There’s a certain purity to a live album, a sense of tightrope walking without a net.
Udeigwe’s “Live in Williamsburg” is a breath of fresh, uncompressed air. Recorded in a single take at the historic Williamsburg Music Center in Brooklyn, this album is less a performance and more a conversation.
It’s a document of a specific time and place, a fleeting moment of musical communion between a gifted artist, his band, and an attentive audience.
Udeigwe, born Lawrence Udeigwe, is not your typical musician. He’s a Nigerian-American artist, a singer, a pianist, and a composer. He is also an Associate Professor of Mathematics.
This duality is fundamental to understanding his music. His work is a fascinating intersection of structure and spontaneity, of logic and soul. You can hear it in the way he builds a song, the way he allows space and silence to hang in the air, as meaningful as the notes themselves.
This is not the rigid, formulaic music of a machine. It is the fluid, dynamic expression of a mind that understands both the beauty of an elegant equation and the raw power of human emotion.
His social media presence offers a formula: “Structure x Cognition x Expression.” This is not just a clever phrase; it is a mission statement that plays out in real time on the album.
The structure is the jazz foundation, the cognition is the mathematical precision in his arrangements, and the expression is the raw, unfiltered soul in his voice and on the keys.
The album opens with “Reflection,” a piece that immediately sets the tone. It’s a gentle, introspective track that feels like a quiet meditation before the main event. The interplay between Udeigwe’s piano and vocals is a delicate dance, a conversation that draws you in.
Then comes “Mr Sabi,” a track with a deep, earthy groove that showcases the tightness of the band.
Rade Bema on bass and Joshua Green on drums lay down a foundation that is both solid and supple, allowing Udeigwe and trumpeter Stephan Clement to weave their melodic lines around it.
It’s a song that feels both ancient and modern, a nod to his West African roots filtered through the lens of contemporary jazz. The track “Falling” continues this exploration of restraint, with Udeigwe’s voice barely rising above a murmur, drawing the listener closer, sharing a secret rather than making a proclamation.
One of the album’s standout moments is the interpretation of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On.” It’s a song that has been covered countless times, but Udeigwe’s version is a revelation.
He strips it down to its emotional core, his voice filled with a quiet sense of urgency and sorrow. It’s a performance that is both respectful of the original and deeply personal. The same can be said for his take on Bob Marley’s “Waiting in Vain.”
He slows it down, lets it breathe, and in doing so, he finds a new layer of melancholy and longing in the familiar melody. These are not mere copies; they are reinterpretations, filtered through Udeigwe’s unique artistic sensibility. He is not just playing the songs; he is having a dialogue with them.
Throughout the album, the sense of place is palpable. The Williamsburg Music Center is an active participant in the music. You can hear the acoustics of the space, the subtle shifts in the atmosphere, the energy of the audience.
This is not a sterile studio recording. It’s a living, breathing document of a specific night in March 2025. The decision to release the album without overdubs or retakes is a bold one, but it’s a choice that pays off.
The small imperfections, the occasional stray note, the audible breaths between phrases, these are not mistakes. They are the sounds of human beings making music together in real time. They are the algorithm of honesty.
This approach feels almost like a quiet rebellion. Udeigwe and his band are making a case for a different set of values: presence, connection, and the beauty of the unpolished moment. It’s a sound that can’t be faked or auto-tuned; it has to be earned.
“Live in Williamsburg” is not an album that shouts for your attention. It’s an album that invites you to listen, to lean in, to be present.
It’s a snapshot of an artist at a specific point in his evolution, a moment of arrival before the next chapter.
It’s a reminder that in a world of endless digital manipulation, there is still a profound power in the simple act of four musicians in a room, playing their hearts out for a group of people who are willing to listen.
This is a moment caught honestly, and it is beautiful.
