In the end, SUB ROSA succeeds precisely because it refuses to reveal all its secrets—like the best jazz, it rewards those willing to listen between the notes.
Chill Tone
Julian Shore – Piano; Martin Nevin – Bass; Allan Mednard – Drums
In an era where jazz albums often lean heavily on concept, explanation, and various degrees of spirituality, pianist Julian Shore’s SUB ROSA refreshingly embraces the mysterious. Like its Latin title—meaning “under the rose,” denoting secrecy—this second album from Shore’s intuitive trio with bassist Martin Nevin and drummer Allan Mednard resists the urge to explain itself. Instead, it lets the music do the talking, hinting at ideas rather than spelling them out, and trusting the listener to meet it halfway.
The album opens with ‘Messenger,’ a nod to Wayne Shorter’s time with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, that immediately establishes the trio’s sophisticated interplay. Shore’s compositional voice bears the influence of his brief study with the saxophone legend at Berklee, particularly Shorter’s preference for enigmatic titles that allow personal interpretation. This philosophy permeates the album, where Shore hints at biographical details in his compositions without revealing the full picture. It’s music that feels honest—rooted in personal experience, but easy to connect with.
Shore’s mother, visual artist Tayo Heuser—whose painting appears on the album cover—has clearly shaped more than just the look of the record. Growing up around abstract art seems to have fed Shore’s ease with the push and pull between structure and freedom. “I think that’s what drew me to jazz in the first place,” he says. “I enjoy the play between the abstract and the concrete. Take the way jazz musicians play standards—there’s something special about taking what could be seen as a simple song and twisting it into this eruption of expression.”
The trio’s remarkable chemistry, refined over two years since their impromptu 2023 debut, shows itself most clearly in their treatment of standards. Their kaleidoscopic deconstruction of ‘All the Things You Are’ transforms the overplayed jazz staple into something genuinely surprising—proof of their ability to find new colors in a familiar palette. Even more striking is their interpretation of The Beach Boys’ ‘Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder),’ where Nevin’s elegant bass lines and Mednard’s brushwork weave around Shore’s piano, revealing the gorgeous craftsmanship of Brian Wilson’s melody.
Nevin’s bass lines have a subtle melodic lift—he weaves in countermelodies that support Shore without crowding him. He doesn’t just walk the roots; there’s a thoughtfulness in how he outlines the harmony, especially on slower tunes where he tugs at the time just enough to add tension. Mednard plays with an elastic feel—he’ll drift around the beat, then snap back into a tight pocket when it counts. He’s not flashy, but those sly syncopations and quick little rolls quietly shape the music. They’re not just backing Shore—they’re in conversation with him.
Shore’s originals walk that fine line between strong melody and open space for improvisation. “Mission,” inspired by Wayne Shorter’s reported last words about finding a new body and continuing his journey, doesn’t reduce the idea to something literal—it expands on it, musically. It’s Shore picking up that thread and continuing forward, not with words, but with sound. The album closes with a brief, minuet-like excerpt from Shorter’s “Pegasus”—a quiet farewell that feels both personal and reverent.
SUB ROSA doesn’t try to explain itself. It trusts the listener to lean in, to sit with the music and feel what it’s saying. “I hinted at different elements of my life in the titles of the tunes, but I never want to give the whole picture away,” Shore says. He cites an oft-quoted David Lynch interview, where the late director winces at the idea of explaining his films: “As soon as you finish a film, people want you to talk about it. The film is the talking… It’s the whole thing.”
In the end, SUB ROSA succeeds precisely because it refuses to reveal all its secrets—like the best jazz, it rewards those willing to listen between the notes.
