206. Frank Sinatra / In the Wee Small Hours (1955)

Though not as languished as 1959's No One Cares, this album of ballads sets the bar for melancholy, as well as being the first of the themed (and innovative) full-length LP's that Sinatra recorded for Capitol. Gordon Jenkins arranged and conducted on No One, but originally it was Nelson Riddle at the stand. The collaboration is magical. Riddle's restrained treatments underscore the mood of each lyric and magnify their impact. Sinatra expertly uses breath control and different vocal textures to interpret the material while Riddle's charts employ orchestral color at all the right incidental moments. Sinatra sings the passages carefully, sounding deeper and more mature than ever before. The frankness of songs like "Last Night When We Were Young," "I See Your Face Before Me," and "When Your Lover Has Gone" have secured In the Wee Small Hours a permanent place in the hearts of many fans. It remains one of  his most satisfying and moving performances on wax. More than a routine set of ballads, it only takes a few notes to know that Sinatra is making these songs his own. At the same time, they're yours too.

192. John Scofield - A Moment's Peace (2011)

Like any other artist, John Scofield is no stranger to the ballad, which is amply represented in his back catalog and live repertoire. But A Moment's Peace is the guitarists first album consisting entirely of ballads (Scofield's albums are big on themes, anyway). It's a really enjoyable set of standards with Brian Blade, Larry Goldings, and Scott Colley on hand to help out. They deserve congratulations because while anybody will recognize these tunes, when the band locks in with Sco in the lead for emotive rushes like "I Want to Talk About You," or the slippery bends and bluesy explorations of "Gee Baby Ain't I Good to You," it's still pure magic, despite the age of the music. Scofield's guitar is heard in a judiciously reverberant, tone saturated signal that is occasionally augmented by simple effects like tremolo, or Scofield rolling the volume knob for shading and dynamics. I love that technique, especially when Blade is playing sympathetically, and Goldings starts to use the draw bars in the same track... the cumulative effect of both instruments pulsing together creates a blissfully disorienting sonic texture that shimmers like light reflecting on a water surface. A Moment's Peace was good when I heard it three years ago, and it is getting better. Highly recommended.

109. Julie London / Julie is Her Name (1955)

Julie London's range and the timbre of her voice is one that sits very well with me. Ensconced within her silky mezzo soprano is a space filled with sumptuous partials and overtones that make a single note sound like a chord. Her voice and my wife's are quite similar so when I listen, I sense something familiar. In the classic debut Julie is Her Name, London's young voice is the main attraction and backed often by only a guitar. Her phrasing and timing leave you on the edge of your seat, wondering where the next phrase will fall ("It Never Entered My Mind"). She's always playing this way with the lyrics and her timing, while Barney Kessel anxiously holds back comping. Later in her career, she fronted a big band whose eloquence and power gave her smoldering vocals and lovelorn ballads some extra emotional impact. But here it's all Julie. The album opens with the quintessential "Cry Me a River," and moves through 12 other standards and ballads including aforementioned, quirky "It Never Entered My Mind," and the beautiful "Laura." There's also a second volume, which is just as bit as this first volume, two records that should be on every jazz lovers shelf.

72. Frank Sinatra / No One Cares (1959)

This collection of lovelorn standards is about as dark as Sinatra gets. The selections, with orchestra, were arranged and conducted by Gordon Jenkins. They collaborated on several other albums for Capitol, and oddly enough this is my favorite. Sinatra supposedly referred to this as a set of suicide songs, although I haven't verified that. One might listen and think some levity is in order, but is it really? While the material and arrangements are stormy (the photo on the jacket ain't no joke), the mood is a nice change of pace and Sinatra's mature performance is rich and captivating. He sings confidently and in good voice, working through the likes of "I Don't Stand a Ghost of a Chance," "I Can't Get Started," and the superb "Stormy Weather," and a handful of others big and small. I think some of these performances might be worthy of their own benchmarks, even as high as the bar was set by other performers in earlier times. Enjoy the CD which contains several previously unreleased bonus tracks.

49. Thelonious Monk / The Thelonious Monk Orchestra at Town Hall (1959)

I like to think I can hear the splice in "Little Rootie Tootie," although I'm probably imagining it, a necessary evil because of a tape flip that missed the middle. Are there any tapers out there? You can identify. It's a good set, and arrangements for the 10-piece band showcase the soloists, like liquid Charlie Rouse, Phil Woods, Pepper Adams, or Donald Byrd. They also blow good ensemble figures and frame Monk's angularisms and wild chords within a richer ocean of sonority, so there's a lot of lift in the music. Some of these tunes, warhorses for small groups, sound as if they've found home at long last in a big band, like the majestic take of "Monk's Mood" or the jumping "Rootie." Just listen to ten guys blowing the head of "Rootie" around the 7-minute mark. Holy cow! That's tight! I think it works wonderfully. This performance finds Monk emerging from the '50s as mature and bursting with new ideas, about to enter his most productive decade just a few months ahead. For the full effect of the band, you've really got to turn up the volume on the stereo so it sounds like you're in the hall. It's electrifying.

