215. George Harrison / Early Takes, Vol. 1 (2012)

I listen to this collection of demos and early takes more often than I do All Things Must Pass. I love Harrison's chords... there are so many good changes. Most takes are just him with a guitar, and sometimes a drum track or overdub. It's an intimatre setting: you can hear his feet on the floor keeping time, or taking breaths between phrases. The simplicity of the demos lets their beauty shine through unobstructed. This is easy music for a hard time... "All things must pass away," as Harrison reminds us. Also: "You don't need a horoscope or a microscope to see the mess you're in." Right? Well, it is 2020. Every bit helps.

198. Frank Wess / Opus in Swing (1956)

This pianoless quintet led by the flute of Frank Wess also lacks his other instrument, the alto sax. Accordingly, he's in top form whether it's pounding high notes in the blue gloom of "Southern Exposure" or adding harmonic color to the serpentine leads of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Also moonlighting from the Basie Band are Eddie Jones and Freddie Green who keep time with Kenny Clarke so tight it's telepathic. The quintet excels in the same music that Basie's bands made famous. Like Basie's, their combo has an undeniable group dynamic, but every man is heard as his own solo artist. Together, they drive the music with one mind, then shine forth as individuals during the moments when one man stands alone. It's impossible to appreciate one quality without noticing the other. Kenny Burrell is notable. Listen to "East Wind." Green trades chording for a more pianolike approach that walks, while Klook keeps time with the cymbals and Wess sketches the heavy mood with dense vibrato. When he lays out, Burrell bursts the seams with bluesy runs and relevant single note phrases that underscore the character of the melody and polish the rhythm. It's choice stuff, a potent brew of Kansas City swing that has been seasoned with the developments of postwar New York.

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.

157. Gene Harris Quartet with Frank Wess / It's the Real Soul (1995)

Recorded live across two nights in March of 1995, these eight tracks feature the Gene Harris Quartet (Ron Eschete, g; Luther Hughes, b; Paul Humphrey, d) in the company of Frank Wess. Wess divides his time between four tracks, playing tenor on "Menage a Bleu" and "Estoril Soul," then flute on "Straight No Chaser" and "My Funny Valentine." He is as expressive on the flute as Harris is on the piano, unleashing a diverse assortment of perky phrases and exciting techniques that frame the Monk tune in a perfectly jaunty way, and adding lots of personality to "My Funny Valentine." Nice as it is to have him around for the proceedings, the core band plays with such a big sound and heavy swing that I don't miss him on the other half of the record. Harris works well with guitarist Eschete. Their cooperation in splitting the breaks of "Lady Be Good" turns the old tune into a memorable affair, their choruses developing patiently until the mood reaches a fever pitch. "That's All," which is the last tune on the album, is a fitting closer. Harris teases "Rhapsody in Blue" before really pounding into fully chorded statements, with the crowd loving it. His style on the keyboard is often described as being rooted in a gospel tradition and tracks like "You Don't Know Me" clearly substantiate those descriptions.  

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.

152. Tom Principato / Smokin' (1985)

Principato is well known on the East Coast circuit. In the 70s, he made a pair of legendary albums with fellow Tele-wizard Danny Gatton (Blazing Telecasters and More Blazing Telecasters). But outside of the South, his name is more obscure. Principato's nimble, string bending, Fender-driven brand of electric blues combines a stripped down Chcago style with Texas and Southern flavors. Like the discs he did with Gatton (and much of Gatton's work, Tom or no), it draws from all over the blues tradition, a swirling cocktail of jump, boogie, rock, country, and swing. There's a tinge of honky tonk and each lick is rendered with gratuitous twang. Principato's sustain on sweeping string bends gives each note its own zip code. Smokin' is the perfect title. The album cooks on high from the first note until the last. For verse sections, Principato plays riffs close to the nut in a deep, growly sound. He soon flies up the neck in a combination of slick, fluid phrases that are interspersed with chunky bends and exciting slides. "Lipstick, Powder & Paint" continues the twangy blues vibe, likewise "Fish Fry." Harder rocking tracks include Principato's "Talkin' Trash" and the closing "Hard Livin'." Fans of Stevie Ray or any of the usual suspects will find this to be an infectious delight. Be warned: buying one album may lead to buying three or four more...

