussardi’s steady bass craft a session that’s both a time capsule and a timeless listen. It rewards repeated spins, revealing new nuances in the trio’s interplay. For fans of mid-century jazz or Franco-American collaborations, it’s essential; for casual listeners, it’s a sophisticated entry into Vander’s world. A quiet triumph from a pianist too often overshadowed by his sideman roles.