I'd gotten into jazz in a big way only recently and was able to see Tapscott perform a couple more times at Catalina Bar and Grill in its earlier location in Hollywood. His phenomental talent continued to amaze both in person and on the one album I was able to find in those years, The Dark Tree, Volume One, recorded at Catalina's in 1989.
It's still not easy to find recordings, but over the years a few have cropped up at prices reasonable enough to shell out. It's also the case that Tapscott had only rare recording dates until the 1980s, thanks to Tom Albach of Amsterdam, whose Nimbus West label was created because of tapes Albach bought of Tapscott's work and issued a significant cache of albums from the pianist, including band and solo recordings.
Of the latter, one of the more interesting is 1991's Volume 8, in which Tapscott performs three standards and one original. The opener is the stunning "Fire Waltz," one of many great tunes by the pianist and composer Mal Waldron. Waldron recorded the piece on an album featuring another little-known genius, multi-instrumentalist Eric Dolphy. One of the great versions of this piece is from the amazing Five Spot live recording by Dolphy and Booker Little from the very early 60s.
Tapscott performs "Fire Waltz" alternately with great sensitivity and beauty and then with passion, power and, yes, fire. He follows with "Little Niles," composed by another underappreciated pianist, Randy Weston (who I saw years ago in a great performance at Cal State Los Angeles) and named for a son, and Tapscott explores the keyboard with his individual sense of gorgeous melodic insight and dynamic power, especially with his signature use of the sustain pedal.
Taking on anything by Thelonious Monk is a challenge, because classics like "Crepuscule With Nellie" are so well-known and so idiosyncratic, that you really have to make the tune your own with something distinctive. Tapscott plays the tune at a slower, blusier tempo and takes the time to explore the famous melody with his own little flourishes and deviations and then improvises beautifully from that, including some explorations in a bit of dissonance that highlight Tapscott's rare ability to be both unabashed melodicist and determined experimentalist. It's his explorative, but totally cohsive, improvisation here that stamps a classic tune with a pronounced Tapscott touch.
Tapscott's beautiful original, "As A Child," is a great close to a fantastic album, rich with melody, played at a ballad tempo that allows the notes to echo into the space of the recording studio. At about 3 1/2 minutes in, Tapscott switches gear to something faster, more swinging and takes in soloing off the melody that shows his penchant, again, for exploration within the spirit of the theme of the tune. He then returns to a slow ballad form to conclude with a powerful sustain-heavy finish. This song reappeared later in his final recording, Thoughts of Dar Es Salaam as a shorter, band version recorded in summer 1996. In this extended solo version, there is more intimacy and also more probing, though the later version is also excellent.
In his short notes, Albach observed that it had been three years since the release of the previous volume in the solo series and gave his reasons for volume eight as "Horace's true stature is finally being recognized (at least in Europe) and I am running out of time." Why time was running low wasn't explained (probably financial reasons), but Albach went on to say
That art this Promethean could emerged from the commercial virulence of Los Angeles is indeed, further testimony to the wonder of the human spirit . . . I am proud to have played a role in helping this man maintain his dignity and choice during these unsoulful days. He has given meaning to the twilight of this aging mooch.