Tonight on the Jazz Cafe

Tonight on the Jazz Cafe: Danish saxophonist Fredrik Lindborg, the great vibist Milt Jackson and John Coltrane recorded live at the Village Vanguard. Streaming live from 7-8 p.m. eastern time

After the Death of a Friend and Collaborator, 'Penguin Jazz Guide' Author Brian Morton Soldiers On

Brian Morton is the kind of polymath you don't often see anymore. A writer by trade and a Renaissance man in spirit, he's equally adept at analyzing British political culture in The Nation or writing about contemporary literature for the Times of London. He's also been a college professor, hosted a variety of radio shows for the BBC and, if that weren't enough, translated several books from the Norwegian.

But Morton, 57, is perhaps best known as the co-author of the "Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings," the book that, over two decades and 10 editions, has attempted to review every jazz recording available in the United States and Europe. That last part of the sentence bears repeating - "attempted to review every jazz recording available in the U.S.and Europe." To call the Penguin Guide encyclopedic is akin to calling Mount Everest tall. At some point, adjectives just aren't adequate.

For instance, my well-thumbed-through copy, the fifth edition, includes upwards of 10,000 entries, and runs to 1,618 pages, not including an index of several hundred more. It weighs, according to my bathroom scale, four-and-a half pounds. If jazz can be said to have a Bible (and a Talmud and a Koran all rolled into one) the Penguin Guide is it.

And it's not just the scope of the thing that's impressive. From the AALY Trio to Zubop, the book is authoritative yet accessible on not just the recordings but the musicians themselves and their place in what is the true American art form.

And therein lies a paradox, because Morton, oddly enough, doesn't hail from jazz's epicenter, New York, nor from its birthplace, New Orleans, nor any of the other American cities (Chicago, Kansas City, Philadelphia) most commonly thought of as breeding grounds for the music's foremost practitioners. No, Morton is Scottish, and while he has played a little saxophone in his time he lives not on 52nd Street but in a former monastery in the western wilds of his homeland.

Of course, assembling the Penguin Guide would be a gargantuan task for anyone, and for years Morton's co-author was British music writer and ex-record company exec Richard Cook. It was an intense collaboration, one that, not surprisingly, involved a fair share of bickering over musicians and genres. Still, "It was tremendous fun, and complaining about the workload was part of the fun," Morton recalled in an e-mail interview.

But how did the two accomplish such a task?

Morton admits that the first edition "was a slog, but as anyone who has done any long-distance running - and here was a first point of personal difference: I ran to keep sane, while Richard regarded violent exercise as undignified - will know that knowing what it feels like to run a marathon is part of the battle. After the first edition, and before we embarked on the second, we knew what we had to do, in terms of number of words per day, per week, per month. After the take-off point we were metaphorically checking our watches ever mile or so, dropping behind the pace, keeping up, risking burnout by pushing it too far."

As the book grew in popularity and one edition morphed into the next, "we rarely had time to read each other's work before the proofing stage, which always sparked semi-serious squabbles - 'You gave that rubbish four stars?!' - and sometimes required tweaking of the rather arbitrary ratings we gave to individual records. That, of course, was never an exact science or level playing field, in the sense that a three-star Louis Armstrong record is not considered to be of the same value as a three-star Ingrid Jensen record, and shouldn't be... If Richard disliked an artist and I professed an admiration, then I logically covered that entry. Sometimes simple availability of records meant that one of us wrote part of an entry, though we quickly gave up the early practice of 'I'll do the early Miles, Brian, and you cover the rotten electric stuff,' 'Thanks, man'."

Morton notes that "one fascinating aspect of the collaboration is that no one ever reliably identified who wrote what, despite confident assertion from friends and colleagues that it was 'obvious' I had done Basie or Richard had done Chet Baker."

Sadly, Cook died of liver cancer in 2007, at age 50. Morton, who has written movingly of Cook's death, was faced with the loss of his collaborator and friend. As he put it: "The worst single thing about his passing was hearing new records slap onto the mat and know that he would never hear them."

Recalling Cook now, Morton says that "everyone who met Richard even through the pages of the book or a magazine knew that his opinions were sharp, pithy, and always located in a deep knowledge of the music. I sometimes found him unduly categorical, and sometimes unwilling to consider other contexts for the music - cultural, political, whatever - but that discussion was part of an important dynamic. We complemented one another. I infuriated him with some of my enthusiasms. Some of his baffled me. But he also responded with generosity, with absolutely no eye for the merely fashionable and without prejudice."

Morton was left to soldier on and complete the Penguin Guide's ninth edition. More recently, the book has evolved into "The Penguin Jazz Guide: The History of the Music in the 1001 Best Albums," in which Morton, as the title implies, selects the most worthy jazz recordings and shows how they convey the history of the music. The encyclopedic scope of the project is gone, for now. But Morton is adamant that "it was, is and remains a collaboration."

Will the Penguin Guide continue? "It may need at this stage to involve another writer, which I regard with some relief, some regret and a little understandable anxiety," Morton said.

In years past, he adds, "when each edition was finished, we shared a bottle of malt, sometimes in person, sometimes on the end of a phone line. Moods ranged from end-of-war fatigue to euphoria to the slightly gloomy but also the cheering thought that we'd be doing it all over again in two years . . ."

These days, Morton does some farming on his patch of Scottish soil, where he lives with his wife and children. He writes, of course, but mostly about books, science and religion. "Don't play much saxophone any more," he told me. "Cut down trees and dig out stumps instead. Watch the plants grow, or die. Walk miles and miles. Listen to whatever comes through the door."

-Tony Rogers

Photo of Brian Morton courtesy Sarah MacDonald

From One Generation to the Next, Sharing the Pleasures of a Three-Minute Pop Song

I put a piece of vinyl on a turntable today for the first time in what must have been decades. My 13-year-old daughter bought a few ancient Beatles forty-fives from a Covent Garden peddler on our family trip to London last summer and had lobbied hard ever since for a record player. So I hauled my old Technics turntable out of the back of the closet and hooked it up to an old stereo in the basement. My excitement building, I poked around in another musty closet to fish out a few old Al Stewart records, then lumbered back down the basement stairs to cue up "Nostradamus."

At first there was an audiophile moment: the bass was indeed strong, the highs crisp and bell-like. Vinyl really did sound better! Then came the crackles and pops, and I remembered why CDs were such a revelation when they came along. Oh, well. When my daughter got home from school we had a teachable moment when I showed her how to gently lower the needle into the groove.

