202. Flying Island / Flying Island (1975)

The self-titled debut from the fruitful but short lived Connecticut group Flying Island has excellent music to offer and deserves wider recognition. Things begin with a sharply executed "Funky Duck," but the material takes interesting turns into weirder territory and more aggressive textures like on "Flying Island" and "I Love to Dance." The music proceeds across shifting time signatures in tradeoffs between Fred Fraioli's electric violin and keyboards by Jeff Bova. Fraioli speaks in squalling, anthemic strokes, sometimes smooth, sometimes menacing, bookended by his fiery runs and escalated, wailing solos. Also present are guitarist Ray Smith, bassist Thom Preli, and drummer Bill Bacon. Smith and Bacon emerge as superb players that make the album much heavier than your typical mid-70s fusion outing. After the violin-keyboard pyrotechnics are over, their work is often the force that distinguishes the band from dozens of similar acts. Flying Island and the follow-up Another Kind of Space should interest fans of higher profile names in '70s fusion like Jean-luc Ponty, Weather Report, or Mahavishnu Orchestra. The musicians are competent and talented, and the total package is professional and well rehearsed. Yet it is not without the spark needed to bring a studio take home for the listener. Highly recommended!

199. Ex Ovo Pro / European Spassvogel (1976)

I don't hear enough of the European jazz scene, past and present, simply because of the music's more limited availability where I live. Thankfully, the web makes the world a little smaller and I was able to locate and hear this out-of-print gem from the Amayana label. European Spassvogel ties a lot of pieces together and after listening to many American groups from the same era, it's refreshing, I really like it. The music is exploratory with anchors in moody vamps and dark melodies. Thankfully, funk is only an ingredient, and the band doesn't dwell on it indefinitely, frequently moving away from it. Wild extemporizations of Mandi Riedelbauch ("In a Locrian Mood") are free and noisy, but the band is really tight. Harald Pompl pounds his traps all around the beat, stuffing the cracks with a unique assortment of percussion and technique. Max Kohler's growly electric bass pours the foundation, and while Pompl does his thing, Kohler keeps time. Hans Kraus-Hubner proviides electric piano, often leading, sometimes coaxing the soloists. It's just a good, chill listen. The songs are concise, and the sides wrap before you can get distracted. If you're like me and get burned out on purely funk-based fusion, this could be what you were looking for.

189. Donald Fagen / Morph the Cat (2006)

Morph the Cat is a good representative of the Donald Fagen solo catalog. It is every yard a Fagen product whose pristine sonics and glossy group choruses recall the perfectionist grandeur of Aja and underplayed soul vamps of Gaucho or Nightfly. I prefer the guitar on Morph by Wayne Krantz, his variety of techniques and effects, to the guitars heard on Sunken Condos. Fagen also rocks the Fender Rhodes, ringing in that classic Steely Dan sound. Some lyrical themes nod in the direction of the aged, slyly morose matters explored further on Condos. But at this stage, our heroes, perhaps, aren't as willingly resigned to their fates as they will be in 2012. Some of these characters make the best of the New World Order, however, swaggering into the 21st century as if it were still 1975. Like the guy who picks up the TSA girl in "Security Joan." Fagen is the only living writer other than Murakami who can write a guy into a one night stand at the airport. But they're not all success stories. Former showbiz kids make jaundiced appearances in songs like "The Night Belongs to Mona," or the the unwitting pokes whose night vices all lead them to meet the man in the "Brite Nightgown." You'll be in familiar company with the motley assortment, and all nine tracks are rendered in sparkling audio.

153. Miles Davis / Big Fun (1974)

Listening to Miles go electric 40 years ago, critics were in a different position. They took issue with his stylistic developments, because 1974 was much different than 1954. They were too close to see that the intervening years would witness Davis' massive influence on successive generations. Today we see what happened, so we evaluate their merits on another scale. It bears mentioning that these aren't records I can listen to every day. I don't have that kind of time to invest on a daily basis. Like Bitches Brew, the music on Big Fun explores modality through orchestration and arrangement. The tracks are brimming with textures, melodic ideas, and moods. Themes are played and repeated, then recalled, then played again. The effect is haunting, like beasts looming in a fog, vanishing and reappearing. After 22 mnutes, the effect is glacial. Like it says in the liner to Coltrane's Ascension, you shouldn't turn it on without expecting to hear at least a whole side. You can't be interrupted for a few minutes without the magic being broken, and the arc is lost with just a few minutes of play time. Collaborations with Zawinul like "Recollections" or "Great Expectations" fulfill the promise, and typify what's found elsewhere throughout the record. As if you really need a curveball, Davis added sitar and tabla.

19. Joe Henderson / Power to the People (1969)

Power to the People implicates Henderson in the new jazz of the late sixties, and in hindsight, speaks for his versatility in different forms of jazz. It's also very accessible and easy to enjoy. Overall I think it's successful, and it holds up to a lot of repeat listening. The band is Henderson, Jack DeJohnette, Herbie Hancock, Mike Lawrence, and Ron Carter. These are certainly players who are capable of stretching out and pushing themselves into new areas. Henderson's playing is clean and lyrical, boldly assertive and individualistic. The ponderous "Black Narcissus" meanders like a dreamy tone poem. I lose the musicality a little bit in the suite on Side 2, but appreciate the passion Henderson puts into it. Herbie Hancock is also notable here, being the first electric instrument on a Henderson album. He is nearly isolated in the left channel, and his interplay is stimulating.