The Jazz Piano Trio

Why Three People Can Feel Like a Whole Universe

There’s something almost unreasonable about how much music three people can make when they really listen to each other.

Piano, bass, drums.

No horns to hide behind, no guitar to fill the space.

Just three instruments, one shared pulse, and a whole lot of nerve.

I’ve been living inside this format for years with the Jubitone Trio, and the longer I do it, the more convinced I am that the piano trio is one of the most honest setups humans ever invented for making art together.

So here’s a love letter (part history, part obsession, part behind-the-scenes notebook) to the thing that still keeps me awake at night.

### 1. A Tiny Orchestra That Can Do Anything

On paper it’s minimal. In real life it’s limitless.

The piano can be an orchestra, a whisper, a thunderstorm.

The bass gives the music weight and storyline (sometimes it even steals the melody).

The drums paint with brushes, throw sparks, or just breathe with the cymbals.

Put them together and you get perfect balance: harmony, depth, motion.

Shift one tiny thing and the whole mood flips. Chamber intimacy one second, full-on eruption the next.

When it’s working, you don’t hear three players. You hear one living, breathing thing.

2. Where It Came From (the short version)

- 1940s → Nat King Cole showed the world the trio could swing and sing without needing anyone else.

- 1950s → Oscar Peterson turned it into a Ferrari (blazing technique, pure joy).

- Late 50s–60s → Bill Evans broke every rule. Suddenly the bass and drums were equals, talking back, finishing each other’s sentences.

- 70s–90s → Keith Jarrett made entire concerts feel like church. European players brought folk songs and classical light.

- 2000s–now → EST made it sound like a movie. Brad Mehldau started quoting Radiohead and Bach in the same solo. The language keeps growing.

### My Personal Desert-Island Trios

(the ones I still put on when I need to remember why I do this)

- **Oscar Peterson Trio** (with Ray Brown & Ed Thigpen or Herb Ellis)

Pure horsepower and happiness. When Oscar hits that stride, the piano feels ten feet wide and the band never misses. Still the gold standard for swing that makes you grin like an idiot.

- **Monty Alexander Trio**

Jamaica meets hard bop. Monty plays with a Caribbean lilt even on the fastest bebop heads — it’s sunshine you can dance to.

- **Vince Guaraldi Trio**

The Peanuts soundtracks ruined me for life (in the best way). Those bell-like lines and that gentle, skipping groove… every note feels like childhood on a Saturday morning.

- **Michel Legrand’s early trio** (50s–60s, with Guy Pedersen & Gus Nemeth)

Before he became the film-score giant, he was swinging in smoky Paris cellars with a French elegance that kills me every time. Harmony that smells like Gauloises and rain on the Seine.

- **Benny Green Trio**

Straight-ahead joy. Benny channels Oscar but adds his own mischief — the way he voices chords makes me want to stand up and cheer.

- **Ahmad Jamal** (especially the 1958–62 trios with Israel Crosby & Vernel Fournier)

Space, elegance, drama. He proved you can say everything by leaving half of it out. I still steal his “less is a symphony” trick on every gig.

These records raised me. I still go back to them the way other people revisit old neighborhoods.

3. The Headspace You Need

Trio playing is 90 % listening and 10 % courage.

You have to trust the others so completely that you’re willing to sound terrible for three seconds if it serves the music. Ego has to take the night off.

The best moments feel like telepathy: somebody thinks a harmony and the other two are already there.

There’s tension, release, humor, tenderness (sometimes all in one chorus). It’s a conversation at the speed of emotion.

4. What the Bass Actually Does

People still call it “the rhythm section.” Wrong.

In a great trio the bass is a second (or first) melodic voice, a counter-harmonist, the one who decides how heavy or light the ground feels.

5. What the Drums Actually Do

Trio drummers aren’t there to keep time. They sculpt it.

A rim click can feel like a heartbeat. A brush on the snare can feel like rain. Silence is an instrument too.

6. The Piano: Storyteller in Chief

I sit in the middle, but I’m not the boss.

The piano starts sentences, throws curveballs, lays down weather systems, catches falling ideas from the others.

In Jubitone it’s usually cinematic — long arcs, open space, moods that feel like scenes from a film that hasn’t been shot yet.

7. Why It Feels Like Watching a Movie

Because it is one.

Solos = close-ups.

Open sections = wide landscape shots.

Fast interplay = montage.

Held chords = suspense.

Silence = that moment the camera lingers on someone’s face.

We don’t need images. The music already has them.

8. Why It Still Matters in 2025

Everything else is getting faster, louder, more produced.

The trio is still just three people in a room, daring each other to go deeper.

No clicks. No loops. No safety net.

Just listening, risk, and the kind of beauty that only happens when humans decide to really pay attention to one another.

That’s why it’s never going away.

And that — exactly that — is the heart of what we do at Jubitone.

If you ever get the chance to sit ten feet from a great trio while they’re in the middle of that conversation, take it.

You’ll hear what music was invented for.

And now it's time to listen to the recordings you'll find on this homepage.

Thanks for spending your time