I'm not nostalgic for the good old days of vinyl; the shelves of my study are creaking with several thousand jazz CDs, and when I wake in the middle of the night I'm happy to have my mp3 player to listen to in the dark. Techier still, I store even more music and BBC podcasts in the cloud to listen to on my touchpad. It's all a far cry from the '70s, when my friends and I obsessed over stereo equipment and loudspeakers. Now just the idea of a receiver attached to speakers seems archaic. From one generation to the next, the technology keeps getting cooler.

But an unexpected pleasure of being a parent has been discovering and rediscovering so much wonderful music, movies and books through the eyes and ears of my kids. My daughter had her teenybopper pop phase a few years ago, but then she started borrowing my Beatles CDs. That led her back to Buddy Holly and Elvis, and forward again to the Rolling Stones and Queen. My son and I, both sci-fi geeks at heart, watch the new Doctor Who together on the BBC cable channel, and even occasionally sit down to a DVD of one of the classic Tom Baker episodes (my personal favorite). Of course, we're both "Star Wars" nerds, and when he was still in grade school we played "Rogue Squadron" together.

And it's not just blasts from the past, either. Indeed, from the animation of Pixar and Hayao Miyazaki to the Harry Potter books and movies, the past decade has been a veritable golden age of family friendly media. For years it seemed as if there was always another Pixar masterpiece to see, another Potter book to devour, and my wife and I enjoyed them nearly as much - and sometimes more - than our kids.

It wasn't always so. When I was a kid the generation gap was a culture war. I'd blast Led Zep from my bedroom, and my dad, who came of age in the 1950s, would yell at me to turn that crap off. Even my love of "Star Wars" was not something I could share with my parents, and when I entered my punk rock phase a few years later I was considered beyond help.

Then something changed, and it wasn't just the technology. Many parents of my generation (if I can be so bold to speak for them) decided somewhere along the way to raise their kids differently than they were raised. Instead of trying to force our music down our kids' throats we actually tried listening to their music. In the process, something was shared, rather than fought over. In our family this has certainly been the case; I tune my kids into the Beatles, and they tip me off to Coldplay and the Black Eyed Peas. I consider that a pretty fair exchange.

Of course, none of it lasts forever. The movies end, the bands break up and the books reach their final chapters. My kids' tastes change, sometimes by the week, and I can't always keep up. Bigger changes are still to come; my son will go off to college next year, with my daughter not far behind. Each passing year moves faster than the last, and seems more precious. 

These days as we schlep from piano lessons to aikido practice my son and daughter sit listening silently on their devices, earbuds in their ears like a couple of Secret Service agents. My dad and I used to fight over what to listen to on the car radio; now, watching my kids in the rearview, I worry I'm missing something, that I'm being left out. But then sometimes I'll pop some Coldplay onto the car stereo, the earbuds will come off, and we'll listen together as the miles fly by and Chris Martin sings:

"I turn the music up,
Got my records on
I shut the world outside until the lights come on
Maybe the streets alight,
Maybe the trees are gone
I feel my heart start beating to my favorite song..."

It's a brief moment in time, just the length of a three-minute pop tune, but worth every second.

-Tony Rogers

English Guitarist Lee Jones Brings a Composer's Flair to "Songs From the 13th Hour"

Lee Jones is a young English guitarist who made waves in his homeland a few years ago with "Swish," his debut as a leader. With the release of his sophomore effort, "Songs From the 13th Hour," he's looking to make his mark in this country. On the strength of this album, I predict he will.

Jones is an examplar of so-called Nu Jazz, which emerged in the 1990s as a funkier, more accessible cousin to the post-bop stuff most of us jazz critics write about. I should say up front that Nu isn't my favorite vein of the music. While it bears little resemblance to the smooth swill churned out by the likes of the talented but tragically misguided Kenny G, as a genre it's still a little too polished for my tastes.

Having said that, Jones made me a believer with this album, and that's due to his mastery of the instrument and his flair for composition (all but one of the songs are originals.) Take the titletrack, a medium-tempo number that features veteran tenor saxman Jean Toussaint. Jones holds his own as he trades solos with the more experienced Toussaint, but more to the point the tune itself is a real gem, featuring a pensive, repeating riff that creates an undercurrent of tension throughout.

What's slightly odd about this album is the way it veers from tightly produced, commercial-sounding tracks to ones that are rich with quirkiness and lyricism. Take "In Another Time," in which Jones teams up with Fairport Convention violonist Ric Sanders on what amounts to a folksy ballad of sorts. The tone here is melancholic and muted, and Jones' fretwork is tastefully restrained rather than show-stopping. But the combined effect is intriguingly original. Jones has the composer/arranger's gift for seeing the big picture, musically; he looks beyond his own playing and marshals his musicians to create a sustained mood and ambience, one that lingers long after the tune has ended. Jones is also, it seems to me, a very visual composer, and if he ever gives up jazz I think he could forge a career writing soundtracks. One way or another, he's a talent worth watching.

 -Tony Rogers

Pioneering Drummer Paul Motian Dead at Age 80

Paul Motian died on Tuesday. Motian was perhaps the most important drummer in contemporary jazz because, as I wrote several years ago in a review of his album "Holiday for Strings:"

Motian has helped he helped liberate percussionists from their role as simple timekeepers by employing a style and phrasing that used tempo as a starting point, not an end in itself. In the process he produced an invigorating body of work that veered from post-bop clichés and instead evoked the subtleties of mood, atmosphere and texture.

Motian also made a point of working with young musicians, including pianist Anat Fort, who was stunned by the news of Motian's death. "My personal connection with him and his music and what he has done for me are something that will never be repeated. I am truly sad today," she said via e-mail.

German bassist Peter Schwebs, whose terrific CD "Stories from Sugar Hill" I reviewed here recently, had this to say about Motian:

"I first got to know about Paul Motian when I started checking out bassist Scott LaFaro and the famous recordings of the Bill Evans Trio. This was about 12 years ago. At that time I was finishing high school in a small town outside of Hanover, Germany, and I just started playing the double bass. I checked out the sales corner in a small record store every other day to find all the “must have” legendary jazz albums. The Bill Evans Trio albums really blew my mind, and I always had the CDs or copies on Mini Disc with me.

