151. Hank Mobley / Workout (1961)

The band is Mobley with Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones playing typically of the period. I can't help but feel that Mobley is underrated as a composer and stylist, though. He's in that club with George Coleman and a few others, seemingly overshadowed by the giants they came up with. There's a lot of blues on this record, dotted here and there with elastic phrases and effervescent flurries by Mobley. Four of the six tunes are Mobley's originals, the exceptions being "The Best Things in Life are Free" and "Three Coins in the Fountain." They're interesting covers, one being rather old and the other an oddball. I like Mobley's melodic inventions and improvised embellishments of the melody. His colorful palette combined with a hard charging, muscular sound occasionally reminds me of Dexter Gordon. In the rhythm section, Jones and Chambers keep the soloists busy by mixing up the tempo, Jones occasionally very aggressive with crashes and rolls, playing melodically, not just rhythmically. Green and Kelly often solo in that order. Green has no trouble in the bebop idiom, spinning single-note solos like a bluesy sax. You can't go wrong with this or Another Workout, but for Mobley beginners, I'd start with Soul Station.

150. Wayne Shorter / Juju (1964)

Shorter's second LP for Blue Note finds him branching out as a composer and even experimenting with a different sound from his reed. There's no Lee Morgan in this group, but the rest is the same as on Night Dreamer. On the opening "Juju" he uses a harsher tone and plays stretchy, contemplative phrases that explore his interpretation of a chant-like African melody through the repetition of its few tonalities. The rhythm section pins down the whole thing, and often with Shorter sketching and resketching the vaguest of melodic ideas, it's Reggie Workman and McCoy Tyner who indicate where the melody actually is. In a word, spooky. Elvin Jones gets behind it (seemingly several times at once) and it works. The group's dynamic for much of the album is the same as it was with Coltrane's band, and it's instructional to listen to Juju's tracks mixed at random with Coltrane's Live at the Village Vanguard. Try that and tell me what you think. The fabled Workman-Tyner-Jones unit is like one animal, it has one sound, and it's a very distinctive one. Then you've got the tenor on top of that, either the master or his understudy, and either way it's magic. Like Night Dreamer before it, Juju clearly originates in blues and bop, but turn around and you'll find that shoreline quickly vanishing behind you.

136: Art Pepper / The Return of Art Pepper: The Complete Aladdin Recordings, Vol. 1 (1988)

There are two groups here, recorded 1956 and 1957. The first group features Pepper straight out of prison and recording again. It's a somewhat unbalanced group and Pepper's style is intact but languishing. This makes instructive listening, considering how hot he could be on a good recording, I find it fascinating to see between the lines for a few moments while his fingering isn't as nimble and the ideas are developing more slowly. There's some good balladry ("You Go to My Head") and some flashy piano and trumpet from left coasters Russ Freeman and Jack Sheldon. The gems, for me, come in the pickup band on tracks 11-15 with Joe Morello and Red Norvo. This group was put together on the fly, presumably with little or no rehearsal, and the miracle is that it's a really tight date with a really positive chemistry. Morello was leader. "Tenor Blooz," "Yardbird Suite" and "You're Driving Me Crazy" show Pepper's style in full flight. Also, Norvo and Carl Perkins, and Pepper's interplay with Perkins, are not to be missed. If I had the choice to keep one disc out of this Aladdin set, The Return of Art Pepper might not be my first choice, but the Morello/Norvo recordings redeem it.

