Peter Xifaras’s new album, “Adagio Grooves”, treats musical history less like a timeline and more like a room where everyone is invited to the same party. Initially, The Budapest Symphony lays out the fine china and polishes the silver, establishing a world of symphonic grace. It’s a sound full of discipline and grand, beautiful spaces—the kind of music that makes you feel you should be wearing a much better coat.
But then, the other guests arrive. Scott Jackson’s drums don’t barge in; they find a pocket in the air and settle in. Max Gerl’s bass begins a warm, intelligent conversation with the cellos, and Justin Chart’s saxophone enters not as a soloist, but as the ghost in the machine—a soulful, modern voice gliding through these classical structures. The album’s trick, and its deepest pleasure, is this seamless transition from formalwear to a state of sublime, head-nodding ease.
The effect is strangely like finding a secret, manicured garden in the middle of a bustling metropolis—you are simultaneously aware of the intricate, deliberate design and the organic, pulsing life all around it. It reminds me of something I can’t quite place, perhaps the specific feeling of cool marble under bare feet on a hot day. The contrast is the whole point; the groove feels groovier because it has bloomed from such hallowed ground.
These six tracks don’t just bridge two worlds; they suggest the bridge was an illusion all along. The album doesn’t ask for your full attention, but it slyly earns it, leaving behind a lingering calm that feels both earned and effortless. What happens when structure and soul stop competing and simply coexist?