New Jazz Conceptions (Riverside, 1957)
Portrait in Jazz (Riverside, 1959)
Explorations (Riverside, 1961)
Sunday at the Village Vanguard (Riverside, 1961)
Waltz for Debby (Riverside, 1961)

Since my high school years up until last year, I was fortunate to see Paul Motian playing live several times. Especially since I moved to New York in 2006.

In fall 2010, when I saw Paul Motian last time at the Village Vanguard with Joe Lovano and Bill Frisell, it was one of these rare concerts where everything was just perfect: The communication between the musicians, the interplay, the mastery of the instruments, the freedom in the music, and the live sound and atmosphere at the Village Vanguard. There is no recording device that could possibly capture all this, and it reminded me why it is so important to listen to this music played live. Fifty years after the Bill Evans Trio sessions at the Vanguard, Paul Motian’s playing sounded as up-to-date and fresh as back in the day. He was truly a master musician who always played in the moment and brought innovative and surprising ideas to all kind of different musical situations.

Not just for drummers, but for all musicians and music lovers who are interested in improvised music, Paul Motian’s approach to music and to playing the drums will remain a major influence and live on as an important part in the jazz tradition."

-Tony Rogers

Pictured: Motian on drums, Joe Lovano on sax and Bill Frisell on guitar. Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

Nat Janoff, a Guitarist Who Deserves Wider Recognition - and a Major Label

Listening to guitarist Nat Janoff 's latest album reminded me of what makes the indie jazz scene alternately exhilarating and depressing. The exhilaration comes in discovering absolutely wonderful music that few people have heard. The depression comes from the realization that true talent, at least in this genre, too often languishes in obscurity.

Janoff has a half-dozen albums to his name. His latest, "Come Together Move Apart," is a strong effort in every respect. Janoff is a technically agile yet sensitive musician whose playing shows shades of John McLaughlin and Wes Montgomery. He's also a gifted composer whose tunes are innovative in the best sense of the word, meaning they carry the stamp of something new yet remain accessible. And he's backed by a band that gives as good as it gets (John Escreet on piano, Francois Moutin on bass and Chris Carroll on drums).

Two tracks on the CD illustrate Janoff's multi-layered prowess. "Shorter Times" opens with a bouncy drum solo by Carroll that segues into a nice bit of speedy post-bop jazz. Janoff plays the head, an elliptical piece that at a slower tempo would sound West-Coast cool, then gets out of the way as Escreet launches into a dizzying bit of solo work that does Art Tatum proud. But then it's the leader's turn, and Janoff, who as a young turk worshipped at the altar of Eddie Van Halen, shreds his way through a fleet-fingered solo that quite simply blazes. Fast doesn't begin to describe it. The next track is the polar opposite: "For Now" is quieter, muted even, and though it's at a slower tempo Janoff still infuses his solo with fretwork that is technically impressive yet appropriate to the tune's more restrained mood.

Both tunes are of a piece with the excellent work on the rest of "Come Together Move Apart," which is as fine an example of contemporary jazz guitar as I've heard. Yet as good as it is, the CD is not on a label like Blue Note or Concord but a self-recorded effort. That's not to diminish the work in any way; the sound is crystal clear and the cover art quite appealing. It's just that, if anyone is deserving of major label support, it's the likes of Janoff. Here's hoping this latest work brings him the acclaim he deserves.

-Tony Rogers

Mort Weiss Bops With the Best of Them on Latest CD

Mort Weiss has been around. Born in 1935, he picked up the clarinet early and in high school developed a love for jazz. As a teen he stood outside clubs listening to the likes of Miles Davis, Dexter Gordon and Stan Getz before being drafted and ending up in the Army band. After the service he toured for awhile with R&B and rock groups, playing tenor sax. But he got tired of the road and eventually started his own music store.

Then, about a decade ago, Weiss returned to playing, and to the clarinet. He met the terrific guitarist Ron Eschete and the two have recorded several albums together, including one with Joey DeFrancesco on the Hammond B3 organ. His latest release, "Mort Weiss Meets Bill Cunliffe," pairs him with the pianist and a talented band on a set of jazz chestnuts.

The vibe is mostly one of a loose jam session; on Luiz Bonfa's "The Gentle Rain" the pace is sedate, with the rhythm section (Chris Conner on bass, Roy McCurdy drums) leaving Weiss and the other players plenty of space in which to chart some limpid, unhurried solo work. Things pick up on Charlie Parker's "Dewey Square;" here, the band tightens up and Weiss gets to show off his fleet-fingered skills as a bebopper. And on Gershwin's "Who Cares" the septuagenerian fires off a blazing solo that shows he's still got his chops.

The album has a few oddities. There's a track of spoken-word Kerouac, and another featuring Weiss' grandsons playing a sugary pop song. It's a sweet gesture, but sounds jarring in the middle of an album of otherwise well-executed and very swinging tunes.

-Tony Rogers

The Melancholy Brilliance of John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman's 'Lush Life'

by Tony Rogers

Driving home on a brisk fall evening, the car slipping into the russet hues of the setting sun, I'm listening to Billy Strayhorn's "Lush Life" as recorded by Johnny Hartman and John Coltrane, a small masterpiece that begins with an arpeggio, stated matter-of-factly, by McCoy Tyner. Then comes Hartman's bass, velvety with a hint of gravel at the bottom, caressing Strayhorn's lyrics:

I used to visit all the very gay places
Those come-what-may places
Where one relaxes on the axis of the wheel of life
To get the feel of life from jazz and cocktails...

Strayhorn, Duke Ellington's longtime musical collaborator, was gay, though of course the word here had a different meaning when he wrote it. The lyric perfectly evokes the 1960s cigarettes-and-cocktails world of John Cheever and "Mad Men," which is why it's surprising to learn that Strayhorn composed the song in the 1930s when he was just 16 (ah, genius). A few more bars of just Hartman and Tyner, and those gorgeous lyrics:

I thought for awhile that your poignant smile
Was tinged with the sadness of a great love for me
Ah yes, I was wrong
Again, I was wrong   

Then, a pause, and Elvin Jones enters ever so quietly on the brushes, paired with Jimmy Garrison on bass, both men keeping plenty of space between the notes, and suddenly we understand that the song up to this point has been merely a prelude, and that its melancholy core really begins here. This is where we first hear Coltrane, just wisps of his sax in the background, supporting Hartman as he sings words that evoke a place and a moment at once urbane and down-at-the-heels:

Life is lonely again and only last year
Everything seemed so sure
Now life is awful again
A trough full of hearts could only be a bore

A week in Paris could ease the bite of it
All I care is to smile in spite of it 

I'll forget you, I will while yet you are still
Burning inside my brain romance is mush
Stifling those who strive

So I'll live a lush life in some small dive
And there I'll be
While I rot with the rest of those
Whose lives are lonely too

Then comes Coltrane's solo, and a nice piece of work it is: The man who could almost literally blow other musicians off the stage with his horn here is measured and even gentle. He states the melody and circles it a bit but keeps things simple, knowing that sheets of sound would be, in this case, too much. Tyner, Jones and Garrison sense the uptick in energy, and hearing them work things out behind Trane is one of the great pleasures of a song that offers many.