126. Babs Gonzales / The Chronological Classics: 1947-1949 (2000)

Babs Gonzales was a fringe character in jazz, although he garnered a devoted fan base. I have a difficult time finding him a slot in my head, which I guess a lot of people must. So I'll file him with King Pleasure on one side and Screamin' Jay Hawkins on the other, not too far from Slim Gaillard and Betty Roche. The chief characteristic of his music is a bebop inflected vocal style somewhere between scat and vocalese, with occasional forays into conventional lyric singing. He had lots of friends on his records: Tadd Dameron, Art Pepper, Sonny Rollins, Bennie Green, and James Moody to name a few. This disc contains just what its title describes. Included are his legendary sides for Blue Note with Dameron on piano, as well as his work for the smaller Apollo and Manor labels (enjoy Green and Moody on Manor). Also here are eight sides recorded by Capitol, three of which were rejected. These groups contain a young Sonny Rollins, Art Pepper, J.J. Johnson, Roy Haynes, as well as Wynton Kelly, and Pee Wee Tinney on guitar. It's a motley bunch of tunes and dudes that are charming ("Running Around"), humorous ("A Lesson in Bopology"), or spooky ("Weird Lullaby"), but always good fun. Appreciate them for containing the work of other notables, or on their own merit. You won't find much like Babs anywhere else.

121. Johnny Griffin, John Coltrane, Hank Mobley / A Blowin' Session (1957)

Blue Note's A Blowin' Session featuring Little Giant, Trane, Hank Mobley, Lee Morgan, Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Art Blakey sounds exactly as you'd think it would. It's technically a Griffin date, who is leader, composer, and one third of the groups's tenor sax nucleus. But Morgan gets plenty of time, and so do Kelly and Blakey, for that matter as if Blakey's hard to miss. The meeting was a pickup after the Chicago-based Griffin found himself in New York at the same time as the others. With so many good players, it's a jazz buffet. The septet shows its talent in tracks like "The Way You Look Tonight," or the swinging ensemble groove of "Ball Bearing." As two horns who played with Miles Davis so close together, listening to Trane in opposition to Mobley is interesting (see Prestige's Two Tenors or Tenor Conclave for more of Trane and Mobley together). Morgan's licks on "Smoke Stack" set the pace for the rest of the group, though Coltrane feels overburdened, it's still my favorite cut on the album. Thankfully, there is an alternate take on the Blue Note CD that offers him a second chance as well as a wild good performance from Griffin. Why they issued the original take instead of this one remains a mystery to me, unless for the outstanding work by Morgan. As a note, this album also marks th eonly ecorded meeting between Griffin and Coltrane.

115. Joe Lovano / Celebrating Sinatra (1997)

Joe Lovano here performs his version of the Great American Songbook by interpreting one of his more powerful muses, Frank Sinatra. I read Lovano's single page in the accompanying booklet and I can't disagree with him. Sinatra was consistently great for the duration of his career, and exerted a powerful influence on succeeding generations of musicians. The effect continues and this 1997 album is a prime example. As Lovano and crew cut through classics like "I've Got the World on a String," "In Other Words," or "Someone to Watch Over Me," they meld modern sensibilities and at least five decades of stylistic development in jazz with Sinatra's timeless swing. It's a natural setting for Lovano, like balm for the soul. He grew up with Frankie playing all around him, and it immediately conjures memories of his home and family, notably his Aunt Rose Verzi. A Sinatra devotee who saw him in person hundreds of times, she sounds pretty cool! Lovano was certainly taken by his auntie. His ballad work bubbles with ideas and earnest sentiment. The arrangements and orchestration aren't just tasteful, they're clever, too, as in the aforementioned "String" where Lovano weaves in and out with the cello to make a play on the lyrics in the song. Or the wild and nasty group sections culminating at the end of "One for My Baby." During "South of the Border," Lovano lets George Mraz have the first chorus, giving a new context for Lovano's solo to emerge in, instead of jumping right off the melody. The result is really fresh. Every track is as good as the next, so hats off to Joe Lovano for indulging his passion and recording this set of Sinatra staples. As with other Lovano records, it stands up heartily to repeat listening.

