Evans and Hall strip jazz down to its bare bones — and it works beautifully.
Most piano-guitar duo records end up sounding like one instrument is waiting politely for the other to finish. Undercurrent (1962) sidesteps that problem almost entirely. Bill Evans and Jim Hall had an unusual rapport — neither player is trying to dominate, and neither is just comping. They listen to each other in a way that feels genuinely collaborative rather than rehearsed. The whole record has a low-key, conversational quality that suits the format perfectly.
What makes this one worth your time is the way the two instruments blur together. Evans's piano and Hall's guitar occupy similar registers and share a similar touch — both light-handed, both fond of space — so the lines weave in and out without announcing themselves. Tracks like 'My Funny Valentine' and 'I Hear a Rhapsody' move slowly enough that you can follow exactly what each player is doing, which is rare. There's no rhythm section, no drummer marking time, just the two of them working through familiar standards with real care. It doesn't always build to anything dramatic, but that's kind of the point.
This isn't Evans showing off his harmonic sophistication the way he does on his trio records, and it isn't Hall playing the single-note melodic lines you hear on his own albums. It's a more restrained version of both of them, and that restraint is what gives the record its character. They clearly enjoyed playing together — they came back to do it again four years later on Intermodulation (1966). Of the two records, Undercurrent feels more spontaneous, a little rougher around the edges, and honestly more interesting for it. If you already know Evans's trio work and want to hear him in a different context, this is a good place to go.
