MUSIC REVIEW BY Thierry De Clemensat, Paris Move
5 STARS Ben Thomas and the Future of the Bandoneon: A Cultural Mirage in Motion.
Astor Piazzolla didn't merely master the bandoneon, he redrew its boundaries. In sound, in form, in phrasing, he etched into musical history an invisible yet indelible rulebook, shaping what the instrument was and what it could be. For decades, those contours held firm, as musicians followed the trail Piazzolla had blazed with reverence, if not restraint. It took a new generation of players to question the frame and test its elasticity, musicians with broader ears, deeper cultural palettes, and the courage to break free while paying homage.
At the forefront of this movement stands France's Louise Jallu, whose own deconstruction of tango has turned more than a few heads. But across the Atlantic, in the fertile grounds of North American jazz and experimental music, another figure is quietly but profoundly reshaping the landscape: Ben Thomas.
Composer, bandoneonist, vibraphonist, and percussionist, Thomas is part of that rare breed of musicians whose intelligence radiates through his compositions with a kind of cinematic lucidity. His music feels less like a series of pieces than an unfolding story, one in which tango is not so much a genre as it is a cultural mirage, a point of departure rather than destination.
Where Piazzolla built dramatic tension into his harmonic language, Thomas layers polyrythms with startling finesse. Where others might stay tethered to the dance roots of tango, Thomas invites improvisation, counterpoint, and an almost dreamlike spaciousness into the fold.
This is no accident. His training across multiple instruments allows him to write not just for the bandoneon, but around it, with an ear tuned to resonance, balance, and flow. Whether he's composing for vibraphone, strings, or winds, there's a delicacy to his orchestration that feels less like arrangement and more like spellcasting. It's as if Merlin himself had swapped his staff for a lead sheet.
The result is a body of work that defies categorization. If one must, call it jazz-fusion, but be prepared to leave your expectations at the door. What Thomas offers is not the genre-hopping of convenience, but a deep and considered convergence of traditions. From tango to jazz, from chamber music to cinematic scoring, he navigates each with ease, never diluting the essence of any.
Having first fallen in love with tango and its accompanying dance forms, Thomas began studying the bandoneon in 2006. That journey took him to Argentina and into collaboration with tango musicians from across the globe. In 2018, he was invited as a featured soloist for Piazzolla's Maria de Buenos Aires at the Eugene Opera. Today, he tours regularly with the Atlas Tango Project, most recently featured on their arresting album Estaciones y Sueños.
But Thomas is not just a performer, he's also a prolific educator and composer, having written for chamber ensembles, jazz combos, big bands, theater productions, and dance companies. As Director of the Music Department at Highline College, he teaches theory, composition, and performance, nurturing the next generation of hybrid-minded artists.
His performance résumé spans a dazzling array of stages and festivals: from the Stowe Tango Music Festival to the Detroit-Montreux Jazz Festival, from Bumbershoot to Earshot, from classical to experimental, jazz to folk. Each appearance serves as further evidence of his versatility and quiet authority.
Listen closely to Thomas's work and you'll hear echoes not only of Piazzolla, but of Satie's minimalism, John Williams's orchestral grandeur, and perhaps even the understated whimsy of a Bill Frisell or a Gil Evans. Yet somehow, miraculously, it remains entirely his own. There is nostalgia, yes, but also invention, risk, and air. His music speaks to neophytes and connoisseurs alike, to those steeped in tango tradition and to those encountering the bandoneon for the very first time.
And that, perhaps, is Ben Thomas's greatest gift: the ability to make an ancient instrument feel urgent again, to show that innovation need not come at the expense of grace. His compositions are not just technically impressive, they're emotionally intelligent, hauntingly vivid, and, above all, alive.
If future generations of musicians find themselves inspired by his work—and they almost certainly will, it will be not only deserved but essential. For in a world increasingly drawn to speed and spectacle, Thomas offers something far more enduring: music that is, in the words of a certain fictional philosopher, "complex, fleeting, and synthetic."
A new chapter in the story of the bandoneon has begun. And Ben Thomas is writing it, one phrase, one layer, one miracle at a time.
