In Brad Mehldau’s memoir Formation, the pianist and composer recounts the events of his early years, ending in the mid-1990s. Deep philosophical musings alternate with discomforting tales of abuse, sexual confusion, and drug addiction. But for jazz fans, the most engaging passages will undoubtedly be those long sections where Mehldau writes in depth about music and musicians. Two such sections appear below. In the first, our author, still a teenager and newly arrived in New York from Connecticut, is finding his way in the club scene of the late ’80s and learning some lessons about accompaniment.
I had been playing piano in [saxophonist] Jesse Davis’ group at Augie’s and it was heaven—I felt like a cog in a wheel, comping behind him. He played so rhythmically strong and swinging, and my comping was improving every week, being up there with him. Comping is an indispensable part of being a jazz pianist, unless you only want to play your own music without any other soloists. Even then you should have a handle on it.
The experience with Jesse helped to ease an inferiority complex about comping I had brought to New York. It had started during my first gig at the 880 in Hartford, with [drummer/educator] Larry DiNatale. Larry told me two or three times: “You’re really talented, but you’ll never be a good comper.” I wasn’t then, at age 15. [Saxophonist] Joel Frahm was on the gig with us, and at least he didn’t complain too much to me about how I comped behind him. I held onto Larry’s words going forward as I arrived in New York, trying to figure out what he had meant, always trying to be good at comping, never really sure. In retrospect, I think that Larry’s comment
