Eyran Katsenelenbogen, who claims Felix Mendelssohn in his family tree, plays solo piano like no one in jazz. His music is a wildly eclectic fantasia, with dizzying runs of ornamentation whirling at warp speed, spin-offs and digressions intruding upon and finally overwhelming sober classical structures, and jarring lurches from treble whispers to bass chord crashes. What Katsenelenbogen plays is music, as opposed to gymnastics. He ties each outrageous outpouring into a coherent whole and lands on his feet, even if his bravura knows no bounds.
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