Curtis Clark

Just two people. Piano. Voice. Nothing else. No bass, no drums, no safety net. This is where Clark strips everything away - no Amsterdam quintet, no Dutch improvisers, just 88 keys and one voice diving deep. "Rainbow Over Harlem" opens and closes the record. "Cosmic Minstrels." "Deep Sea Diver." "Farewell Gentle Spirit (For Rev. Frank J. Harper)" - a dedication that tells you where this music comes from. "Broken Mirror Reflections." "Amy Yvonne." Titles like chapter headings in a book of hours.

Paris Jazz Corner called it right: mystic soul evoking the best of Strata-East. That's the neighborhood - Stanley Cowell, Charles Tolliver, that zone where jazz becomes prayer and prayer becomes jazz. Holsey's voice carries the weight, Clark's piano holds the space. No wasted notes, no wasted breath. Two humans in a room, March 1985, making something that sounds like it came from much deeper waters.