And then the finish: Trane and company recede and Hartman comes to the fore to reprise the final stanza, this time with an odd high note on the final "too" that sounds ever-so-slightly off-key; the band is silent, and there's real tension as Hartman holds the note a moment longer. Then Jones re-enters on the cymbal, the band re-emerges, and the note is resolved. The tension gone, the last few bars wash over us as Trane plays a beautiful little filigree of notes that trail off into the end.

There's an impulse to link the song's sad brilliance to the fate of the principal musicians themselves: Coltrane and Strayhorn would both die young just a few years later. Hartman lived on but never enjoyed the success many felt he deserved, a victim, perhaps, of the racism of his time.

But on a late winter's day in March 1963, in Rudy Van Gelder's legendary New Jersey studio, Coltrane and Hartman recorded, in a single take, a tune that is not just an ode to lost love, but something much more: A vision of an elegant, romantic sensibility and what was in many ways a gentler world, one that has all but vanished.

Clarence Clemons may be gone, but in jazz there are plenty of great sax players waiting to be heard

John Coltrane

Clarence Clemons may very well have been the greatest rock saxophonist who ever lived. Anyone who's ever hummed along to "Jungleland" or "Tenth Avenue Freeze-out" is familiar with his soaring, exuberant solos, and in that sense the big man was not only an enormously talented and charismatic musician but also an ambassador for the instrument itself.

But while the sound of the sax has been fading from rock and pop in recent years, in jazz it is and always has been an elemental part of the music. And why not? Depending on who's behind the reed, the saxophone can be many things. Charlie Parker's alto was a precision instrument of stunning virtuosity, played with a speed and skill that, even decades later, through the haze of scratchy, primitive recordings, is still astonishing to behold. Listening to Parker's solo on "Koko,"  where he's joined by trumpet player and fellow bebop pioneer Dizzy Gillespie, it's impossible to convey his masterful blend of technique and musicality without the word "genius" coming to mind.

John Coltrane, on tenor (and sometimes soprano) sax, played not just with speed - what one critic called "sheets of sound" - but with an immediacy and power that evoked deeper, spiritual dimensions to the music. Trane, especially in the late stages of his career, composed pieces imbued with this spirituality (his masterpiece "A Love Supreme" is probably the best example), but he accomplished his depth of purpose no matter the source material. Just listen to how he transforms Richard Rodgers' bright and somewhat schmaltzy "My Favorite Things" into a darkly nuanced exploration of the very soul of the music. Kenny G it's not.

Fast forward to the present, and there are plenty of established players and young turks making great music on the sax, from Branford Marsalis reworking Trane's "A Love Supreme" to Joe Lovano's sensitive ballad work to Tineke Postma, a young woman straight outta Amsterdam, playing with lyricism and restraint on original compositions that are just gorgeous. Clarence Clemons may be gone, but for saxophone lovers willing to explore the beauty and complexity of jazz, treasures abound.

-Tony Rogers

Saxophonist Ben Schachter Pursues his Musical Vision

He’s wowed critics and clubgoers, won fellowships and magazine polls. He’s recorded two CDs as a leader and has two more on the way.

But like so many jazz musicians before him, Philly-area tenor saxophonist and composer Ben Schachter has yet to land a contract with a major record label.

It hasn’t stopped him.

Told he should move to New York to break into jazz’s big leagues, Schachter, a Philadelphia native, stayed put. No bites from the major labels? Schachter formed his own label, Ben-Jam Records, and recorded two memorable albums, Fractals and Trio of Many, also the name of his band.

For Schachter, 39, the artistic struggle comes with the territory, geographic or otherwise.

"It’s harder to be based in any city other than New York if you want to have an international career,” Schachter says. “The consensus worldwide is if your return address isn’t New York, then you’re not in the big leagues, so to speak. 

“To a certain extent I can understand why,” he adds. “Traditionally New York has been the center of jazz activity. But my family is from Philly, and I love living here. The quality of life is as important to one’s music-making as anything else. You have to be happy with your life in order to be creating.”

And create he has. Schachter’s first disc, a sextet session called Fractals, was described as “both experimental and accessible” by one critic. Trio of Many, Schachter’s next recording, was, an Inquirer critic wrote, “full of Monkish moments and sly asides. Schachter writes peppery tunes that meander and tap-dance on the subconscious before his searing saxophone takes over to blow down the house.” Schachter was also voted “Best Jazz Artist” and “Hottest Sax” in various Philadelphia CityPaper polls.

Not content to bask in critical raves, Schachter has just put the finishing touches on two new releases that should hit the stores in late summer. Inside Looking Out is the second disc by his Trio of Many, which also includes bassist Micah Jones and drummer Erik Johnson. And The Missing Beloved is a sextet recording that adds saxophonist Gary Bartz, guitarist Jef Lee Johnson and trumpeter Tim Hagans to the mix.

“This wasn’t supposed to be two albums,” Schachter says. “But we recorded so much music over a two-day period, and I liked most of it. Since one day was with the sextet and the other day was with the trio, it seemed logical to release them separately.”

Schachter describes Inside Looking Out as the most relaxed recording yet by his trio, which has played together for about four years. (The band has a standing gig at St. Jack’s on Chestnut Street in Philly on the first and third Mondays of each month.

“We’ve become very intimate with each other, and that’s important for any kind of musical evolution to occur,” he says. “The record is a document of where we’ve arrived after four years of playing together.

“I like to think this album is better and stronger in terms of what I write and want to say,” he adds. “The band has grown together. We definitely have accomplished a lot in the last few years and I think it’s obvious when you hear the new recording.” The sextet album, on the other hand, is more structured, Schachter says.

“When you go into the studio you only have a certain amount of time to work, so you have to go in with an agenda,” he says. “I went into that with charts and arrangements, so the pieces are arranged much more thoroughly. It’s definitely a different sound from the trio record.”