111. Duke Ellington, Charles Mingus & Max Roach / Money Jungle (1963)

Money Jungle is all about contrasts and individuality. The music is famously, and often physically, tense. The grit is established on the first track "Money Jungle" where Mingus spends much of his time aggressively bending a static harmonic element while Duke assertively pounds big blocks across the registers. Each musician has a distinct playing style, and no one gives an inch for the notion of a group product. Remarkably, a unique group product is exactly what we get. The mood often swings to moments of quiet beauty, but rocks quickly back to outbursts of boulder dropping and more assaults on bass and drums. At times it sounds as if Duke is pointing to sections of his orchestra which are not actually in the studio, playing electrifying chords in his characteristic staccato style before drawing back in contemplation and moving his hands to other registers. With the keyboard laid out in front of him, he's arranging while improvising. A listener with experience with titles in the Duke Ellington catalog will hear the bones of the brass and reeds as sections rise and fall in the imaginary arrangement. I'm happy Duke had the foresight to request making this album with one of his greatest adherents, Charles Mingus, possibly the only talent in jazz that may have been equivocal in terms of composition, orchestration or arrangement.

94. Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall (2005)

Considering the complexity of Monk's style and the assertive individuality of Coltrane's style on the tenor, this music isn't just blazingly good, it's also surprisingly cohesive, at least to me. Rediscovered 2005 at the Library of Congress, it sheds invaluable light on the fabled partnership between Monk and Coltrane. Monk is so energetic, he's jumping all over the keyboard like popcorn, supported by a really intuitive drummer in Shadow Wilson.  Sometimes Coltrane lays out for long section while Monk sketches the melody or takes a chorus. But when Coltrane steps back in, Monk comes alive in give-and-take interplay that surges the whole group ahead. Coltrane isn't giving us a smattering of scalar flights of fancy. He's carefully picking and choosing his spots as an ensemble player and featured soloist. It' so much more mature than the music previously available from this union, and kudos to all involved for bringing it out in the open. It makes me wonder what else is hidden in the Library of Congress?

92. Hank Mobley / A Slice of the Top (1966)

I just picked up this 1966 session by Hank Mobley and it's an odd one. Mobley is featured in the midst of several other interesting young players: McCoy Tyner does piano, Reggie Workman on bass and Billy Higgins on drums --  a good rhythm section of highly individualistic voices, plus Lee Morgan, Kiane Zawadi, Howard Johnson, and James Spaulding. The record is odd for choice of instrumentation, containing euphonium and tuba in addition to tenor, flute, and alto sax. Arrangements by Duke Pearson try to give order to this motley bunch but I can't help feeling that that the whole thing is a little awkward. It's a quartet (or quintet), that looks to be struggling to accommodate the extra pieces in a way that is relevant. At times the octet plods along like two people walking in the same pair of pants, instead of swinging in a tight but dangerously crowded arrangement, as demonstrated by similarly orchestrated groups of Charles Mingus or Thelonious Monk. I'll have to keep listening and I get the keen feeling that this one will grow on me. Look out!

87. Bobby Hutcherson / Dialogue (1965)

On Hutcherson's debut as leader, the members of his sextet make as much of an impact as he does. It's a lineup packed with powerful young players of the new jazz, many of whom are noted as leaders in their own right. But they create consistency that rejects the lie that too many cooks will spoil the soup. All compositions are by Andrew Hill, except "Idle While" and "Dialogue," by Joe Chambers. It's a good set, and the material is quite diverse. Like the mambo of "Catta" or free spirit displayed in "Le Noirs Marchant," all are enhanced by the group's diverse musical personalities. Hutcherson and Rivers, for example, play licks that are rhythmically jarring and colored by dissonance. But they're remarkably lyrical soloists, and the places they find musicality can be revelatory. Rivers also brings bass clarinet, flute, and soprano sax along with his tenor, so textures are always changing. The young Freddie Hubbard is also on the record, and his clarion trumpet is heard plainly above the ensemble, an ascendant talent whose first date as leader was just a few months off. 

