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!

175. John Blake / A New Beginning (1988)

A New Beginning combines Blake's typically sonorous violin lines with elements of funk, soul jazz, and Brazilian and African rhythmical structures. The exciting music is buoyed by an interesting lineup featuring two keyboards, a drummer, and a percussionist. Gerald Veasley kicks out solid rhythms on the bass with a soulful and percussive technique that employs juicy slides and the occasional slap to emphasize his point. Between the deceptively catchy but challenging opener "Dream Lady" and the following "Samba Di Bahia" listeners get the idea that the group is capable of excelling in a variety of musics while maintaining a consistent level of performance and improvisation quality that is the album's hallmark. Dual keyboards (James Simmons, electric; Sumi Tonooka, acoustic) add to the bubbling rhythm section, Simmons for texture and Tonooka as the melodic foil for Blake. Not being familiar with Blake beyond his work with Grover Washington, I had lukewarm expectations when I picked this up, and was pleasantly surprised. It ends on a great tune, "Serengetti Dance."

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.

160. Duke Ellington & Johnny Hodges / Side By Side (1959)

I put this album in the "essential" pile. From the first punchy, rather Dukelike chords in "Stompy Jones," we're off to the races with two sessions comprised of Ellington and Basie alumni. I love listening to Sweets Edison in the context of a small group. His lines in "Stompy" are clean, concise, and eloquent, ringing out above the swinging bass, Jo Jones' crashing cymbals and Duke's rhythmical encouragement. Those two guys -- Duke Ellington and Jo Jones -- make quite the pair midway through the tune when the front line lays out and lets them have a round of aggressive chords and crashing percussion. Hodges comes back just in time for a joyous, New Orleans style melee at the end. The lineup with Ellington and Sweets only does three of the album's nine tracks ("Stompy," "Squeeze Me" and "Going Up"). The second session is a septet recorded six months earlier with Billy Strayhorn, Ben Webster, Roy Eldridge, Wendell Marshall, and Lawrence Brown. The character is similar but the different chemistry is easy to hear. Of course the soloists change, Eldridge's style is flashier than Sweets', but there's also a different sentimental quality and certain reserve presiding over cuts like "Let's Fall in Love" that is absent from the music with Ellington. Maybe it's Webster. Or maybe it's Strayhorn? Who knows. Regardless of which band you prefer, this disc is wonderful.

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.

155. Earl Bostic / Flamingo (2002)

Flamingo is a double disc compilation by the UK's Proper Records label, covering 1944 to 1951. The audio quality is very good. These groups are like many of the transitional orchestras of the 40s and early 50s. They feature veterans alongside torchbearers from swing to bop and beyond. In the early sides, we hear Bostic with Rex Harris, Cozy Cole, Don Byas, Tiny Grimes, and Lionel Hampton. Later, in his stripped down R&B orchestra, we hear a sampling of Jimmy Cobb, Wilbur Campbell, and Jaki Byard. Listen for the transition from gut busting alto to what became Bostic's trademark technique. In the 1949 sextet, tracks like "Filibuster" show repeated riffing with huge tone, but also a nimble fingered aptitude for clean, double-time runs through the scales, colored here and there with reed buzz. The lovely "Serenade" (Gene Redd on vibes) has a similar feel. Like Ben Webster, Bostic could play with arresting power, or sublime gentleness. "Flamingo," probably his best known track, has become the archetypal rendition, although it isn't much different in structure or appeal than other sides recorded by the group. I like the later sides best, but the early ones are priceless, too. 

138. Roy Eldridge / The Nifty Cat (1970)

Roy Eldridge as leader? Has the moon come down? He didn't lead much, didn't even record much after 1960, and I wasn't aware of this disc until spotting it at my library. The personnel is interesting. There's Budd Johnson whose skills in arranging, tenor and soprano sax are the perfect fit for Eldridge's brand of jump and small group swing. The bass is by Tommy Bryant, a musician of great skill and style, and one who seems underappreciated today. On drums is perennial session man Oliver Jackson, piano is 'Countalike' Nat Pierce, and perhaps my favorite man on the album is Benny Morton on trombone. His inventory of different sounds and licks is inexhaustible and the 'bone brings a touch of old school class to the proceedings (check him out on the lazy "Jolly Hollis," or "Ball of Fire"). "Cotton" is a deep and stormy blues carried by an appealingly mysterious piano and bass figure. Eldridge sings the humorous blues "Wineola," also getting a nice solo in the tune, and things really cook with Eldridge's "Ball of Fire," filled by a lot of riffing and Eldridge showing off his famous range. The closer is the title track with solid work from everyone. I especially enjoy Eldridge's first solo. There's a good mood throughout the set, and I'm thankful for this disc given how much the trumpeter worked but did not record. It's definitely worth finding.

