Curtis Clark

Solo piano. The format that separates the genuine article from the pretenders. No rhythm section to hide behind, no horns to share the weight. Just eighty-eight keys and whatever's in your soul. Curtis Clark came to this music through Horace Tapscott - not just as influence but as mentor. Born in Chicago in 1950, raised musically in Los Angeles, Clark became a Tapscott protégé, absorbing that open-ended spiritual approach to the keyboard before striking out for New York and eventually Amsterdam. As a teenager, he once tried to convince Ornette Coleman to hire him - even though Coleman hadn't employed a pianist in years. The audacity alone tells you something.

Reach, Believe It & Play reveals a more sensitive side than his trio recordings with Roberto Miranda and Sonship Theus. "Boogie Stomp (For Amos & Andy)" opens with rolling, blues-drenched authority - a piece Clark would revisit throughout his career, including at the Bimhuis years later. "Monk Me" tips the hat to Thelonious, that angular genius whose shadow falls across everything Clark does. The fifteen-minute "Renuphee" unfolds with patient majesty, while "Everlasting Love" offers balm for the weary.

The title track arrives in three movements - "Reach," "Believe It," "Play" - a trinity of intentions that doubles as artistic manifesto. This is music that demands you meet it halfway, that asks you to reach, to believe, to play along in your imagination.

Crucially overlooked. The phrase appears in nearly every description of Clark's work. But the tapes don't lie, and neither does the piano.