Both discs are comprised mostly of Schachter’s own tunes. Listening to his incendiary, muscular sax—Coltrane is an acknowledged influence—it’s easy to forget that he’s also a formidable writer who several years ago scored a $50,000 Pew Charitable Trusts composition grant.

When he’s not composing or playing, Schachter is busy teaching students at Temple University’s Boyer College of Music to do the same. And—oh yeah—running his record label.

“Starting my own label was simply a matter of necessity,” Schachter says. “I don’t have a lot of business aptitude, but it’s necessary to document your music, and the only way you do that is by releasing recordings.

“If your music is of the sort that’s not easily classifiable, it’s not easy to get an established label interested, because of the financial risk. So I just formed a label, learning as I went” —about everything from CD bar codes and licensing fees to album graphics, he says.

Schachter grew up in South Jersey, the son of jazz-loving parents who frequently took him to concerts in Philly. He took up the clarinet in grade school, then switched to sax as a teen before heading to the Berklee College of Music and the New England Conservatory.

After college he returned home to Philly where he played the odd gig and worked, for a time, in his father’s insurance business. But Schachter knew music was his calling. “Most musicians are oddballs in that sense—I knew by age 14 I wanted to be playing music my whole life.”

However, Schachter wasn’t content just to play his horn. He knew he wanted to compose and to lead his own group—an ambitious plan for a young musician with few contacts and no record deal.

“I have great respect for the kind of artistry that it takes to be a sideman,” Schachter says. “But it’s very different to lead your own group. There’s a certain amount of stubbornness that leads to this decision. You want to do things your way. When we look at the musicians who have inspired us so much, it’s been those who have persevered in trying to communicate their own musical vision.

“I feel as if I have that vision,” he adds. “So I might as well do whatever it takes—viable or not— to try to communicate that.”

As for being snapped up by the likes of Blue Note or Verve, Schachter says he wouldn’t mind—running his own label isn’t easy.

“But I’m not whining,” he says. “I made the choice to do this. I just want my own niche and the freedom to continue doing what I do.” 

-Tony Rogers

Note: This article originally appeared on the website All About Jazz

Paul Motian: Holiday for Strings

"With a new lineup of musicians working under the banner of Motian’s Electric Bebop Band, he has produced a moody, melancholy album that nonetheless offers rich rewards for the patient listener."

Label: Winter & Winter

Personnel:  Steve Cardenas, guitar/Ben Monder, guitar/Paul Motian, drums/Pietro Tonolo, tenor and soprano saxes/Chris Cheek, tenor sax/Andy Christensen, electric bass 

Genre: Quirky modern jazz

Recommended for: everyone 

 

Since his halcyon days as drummer for the legendary Bill Evans trio, Paul Motian  has consistently pushed the boundaries of jazz. Working mostly in small groups with the likes of Keith Jarrett, Joe Lovano , Bill Frisell and Charlie Haden, Motian has helped liberate percussionists from their role as simple timekeepers by employing a style and phrasing that uses tempo as a starting point, not an end in itself. In the process he’s produced an invigorating body of work (more than a dozen albums as a leader) that steers clear of post-bop clichés and instead evokes the subtleties of mood, atmosphere and texture.

His latest release, the ironically titled Holiday for Strings (Winter & Winter), is no exception. With a new lineup of musicians working under the banner of Motian’s Electric Bebop Band (Andres Christensen on electric bass; Chris Cheek and Pietro Tonolo on tenor and soprano sax; and Ben Monder  and Steve Cardenas on guitar), he has produced a moody, melancholy album that nonetheless offers rich rewards for the patient listener. Motian has said in interviews that he wants to avoid “pushy” solos and instead have musicians on the same instrument play together. That approach is apparent on the opening number, “Arabesque,” a Motian composition in which Cheek and Tonolo engage in a kind of sonic dance; one leads with a dominant theme, the other follows and shadows his counterpart. The result is a darkly beautiful kind of symbiosis. As always, Motian floats around the melody, using brushes and cymbals to embellish on the themes established by the horns.

Two more Motian compositions - “5 Miles to Wrentham” and “Morpion” – seamlessly follow, both literally and figuratively, the dreamy, rainy-Sunday-afternoon tone set by “Arabesque.” Indeed, at least in the first part of the album, Motian seems intent on creating a suite of pieces, a thematic whole greater than the sum of its parts. Even “Luteous,” a Monder composition, echoes this mood. It’s not until the up-tempo “Look to the Black Wall” (a Motian number faintly reminiscent of “Giant Steps”) that the band gets any kind of boppish groove going; here, Cheek and Tonolo let loose in a good old-fashioned sax duel. The guitarists follow in turn.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the group is at its most conventional when covering two Richard Rogers standards, “It Never Entered My Mind” and “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” But if these covers aren’t particularly innovative, they’re certainly pretty; the saxophones play with a restrained elegance on the former, with the guitars weaving an intricate yet graceful tapestry around them. “Morning” is a fitting coda to the album; it’s a mere wisp of a number, a simple statement of the melody and little more. Yet, in its understated way, it manages to capture the poignant spirit that informs the rest of Holiday for Strings.

-Tony Rogers

Note: This review originally appeared on the website All About Jazz

Peter Paulson Quintet: Three Stranded Cord

"It’s not only a pleasure but a vindication to find a recording by yet another stellar local talent, bassist Peter Paulsen."

Label: R & L
Personnel: Peter Paulsen, bass/Tom Lawton, piano/Joe Mullen, drums/Bob Meashey, trumpet & flugelhorn/Chris Farr, saxophones
Genre: Cerebral modern jazz
Recommended for: everyone


It’s all very well to speak in abstractions about the state of the local jazz scene, but the proof, as they say, is in the playing. With talents like Ben Schachter , Tom Lawton  and Bootsie Barnes keeping plenty busy in area clubs and recording studios, it’s clear that Philly and its extended environs have one of the most vibrant scenes around.

So it’s not only a pleasure but a vindication to find a recording by yet another stellar local talent, bassist Peter Paulsen. The Westchester University music professor heads up a quintet on his debut CD as a leader, Three-Stranded Cord. He’s joined by Lawton on piano, Joe Mullen on drums, Bob Meashey on trumpet and flugelhorn and Chris Farr  on sax. The disc, produced by Harrisburg-based R&L Records (www.randlrecords.com) includes four Paulsen originals and two standards.

