156. Chet Baker / The Italian Sessions (1962)

Baker's groups in Europe were a mixed lot. Sometimes they were great but sometimes it was just the opposite. Then after a lifetime of drugs, alcohol, and legal trouble, his tone and technique suffered hugely.  I like this disc because it is none of those things. It features Baker on the front line of a charging hard bop sextet. He holds his own flanked by piano, tenor sax, and guitar. His lines are so forthright and aggressive, so strident and even verbose (for Baker) that it hardly even sounds like him. I'm dying to put it in a blindfold test because it's such a curveball. The high spirited band gets started on the first track. "Well You Needn't" is one of two rhythmically thorny pieces in the session, the other being Charlie Parker's "Barbados." In the Monk tune, Baker careens along filling the space above and below him with a clarion tone and fast but thoughtful flits into the upper register. The drummer, Daniel Humair, drives the thing right over the top. Every track is short and concise -- no wasted space, no excessive showboating, no lost attention or bad takes. If you know the Let's Get Lost Chet Baker, the Californian bebop sensibility, the underplayed moody ballads and minimalistic statements in the lower register only, then you could revise that understanding, or at least enrich it, with these eight performances. They even do "Star Eyes," which is one of my favorite tunes by anyone.

97. Wayne Shorter / Wayning Moments (1962)

This album, his last LP on the Vee-Jay label and only his third as a leader, has aged very well. That's quite typical of other titles in the Shorter catalog. But in addition to providing really good listening for 2013, I think Wayning Moments should be important to listeners for another reason. It demonstrates his skills as soloist, leader, and composer at an early stage. It's the prelude to his Blue Note years, a simple portrait of blues and bop that was perhaps more appropriate to the market Vee-Jay was reaching than the music Shorter would record for Blue Note. I turn it on and marvel at the growth of the artist from tenor in the Jazz Messengers, to this year's Without a Net. Say anything you like about Wayne Shorter, you cannot ignore the arc, the sweep, of his career in music. Recorded 1961, the sounds contained here are very much in the same vein as Blakey's Jazz Messengers. It's hard bop with both feet in the blues, straight-ahead jazz that is very slick and rendered with virtuosic skill. The band stays tight, the arrangements are concise, and no one takes too many chances. But no one needs to, because they're clearly not trying to do anything of the sort. In the opener, Freddie Hubbard plays alongside Shorter, adding strident Latin overtones to Bonfa and Jobim's "Black Orpheus." Eddie Higgins also gets in some nice choruses on piano, like the one in Shorter's "Dead End," "Callaway Went That-A-Way," or his comping and interplay with Shorter's solo voice in "All of Nothing at All" that is simply magical. Shorter has every other composition credit on the album for a total of four. Sandwiching Shorter's music between piecess by other composers (or maybe it's the other way around?), the album does not feel a single bit uneven, a testament to both the group and the compositions.

86. The Oscar Peterson Trio / Night Train (1962)

Probably the most well known of all Oscar Peterson dates, thanks to the archetypal deep swing of the title track. I read that Peterson's father was a railroad porter, and the composition and album are a tribute to him. The leader invests a lot of emotion in these quiet but swinging selections. There's a lot of good material on this record -- "C-Jam Blues," "Georgia on my Mind," "Moten Swing," "Honey Dripper," and "Night Train" are all bona fide classics. Peterson is comparatively quiet behind the keys, humming less and seemingly content while employing bouts of delicious slides and twinkling arpeggios to get his point across. He uses the dynamics of the keyboard very effectively to underscore the emotional impact of each piece. And remember those other two -- Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen -- ain't no slouches, either. I think Ray's about as bluesy as Oscar. Four stars, and a good album for a date.

68. Freddie Hubbard / The Artistry of Freddie Hubbard (1962)

This is Hubbard's fifth album as leader, and his first recorded for the Impulse! label. The music is hard bop inside and out, but Hubbard's sextet undergoes some changes with trombone Curtis Fuller, and John Gilmore moonlighting away from the Arkestra. Together they stretch out in some lengthy jams and experimental explorations that lean clearly in the direction of the Impulse! ethos. "Bob's Place," "Summertime," and "The 7th Day" really put eyebrows on the proceedings. The reworking of "Caravan" is interesting, too. Gilmore is especially captivating. Like a musical alchemist, he plays long, sustained notes in lengthy phrases that unmoor the notes from their melodies. On compositions like "The 7th Day" or "Bob's Place" these contrast with the backdrop of the vamp, creating the effect of pure tonal color and presenting the tones themselves in striking relief beside their harmonic relationships. Tommy Flanagan on piano, Louis Hayes does drums, Art Davis bass. I like this side trip from the early Hubbard formula quite a bit.

