212. Weather Report / Legendary Live Tapes: 1978-1981 (2016)

On point! Four discs of hitherto unreleased live material from Weather Report's finest lineup. Pastorius recorded a healthy parade of studio LPs with the group and played dozens of gigs. His tenure is my touchstone for the Weather Report discography (I'm a native South Floridian, and admit heavy local partiality). I never saw them live, and I wore out the 8:30 album. That album's cushy overdubs and post-production soften the raw, affirmed talent in evidence on the live document. Given the Report's rep for slick and innovative studio work, I concur and take no issue there. But needless to say I am very happy that these tapes were assembled and released so we can hear them in the buff. Without hitting trading circles for soundboards and audience tapes, it's enough to pore over for a few years. Working through the first disc, my ears perk at Erskine's sparkling and aggressive work behind the drum kit, and his interactions with Jaco. Half the total sound is the rhythm section, hard to believe that only two people are carrying that. Nice notes are also included. While you wait for these to arrive in your mailbox, I heartily recommend the aptly titled Trio of Doom live disc with McLaughlin and Tony Williams.

209. Lionel Hampton & Stan Getz / Hamp & Getz (1955)

I suppose it's nice that by a happy accident of geography and scheduling, Hamp and Getz occupied the same place at the same time and afforded us a record. Hamp hits the sticks with a swinging ferocity that inspires Getz out of his cool cage in some unexpected chances. The pair battles through choruses and plods through a medley of ballads in a fair exposition of each's technique. It seems that Getz had to start running to keep up with the manic energy of the legendary vibraphonist. The two personalities make something of a strange cocktail, and I'd say the net result is more differentiated and less of a mutual product. The most exciting fireworks come during uptempo "Cherokee" and "Jumpin' at the Woodside." On the CD reissue, we have some extras, namely a mystery trombone player rumored to be Willie Ruff, but he doesn't really do much. The outtake of "Gladys" is a nice party favor, but, again, nothing special aside from where Hamp hits a clanger. I never like it when a reviewer describes something as "nonessential" but that's exactly what I've got here. The ingredients are enjoyable, but I'll continue taking my Hamp and Getz neat. The fine artwork on the cover is by the great David Stone Martin, reminding me that one of these days I'd like find a lithograph.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.  

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...

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.

134. Chet Baker / Live in '64 and '79 (2006)

Baker's music definitely matured, although his development is sometimes difficult to appreciate given how his drug habit impacted his life and performances. This DVD from Jazz Icons shows him playing with two European groups, 15 years apart. In the '64 quintet I sense tension between the underplayed Baker and overactive pianist Rene Utreger, who is constantly throwing heavy handed chords at the end of Chet's phrases, sometimes before they appear to be completed. It's like a leadership dispute, and the band or producers clearly have their own ideas about who falls where. In spite, Baker manages a lovely "Time After Time," though the quintet's take on "So What" seems like a missed opportunity. Baker has trouble finding space to express himself and fights with the group, and also has difficulty with the intonation. The second performance is from '79 and begins with an interview that segues into "Blue Train," in progress. Baker says his lyrical approach to improvising has become more subtle with experience and the performance reflects this. The drummerless quartet is much more together than the '64 group, thankfully, and Baker's rich sumptuous tone pervades the set. Although "Blue Train" is truncated (which stinks, because what we do hear is beautiful), we get a heavy swinging and creative take on "Softly As In a Morning Sunrise" with Baker's smoothly flowing melodic improvisation, the occasionally interesting turn of a chord, and overriding melancholic appeal. Also notable are pianist and vibraphonist Michele Graillie and Wolfgang Lackerschmid. I like this installment of Jazz Icons for the contrast it provides between a younger Baker and an older, perhaps wiser player with a more respectful band.  

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.

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.

125. Dave Brubeck Quartet / Dave Digs Disney (1957)

For all its thunder and snark, the Brubeck quartet improvised with a childlike curiosity, and Brubeck and Desmond both employed a genuinely sentimental touch with ballads. Maybe it's the music's built-in humor and romance, but I sense something very natural about this group covering Disney songs. Of course, the band was no stranger to the material, so there's the easy explanation, but they're clearly enjoying it. "Alice in Wonderland" is a breezy treat, with Desmond blowing blues into his explorations of the theme before trading jabs with Brubeck. "Heigh-Ho" is rendered at an uptempo clip and with a tough tone by Desmond before a romp by Morello. But it's shortest piece on the album and for all its perkiness, it's almost a footnote. A few pieces retrospectively transcend the Disney brand such as "When You Wish Upon a Star," or "Some Day My Prince will Come." The latter would eventually be made famous by Miles Davis, and is a further example of Brubeck's prescience. I overlooked this set for a long time because I thought it was a novelty act, but I was dead wrong. For further examples of Disney jazz, try Disney Songs the Satchmo Way, Everybody Wants to be a Cat, or Sun Ra's reverently maniacal settings of "Heigh Ho" and "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah," among others.