“Forza Blu,” a 6/4 blues inspired by Prokofiev (Paulsen is also an accomplished classical musician, and classical influences permeate the album) opens with a repeating theme that’s propelled by the more-than-able rhythm section. Meashey then cuts loose with an expertly crafted solo that’s followed by a slightly more relaxed improvisation from Farr. But it’s Lawton who shines here; after backing the horns, he takes flight in an extended solo of his own that allows him to demonstrate some real pyrotechnics on the keyboard.

The title track is an appropriately elegiac 29-bar waltz composed in memory of a friend of Paulsen’s who has died. Early in the track Paulsen takes his first solo, a restrained but heartfelt passage that evokes the sadness of his loss. Lawton picks up from there and executes a solo that’s technically pristine but also entirely organic in the way it hews to the heart of the melody.

Paulsen’s penchant for a melancholy take on things is also evident in a fascinating rendition of Bill Evans’ “Turn Out the Stars.” Paulsen leads into the piece unaccompanied, with a moody solo that harkens as much to the abstractions of modernist classical composers as to anything jazz has produced. Eventually he’s joined by his bandmates, but here again, the emphasis is on creating a mood; Mullen keeps the rhythmic pulse to a minimum, and the other players basically maintain a subtle support of Paulsen’s theme. Finally, the mood lightens as the horns (Farr is on soprano sax here) engage in some almost playful call-and-response dialog.

“Endless Mountains” is meant to evoke the Poconos and the music scene there, while “Reddish Blues,” a tribute to bassist Red Mitchell , conjures a New Orleans funeral march. This deceptively simple track begins with a muted Mullens drum solo. Meashey and the rhythm section follow with a somber reading of the dirge-like theme. But once again, Farr’s soprano sax brightens the proceedings with a lilting, lyrical solo that flits and floats over the bottom. Mullens’ restrained, atmospheric use of the cymbals is a real highlight here.

Paulsen’s classical training is evident in his tightly constructed compositions. And the compositions, in turn, are a real showcase for this band’s formidable technical prowess. But as anyone who’s heard Jacques Loussier’s attempts to mix baroque and bop knows, classical training can be a double-edged sword in jazz. Prodigious technical ability on an instrument is no substitute for soul. And if “Three-Stranded Cord” has a flaw, it’s that the tunes can sound a tad too neat at times.

But that’s a minor quibble on an otherwise fine album. And on Sam Jones’ “Bittersweet,” the album’s final cut, the band does get to let its hair down. With Paulsen’s bass and Lawton’s left-hand piano work driving the tempo, the soloists have a solid foundation on which to build some inspired, swinging solos. It’s a fitting tribute capped by Paulsen’s liner notes, in which he calls Jones “one of the swingingest bassists in jazz history.” 

-Tony Rogers

Note: This review originally appeared on the website All About Jazz

Peter Schwebs: Stories From Sugar Hill

"Judging by his debut album, Schwebs is not only an able musician but a gifted composer as well."

Label: Laika Records
Personnel: Peter Schwebs, bass/George Garzone and Ben Kraef, tenor sax/Douglas Bradford, guitar/Julian Pollack, piano/Ari Hoenig and Nick Anderson, drums
Genre: Modern jazz with a European influence
Recommended for: everyone

Peter Schwebs is a young German bassist who's already played with the likes of Dave Liebman and Chris Potter, and judging by "Stories From Sugar Hill," his debut album as a bandleader, he's not only an able musician but a gifted composer as well. Having lived for three years in Sugar Hill - "way up in Harlem," as Billy Strayhorn wrote -  Schwebs penned the tunes as an affectionate and compelling tribute to the neighborhood. 

Schwebs has assembled a talented cast of bandmates, highlighted by veteran saxman George Garzone and drummer and sometime bandleader Ari Hoenig. The opening track, "On Sugar Hill," an uptempo piece driven along by Hoenig and Schwebs, evokes the frenetic pace and controlled chaos of the city in much the same way Dave Brubeck's "Tokyo Traffic" did back in the day. More subdued is "Swedish Friend"; Hoenig and Schwebs still push an ever-quickening beat, but guitarist Douglas Bradford's restrained playing gives the tune a slightly melancholy feel.


That moodiness continues on "Autumn-ish NY," which begins with Julian Pollack's piano, Ben Kraef's sax and Bradford's guitar in a slow, almost dirge-like counterpoint. As the momentum builds it's Pollack who shines as he roams the keyboard, working out the tune's meaning with equal measures of power and nuance.
Given Schwebs' heritage it's perhaps no surprise that the overall vibe here is of a piece with the kind of contemplative European jazz often associated with the ECM label. But there are exceptions; "Cat Bites Dog" opens with with a little playful experimentation between the two sax players. But then the tune roars to life and Schwebs and company show they can swing like nobody's business. That's the sound of the Sugar Hill I know.


-Tony Rogers

Jay T. Vonada Quartet: Jammin'

"What's compelling here is the easygoing groove and relaxed interplay between the musicians."

Label: Self-Produced
Personnel: Jay T. Vonada, trombone/Adam Kurland, keyboards/Jacob Hibel, bass/John Sullivan, drums
Genre: Straught-ahead jazz
Recommended for: everyone

From seemingly out of nowhere comes trombonist Jay Vonada, a native of the central Pennsylvania town of Aaronsburg. He won a scholarship to study at the Berklee College of Music and has played with such jazz luminaries as saxman Bob Mintzer and vocalist Catherine Dupuis.  But his debut  CD, "Jammin," is a homegrown, self-produced affair, and it's a winner.

 

"Jammin'" is comprised of eight tunes composed by Vonada, a J.J. Johnson-influenced player who clearly favors a straight-ahead style with tinges of Latin and a little funk. Things get started with the simply titled "A Blues," which features a nicely swinging solo by Vonada accompanied by bandmates Adam Kurland on keyboards, Jacob Hibel on bass and John Sullivan on drums. What's compelling here is the easygoing groove and relaxed interplay between the musicians. A real highlight is Kurland's  playing on what sounds like a Fender Rhodes electric piano, giving the whole affair a bit of a '70s, Vince Guaraldi-esque feel.

Next up is "Three Tons," a slightly more uptempo number that again leads off with a nimble solo by Vonada, followed by a subtle but compelling turn by Kurland, this time on  acoustic piano.  Quicker still is the next track, "Anthracite," in which Hibel and Sullivan get to strut their stuff as a more-than able rhythm section driving the beat behind Vonada and Kurland. 

