205. Coleman Hawkins with Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis / Night Hawk (1960)

Enough has been said about Hawk's invention of the wheel when it comes to the tenor sax solo. His influence extends over both horizons and has touched untold numbers of musicians both directly and indirectly. But his work, especially that of the transitional 50's and early 60's, is also a lot of fun to listen to. Hawk's professionalism was so cool it was casual, his technique an enigmatic balance of technical innovation and instinct. Here, in a 1960 session for the Swingville imprint and recorded by Rudy Van Gelder, he is heard with fellow tenor Eddie Davis, Tommy Flanagan, Ron Carter, and Gus Johnson. The title track, 10 minutes of slow blues loosely organized around a theme, is a pickup number that demonstrates the players' knack for the above. The contrast between the tone and styles of Hawkins and Davis on tracks like "In a Mellow Tone" provides an added dimension. Flanagan is in top form playing tastefully between the leads, Carter and Johnson a sympathetic unit whose attention to the music goes beyond timekeeping. As with Duke Ellington Meets Coleman Hawkins recorded for Impulse two years later, a good result from such a meeting of the minds was not a foregone conclusion, but in both cases the outcome was memorable.

204. Don Cherry / Art Deco (1988)

Credited to Cherry, this session belongs to the same unit that worked together before Cherry, Haden, and Higgins historically joined ranks with Ornette Coleman. It's a beautiful straight set, comprised of cooly executed standards, originals, and several Coleman covers. The quartet is familiar and tight. I haven't listened to much of James Clay's past work, but now I wish I had more of it on hand to explore. His deep, supple lines in "Body and Soul" put a fresh coat on the old song, mixing wry bop phrasing with bursts of unexpected tonal color and bluesy swagger. Cherry takes a rest while Higgins and Haden nimbly sidestep one another before Haden builds a short solo. The ensemble picks up again behind Clay's last chorus and the plaintively emotive outro for solo tenor. Monk's "Bemsha Swing" comes next, where Cherry and Clay get most of the spots, but leave room for Higgins. Higgins, Cherry, and Haden each get time alone on "Passing," "Maffy," and "Folk Medley," quiet, introspective spaces that give listeners a chance to appreciate their individualism. Eight-bars-and-blow gets old, I agree, but these renderings sagely belie that trope with wit, spirit, and a genuine enjoyment for the music Do you love great jazz? Find it, buy it.

188. John Lewis / Evolution II (2000)

When he recorded Evolution II, Lewis had long since achieved the accomplishments that would define his impact on jazz. But saying as much is unfair for this man. I scratch my head and marvel, open my ears and let the piano fill them with knowledge. His technique is still surprising, oscillating from arranged structures to improvised heavy swing. Here he reinterprets his own pieces in three separate continua: a gleaning from the past, the import of the present, and the dictates of his present moment. It shrugs at commercial boxes like "pop," "classical," or "jazz" by exposing commonalities in the ineffable and truly nameless thing that we call "music." As always, it points in a new direction. Maybe a little like Paul Desmond, his understated touch can miss you the first time, then devastate the second. Like Ahmad Jamal, he understands the penetrating effects of silence and balance. Or like Mingus, depth allows for endless reimagining. The meandering stroll down memory lane seeks unexplored areas of familiar paths. Whether the march from "Trieste," for instance, "Winter Tale" or the unmistakable strains of "Django," this effort proves that without Milt, another MJQ was impossible, but Lewis' mission would continue. Kudos to Lewis Nash, whose complex, articulate and just brilliant drumming puts all the pieces in place.

170-173. Four albums by Gigi Gryce Quintet and Gigi Gryce Orch-Tette, 1960-1961

This CD release by Fresh Sound collects the last four LPs by Gigi Gryce: Saying Somethin'; The Hap'nin's; The Rat Race Blues; and Reminiscin'. I think they were originally released on Jazzland, but I have to double-check. Gryce was respected and admired as an altoist and composer, and he is heard on a good many dates by other leaders. But he left performing and recording for the field of education... PS 53 in the Bronx, to be precise. In that regard, he reminds me of people like Nathan Davis, Donald Byrd, or Dave Van Kriedt who quit the scene to become educators. Sadly, Gryce's memory gets lost, because in an age of new ideas, he just kept on playing hard bop and never really made a big splash. What he didn't accomplish by comparison to his peers is irrelevant. As this set shows, Gryce made some excellent music. His effortless, sometimes abrasive lines and unique approach to the blues are rock solid. I know everyone's blues is unique but it's nice to hear a person say it his way. Likewise, Gryce's arrangements of "Summertime," "A Train," "Lover Man," and "Caravan" put a vivid new spark into the old warhorses. I'm thankful we have the recordings he left and if you haven't heard of him, then you now have a new musician to look into.

