Michel Petrucciani exploded onto the North American consciousness in 1982 when he persuaded Charles Lloyd to come out of a self-imposed retirement. The French pianist was a sensation and quickly found himself on a New York-bound Concorde to become the first European artist signed by Bruce Lundvall to a Blue Note Records contract. The label promoted a steady stream of well-received studio releases by him, however, Petrucciani was best in live settings where his evident love of the stage enhanced his remarkable technique and Bill Evans-influenced approach. Something else might explain Petrucciani’s keenness to make every second of every performance count. Born with osteogenesis imperfecta, a rare genetic disorder that caused his fragile bones to break easily, the three-foot-tall pianist frequently had to be lifted to his seat at the piano. He must have had a sense that his life would be short and indeed it was; he died in 1999 at thirty-six. In the years since, his star has dimmed somewhat, and his name is not often encountered these days. Now comes Jazz Club Montmartre – CPH 1988 (Storyville, 2024), a live date from the storied Copenhagen club that reminds us what the fuss was about four decades ago.

The recording is a fitting memorial to both the pianist and his trio: partners: bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Roy Haynes, the latter of which departed weeks ago at ninety-nine. All are in peak form on a program of twelve tunes over a generous hundred and six minutes. It opens with the pianist’s own “13th” with a graceful, flowing melody that’s played in unison on the last chorus. Yes, Roy Haynes plays the melody.

Another Petrucciani original, “She Did It Again,” launches with a rollicking boogie-woogie beat in the left hand and tumbles along in a very Jarrett-y mode. This trio recorded the song in 1987 for the A side of Petrucciani Plays Petrucciani (Blue Note, 1988), but the performance here is looser, funnier (the pianist quotes liberally in his long solo over a one-chord vamp), and giddily joyful. Haynes is fantastic here, his quick reflexes and preternatural musical instincts prodding and even anticipating  Petrucciani’s darting moves like a basketball point guard feeding the post. It’s non-stop momentum and Haynes sails through it remarkably. Insanely great.

After that joyride, it was time for a ballad, and “My Funny Valentine” teases one in a languid introduction. But spirits were high, and Petrucciani couldn’t resist turning the old standard into an uptempo romp; think the sparkling side of Bill Evans, but with more sparkle. Even the closing diminuendo on a vamp turns into a bouncy calypso.

The ballad arrives soon enough with “In A Sentimental Mood,” taken at a measured, but not drowsy pace. Credit Peacock for that. The first chorus is dreamy while the second hints at double time, goosed by rippling thirty-second-note runs from Petrucciani. When the double-time feel erupts in the third chorus. Peacock supports the momentum with a springy walking line.  This is the genius of Gary Peacock: he not only finds the pretty notes, but he finds the notes that move the thing along without getting bogged down in sentimentality. Haynes chips in with a clinic on brushes.

“Mr. K.J.” is dedicated to Keith Jarrett, Petrucciani’s predecessor in Charles Lloyd’s piano chair. It is a playful, “Sweet Georgia Bright-“ style blues played at a crisp tempo. Here again, Petrucciani’s rhythmic drive is forward-leaning and casually relentless and he takes a wonderful solo. So does Haynes, and you can hear the form in his every phrase.

The drummer continues in fine, hyperalert form on “One For Us,” another uptempo exercise that seems to be a contrafact on a standard I can’t quite identify. And that’s the end of the first CD.

It’s unclear if the two discs present the concert’s original sequence in two sets, but opening disc two, “Turnaround” suggests that the band had a little taste before they counted it off. It’s a little loose, a little playful, sometimes close to sloppy, but the sense of a band having fun comes through palpably. Petrucciani opens in swing time and swings it hard. After Peacock’s solo, Haynes shows his hand with a sly solo turn. Not to be upstaged, Petrucciani throws down with a Tynerish interlude leaving the harmony and the rhythm behind. Paul Bley and Tyner in one performance? Petrucciani shows that it can be done.

By now, the trio is thoroughly relaxed and with “It’s A Dance,” the surging energy that drove the first set eases into tranquil eddies. Continuing with his shout-outs to other pianists, Petrucciani tosses a quote from Chick Corea’s “500 Miles High” into his tag.

Playing “Autumn Leaves” must be required of French musicians– all jazz musicians if we’re being honest– and Petrucciani fulfills his patriotic obligation by sailing through the familiar tune. This is not the most profound performance of the tune you’ll ever hear but it has its charms. The changes are second nature and in his long solo, the pianist runs through them like an elite striker through an overmatched soccer defense. With Gallic flair, Petrucciani ends with a theatrical run all the way to the bottom of the piano thumping on a bass note to give way to Peacock’s solo. Gooooooooal!

Like “Valentine,” “La Champagne” starts as a ballad but proceeds to double time. This must not have been a night for lingering. That’s especially true of “Giant Steps” which features a heroic drum solo by Haynes. After that cataclysm, “Someday My Prince Will Come,” with its inevitable callbacks to Bill Evans, arrives as an anticlimax, even to a fairly relaxed second set. It should be mentioned that the recorded sound is excellent and its production is first-rate.

I didn’t see this recording coming. Arriving just eight days after Roy Haynes’ passing, it’s a fitting memorial to his genius—to all three musicians. So Storyville, what else is in the Montmartre’s vaults waiting to be unearthed?

Jazz Club Montmartre – CPH 1988 is out now on Storyville Records. It can be purchased on Bandcamp.