Perhaps the best track is "Mina," which features Kurland on a Hammond B3 organ. The upbeat melody, like all of Vonada's tunes, is deceptively simple, but somehow, in combining the B3 and Vonada's trombone, the group finds a sound that is fresh and uniquely its own.

The tracks here are short; most clock in at around four minutes. But that's all the time Vonada and his bandmates need to get their message across: They may be from the hinterlands of Pennsylvania, but these guys know how to play.

-Tony Rogers

John Brown Quintet: Terms of Art

"Brown, clearly a hard-bopper at heart, pays tribute to Blakey – and by extension, hard-bop in general – with a CD of standards that represents the genre at its finest."
 

Label: John V. Brown
Personnel: John Brown, bass/Ray Codrington, trumpet/Brian Miller, sax/Gabe Evans, piano/Adonis Rose, drums
Genre: hard-bop
Recommended for: everyone, but especially fans of Art Blakey and hard-bop.

Bassist John Brown, a North Carolina native who directs the jazz program at Duke University, has played with everyone from Wynton Marsalis to Elvin Jones and Cedar Walton.  So expectations were high for his quintet’s debut CD, “Terms of Art: A Tribute to Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers.”

Those expectations are not only met, they’re exceeded.

Brown, clearly a hard-bopper at heart, pays tribute to Blakey – and by extension, hard-bop in general – with a CD of standards that represents the genre at its finest. Things get started with a blistering rendition of Duke Ellington’s “Caravan,” highlighted by drummer Adonis Rose’s nimble stickwork and saxophonist Brian Miller’s rapid-fire soloing.

Things get even better with “Moaning,” a composition that practically defines hard-bop. Here, pianist Gabe Evans leads things off with his own swinging take on the Bobby Timmons classic, followed by trumpeter Ray Codrington’s relaxed yet intense solo work.

But the band also knows how to take things slow. On the Ray Brown number “Buhaina, Buhaina,” Evans again comes to the fore with a wonderfully restrained, even leisurely solo.  And lest we forget the leader, Brown follows Evans here with a soulful but not showy bit of playing.

Indeed, while Brown’s skill is evident, he never steals the focus from his very able bandmates. Like any good bandleader, he’s most content to let the music – and his fellow musicians – speak for themselves.  

 

-Tony Rogers

Useful Music: Jeff Baumeister Quartet

"Baumeister has a somewhat moody, introspective sound that harkens to ECM artists like Keith Jarrett." Label: Wahbo Records Personnel: Jeff Baumeister, piano/Dan Capecchi, drums/Greg Riley, saxophones/Peter Paulsen, bass Genre: free/avant garde jazz Recommended for: Serious jazz listeners with the patience for complex music Pianist Jeff Baumeister's debut CD is an example of the terrific music coming out of the Philadelphia area's thriving jazz scene. Baumeister, who's based in nearby Bucks County, has a somewhat moody, introspective sound that harkens to ECM artists like Keith Jarrett. But Baumeister is also completely original, with a fresh take on free/avant garde jazz that is challenging yet eminently listenable. "Quiet and Restful but Moving" is the name of one of the CD's six tracks, and it's also an apt description for the music here. Baumeister and his bandmates - Greg Riley on sax, Dan Capecchi on drums and Peter Paulsen on bass - engage in plenty of brainy improvisation and interplay as they weave a tapestry of sound on each of the CD's six tracks. Baumeister brings a heady mix of subtlety and power to his playing, while Capecchi makes extensive use of the cymbals in a way that's reminiscent of Paul Motian. Riley is an able multi-reedist here, playing both soprano and alto saxes, and Paulsen is a muted yet anchoring presence on bass. Make no mistake - this isn't background music or easy listening for jazz novices. But the tracks, all composed by Baumeister, are intricate, complex compositions that yield plenty of rewards for the patient listener. And it's not all laid-back, either. On "Wahbo," Baumeister and his bandmates prove they can jam with the best of them.  -Tony Rogers

Jeff Hackworth: How Little We Know

"Hackworth knows how to caress a melody and let a great song speak for itself."
 

Label: Big Bridge Music
Personnel: Jeff Hackworth, tenor sax/Norman Simmons, piano/Peter Washington, bass/Chip White, drums/Peter Hand, guitar
Genre: straight-ahead jazz
Recommended for: jazz fans and non-jazz fans alike

 

Tenor sax player Jeff Hackworth honed his craft playing clubs in his native Buffalo and on the road with such bandleaders as Matt “Guitar” Murphy. He’s previously recorded an organ trio album but it’s clear his latest release, “How Little We Know,” is meant to be his break-out effort.

Produced by tenorman Houston Person and engineered by the legendary Rudy Van Gelder, “How Little We Know” is a collection of such chestnuts as “I’m Just A Lucky So and So” and “All or Nothing At All.”

Hackworth has a big, warm sound that’s been compared to Gene Ammons and Stanley Turrentine, and while there’s little in the way of explosive soloing here, Hackworth knows how to caress a melody and let a great song speak for itself. He’s also an unselfish player who’s content to leave plenty of solo space for his able bandmates – pianist Norman Simmons, bassist Peter Washington, drummer Chip White and the aptly-named guitarist Peter Hand.

The result is a thoroughly enjoyable straight-ahead album that, even in its black-and-white cover photography is reminiscent of jazz around, say, 1958. But who cares? All I can tell you is, “How Little We Know” has been on my CD player a lot more lately than some of the hipper releases that have come through the transom.    

-Tony Rogers

Craig Pilo/Just Play

"Pilo is crisp and forceful but never intrusive on the drums..."

Label: Rue de la harpe Records
Personnel: Craig Pilo, drums/Mitchel Forman, Fender Rhodes piano/Ed Czach, keyboards/Tom Kennedy, Bart Samolis & others, bass/Roman Dudok & Doug Webb, saxophone
Genre: '70s jazz
Recommended for: everyone, but especially fans of '70s jazz fusion ala Weather Report

Connecticut native Craig Pilo has been a Los Angeles-based studio drummer since graduating from the University of North Texas College of Music in the 1990s. His musical evolution has included recording and touring gigs with everyone from Pat Boone to Maynard Ferguson and Frankie Valli.

But his love for '70s-style jazz fusion ala Weather Report and Chick Corea's Return to Forever is clear in "Just Play," his latest release.  Pilo and a revolving group of musicians tackle an assemblage of standards ("Autumn Leaves," "Impressions") along with several originals by Pilo, and the result is an eclectic and compelling mix.

