" data-original-title="" title="">Franck Amsallem, a lesser-known figure—outside his immediate performance circle—even among some of the jazz world's most avid and encyclopedic enthusiasts. Nevertheless, this musician's name should appear in that roster of outstanding French baby boomer keyboardists mentioned in Pierre de Bethmann: Sharing a Musical Breakfast in Lyon.

There are several reasons for this unintentional and unfair ignorance: his current thematic approach, formalized in post-bop rooted in mainstream orthodoxy, combined with a format (the standard quartet and piano trio) quite common in the jazz universe, places him in an overcrowded silo where standing out—regardless of one's level of excellence—becomes an almost titanic challenge. Amsallem's personal piano style evolution does not help either. He is favored with technique as flawless as it is restrained, avoiding showy displays, unpredictable dynamics and the relentless building of that satisfying tension that some, including geniuses, have overused. Conversely, his music sketches a landscapes of gentle contours, where ostentatious or overloaded elements are unwelcome. Except in certain pieces, Amsallem's touch prefers to gravitate with the imperceptible, stealthy softness of an evening mountain mist, even when interpreting fiery standards of swing or bebop with controlled passion. Listening to his work, consequently, demands undivided attention and a certain knowledge of the genre's tradition and history to be fully appreciated—something, by the way, almost always advisable.

Finally, his popularity is further limited by the distinctive spelling of his French given name and a surname that remains unfamiliar to most in the English-speaking world: a combination that undoubtedly complicates searches on online platforms and websites and has led to regrettable errors in the past, such as with the first edition of Summer Times (Sunnyside, 2003). It is worth noting that the surname originates from Sephardic Jewish communities in North Africa and has some presence in France—clarifications that may seem initially irrelevant but shed light on Amsallem's life journey, born in 1961 in Oran (then part of French Algeria) and later immigrating to Nice, in the French department of Alpes-Maritimes. There, an interest germinated that led him eventually to the well-traveled route toward Boston's Berklee and its subsequent, inevitable leap to New York City, before settling back in France—specifically Paris—after several years.

His beginnings in the highly acclaimed Out A Day (OMD, 1992) now remain somewhat blurred, with its four stars from the Penguin Guide to Jazz On CD (2000) twinkling from what seem like light-years away. That album primarily features original works and clearly reflects the inspiration of giants like