148. Fenton Robinson / Somebody Loan Me a Dime (1974)

I like this debut for Alligator a lot because Robinson's guitar and vocals combine much of what I love about Texas, Chicago, jazz, and soul all in one place. It has a pureness, a genuine flavor that is unmistakable, yet it is not adequately described by any one of those styles. It all starts with the vocals and guitar which are backed by a straight ahead band including Bill Heid and Mighty Joe Young. Robinson's voice is a deep baritone, capable of rich emotional detail while its timbre is smooth enough to imply a dimension of gentleness. This distinguishes him from the haughty, barkingly self-assured styles of singers like Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf (just saying). And it's a big voice, too. They needed a microphone for the sessions but it's easy to see him singing without one. For "mikeless" cred, he even covers Big Joe Williams' "You Say You're Leaving," and to devastating effect. His unique blues guitar style is evident from the first track, "Somebody Loan Me a Dime." Robinson plays smart licks in a call-and-response style, but draws jazzy patterns from a more colorful pallet than your typical player. The tone is dirty and overdriven, without reverb, and sounds pretty much right from the wire. This is essential for fans of Chicago or Texas blues because it's good for character, and an easy like for fans of Grant Green or anyone with a penchant for soul jazz.

146. Wes Montgomery / Smokin' at the Half Note (1965)

Smokin' is the second collaboration between Montgomery and the Wynton Kelly Trio. They played on a couple of his other albums, too, and they make a solid group. The trio is Kelly, Chambers and Cobb. Having said as much I shouldn't have to say more because the names, let alone the music, practically say it all. I'll listen to anything with these guys. Only two of the five tracks on the original LP are actually live from the venue, "If You Could See Mee Now" and "No Blues." The other three are from (where else?) Van Gelder's studio. It doesn't really matter because both dates are terrific. Our opener "No Blues" pushes 13 minutes in length, marked by Montgomery's fat tone and heavy right hand. It's also an interesting piece as far as Miles covers go, dating from his 'casting around' period before the second great quintet formed up. But getting back to Wes, his melodic constructions in "Unit Seven" are something to marvel at. It's refreshingly cogent jazz thinking, replete with strong musicality and inventive spirit. For both live and studio material, Chambers and Cobb are the bedrock while Kelly is probably the perfect pianist for this group, having both the technical facility and bluesy swagger necessary to enhance the brew. If you want to learn what jazz guitar is all about, this is a good entry point.

141. Monty Alexander, Ray Brown, Herb Ellis / Triple Treat (1982)

For various reasons, the cover of this recording seems oddly appropriate. A photograph of a three-scoop ice cream sundae makes a cheeky pun for the piano trio's sweet and sometimes quirky set of tunes like Blue Mitchell's "Fungi Mama" (with fun quotes by Ellis, and some jangly syncopation by Alexander) or the hot side-opening "(Meet The) Flintstones." Monty Alexander fills the piano chair and I don't think he sounds one bit like Oscar Peterson, in spite of Brown and Ellis being longtime members of that musician's group. The other music on the album is equally sweet and creamy, as with the sumptuous "Body and Soul" and "Sweet Lady," or swinging "When Lights are Low." Also notable is the title track, the "Triple Treat Blues." Chemistry, relaxed atmosphere and slick, baton passing choruses of these three musicians make a buoyant and memorable session that is out of print but worth seeking out. If you enjoy this lineup, be sure to check out their other albums, as well.