81. Cliff Jordan / Cliff Craft (1957)

Here a truly swinging rhythm section (Sonny Clark, George Tucker, Louis Hayes) plays in support of leader Cliff Brown, who shows his versatility as a composer (the entire first side bears his name) and soloist on tenor sax. The phrases of his choruses, like those on "Soul-Lo Blues" and the exquisite "Sophisticated Lady" (therein, also listen to Tucker) are long and fluid, sometimes developed across several bars with thoughtfully timed. His front line includes Art Farmer on cornet, adding a layer of glossy professionalism to the session. The two horns sound great in unison or offsetting each other, as in "Cliff Craft" trading fours while Louis Hayes fills in between. Sonny Clark gets plenty of room in fresh, bluesy single-note solos that echo those of Jordan or Farmer. The session is a relaxed one, a good example of the hard bop quintet commonly purveyed by Blue Note during the 1950s. I can't overemphasize that rhythm section enough, the or the comfortable fluidity of Jordan's tenor. Those qualities jump out at me the most on this date, and what a great date it is.

61. Grant Green / Grant's First Stand (1961)

Green's debut for Blue Note, his first disc as leader, frames him in a swinging organ trio with Baby Face Wilette and Ben Dixon. It's a good crew to support Green, two players who are very much in the same frame of mind. It's not a crowded sound, although everyone is busy, but when one member takes a chorus, the inherently sparse nature of the trio puts the soloist front and center for your enjoyment. Wilette's organ gives bluesy grooves like "Miss Anne's Tempo" or "Blues for Willarene" a heartier texture and emotional urgency that Green balances with velvety smooth and bop influenced melodic runs on the guitar. He's not a chord freak, so his music has a different feel than some other jazz guitarists. Dixon is very active, fleshing out the trio's overall sound and making his presence loud and clear. He's a great drummer who is no stranger to the format, and does an admirable job here, his affinity for the work of Art Blakey rumbling loud and clear. While it isn't really fair to call a guy's first record his best, especially when he made so many others after it, this album may be just that good.

51. Freddie Hubbard / Open Sesame (1960)

I think: Open Sesame. The title says, as if by magic, Freddie Hubbard has arrived. It's is a very strong debut and an easy mark for the core collection. We also get a great band. Tina Brooks on tenor really tears it up. On the title track, Brooks sinks his teeth into the riffs, blowing these long, stretchy phrases that step across the bars like hurdles and land back in time when he runs out of breath. He's a good man on ballads, too, like the droopy "But Beautiful." Behind the traps is Clifford Jarvis, two years shy of becoming a Saturnian. His energy, polyrhythmical claptrap and close work with Hubbard's improvisations add depth that is a few cuts above the standard hard bop set. Sam Jones plays big round notes in a sentimental and melodic style which at times reminds me of Ray Brown. He's aided everywhere by McCoy Tyner's drizzling fills and colorfully voiced chords. "Gypsy Blue" has a Latin tinge. The head has a cool arrangement where Hubbard and Brooks play in, and then slightly out of phase, hypnotically swinging it along. Hubbard's centerpiece is the rollicking "All or Nothing at All," where he shows off his chops in wild, flashy runs, rubber fingered flourishes, and big brassy blasts in the upper register. The guy's a natural who learned to improvise before he learned to read, and it shows.

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.

45. Cannonball Adderley / Somethin' Else (1958)

I listen to this at least once a month, an album that is still fresh so many years after it was made, and a bona fide classic by many accounts. Like Kind of Blue, if I had to, I could hum the whole thing from memory. Their flavors are similar in more ways than one, yet the two records aren't really anything alike. But here it certainly feels like Miles is the leader. The patient tempos, arrangement style, and selections all speak to Davis' direction. He even takes the first choruses. The drum chair is Art Blakey this time, with Hank Jones on piano and Sam on bass. Like Kind of Blue, when Davis goes first, it gives Adderley some lines to think about, propelling him into new areas. Davis' own choruses are a mixture of pensive statements through the mute, or beautifully full-bodied open horn. Listen to Davis and Adderley trading licks on brother Nat's "Blues for Daddy-O," the smokey noir of "Autumn Leaves" or doing call and response on the Davis penned title track. Art Blakey was the perfect choice as drummer, and assertively swings the procession with his snare and hi hat, while Hank and Sam work closely tying up the other end. The mood of "Autumn Leaves" is largely created by the good work of Hank Jones, which never seems to end. Together these songs are a remarkable synthesis of talent and chemistry that's one of the best enduring works of jazz.