46. Donald Byrd / Byrd's Word (1955)

It was announced that Mr. Byrd passed away early this month. Before his role in jazz education and outreach, Byrd was a noted session leader and prolific collaborator. Byrd's Word (not to be confused with Charlie Byrd's Byrd's Word! from 1958) is an early disc of his that was recorded for Savoy in 1955 and shows his original, pre-funk style on the open trumpet. When a guy has a good tone, I love to hear him use it. That's the case here, although his licks are understated compared to his pyrotechnics on other people's dates, like Coltrane's exemplary "Lush Life." Chambers plays bass, Basie alum Frank Foster and the versatile Hank Jones do tenor and piano, with Kenny Clarke on drums. Byrd's "Gotcha Goin' n' Comin'" is a bluesy exercise in mood and rhythm that seems to be as much about Clarke and Chambers, as it is about Byrd. There's a lot of space in the middle and it's heavy on the atmosphere. But once it whispers goodbye, the followup is the jolting "Long Green" that sounds straight off one of the Charlie Parker Savoys. Foster is a versatile player who can play bop as well as he can do hard swing or ballads. There's room for everyone, before the album closes with "Star Eyes" and the beautiful "Someone to Watch Over Me." The latter is my favorite cut on the album, but it works only if I listen to the whole album first. It's a fitting closer to the preceding program, featuring a sentimental intro from Byrd, a moving legato chorus from Foster and one from Chambers, then the go-lightly contributions of Jones and all, who carry it out and are careful not to break the magic. Overall it's a very loose hard bop session that's probably easy to forget and may be similar to other groups, but is superbly rendered.

42. Lester Young with the Oscar Peterson Trio (1952)

For the most part, this disc is all about Lester, who performs admirably but is noticeably shakier and lacks that bright, bursting energy he exhibited a few years earlier. He frequents the lower register in soft, emotionally inflected lines that give the ballads a uniquely personal treatment. It's unmistakably Lester on every track and there is some very keen playing ("I'm Confessin' (That I Love You)" is just one example, or a close approximation of the man we once knew in "Just You, Just Me") but in other places I hear him struggle with timing and the impact of the inventiveness is lost. The dramatic ascents and nose dives he used to do so well seem to sputter like an injured bird, rather than a stunt pilot. Young usually takes the first chorus, and sometimes afterwards I swear I can hear Peterson and Kessel emulating his style on their instruments, playing several "even" bars before throwing the rhythmic weight of the next phrase off to one side and rushing in after it. Even if he isn't in the same form as the recordings from 1946-1949, he's still Lester Young and when it works, it's untouchable.

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.

15. Nat Adderley / Introducing Nat Adderley (1955)

It was released under Nat's name but the Brothers Adderley really split the bill here, including most of the composition credits. It's solid hard bop and sounds a lot like what other New York groups were doing in 1955, but this beautiful example has aged very well. The other three comprising the quintet are Horace Silver, Paul Chambers, and Roy Haynes. Together, they make one of those 'perfect' jazz groups like the classic Coltrane quartet or first Miles Davis quintet. Nat's trumpet work is fresh, brassy and forthright, Cannonball is his usual slippery and blues inflected self, using a combination of Birdlike runs in the higher register with. In fact, both brothers play with a satisfying helping of blues and soul. I listen to the accomplished playing on this disc, tracks like the autobiographical "Two Brothers" or "New Arrivals," or the ballad "I Should Care," and it's easy to see how New York's band leaders and other players took so quickly to the Adderleys right when they arrived, moves which put them on the map for the recording labels.  

14. Chet Baker / Chet (1958)

I find Chet in a lot of those "best of" lists that describe it as essential listening, which I have a hard time understanding. I have mixed feelings about Baker, whose playing is often delicately soulful or angelic, but to my ears, lacks a crucial distinguishing feature. I've listened to many his records from the '50s on up, and this ballads-only outing from 1958 is immaculately performed and rather beautiful, but not terribly exciting. Still, it's the Baker album that gets the most play around my house. His band keeps a lid on their playing, which compresses the emotional impact of each ballad and causes them to smolder. Bill Evans, master of the devastating understatement, plays piano while Pepper Adams plays baritone. There isn't a tenor in sight, so the textures are a nice change of pace and along with the trumpet. make quite a romantic atmosphere. The group has a nose like a bloodhound to sniff out the heart of the ballad and lay it bare before the audience. In such a way, a few of these old chestnuts really shine, which is a good thing because there aren't any surprises in the playlist.

11. Frank Morgan / Love, Lost & Found (1995)

Love, Lost & Found is a slow burn with real rewards. It's a lot of ballads, but the group is too good to pigeon hole the set as "just" a bunch of ballads. In fact, if you look at the playlist, you'll find they're actually love songs. The group is ideally constructed. Morgan's alto playing is mature and sublimely emotional. He glides through syrupy phrases and slick double-time runs with finesse. His technique sounds like he is actually speaking through the horn, emoting his blues. Support on the album is much the same: from Ray Brown, soloing early in "The Nearness of You," and Cedar Walton, who blocks his way through comps and guides the songs rhythmically much the way that Red Garland once did. Billy Higgins works closely with Brown and uses a combination of brushes and hard sticks to create the perfect swinging, lovesick and rainy percussive accompaniment. There's some variety too, like the Latin-inflected groove of "What is this Thing Called Love?" or dark blues of Anton Carlos Jobim's "Once I Loved." As far as Morgan goes, Yardbird Suite is excellent, but don't overlook this album, either.

03. Lester Young / Blue Lester: The Immortal Lester Young (1949)

I'm often skeptical of compilations featuring old jazzmen that worked in a lot of different settings, but the selections here seem to stick with the theme and do justice to Young's versatility and talent as a soloist. There's a few nostalgic moments, like "Back Home Again in Indiana," which I always associate with Pops, but is generously endowed with swing by the Count Basie Band. There's a smattering of ballads, stomp, and swing, and hints of emerging modern jazz. The playlist ends with three big band arrangements ("Circus in Rhythm," "Poor Little Plaything," and "Tush") that shed further light on Lester's versatility as both small group soloist and essential ensemble player. My only complaint is that the album is too short.