Ibrahim’s solo performances have about them an aura of divine worship, disciples sitting intently while the high priest performs the service. The resulting music is hypnotic and so self-contained as to be hermetically sealed against any critic.
On the night I saw him, Ibrahim delivered a package that began by ruminatively mapping out the terrain with right hand explorations over bass figures that slowly expanded as the set progressed into fuller, two-handed expositions. The themes were drawn from his new album Ekaya and his mentors Ellington and Monk, held together with plenty of dynamic vamping.
Unlike a Taylor or a Jarrett, Ibrahim delivers a medley rather than a continuous improvisation which for over 70 minutes relied more on its constituent parts than on any overall structure.
The second set stayed with the same format, but had a much stronger linking theme, Ibrahim’s tense vocals exploring the feelings of exile and longing. Musically it was far less coherent than the first set, but succeeded far more for its spontaneity, simplicity and power.