123. Wilton Felder / Forever, Always (1993)

Felder is a hard working session man on the bass and tenor who is deeply reverent of his roots in straight ahead jazz, soul, blues, and R&B. I'm down with that. But on the other hand, this funky, (thanks, Dwight Sills on bass) soul-influenced smooth jazz session is a snoozer. I'm not going to pan it because it's a very slick product with some uncanny melodies and remarkable consistency. Don't take me the wrong way because I like smooth jazz, soul jazz, and fusion. But when I turn on Forever, Always, from the very first note, I find myself looking toward the television for the weather forecast. You feel me? It's one of those records, and a very good one, at that. I find it to be good for the background, good music to listen to if I just want to relax because there aren't many surprises and rhythmically it's all at one depth. Felder's tone is very solid and downright enjoyable, but the music is thin on ideas and while it isn't uninspired, it comes off as routine. Sonically speaking, the mix is creamy and sounds equally at home on speakers or headphones. Did I mention I've retained this album in my iPod? There's a time and a place for everything. So if you're into smooth jazz, 80s soul jazz, or fusion groups without horns, this is the record for you. 

119. The Great Jazz Trio / Standard Collection (1987)

This great CD by Denon is sadly out of print. The trio is agile and smart, working through 16 standards, just as the title implies. Hank Jones is eloquent and a joy to listen to. On the drums is Jimmy Cobb adding just enough muscle to spread it out but playing with impeccable taste ("Caravan"). The bass chair this time is Eddie Gomez, who stands out in slippery but very melodic solos like "S'wonderful," "Embreceable You," or the excellent rendering of "Sophisticated Lady." The trio is augmented at times by the violin of Lewis Eley ("Autumn in New York," "Isn't it Romantic") adding a touch of style similar to the effect Ray Nance had on the Duke Ellington band. The album's selections fall mostly to the Ellington-Strayhorn team, Thelonious Monk, and George Gershwin. The pacing is good and the band is professional. They work closely and make a solid unit, Cobb and Jones especially. As I mentioned, Standard Collection is out of print but worth it, I think, for a band that plays straight from the heart. If you're interested in the other work by this fine and ever changing group, please see the Great Jazz Trio Discography page by 441 Records. The last four tracks composed by Monk are played by Jones with a special fondness, it seems.

112. Paul Desmond / Take Ten (1963)

If you can't get enough of "Take Five," then Take Ten is the album for you. It's one of several excellent slabs made during Desmond's many quartet sessions for RCA Victor. The band is Jim Hall on guitar, a moonlighting Connie Kay on drums and Gene Cherico on bass. Fellow Brubeckian Eugene Wright subs for Cherico on "Take Ten," adding an extra dimension of conceptual continuity to this 10/8 reworking of its famous counterpart. It starts with a familiar vamp that is reminiscent of a studio orchestra trying to avoid paying royalties for the genuine article. But then Desmond starts in on a deep and bluesy riff, finding new territory inside of an old melody. He blows these long and contemplative notes that explore the tonal color of the mode and remind me, in a very limited sense, of later work by Jackie McLean or John Gilmore. It's a treat, especially when he decides to hold on for just a bit longer and sustains the phrase with some vibrato. Proceedings quickly change the course toward Desmond's passion for bossa nova. In spite of an American burnout on the form, Desmond was one of its stalwart practitioners, and originals like "El Prince," "Embarcadero," or "Samba de Orfeu" are fine examples. Kay and Hall give the sessions that extra something it needs. Kay has a nice technique that intertwines his ever present cymbals with a driving attention to the skins. This band gives him elbow room that was impossible in the immaculately executed pieces by MJQ. A normally taciturn Hall takes some interesting breaks mixing chords with short flurries of single notes and a lot of fun riffing, and he is one of my favorite musicians. Together they make a melodically focused disc with good performances and an excited but cool, relaxed vibe that I wholeheartedly recommend. It ends as sweetly as it began, with an uptempo "Out of Nowhere" featuring George Duvivier on bass. The section at the end where Desmond has the floor to himself with punctuation marks by Kay is just magic.