67. Duke Ellington Meets Coleman Hawkins (1962)

By all accounts a long time in the making, the result of this collaboration is worth the wait. Scaled back arrangements showcase the soloists and focus, of course, on the eloquent, mellifluous tenor of Coleman Hawkins. It's a relaxed and familiar session, with some hot blowing by everyone, especially Ray Nance ("Wanderlust"), Johnny Hodges ("You Dirty Dog"), and Lawrence Brown, who are clearly inspired by Hawk's presence. The affair starts with the loose and tumbling Latin groove of "Limbo Jazz," recorded secretly by Van Gelder and capturing a riotous continuo scat vocal by Sam Woodyard. Late in the tune, Hawk is invited to join the fun. We are treated to a sublime "Mood Indigo," where the star takes chorus after chorus until bowing out in the last bar. This exhilarating performance always leaves me excited for what comes next. The record really feels like Duke during "Ray Charles' Place" when they do some ensemble figures in powerful, transcendent chords. Hawk dives right in the middle and has ample support from the group who seem to draw up the whole tune up around him. Lawrence Brown has some nice solos throughout the album, notably on 'Wanderlust" and "The Jeep is Jumpin'." I think Hawk's best moments occur in the aforementioned "Mood Indigo" but the honorary "Self Portrait of the Bean" runs a close second and is as near to Hawk's thesis as we're going to get this side of "Body and Soul." 

48. Don Wilkerson / Complete Blue Note Sessions (2001)

A nice release from Blue Note, culling tracks from the four LPs they released for Wilkerson from 1960-63. It's a double disc and the remastered sound is on par with the other excellent Blue Note re-releases. Wilkerson was a tenor who worked with a variety of artists including Ray Charles and Cannonball Adderley (no surprise) and was at home playing blues-based and danceable soul jazz that was easily related to ("Senorita Eula," "Drawin' A Tip,"). With a sophisticated sense of melodic variation and good use of legato dynamics, he steps beyond the prereqs for soul jazz and creates a unique blend that rewards if you listen closely. He's also fond of repeated, motivic phrases that carry the groove. The bands he plays with, especially the combo with Graham Greene, know right where he's at, and turn up the heat when he finishes a chorus. Wilkerson's "San Antonio Rose" (with a cooking solo by Greene) stands out to as a particular good take, so does the interesting "Pigeon Peas" which has me listening a few times over to catch what Wilkerson is doing with the drums. It's fine stuff, top to bottom.

38. Miles Davis / Ballads (1990)

Talk about the quintessential nonessential Miles Davis CD, this is it. Columbia compiled a scanty eight tracks recorded between 1961 and '63, and released them here with a ballads-only theme. Very little about Miles Davis in the sixties sounds dated or anachronistic to my ears, but in today's climate of iPods and customized playlists, such a compilation album doesn't have the same role it did in 1990. And this product, as a whole, hasn't aged well even if the opposite is true for the selections themselves. I say it didn't age well but I'm not sure it would have made sense 20 years ago, either. First, it's an odd choice of material if you're trying to showcase what Davis could do with a ballad. Five tracks by the Gil Evans orchestra, two by the quintet with George Coleman and a live cut by the Mobley quintet is a rather baffling sequence. Are we doing Evans, or a club date? Because the two are so unlike each other that the program seems interrupted when the group changes. The very context of the Gil Evans orchestra was so different than that of a street group, any street group, that a ballad within its fold is a thing transmuted, a wholly different musical animal. Good work from everyone involved musically, but shame on Columbia for ever selling this.

25. Coleman Hawkins / In a Mellow Tone (1998)

Prestige had it easier than other labels in the task of compiling Coleman Hawkins' "best" studio recordings. Hawk's output on Prestige, Swingville and Moodsville commenced in 1958 and was completed by 1962, so the difficult job of choosing the most exemplary tracks was simplified. They chose from a diverse variety of small groups with Tiny Grimes, Red Garland, Tommy Flanagan, Major Holley, Ray Bryant, and Kenny Burrell, and others. It's a nice sampling of Hawk's technique and improvisational prowess. "Greensleeves" is done as a heartbreaking blues, and "I Want to be Loved" features Red Garland soulfully blocking the chorus while Hawk blows judicious bouts of syrupy vibrato. On Duke's "In a Mellow Tone," Hawk takes the left channel and Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis takes the right, trading gritty R&B inflected licks that progressively up the ante. The best part of this disc is that it does not sound conceptually disjointed. Hawk's distinctive voice and inventive ideas dominate the proceedings and keep the ear interested across almost five years of recordings with an assortment of players. 

18. Nancy Wilson / Nancy Wilson & Cannonball Adderley (1962)

Wilson appears with Cannonball and brother Nat, singing six of 11 selections. The remaining instrumentals are the stock and trade of the Cannonball Adderley Quintet, a group that prospered playing hard bop with a heavy helping of blues and soul. The addition of a vocalist produces a velvety sophistication that is very appealing. Wilson's songs are dustier selections that depart somewhat from standard fare and make a cracking good program. Most importantly, the chemistry between Wilson and the quintet really cooks. Nat uses the mute to good effect, augmenting his brassy tone with an even more strident edge ("Never Say Yes"), while Cannonball tears through some hot leads of his own on (like "Teaneck" and "Unit 7"). Wilson seems right at home in this setting, her voice like just another instrument in the front line. She is gifted with an expressive range, as in "(I'm Afraid) the Masquerade is Over" where she quietly laments her blues with Zawinul tinkling in the background, ultimately breaking into the next register, climaxing, and bringing the song to a thunderous close. Wow.