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.

128. Rabih Abou-Khalil / Blue Camel (1992)

Like Bukra, 1992's Blue Camel is a stimulating set of jazz fusion with roots in traditional Turkish and Middle Eastern music. Rabih Abou-Khalil's catalog is like a treasure box filled with gems but I think this collection ranks among his best efforts. Instrumentation (alto sax, oud, frame drums, percussion, trumpets, and bass) is similar to the aforementioned Bukra and has similar personnel in Ramesh Shotham. Certainly Charlie Mariano is capable of fusing these disparate musical worlds, and his improvisations with the alto are notable. The album begins with Mariano's tacit, contemplative solo introduction to "Sahara." It sounds like a gently intoned prayer, wafting melodiously through the speakers until Abou-Khalil and the group's other voices join him one by one. Kenny Wheeler on trumpet and flugelhorn is a good choice and his sound adds additional depth to the band. His technique treats the music nicely, like the nimble fingered flair in "Tsarka" and elsewhere. The arrangements develop the compositions with patience, and there is much interplay with the percussionists, which is integral.

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.

103. Art Farmer / Meet the Jazztet (1960)

I love this album. Art Farmer's Jazztet was a lot like the Jazz Messengers. Their music had a different flavor than the Messengers but each group was stacked with the fine and innovative musicians and each played the picture of hard bop. Benny Golson does the arrangements and the band plays two of his tunes: "I Remember Clifford," the beautiful tribute for which words are woefully inadequate, and "Blues March," an attention-grabbing blues with a startling cadence and spunky arrangement. There are some obligatory standards ("It's Alright with Me," and swanky "It Ain't Necessarily So") during which the band displays its chops like fine silver. Golson and Farmer make ideal foils by themselves, Golson with superheated explosions of verbosity and Farmer with his carefully crafted and natural lyricism. But you can't forget or ignore the contributions of Curtis Fuller, either. He has some really hip parts, with big, brassy punctuation marks or deftly fingered runs that will make you think he's got a cornet. There's mucho variety, the arrangements keep it fresh, and Lex Humphries swings it hard. If you're getting into this type of music, Meet the Jazztet is essential listening.

89. Charles Mingus / East Coasting (1957)

Happy Birthday, Charles Mingus! He'd would have been 91 today. I like East Coasting a lot, and always have. Maybe it's the title, but the longer I remain in exile west of the Mississippi, the more I am drawn to this record. The lineup is one of my very favorite Mingus groups, probably because of Shafi Hadi on alto and tenor, but it's complemented by Bill Evans. Proceedings start with a beautifully longing take of "Memories of You," which crackles through some unexpected turns as the soloists lend their voices. That's a good rule for the whole record, which is always surprising me. No matter how many times I hear it, I hear something new. Tonight, for instance, I'm really into that bass solo in "West Coast Ghost," and the brief but alarming resurgence of the ensemble when Mingus finishes, before they take it out on a lamb. Mingus was always concerned with harnessing group chemistry and giving his musicians plenty of freedom to interpret changes, and this album is an outstanding exemplar of that magic. It might lack the gravitas of other dates, but who cares. I need to hear "Celia" one more time....

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. 

79. Lester Young / The Complete Savoy Recordings (2002)

No excuses for not having this in the collection. Remastered from original tape and acetate recordings in sparkling 20-bit audio, sequenced chronologically, good notes and packaging. Together these make an exemplary product, but the music is a treasure. Lester Young was such a natural improviser. I read that a lot, and it's true, but words only take me so far. Listening to successive takes of "Ghost of a Chance," "Crazy Over J-Z," "Exercise in Swing," and "Blues 'n' Bells," the truth becomes ever more apparent. There it is, it's happening. Each time he takes a chorus, he's doing something else. In light of the outtakes, I'm by and large very pleased with the tracks selected as masters, which isn't always the case. Like the master of "Basie English." I love the blues lick during Lester's chorus (you know which one!), and overall it's clearly the better performance. But that's actually the second take, and during the first, it sounds like the group is working on something close to what Lester did later. Elsewhere, we hear Lester's processing of the young and modern music that supplanted the old guard, like those masterful bridges in "Ghost." I listen and feel like he's right next to me, a ghost in the passenger seat. Howdy, Prez.

