190. Erroll Garner / Jazz 'Round Midnight (1991)

Compilations from Jazz 'Round Midnight are usually good, and while this one is no exception, it tends to be monopolized by downtempo ballads. Across 16 tracks, listeners hear Garner's solo and trio recordings from the mid '40s and '50s. You get the basic idea -- contrasts of soft with loud, twinkling arpeggios from the right hand, chord tracing from the left. But the towering crescendos and dizzying excitement that so frequently come up when people talk about Garner seem missing. Things heat up a little in "I've Got The World On A String" and especially "Part Time Blues". Garner's punchy rhythmic accents and huge, bluesy blocks remind me of why I love the piano of Duke Ellington and Oscar Peterson. While I appreciate them for the variety, I want more. None of this, however, should detract from the stately beauty of "I Can't Get Started" or "Misty." As Garner is one of those pianists who has been anthologized and repackaged a thousand times, this installment could be worth passing over. But in a lot of other ways it's a good one for the car, for after a hard day, or for audiences that are unlikely to gripe about the track sequence as I have. I almost forgot to mention the last track, a 10:42 solo take of "Over the Rainbow." It leaves me spellbound and feeling guilty for taking issue with any of the above.

64. Artie Shaw / The Last Recording: Rare and Unreleased (1954)

This two-disc set is a wonder. It includes the final recorded performances of the gifted clarinet. Why pack it in? According to Shaw, the demands of perfectionism were just too much to continue. With Hank Jones, Joe Roland, Irv Kluger, and either Joe Puma or Tal Farlow on guitar, Shaw's last Gramercy Five makes wonderful music. On clarinet, he's such a colorful player, using a wide range of dynamics to swing hard ("Sad Sack") or put impart special sentimentality to the ballads ("My Funny Valentine"). His licks and interpretations of the melodies are always engaging and inventive. His style touches on elements of dixieland, blues, swing, classical, and even exotica or novelty music, while fully embracing none of those styles. When someone takes a chorus, listen closely to Shaw and Jones, who can't resist entertaining each other with Third Streamish inclinations and suggesting the quotations they happen upon, a bit like Brubeck and Desmond (as in "Pied Piper"). Such playfully eclectic musical behavior should be expected from Shaw, who believed it was his responsibility to bring out areas of a composition not defined by the composer, to interpret and arrange life into the music. Thus while many are well served by relaxing and enjoying what they hear, a lucky few will be rewarded by listening to what Shaw has constructed... and off the cuff, at that.

43. Thad Jones / The Fabulous Thad Jones (1958)

This LP is collated from two sessions recorded by Rudy Van Gelder in 1954 and 1955. Group 1 is Jones, Charles Mingus, John Dennis and Max Roach. Although Jones leads the session, it feels strongly like Mingus is at the helm. The group is rhythmcally direct, playing a mixture of standards and Thad Jones originals. The spotlight is on Jones for every track, although "I Can't Get Started" stretches out with some interesting interplay between Jones and Mingus, and has tempo changes that lean the way Miles Davis did with his "Basin Street Blues." Jones plays evocatively with and without a mute, and shows off a only a little bit. Group 2 is Jones, Mingus, Hank Jones, Kenny Clarke, and the tenor sax and flute of Frank Wess (a la Hank Jones with Frank Wess). It's a somewhat softer, lush and casual small-group swing that excels in the ballads. This band sounds gelled and confident due to the players' associations in the Basie band. Together, the two bands make a good album that doesn't sound disjointed or uneven, although their differences are plain.

40. Joe Harriott / Cool Jazz with Joe (1954)

Harriott is a shady figure in American jazz circles, unknown except to the most academically inclined fans of post-bop, or attentive listeners of the avant-garde and free jazz a bit later. Harriott, a British alto by way of Kingston, Jamaica, could do both. In straight ahead mode, he played with dazzling fluidity and a laid back, bluesy sensibility, combining Birdlike flights into the upper register with dancing snatches of melody that walked down again in idiosyncratic syncopations immediately recalling those of a mento band. When I listen to this early EP, I hear licks that I've never heard anyone else do. Here he plays four standards with his working group, including the equally talented but no less obscure pianist, Dill Jones. While a cursory glance at the liner seems to fulfill the lie that British jazz musicians would forever emulate their American counterparts, Harriott forges ahead with a deftly original set that begs you to reconsider. Fractions of a second behind the beat a bit like Hank Mobley would later do, Harriott is a stylist whose impact one can only speculate upon, had he been based in New York, and not London. The opener "April in Paris" has bold melodic statements from Harriott who occasionally emphasizes another, more danceable rhythm he sees lurking just below the surface, accentuating the relationship with figures of repeated notes, catching the attention of drummer Phil Seamen in the process. "Out of Nowhere" sees Harriott treating us again with Caribbean inclinations. The evocative "Summertime" features some moody work by Dill Jones, and the ubiquitous "Cherokee" frames Harriott's chops in the quintessential bebop composition. This EP is out of print, but is available (along with a herd of others) from the good people of the BritJazz blog. Please pay them a visit for the download link, and drop them a line to say thanks while you're at it.