39. Joe Lovano Nonet / Live on this Day at the Village Vanguard (2003)

This is the way a live album should sound. I've never been to the Village Vanguard (one day) but the place looks nice and small. That said, Joe's nonet must have peeled the paint off the walls. How'd they all fit on the stage, with a baritone, piano, and drum kit? Talk about crowded, and the music is crowded, too. Real crowded... but it works. Think: "Subway after a football game crowded," or "Mingus Big Band crowded." The nonet is a small big band that wants to behave like a big small band, so when it gets rolling and all nine pieces try to turn the corner at once (listen to "Good Bait"), it comes nigh to spilling into the street. There's so much energy present, and the power of the whole group blowing at once is daunting and impressive. Steve Slagle on alto is a great foil for Lovano, and there are some really good solos by baritone Scott Robinson. In the midst of the melee don't overlook the group's rhythmic inspiration, which is provided by pianist John Hicks and drummer Lewis Nash. Lovano is a powerful leader in any context, but I've always felt he sounds most at home when leading a big group like this one.  

35. Stanley Turrentine / Look Out! (1960)

Look Out! is a good title, and the set list is what first jumped out at me. Sandwiched between Turrentine originals like the title track and "Little Sheri" are contemporary jazz compositions and covers that don't get around much. For instance, "Tiny Capers" is a nice one by the much missed Clifford Brown, and "Journey into Melody" is an offbeat selection by the prolific movie score composer Robert Farnon. Regarding the latter, I've never heard anyone else ever cover it. In a jazz album, I like that kind of variety and Turrentine's focus on melodic variation and a soulful technique give it plenty of lift. He's not alone -- Turrentine veteran Al Harewood really swings on the hi hat and hard stick rolls, sounding much like he did with Art Farmer and Gigi Gryce a few years earlier, but coolly and thoughtfully adapted to the particular demands of Turrentine's hybrid of hard bop and the emerging soul jazz. It's a straight ahead session, one of the best of the year on Blue Note and the reissue deserves a second look. Oh! I nearly forgot: they call Turrentine the Silver Flash, and you've got to love that.

21. Grant Green / Live at the Club Mozambique (2006)

Green's guitar style is fully developed in this live doc from 1971. His band vamps eminently danceable figures that give him carte blanche to work his trade. Green likes concise licks that accentuate the rhythm and carry the groove. He's fond of double-picked notes and fat slides, staccato figures that stop on a dime, or bluesy runs that play between the bars in cleverly syncopated phrases. It's full speed ahead from "Jan Jan" on, and the energy never subsides. The horns are really tight, and my favorite track is Thomas' composition "Farid," which has room for both tenormen, the dark and swirling organ work of wildman Ronnie Foster, as well as a heavy helping of Idris Muhammad, rattling like a mystical machine gun on the traps, both melodically and rhythmically. The formula here is a far cry from Grant's First Stand and doesn't quite touch Alive, but it absolutely sizzles with a new strain of soul that fearlessly carries the Green into the new decade. Many of these are R&B staples, but restated and renewed. Try the euphoric "Walk on By" and you'll see what I mean.

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.

13. Hank Mobley / Soul Station (1960)

The title Soul Station sounds like something out of the Jimmy Smith catalog, doesn't it? But it isn't soul jazz. Hank Mobley did not lead his own group often, and this statement of purpose really pops him out. Art Blakey, known to go full bore with the hard sticks, is more restrained and along with Chambers, carries a very laid back but swinging groove for Mobley to steer from the top. Wynton Kelly spreads out behind Mobley, playing a lush accompaniment of chords and his own bluesy licks. Mobley's technique is at the fore of the group, subtly kneading and stretching the signatures like dough. "Spirit Feelin's" has some good playing from everyone, including a short but terrific solo from Blakey. It is followed by the title track, a smoking slow blues jam that reminds me a little bit of Johnny Griffin's "Satin Wrap." But Mobley's patient phrasing and rhythmical construction are wholly different from Griffin's. The album closes with "If I Should Lose You," a standard that is treated similarly to the opener.