169. Ronnie Cuber / Live at the Blue Note (1986)

Live at the Blue Note is fine hard bop by a very strong quartet featuring Cuber on barisax, with Dr. Lonnie Smith on organ and the outspoken Randy Brecker on trumpet. Drums are by Ronnie Burrage. The lineup says it all. Brecker is outstanding, assertive and brassy but so is everyone else. Listeners will recognize Cuber and Smith as an old team. From behind the organ Dr. Smith gives the music a robust buoyancy, working the draw bars like floodgates. Along with Burrage, he bounces between playing his own steely choruses and pointed interplay with Brecker and Cuber. The date is memorable and stands head and shoulders above Cuber's studio dates on Projazz, like Two Brothers. The set is a mix of bop, rhythm, and blues. It gets pretty hot, as with "Philly Blues," or "Blue 'n' Boogie," but practically the whole disc has the same feel. If you can find a copy and the price is reasonable, buy it. The audio is great, too.

168. Miles Davis / Kind of Blue (1959)

A review of Kind of Blue seems pointless. I'll muse for a few hundred words, and then quit. I imagine a world without this record, and that is a difficult world. It's a world where Bill Evans didn't sub for Wynton Kelly, a world in which countless musicians were struck by inspiration elsewhere. A world that is one milestone short of properly demarcating the future. A world where your brain is not irresistibly and without permission drawn to referencing all subsequent Miles Davis dates to this one. It's a world without the myth of it all being done in one take, a world where you don't have to buy that other CD to find out that what you missed was not really anything special. In this world, 1959 is not terribly different than 1958 or 1960. The Columbia vault is one cart of tapes lighter. It's a party that went one album different. It's the late night DJ who selects something by Cliff Brown instead. It's a world where the porter didn't see the CD on my passenger seat. It's a world where as a teenager, I didn't once stop my bicycle in the middle of an intersection to change the batteries of my headset. It's a world where my daughter was lulled into dreamland by someone else's trumpet, and awakened by someone who was not John Coltrane. It's a lot the same, but it's not the same, and I'd rather have it with Kind of Blue.

167. John Coltrane / Lush Life (1961)

While Prestige's Lush Life was not released until 1961, it was recorded by Van Gelder during three sessions in '57 and '58. As he was no longer recording for the label, Coltrane had no say in it but ironically, the record contains a few of his choicest recordings playing in the small group, hard bop setting. This was an incredibly fertile period for Coltrane. He had yet to compose the seminal works that later appeared on Blue Note and Atlantic but was already working on the technique and musical ideas that would define his legacy. The first three tracks present Coltrane as leader of a pianoless trio, fleshing out a lot of chords in lieu of the keyboard. The most memorable moment on Lush Life is probably the title track, a luscious ballad owned by the leader until around nine minutes in when Donald Byrd steps out of the woodwork for some equally inspiring lines on the trumpet. Two years ago I was at a stoplight listening to this on the radio and was so transfixed by Byrd's meandering melancholy that it took a horn blast from the car behind me to break the reverie. While I'll never recreate that moment, I can still listen again and again. "Trane's Slo Blues" is also notable for Coltrane's moves inside the changes. These tracks appear on the boxset Fearless Leader although they are not presented in the same sequence as they are here, which is actually quite good. 

164. Ernie Watts Quartet / Ernie Watts Quartet (1987)

This self-titled LP featuring Watts as the chief soloist is pretty hard to fault. Watts' craft and professionalism are what's on display here, and they are impressive to say the least. Watts is a diversely talented musician capable of playing with ease in a dizzying assortment of styles and settings, and this album does well to demonstrate his chops on tenor, alto, and soprano saxes while playing pop, hard bop, and the blues. By 1987, he had done extensive session work in Los Angeles that refined his technique from a streetwise hard bop sound to the razor edge of instinct and technical facility required for more specific demands as a hired horn. Side 1 opens with "Language of the Heart," a smooth pop tune that never strays far from the melody. But the next track is a mean slice of hard bop called "Continental Blues." The dramatic juxtaposition of these styles proclaims YES, this man will do both! Here and elsewhere, Watts switches from heavy lines in a tough tone to effervescent double-time eruptions of verbosity that probe the harmonic architecture of the changes. Even when he's on alto, Watts reminds me a lot of John Coltrane. I appreciate the group's thoughtful rendition of "Body and Soul," which is dedicated to Mr. Coltrane, and at 6:02 is also the longest track on the record. Pat Coil, whether driving the rhythm, comping, or interplaying intelligently with Watts, wins the prize for underrated sideman of the hour. Often, in the more predictable spots, his piano maintains my interest when the melody from Watts just isn't enough. Timekeeping Leatherbarrow and Dibartolo are also notable.