140. Tal Farlow / The Swinging Guitar of Tal Farlow (1956)

This blues and bop trio date with Farlow, Eddie Costa and Vinnie Burke is easy to listen to, and closer listening reveals a lot going on. The styles of Costa on piano and Farlow's guitar dovetail nicely. Farlow's eloquently phrased and heavy swinging choruses are followed by those of Costa, who plays in a hard-hitting, single-note style and is very rhythmic. Farlow uses the occasional slide, as in "Yardbird Suite," but instead of relying on an arsenal of tricks and stock licks, he is adept in inventing on the fly. The improvisations literally flow from the speakers like they're on tap. With so many ideas being tossed around, there's a lot of interplay between the piano and guitar. Burke plays the bass more or less steadily throughout, occasionally getting a chorus his own. The outtakes of "Taking a Chance on Love," Yardbird," and two (!) extra takes of "Gone with the Wind" are all so good that it's difficult to say how they determined a master. At any rate, the bonuses are much appreciated by this listener! Admirers of Ahmad Jamal's drumless trio with Ray Crawford, the Aladdin dates of Art Pepper, or the Modern Jazz Quartet should take immediately to the music herein.

114. Angelo Badalamenti / Music from Twin Peaks (1990)

David Lynch's highly individualistic and genre defying films have a niche all their own. A great part of the magic in films like Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, or the series Twin Peaks, can be credited to the composer Angelo Badalamenti whom Lynch has hired time and time again. Lynch is an auteur and when he finds something that works, he sticks with it. Other directors have famously created an arc of conceptual continuity by hiring the same actors and composers for multiple films (reluctantly, Tim Burton springs to mind) but Lynch has avoided typecasting, banality, and the curse of repeating himself. Lynch manages to work new and frightening ideas into each film while creating a mood that is distinctly a product of his own making. This soundtrack by Badalamenti is a prime example of how the composer contributes to essential mood magic. The tracks run the gamut from low key, enigmatic synthesizer statements ("Theme from Twin Peaks," "Laura Palmer's Theme") to steamy blues (like the spidery threads of "Bookhouse Boys"), and moments of rare beauty ("Love Theme from Twin Peaks").  There are some vocal spots, too, by Julee Cruise singing lyrics by Lynch and dreamy music in the vein of "Sleepwalker." And that is the operative word, here: dreamy. Remember, it's a Lynchian dream where nothing is as it seems.

106. Frank Zappa / Hot Rats (1969)

Fusion, like the avant-garde, is a thing that everyone approaches from a different angle. Hot Rats is way off the typical fusion track, if you follow the example set by those who left Miles Davis' electric groups. But Frank wasn't moving in those circles. When he made Hot Rats, as ever, he was following his own muse. On the surface, Hot Rats takes the path of a hard rock band, emphasizing the "rock" half of the jazz-rock equation. It is filled out with intricate arrangements played on various reeds, electric guitar, electric violin, percussion, and keyboards. Most of the solos are blues-based guitar workouts or feedback-laden electric violin riffing by Sugarcane Harris (see "Willie the Pimp," "Gumbo Variations"). On the other hand, it also features quirky, composed pieces whose tight arrangements are closer to a synthesis of jazz and classical elements than they are to any mainstream American rock and roll from 1970. Listeners of European experimental music from the same time period, or Rock in Opposition groups like Henry Cow should have no trouble appreciating such pieces. "It Must Be a Camel" and "Peaches En Regalia" are notable in this regard, likewise the horn charts for "Son of Mr. Green Genes," which remained a live staple for years to come. Zappa was also a DIY innovator in the studio. If he didn't have the equipment he wanted, then he invented it, and he was endlessly creative at the mixing desk. So the aurally warm texture of Hot Rats was created with a forest of meticulous overdubs and tape manipulation techniques that Zappa pioneered on his own. Are you new to Frank Zappa? Hot Rats is a good entry point due to its presentation of several characteristics common to many pieces in the FZ oeuvre. It's also very good for rock audiences and toe dippers because it is listenable, contains none of Zappa's lyrics (which range from funny, to off-putting, to complete bullshit, depending on how they strike you), and is also widely available on CD format.