Astor Piazzolla didn't merely master the bandoneon, he redrew its boundaries. In sound, in form, in phrasing, he etched into musical history an invisible yet indelible rulebook, shaping what the instrument was and what it could be. For decades, those contours held firm, as musicians followed the trail Piazzolla had blazed with reverence, if not restraint. It took a new generation of players to question the frame and test its elasticity, musicians with broader ears, deeper cultural palettes, and the courage to break free while paying homage.
At the forefront of this movement stands France's Louise Jallu, whose own deconstruction of tango has turned more than a few heads. But across the Atlantic, in the fertile grounds of North American jazz and experimental music, another figure is quietly but profoundly reshaping the landscape: Ben Thomas.
Composer, bandoneonist, vibraphonist, and percussionist, Thomas is part of that rare breed of musicians whose intelligence radiates through his compositions with a kind of cinematic lucidity. His music feels less like a series of pieces than an unfolding story, one in which tango is not so much a genre as it is a cultural mirage, a point of departure rather than destination.
Where Piazzolla built dramatic tension into his harmonic language, Thomas layers polyrythms with startling finesse. Where others might stay tethered to the dance roots of tango, Thomas invites improvisation, counterpoint, and an almost dreamlike spaciousness into the fold.
This is no accident. His training across multiple instruments allows him to write not just for the bandoneon, but around it, with an ear tuned to resonance, balance, and flow. Whether he's composing for vibraphone, strings, or winds, there's a delicacy to his orchestration that feels less like arrangement and more like spellcasting. It's as if Merlin himself had swapped his staff for a lead sheet.
The result is a body of work that defies categorization. If one must, call it jazz-fusion, but be prepared to leave your expectations at the door. What Thomas offers is not the genre-hopping of convenience, but a deep and considered convergence of traditions. From tango to jazz, from chamber music to cinematic scoring, he navigates each with ease, never diluting the essence of any.
Having first fallen in love with tango and its accompanying dance forms, Thomas began studying the bandoneon in 2006. That journey took him to Argentina and into collaboration with tango musicians from across the globe. In 2018, he was invited as a featured soloist for Piazzolla's Maria de Buenos Aires at the Eugene Opera. Today, he tours regularly with the Atlas Tango Project, most recently featured on their arresting album Estaciones y Sueños.
But Thomas is not just a performer, he's also a prolific educator and composer, having written for chamber ensembles, jazz combos, big bands, theater productions, and dance companies. As Director of the Music Department at Highline College, he teaches theory, composition, and performance, nurturing the next generation of hybrid-minded artists.
His performance résumé spans a dazzling array of stages and festivals: from the Stowe Tango Music Festival to the Detroit-Montreux Jazz Festival, from Bumbershoot to Earshot, from classical to experimental, jazz to folk. Each appearance serves as further evidence of his versatility and quiet authority.
Listen closely to Thomas's work and you'll hear echoes not only of Piazzolla, but of Satie's minimalism, John Williams's orchestral grandeur, and perhaps even the understated whimsy of a Bill Frisell or a Gil Evans. Yet somehow, miraculously, it remains entirely his own. There is nostalgia, yes, but also invention, risk, and air. His music speaks to neophytes and connoisseurs alike, to those steeped in tango tradition and to those encountering the bandoneon for the very first time.
And that, perhaps, is Ben Thomas's greatest gift: the ability to make an ancient instrument feel urgent again, to show that innovation need not come at the expense of grace. His compositions are not just technically impressive, they're emotionally intelligent, hauntingly vivid, and, above all, alive.
If future generations of musicians find themselves inspired by his work—and they almost certainly will, it will be not only deserved but essential. For in a world increasingly drawn to speed and spectacle, Thomas offers something far more enduring: music that is, in the words of a certain fictional philosopher, "complex, fleeting, and synthetic."
A new chapter in the story of the bandoneon has begun. And Ben Thomas is writing it, one phrase, one layer, one miracle at a time.
Soundclips
Other Reviews of
"The Hat with the Grin and the Chuckle":
All About Jazz by Jack Bowers
avxforum.hu (Budapest) by Rudolf Radnai
Musical Memoirs by Dee Dee McNeil
Jazz Weekly by George Harris