77. Nat Adderley / Work Song (1960)

Some corners of hard bop were already getting funky by 1960 but Nat's classic album still sounds ahead of the curve. Selections are like a hard bop stew, highly inspired music expressed in various forms of funkified rhythm and blues, bop, gospel, and truly aching ballad work. Sam Jones makes an impression on me. He slides all over the place and plays his choruses as if he has a guitar sitting on his lap. His doubling on cello and movement to the front line boldly pays big dividends. Wes Montgomery was in on the session, and between these two there's enough bluesy gumption to hold down that part of the fort. This doesn't stop everyone else from contributing, though. The early "Work Song" and Cannonball's "Sack of Woe" are a fine one-two punch, except they're separated by three equally impacting tracks. At times, Adderley breaks the sextet down to a trio or quartet so there's evidence that this group could be effective hitting on all six or with just half its compliment. It's an album with levels that has staying power for a reason, fine music thoroughly worth its salt.

68. Freddie Hubbard / The Artistry of Freddie Hubbard (1962)

This is Hubbard's fifth album as leader, and his first recorded for the Impulse! label. The music is hard bop inside and out, but Hubbard's sextet undergoes some changes with trombone Curtis Fuller, and John Gilmore moonlighting away from the Arkestra. Together they stretch out in some lengthy jams and experimental explorations that lean clearly in the direction of the Impulse! ethos. "Bob's Place," "Summertime," and "The 7th Day" really put eyebrows on the proceedings. The reworking of "Caravan" is interesting, too. Gilmore is especially captivating. Like a musical alchemist, he plays long, sustained notes in lengthy phrases that unmoor the notes from their melodies. On compositions like "The 7th Day" or "Bob's Place" these contrast with the backdrop of the vamp, creating the effect of pure tonal color and presenting the tones themselves in striking relief beside their harmonic relationships. Tommy Flanagan on piano, Louis Hayes does drums, Art Davis bass. I like this side trip from the early Hubbard formula quite a bit.

66. Miles Davis / At Newport 1958 (1958)

This live disc features the sextet that recorded Kind of Blue a short time later. It's also the debut of Cobb and Evans with the group. Davis premiered his new lineup in the context of Newport's considerable inertia. The gloves are off right from the start. "Ah Leu Cha" is the fastest I've heard it played by anyone and Adderley, Davis, and Coltrane show off their chops in blistering runs of mind boggling accuracy. If you haven't heard this, I advise you turn up the volume to fully appreciate these musicians when they start blowing. I think their power even surprised the leader. It's like going from 0 to 60 in an instant. Davis is in high spirits, talking all throughout the set, encouraging his musicians. Evans is careful when he slips between Adderley and Coltrane, but offers excellent harmonic advice and makes a few pointed statements as with "Straight No Chaser." It's easy to see why Davis picked him, and to hear him outside of his role in guiding the modalities heard in Kind of Blue is quite exciting. A short-lived and critically under-documented group, I'm thankful to have this disc.

36. Henry Threadgill Sextett / Rag, Bush and All (1989)

Mr. Threadgill turns his attention to the possibilities of composing for a jazz sextet, laying aside his penchant for world percussion and other unconventional orchestration. There aren't any frame drums and you won't find an oud, but between Threadgill's bass flute, the bass trombone (Bill Lowe's sole obligation), string bass, cello, and flugelhorn, the instrumental colors are focused in the lower ranges. Add two drummers and shake, and the recipe really works -- bright splashes from Threadgill's alto and Ted Daniels' cornet create a high flavor that is joined by Diedre Murry, whose free explorations on the cello wouldn't sound out of place with Henry Cow. Fred Hopkins, no stranger to interplay with Murry or Threadgill, was always a creative improviser, and uses the full range of the instrument, playing so percussively that you'd think he was a percussionist himself. Threadgill's abilities as composer and arranger are ever apparent, playfully alternating between snatches of melody and bumpy sections of turbulent rhythmic counterpoint. When the soloists open up in later sections of "The Devil is on the Loose and Dancin' with a Monkey," maybe it's the horn and twin drummers, but the music feels a smidge like that of the second Miles Davis Quintet. And in the sections surrounding Threadgill's chorus in "Sweet Holy Rag," the drums and winds play slightly out of phase and recall effect of the opening track on Davis' Nefertiti, that of an unsettling and self-propelled whole that creeps along like a caterpillar and demands the ear's attention. During collective improvisations, the musicians have their ears wide open, and the product is a busy and tantalizing melee of interwoven phrases and meters that step above one person simply jumping into line behind the next.  "Gift" is the shortest piece on the record, a beautifully dirge-like spell of bowed strings, chimes, and arranged winds that is overshadowed by the 12-minute tempests on either side of it. Yet again I listen to an album like this one with such interesting compositions and wish it was available to new generations of jazz composers and musicians, but shake my head in awe of the fact that it has lapsed out of print. There are numerous groups in modern jazz that could adapt these tunes nicely.