80. Jimmy Smith & Wes Montgomery / The Dynamic Duo (1966)

The arrangements by Oliver Nelson are assertive but don't sound as if they're intruding on the small group which is at the core of this session. Nelson's robust charts quickly give way to the main attraction, a reactive meeting of the Smith and Montgomery schools. If you liked the big band on Smith's The Cat then you'll appreciate this album's similar vibe. There's intense, crispy drumming from Grady Tate, occasionally complemented by Ray Barretto. Montgomery on rhythm is as impressive as he is on lead, like the high-octane percussive comping in "Down by the Riverside." There's a huge contrast between the two leaders. Montgomery's smooth, melodic lines are the ideal foil for Smith's fiery, organ revival. They play off each other well. Things appear to cool off with "Night Train," but a relaxed tempo only stokes the flames! The second side is more standards, first the dark chart of "13," followed by a lighthearted "Baby it's Cold Outside." If I listen to this too soon after Bags Meets Wes, I invariably wish Smith and Montgomery could have called Bags to join them. What if...

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.

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.

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.

31. Wes Montgomery / Boss Guitar (1963)

This is a really slick album by the Wes Montgomery trio, one of four recorded with organist Melvin Rhyne. Montgomery takes most of the leads, although Rhyne does get a few. When he does, he doesn't use the draw bars much, although he plays a great bass accompaniment on the pedals and occasionally uses the bars while interplaying with Jimmy Cobb or comping. So it's pretty much Wes Montgomery, right up front, all the time. Most of the tunes are standards except for two. It's accessible music of the funky and soulful variety that Wes purveyed across his career. The music is so smooth that it's almost easy to ignore if Montgomery wasn't so good, and Jimmy Cobb certainly keeps listeners awake on the drum kit. He does the octave picking a little bit, but does more blues-based riffing and plays some very spontaneous figures in the upper register that remind me of alto saxophone technique. "Besame Mucho" is the standout mark of a seasoned professional and Montgomery's own "The Trick Bag" really heats up. From the looks of things, I think Rhyne and Cobb like "Trick Bag," too. 

29. Ahmad Jamal / Chamber Music of the New Jazz (1955)

I find myself listening to the 'original unconventional' piano trio again and again, and I enjoy it more each time I hear it. It's light and refreshing, cracking with good ideas and smooth sailing without even a hint of drums. Why bother? Jamal has Israel Crosby doing great interplay on bass while also hitting the pulse, and Ray Crawford strikes and plucks the guitar for a similar effect. Crawford has some good solo space, too, while Jamal comps or plays with Crosby. The three musicians have effervescent chemistry and often finish each other's sentences, musically speaking. Jamal has enough room to use the piano trio for what it was meant intended. He does all kinds of inventive stuff and blocks or plays alone with his right hand, occasionally dropping boulders to make the point. You can hear he's trying stuff out, and uses the full range of the keyboard, too. The influential player and album were like a drop of water for the arrangers' seed, inspiring Gil Evans and Miles Davis to the heights of cool in the 1950s. Best part is when it comes to Jamal, this album was only the beginning.

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.

04. Kenny Burrell / Midnight Blue (1963)

An album long in the making, according to the liner notes, and by the leader's decision, the selections were limited strictly to the blues. For this reason, I think putting Stanley Turrentine on tenor sax was an especially wise choice. When I listen to Midnight Blue, I'm listening to Turrentine's soulful attack and swinging timing as much as I'm listening to Burrell's guitar. Turrentine aside, there is notable variety in the arrangements, and a few tracks even work to the exclusion of one or more players. I'm impressed with the variety of different moods and textures the Burrell group can coax out of a single musical form, a testament to the power of the blues. Differences in mood between "Chitlins Con Carne," "Gee Baby Ain't I Good to You," and the quietly heartfelt solo voice of "Soul Lament" are simply flooring.