99. John Zorn / Spy vs. Spy (1989)

I remember it clearly. It was December of the year I turned 17, incidentally just a few weeks after I bought The Shape of Jazz to Come, my first Ornette Coleman album. I was in the parking lot of a concert, standing atop my cooler. I had been up there for about 30 minutes or so watching people walk by when one of the guys camping next to us started playing Spy vs. Spy on his car stereo. I had already made myself intimately familiar with the strains on Shape, so Zorn's mysterious and new (to me) spin on "Chronology" was a revelation. It literally fell out of the sky. Once the initial confusion subsided, there was bliss. I stayed on top of the cooler and talked to the guy who put on the album (Nate, from Columbus, who was standing on the ground). We chatted about other Ornette Coleman albums I should buy as we listened to Zorn's elite posse of contemporary jazzists sail through 15 more tunes. Although "Chronology" was the only one I knew, and it was over pretty fast, the rest of the disc already seemed like an old friend. Over the years, Shape and Spy became like mutual codexes to each other, which is funny, considering the lack of material that is common to both. In 1999 I lacked the listening background to bring a truly appreciative context to either record, but I'm astonished that either record filled the hole that it did, and I still enjoy them both greatly and they continually offer me new ideas to invest in.

Somewhere above, I listen to John Zorn

That is, I think, a testament to the enduring vision of each. That's a mouthful but I can't think of any other way to put it. When I hear Zorn, Joey Baron, Tim Berne, Mark Dresser and Michael Vatcher painting the walls with a group improv like those found on Spy, I can hear their interpretations peeling back the layers of the onion, while simultaneously putting more back on the top. There's so much going on -- the clashing tonalities and meters, the timbres and partials of altos' upper register, the fury of it all. The language of each improvisation is so unique. It's like lightning in a bottle. And yet in all its abrasive, assertive, uncompromising glory, it exudes an inescapable beauty. I like "C & D," "Broadway Blues," "Feet Music," or "Zig Zag" the best, but this is one album I must always start from the beginning.

71. Sun Ra / Blue Delight (1989)

Blue Delight recorded alongside Purple Night and so the music retains the same character. Be advised, though, All Music Guide and anyone who quoted them got it wrong, because there is no Don Cherry heard here -- he's on Purple Night. The title track is jubilant and showcases Ra's style on the piano. He is double-fisted, percussive, highly rhythmic, and swinging. His chords are thick and the left hand interplays with the right, sometimes dividing phrases between the two, punctuating them with occasional boulders. There are stimulating interpretations of tunes like "Days of Wine and Roses" and "Gone with the Wind" but my favorite track is the Ra-riginal "They Dwell on Other Planes." Ra uses the synth sparingly, but numerous solos over the menacing vamp extend it beyond the 12-minute mark. Throughout the album, strains from Tommy Turrentine, John Gilmore, Bruce Edwards, and others usher the proceedings with excitement and color. I once heard this described as "hip music for squares or square music for hipsters" and that's it. If I find that reviewer, I''ll quote him here. I think it's damned good music, and an essential recording for listeners who enjoy their jazz left of center.

59. Gato Barbieri / Chapter One: Latin America (1973)

Early on, Barbieri did a series of albums focusing on Latin American music. Chapter One is the first and perhaps the most brilliantly conceived of the bunch, and it is also an album that brought him considerable acclaim outside of Argentina. "Encuentros" and "India" assemble a diverse assortment of instruments and musicians from South America. The proceedings are played on bombas, harps and the charango (yes! a charango). Barbieri's tenor presides over all, weaving in strands of melody and little riffs. At times, the group sounds as if they are imitating the sounds of the jungle, or myriad voices in a crowd. Listening to these pieces together is exhilirating time after time. The second side is comprised of a suite, and several short works. The former is a vast and sweeping work that I don't see having a successor in the Barbieri discography. It's noisy but sometimes gentle, roaring but not overwhelming, with great musicality. I see Chapter One as being of those records that shouldn't be played unless I unplug the phone and don't plan to leave the room until it's over. Aaaaah, that.