Piano Powerhouse Jack Spann Puts Out a Mysterious, Kinetic Debut Album
Jack Spann is one of New York’s most in-demand keyboardists. He’s not related to Otis Spann, but from the way he plays blues, you’d think he might be. He has Carnegie Hall-class chops and can do stride piano and ragtime as well as anyone in town. But as popular a sideman as Spann is – he collaborated with David Bowie and has been playing with noir icon LJ Murphy lately – he’s also a solo artist in his own right. His own material spans from parlor pop, to creepy Americana, to labyrinthine art-rock with a theatrical flair. His debut solo album,Time, Time, Time, Time, Time is due out momentarily, with a release show on what has turned out to be a great night of music on April 15 at Sidewalk, of all places. Spann opens the night at 8, followed eventually at 10 by an even darker art-rock group, the careening, twin guitar-driven Desert Flower, and then at 11 Lorraine Leckie & Her Demons with their blend of snarling Americana, psychedelia and misterioso folk noir..
On the album, the fun really starts with the third track. Spann – who plays most of the instruments, including bass, drums and guitars in addition to multiple keyboards – kicks it off with a slinky Rhodes riff over an organ swell…and then builds a stompingly optimistic vintage 70s soul anthem. Stern synthesized strings open the dramatic, gospel-tinged title track, a brooding contemplation of the ravages of time; Spann’s precise, pointillistic riffage brings to mind Tony Banks’ work with Genesis during their early 70s peak with Peter Gabriel. Producer Gary Tanin enhances those majestic sonics with his own multi-keyboard contributions.
“Is it fear or loyalty that keeps you in its sway?” Spann asks early in the angst-fueled, minor-key waltz after that. The next number, Disappearing Girl traces the ominous tale of an abduction, over a tensely scampering, cinematic pulse spiced with tricky organ and accordion flourishes. With its surreal, trippy lyrics and rapidfire baroque-rock piano and organ, My Dinosaur echoes current-day keyboard-driven psychedelic bands like Fever the Ghost.
Molly Mastrangelo duets on Games, a swaying, syncopated folk-rock number and a return to the missing-woman scenario. Spann’s foreboding bass joins in tandem with the organ as Everybody Here’s Stained gets underway; it’s sort of a more gospel-infused take on classic Genesis. The album winds up with the pouncing, Joe Jackson-inflected parlor pop of Breakdown, an explosive coda to the mysteries that have been percolating up to this point.