In Good Company: Yotam Silberstein Meets Ron Carter

Across a recording career encompassing well over 2,000 albums, bassist Ron Carter has worked with many of the most significant jazz guitarists, chief among them Jim Hall. On duo albums like Alone Together, their telepathic interplay and improvisational sophistication set a high-water mark for the guitar-and-bass format.

Carter, now 89, recently recorded a new duo album with Yotam Silberstein, who, at 44, is among the finest jazz guitarists of his generation. Hall’s presence looms large over Duets: the album was conceived in part as a tribute to Carter’s recordings with Hall and, by coincidence, was recorded on the late guitarist’s birthday at the historic Van Gelder Studio in New Jersey. But Duets is no exercise in nostalgia. Silberstein brings his own prodigious technique and broad musical vocabulary to the setting, drawing on bebop and blues as well as his deep immersion in Brazilian and other South American musical traditions. The eight tracks range from lesser-played standards and Brazilian repertoire to two Silberstein originals, including “Blues for Brother Malone,” a tribute to the late guitarist Russell Malone, who died in 2024 while on tour with Carter.

After moving to New York from his native Tel Aviv in 2005, Silberstein established himself as a formidable presence on the jazz scene, working with masters including James Moody and Roy Hargrove and becoming a member of bassist John Patitucci’s trio. As a leader, Silberstein has developed an increasingly expansive musical language, absorbing sounds from Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, North Africa, and elsewhere into his deep grounding in the jazz tradition. He is also a dedicated educator, having previously taught at the New School in New York and now sharing lessons and insights through his Patreon community.

I recently met with Silberstein, who had just moved back to his hometown, via Zoom. We talked about his two decades in New York, his history with Carter, the making of Duets, his decidedly modern guitars, and the wide-ranging musical influences that have shaped his playing. Following our conversation, which has been edited and condensed for clarity, you’ll find a note-for-note transcription of Silberstein’s original ballad “Rain Again” from Duets.

Growing up in Tel Aviv, what first drew you to the guitar, and what were the musical experiences that ultimately convinced you to pursue a career in jazz?

I originally started off by listening to a lot of Israeli music and some pop, some rock music, and at some point, I got really serious about guitar. I was really into blues and jazz and all those things. And then I was in high school, and there was a teacher that actually just came back from New York and studied with Barry Harris, and he kind of got me into it in a very persuading way. Started to get me into checking out different recordings from the ’50s and the ’60s, and I really, really got into it, and the rest is history. I’m still very much into it.

What was it like, from a musical and personal standpoint, to arrive in New York in your 20s?

It was great because I was a real jazz fan—I mean, hardcore—and especially I was really into traditional bebop and hard bop. I knew all the records and I knew all the players, and my goal was kind of getting as close as I could to all my heroes, going out, checking out Jim Hall and Kenny Burrell. Those were different times also because a lot of these folks were still alive. A lot of them are gone now. So it was kind of a kid in a candy store, being able to every night go check out Tommy Flanagan and Cedar Walton and all these greats that I was really admiring.

So there was that, but also, on the other hand, there were a lot of difficulties, just moving to a new country—totally different culture, different weather, for sure. But I think the music kind of kept me going. And not too long after, I started to work, and actually I started to work with some of my heroes, so that was really great.

When did you first encounter Ron Carter?

Obviously, he was somebody that I knew since I was in high school—not personally—but our first encounter personally must have been 2009 or ’10. I participated in a tribute to Bob Cranshaw, the great bass player, and Ron was also on the bill. It so happened that we got to play a couple of tunes together, and he was very nice to me. Every once in a while, I would send him emails. And he didn’t always respond, but I just kept the flame, trying to keep my name in his thoughts.