Taylor's exploratory range has never been greater, and his playfulness seldom comes through like this in solo work.
On July 16, 1988, Cecil Taylor sat alone at the piano in Berlin during the second-to-last day of a month-long residency where he had performed in every conceivable setting. This solo concert became one of his most satisfying recordings. The three-part structure gives the performance room to breathe, with two short delightful songs appended at the end—a rare moment of levity in Taylor's typically severe solo work.
What makes this session matter is how completely Taylor inhabits the instrument. His influences, interests, and obsessions are all engaged here: mused upon, debated, underscored. You hear the stride pianists he revered, the classical techniques, the free association, the rhythmic displacement—all of it layered into a single conversation. His exploratory range at this point in his career had never been greater, and the playfulness that often gets buried in his more abstract work comes through clearly. This is Taylor truly living as an artist, not merely proving a point.
Among his vast catalog of solo recordings, this one stands apart because it captures both his technical command and his willingness to delight. AllMusic reviewer Thom Jurek gave it 4.5 stars, recognizing it as the place where everything Taylor had been pursuing came into genuine focus. For listeners new to Taylor, this is a better entry point than many of his earlier solo efforts—more welcoming, but no less demanding.