159. Buck Hill Quartet / This is Buck Hill (1978)

This is Buck Hill is Hill's recording debut on SteepleChase. From Washington D.C., Hill worked for the post office by day and was a hard driving driving tenor sax leader by night. So by the time we meet him in 1978, he is 51 years old and already possesses a fully developed tone and unique stylistic approach to modal material. Because of this late exposure, he is easy to miss, but he was and continues to be a fantastic player in the tradition of other big tenors that jazz listeners are more familiar with. For the debut he teams up with Billy Hart, Kenny Barron, and Buster Williams. They have a good sound that approaches the Prestige or Blue Note gold standard from two decades earlier. This session lacks the production gloss of newer Hill releases like Relax (which is also excellent). Notably, four of the album's seven tracks are Hill's originals. These are modal explorations with contributions from all members of the group. The four musicians play so well together that it's a hard sell for me to believe they weren't working together a lot longer than they were! Finding the vinyl could be a challenge but the recent CD is a worthwhile purchase and comes with a bonus take of Hill's "S.M.Y."

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.

154. Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt / Boss Tenors (1961)

If you've got the stereo disc then Ammons is in the right channel and usually goes first. Stitt is in the left channel and comes next, occasionally doubling on alto. The latter was one of the most inspiring alto players there was, but he gets short shrift. A whiz on the alto, he was equally capable on tenor or even baritone (no barisax on this disc). These two players make wonderful music together. It's a solid dance session, with plenty of fireworks and some intriguing knots in the choruses that may interest more serious listeners. "There is No Greater Love" features Stitt on alto. His exhilirating double-time chourses are a thing to marvel at. While trading jabs with each other, the horns take unexpected sidesteps outside the blues, like in Ammons' first chorus of "Autumn Leaves," or some of Stitt's phrases in the smoking "Blues Up and Down." The rhythm section of John Houston, Buster Williams, and George Brown has a good chemistry. Williams' timekeeping meshes well with Brown, and especially Houston's comping style, which favors chunky, chorded statements emphasizing the beat. Their interplay with the leaders during "Blues Up and Down" really kicks the tune into a higher gear. This is a memorable session, and quite enjoyable, to say the least.

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.

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.

143. Don Braden / The Voice of the Saxophone (1997)

Braden plays a big sounding  tenor and does an admirable job arranging for his octet (which is occasionally a quartet, as with "After the Rain"). He carries most of the groove but there's also Vincent Herring, Randy Brecker, Frank Lacy and Hamiett Bluiett. The arrangements are nimble, often carried by a piano continuo, and they balance the group's massed power with spaces that feature the soloists. It's clever, and I'll forget that I'm listening to an octet before a big blast reminds me to count the pieces. The opener is Hank Mobley's swinging "Soul Station." There's a lot of good hard bop in the playlist, like Shorter's "See No Evil," or Jimmy Heath's "Voice of the Saxophone." It all sounds fresh. There's also Sam Rivers' tricky "Point of Many Returns" and some solid originals by Braden like "The Dust Kicker" and "Cozy," (nice solo by Brecker here). "Monk's Hat," which is the tune we all know as the theme from the Cosby Show, is appreciated but might be more appropriately placed at the end of the album. Kitsch aside, I like that last one well enough because it reminds me of watching Cosby! Hats off to Braden and crew for an outing that's enjoyable, danceable, and even holds a few surprises.

133. Roland Kirk / We Free Kings (1961)

This early album by Roland Kirk demonstrates some of the things he became known for a bit later on. It's a polished, enjoyable, and provocative album. Most notably, throughout the blues and soul inflected set, he plays two or sometimes three instruments at once and switches between them at lightning speed. While blowing the blues on the flute, he likes to screech, howl, and sing along. There aren't any drop-ins from the board, no spliced takes. Obviously with one man filling four chairs, the arrangements revolve around him. As a testament to his talent, it works seamlessly. Kirk has an inspiring technique and sweet tone on all instruments. His style of improvising, I think, clearly departs from the Coltrane bag he was once lumped into. The band is Hank Jones or Richard Wyands, drums is Charlie Persip (great choice), and bass is Art Davis or Wendell Marshall. Through his technique and instrumentation, Kirk puts a unique spin on old tunes, and kicks out his own compositions, as well. After this album, Kirk's journey continued to seek new directions, ever expanding, ever exploring. We Free Kings isn't just nice for listening, it's also nice for perspective. It shows his music is steeped deeply in blues and bop, but the trajectory for future dates would always be farther out than before.

