Peterson's piano is *crunchy*, just full of texture and gristle and lithe movement and that muscular flex. One moment its aflutter, but then there's this meaty ribcage, this heft, that sneering punk with a butterfly knife, and a bunch of tough motherfuckers at his back. That piano don't get pushed around.
Great, hearty upright bass on this record too - grudging respect from the jazz philistine 3.5/5
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