Hubert Bergmann is still too little known in regard to his improvisational lucidity and conscientious tackling of past issues of jazz pianism. Reminiszenzen, released in 2010, lasts 75 minutes; usually I consider this duration excessive (with the exclusion of minimalism and trance), yet the fruits of Bergmann’s imagination are equally juicy and delicate. His handling of the keyboard gives the idea of a gratifying multiplicity of meanings, fortunately lacking the insufferable sense of excitement-deflating sanctity typical of myths who extract a hundred of Euros from a viewer’s pocket in order for them to watch their presumed eroticism on the instrument (do I need to name mames? Yes, he’s the one I’m referring to). Even a pessimistic analyst like yours truly can’t help but rejoice when the ears are filled with music whose picturesque aspects are discarded in favour of a series of veritable soul-opening sessions. The dedications and influences are diverse – Satie to Scarlatti, Monk to Davis – and there’s space for each of them in the articulated propositions that the German presents to the listener. These itineraries are also informed by from-the-inside delicacies and well-mannered explanations interspersed with abrupt increases in the number of notes played and unpredictable dynamic variations: as a problem materializes, a solution is instantly found. This is how an erudite musician manages to throw intellectual cloaks away, appearing as a human aerial through which sounds from different eras resonate and propagate.