132. John Coltrane / Fearless Leader (2006)

Coltrane's Prestige albums have been available in various formats since the 1950s. Another chapter in the flood of repackaged Coltrane on CD, Fearless Leader places his earliest recordings as leader in chronological order. This allows serious listeners to study his development as composer, arranger, and stylist without having to track down the individual records. Moreover, by removing these recordings from their in-album sequences, they exist in a proper or at least more authentic musical context. They transcend the supposition that is imposed by arbitrary sequencing and stand their ground against one another, in the order they were created. Listening to the whole box, or at least a good chunk of it in one sitting, is a rewarding experience. From the outset, Coltrane's groups are well rehearsed and the arrangements are tight. Throughout the progression, it's exciting to hear Coltrane's tone become more sonorous, his technique sharper, more assured. In addition to the leader, there's Paul Chambers, Art Taylor, Red Garland, Mal Waldron, Freddie Hubbard, and others. We hear them take some excellent shots at the blues, as well as Coltrane's peerless balladry in classic chestnuts like "Lush Life" (Donald Byrd around the 9-minute mark, wow), and some early sheets of sound ("Black Pearls," "Russian Lullaby"). Across six discs, there's too much to discuss here. Somebody could, and several people have, written books on this music. The concept of the six-disc set, plus accompanying booklet with copious photos and notes, make it a really attractive package. Unless you want the individual albums, I'd say this is a core collection item.

129. Hank Jones and Frank Wess / Hank and Frank (2006)

Requiring no introduction, Hank Jones and Frank Wess have one of the best jazz albums of the past 20 years. Aside from Jones and Wess, bassist John Webber (try "You Made a Good Move") guitarist Ilya Lushtak, and drummer Mickey Roker make an appreciable impact, too. This is uber classic jazz with universal appeal. The joy in listening, for me, comes from how together the group is. Playing this music is beyond natural to the co-leaders and on the record, the product of their skills sounds as easy as breathing. Wess doubles on tenor and flute. To make a play on that line about "breathing," try listening to his beautiful lines on ""The Very Thought of You." There is a wide variety of material from blues to bossa nova, and don't miss the four originals by Wess or the tune by Mr. Parker like "Barbados." Best of all, if you can't get enough of Hank and Frank then you can always buy the second volume. Yes, there is a second volume.

118. Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers / Soul Finger (1965)

In 1965, the Jazz Messengers were navigating strange seas. The decade was only half finished but had already seen players like Dolphy, Coltrane, and a host of others. On the other hand, it's like the climate inside the Messengers was oblivious to this. Their music continued ahead, business as usual, driven by Blakey's hailstorm of press rolls and weaponized hi-hat pulse. I feel inclined, or almost obligated, to say what been said a thousand times. I suppose when someone mentions the Messengers, that's the image I conjure: the world's best hard bop band, Blakey at the helm. Yet this lineup feels different than other incarnations of the Messengers, even if it's obvious that no two were the same. The soloists take some unexpected corners, and it's an aggressive front line from the word "go" with Freddie Hubbard and Lee Morgan blowing alongside Gary Bartz and, on one track, Lucky Thompson. They're explosive but the charm, for me, comes between John Hicks in the left channel and Victor Sproles in the right. I hear a lot going on there. Unforgettable is the debut of Gary Bartz on alto. This disc might not be a definitive Messengers date, but there are some critically overlooked moments packed between these grooves, and a little jazz history, as well.

105. Benny Golson / Groovin' with Golson (1959)

Golson only has a single composing credit on this album ("My Blues House"), which is too bad considering how much I enjoy his style of jazz. But that tune, a slow blues, is the very first one on Groovin'. It is adequately seasoned with Curtis Fuller's flashy statements on trombone, perhaps more than Golson himself. Things move to a mid tempo piece "Drum Boogie" that swings hard with Art Blakey at the helm, before cooling down with the Rodgers and Hart standard "I Didn't Know what Time it was." Golson's sax blends sweetly with Fuller's trombone, and both are accomplished soloists. It's nice to hear their tones in opposition, too, as in "The Stroller" where a caustic Golson veritably peels the paint off the walls before we hear Fuller's punchy but softer sounding approach with short, staccato phrases. There's some brilliant piano work by Ray Bryant, possibly overshadowed by Golson or Fuller but easily underrated. Chambers and Blakey get a turn before everyone does fours and the thing wraps up. The quiet "Yesterdays" finishes the album with a whisper. Groovin' was recorded immediately before the formation of the Jazztet, but it's easy to see where things were going. I think here, Blakey gives a hard edge that was missing from even the Jazztet's most brilliant moments.