Standouts include a cover of Jaco Pastorius' "Teen Town," Pilo's homage to one of the key compositions of the genre and the era. Pilo is crisp and forceful but never intrusive on the drums, and saxman Doug Webb offers his own innovative spin on the original Wayne Shorter solo. (This track takes on a particular poignancy now, just weeks after the death of Pastorius' Weather Report bandmate, keyboardist Joe Zawinul.) 

Miles Davis' "All Blues," meanwhile, gets a funky reworking that has to be heard to be believed. Pilo supercharges the tempo with shades of Cuban jazz, and keyboardist Mitchel Forman pulls out all the stops on (what else?) the Fender Rhodes electric piano. (What better to revive memories of '70s fusion than the sounds of a Fender Rhodes?) Forman starts subtly with block chords, but is soon letting loose with a series of rapid-fire arpeggios, just to keep pace with Pilo's beat.

Indeed, it's a tribute to Pilo that Forman's work is such a trippy highlight here; unlike some other drummer-leaders, Pilo is happy to share the spotlight and complement, not overwhelm, the rest of the band.  

 

-Tony Rogers

Peter Douskalis: The Dance of the Sea

"Douskalis is clearly a gifted musician, and his fleet-fingered attack often manages to make his Gibson ES-175 sound like several instruments."

Label: Shenandoah Records
Personnel: Peter Douskalis, guitar
Genre: Straight-ahead jazz guitar
Recommended for: everyone

Guitarist and Washington, D.C., native Peter Douskalis is currently an NYU grad student who plays everything from classical to world music, but his latest album, "Dance of the Sea," is a solo jazz effort. If nothing else, the nine tracks, mostly standards, convey an eclectic good taste: Douskalis mixes covers of such chestnuts as "The Girl From Ipanema" and "Whisper Not" with the Beatles' "Come Together" to mostly interesting effect.

Highlights include two takes of "Blue in Green," one a fairly straightforward account of the Miles Davis classic, the other a murkier reworking in which the melody is woven into a tapestry of Douskalis' moody, layered improvising. "Darn That Dream" is a quiet gem; Douskalis embellishes the tune but is smart enough never to veer too far from Jimmy Van Heusen's simple, perfect melody. 

Douskalis is clearly a gifted musician, and on the uptempo numbers his fleet-fingered attack often manages to make his Gibson ES-175 sound like an entire combo. If he's guilty of anything it's of occasionally pouring on too much of his ample technique; a cover of "My Favorite Things" has perhaps a few too many runs, probably in an effort to mimic the monumental energy of John Coltrane's iconic version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein warhorse.

But if Douskalis at times tries too hard that's hardly a sin, especially for a young musician with such obvious chops. All told this is an eminently enjoyable album, and I for one hope Douskalis has the opportunity to record more; paired with an experienced rhythm section, I predict he will settle down and produce music that jazz aficionados will be talking about for years to come.     

-Tony Rogers

Dave Brubeck: Legacy of a Legend

"There are, of course, the crowd-pleasers like "Take Five" and "Blue Rondo a la Turk." But there are rare tracks as well..."

Label: Columbia/Legecy
Personnel: Dave Brubeck, piano/Paul Desmond, alto sax/Eugene Wright, bass/Joe Morello, drums
Genre: straight-ahead jazz
Recommended for: everyone

Dave Brubeck just celebrated his 90th birthday, and with a life as long and amazingly productive as his there are almost too many accomplishments to recount. He's one of the most critically acclaimed jazz artists of all time, known both as a brilliant pianist and composer who pioneered the use of unusual time signatures in his wonderfully lyrical and melodic compositions. He's also probably the most commercially successful jazz musician ever. His 1959 record "Time Out" was the first jazz instrumental album to sell a million copies, and "Take Five," the album's big hit, is still the biggest-selling instrumental jazz single in history. Even people who know nothing about jazz recognize "Take Five," if only because it's been used in dozens of soundtracks and commercials. 

But Brubeck's achievements don't stop there. As a white musician in a genre dominated by African-Americans, he was an early advocate for civil rights. The mixed-race quartet he led in the 1950s and 60s was often barred from performing at venues in the South, and over the years he has penned compositions inspired by both Louis Armstrong and Martin Luther King. And when Brubeck graced the cover of Time magazine in 1954, he despaired that he had received such an honor before his idol Duke Ellington.

Even now, Brubeck still composes and tours. Indeed, he recently played a sold-out gig at the Blue Note in New York City just a month after having a pacemaker installed. And as he begins his 10th decade there are no shortage of tributes, including a new documentary on his life that was produced by one of his biggest fans - actor and director Clint Eastwood. The film, "Dave Brubeck: In His Own Sweet Way," is named for one of his tunes; it's airing on the Turner Classic Movies channel.

Brubeck's discography is enormous, and choosing the best of his work would be a daunting task for anyone. But Columbia has made a very good attempt with the release of "Dave Brubeck - Legacy of a Legend," a two-disc compilation drawn from the label's collection of 17 Brubeck recordings. The Columbia era covers much of the work produced by Brubeck's legendary quartet of the 50s and 60s, a combo that included the effervescent alto saxophonist Paul Desmond, bassist Eugene Wright and drummer Joe Morello. Needless to say, there is plenty of great stuff here. 

There are, of course, crowd-pleasers like "Take Five" and "Blue Rondo a la Turk." But there are rare tracks as well, such as a never-before-released version of "Three to Get Ready" performed at the quartet's last concert before it disbanded in 1967. There's also evidence of Brubeck's collaborations with other jazz greats, including a version of "Summer Song" with the inimitable Satchmo on vocals, taken from an out-of-print 1961 recording. Other highlights include the quartet backing singer Carmen McRae on "My One Bad Habit," and a live performance of W.C. Handy's "St. Louis Blues" featuring Gerry Mulligan and Brubeck trading solos in what amounts to a red-hot jam session.

For Brubeck neophytes, it's hard to think of a better introduction to his work than "Legacy of a Legend." But even longtime fans should find plenty to like with this release, which includes new liner notes by Brubeck's son, Darius, and a plethora of photographs of Brubeck, his family and the musicians he's worked with through the decades. Now, with Brubeck's place in the jazz pantheon firmly established, here's hoping he continues to make music, in his own sweet way, for many years to come.

-Tony Rogers