Saturday, December 31, 2005

Movie: Kinsey. Much of what I know about Albert Kinsey came from a Stephen Jay Gould essay, so the connection between Kinsey's sex studies and his entomology didn't come as a surprise, but it's good to see such background given further exposure. Much that could be said about this film. I am struck by the awkwardness of the first (pre-Kinsey) human sexuality class, where one expects reason and scientific rigor but gets myths meant to reinforce the conventional moral expectations. Sad to say, this is a problem that still plagues us -- especially here in Kansas, where Susan Wagle led a political inquisition to kill a K.U. human sexuality class for using less explicit graphics than Kinsey used. (Similar problems exist in the perennial creationism vs. evolution debate, which is back on the Kansas BOE agenda after the 2004 elections.) Two especially striking scenes illuminate the terror that those myths caused: one where Kinsey interviews his father (John Lithgow), the other an interview with an elderly lesbian (Lynn Redgrave). On the other hand, the shattering of so much myth has its own darker side, which the film also explores. A

Friday, December 30, 2005

My third Jazz Consumer Guide column will be published in the Village Voice on Tuesday, January 4, 2005. I jot down notes and trial runs at CG reviews as I go along, and they pile up in the "done" file. When I publish a column, I move the "done" files into the notebook -- a good place to preserve them, without them getting in the way of ongoing work. The following are the notes/drafts for the records covered by the Jazz CG #3. (326 records in file before this purge.)

• Geri Allen/Dave Holland/Jack DeJohnette: The Life of a Song (2004, Telarc). The achievement here is as much sonic as musical: Holland's bass has rarely been rendered so clearly. When you focus on it, it is the center of a universe where piano and drums flash through the sky like meteors. A-
• Steven Bernstein: Diaspora Hollywood (2004, Tzadik). What if the Jews who scored '40s Hollywood movies and the Jews who chilled west coast jazz in the '50s had reached deeper into their ethnic legacy? That's the concept here: mostly traditional pieces, played soundtrack-style not as social music but for atmospheric effect. Special treat: X drummer D.J. Bonebrake, playing vibes. A-
• Big Satan (Berne, Rainey, Ducret): Souls Saved Hear (2003 [2004], Thirsty Ear). Tom Rainey's perpetually broken time gives this trio a lurching stutter step that Tim Berne's sax abstraction only makes more cartoonish. Marc Ducret's guitar provides the sinew that keeps the works from flying apart, and fills in stretches of relative calm when his cohorts take a breather. Berne's albums always hew close to the edge. It's a pleasure for once to hear one that doesn't crash. A-
• Chicago Underground Trio: Slon (2004, Thrill Jockey). The two most distinctive cuts here are the first two, which represent the far poles of their experimentation: "Protest" is acoustic, a fast beat propelled mostly by Noel Kuppersmith's bass, with spectacular cornet from Rob Mazurek; "Slon" is electronic, an odd, fractured beat with little blips on the side, with the cornet adding a bare wash of color. The rest lean toward the electronics, but the real kick more often comes from the cornet soaring over Chad Taylor's drums. Synthesis may not be the point, as each experiment holds its own fascination. And why be underground if not to experiment? A-
• Denis Colin Trio: Something in Common (2001 [2004], Sunnyside). Not quite a throwback to the black power jazz of the early '70s: the trio is French; the instruments are bass clarinet, cello, and zarb; the lead song is Wyclef Jean's "Diallo." But that's the spirit. Most songs have vocals: rappers, soul sisters, gospel group. They play Hendrix ugly, Stevie Wonder sweet; they transcribe Coltrane, Rollins, Shepp, John Gilmore; and they go pan-African with Beaver Harris. A-
• Chick Corea Elektric Band: To the Stars (2004, Stretch). The problem with fusion wasn't that good jazz was cheapened by crass rock and roll. The problem was that so many fusioneers were fooled by bad rock. Corea reconvened his 1986-93 Elektrik Band to power through a suite of pieces based on the L. Ron Hubbard sci-fi novel, and you can guess the rest: vintage space opera that Pink Floyd or Hawkwind wouldn't have touched under LSD, soundtrack melodramatics without visual cues, and a fresh coat of Jelly Roll's Famous Latin Tinge. C
• Firehouse: Live at the Glenn Miller Café (2004, Ayler). The hype here touts this as "jazz-rock n' roll the way it should sound!" What they mean is that Firehouse is led by an electric guitarist, John Lindblom, who's into dirty power chords (i.e., rock n' roll), while the rest of the band is a jazz combo (tenor sax, trumpet, bass, drums). There is some truth to the assertion, but what this fusion takes from rock is the raw sound and power of hardcore thrash, which it fuses with the raw sound and power of the '60s high energy jazz avant garde. This is an exhilarating mix, at least at first. The horns (Fredrik Ljungkvist and Magnus Broo) also play in Atomic, which teamed up recently with Ken Vandermark's School Days, to similar effect, but here they mostly pile on top of the guitar. More like punk-jazz. B+
• Satoko Fujii Quartet: Zephyros (2004, NatSat). Her crashing entrance here shows why she gets compared to Cecil Taylor. Then she backs off a bit and lets the band do some work. The rhythm section was built for speed, with Takeharu Hayakawa's propulsive electric bass filling out the bottom. On the other hand, husband/trumpeter Natsuki Tamura prefers to wax lyrical even when surrounded by chaos -- which gives this music a touching voice, although what impresses most is the finely drawn manga violence of Fujii's piano. A-
• Satoko Fujii Trio: Illusion Suite (2003 [2004], Libra). Very different from her *Zephyros* quartet (seems like all her albums are very different). Rigorously avant, I don't think I've ever heard Black or Dresser in better form, and what she does is very distinctive. The title piece runs 34:04, much of it stretched out, but very impressive when they kick up the energy. B+
• Eddie Gale: Afro-Fire (2004, Black Beauty). After his apprenticeship with Sun Ra and Cecil Taylor, Gale cut two deep, grooveful albums for Blue Note in 1968-69 (Ghetto Music and Black Rhythm Happening, reissued recently on Water), then essentially nothing until this year. Like the Blue Notes, this one has an affinity for the rhythm of the people, but these days that is mostly cranked out through synths. For instance, his Sun Ra tribute draws as much on Afrika Bambaataa. The years out of the action may also have taken something away from his trumpet -- less limber and not as bright as in the '60s -- but it may also be that he prefers to retrench in Miles Davis' funk period. B+
• Jan Garbarek: In Praise of Dreams (2004, ECM). The synths and drums are minimal: most of this stark, lovely album is built around a single string player (Kim Kashkashian on viola), with Garbarek improvising much as he's done for two decades now over all sorts of exotic tableaux. His tone is clear as the frozen Nordic landscape he evokes almost automagically, but ultimately this turns out to be just another sax and strings album, reduced to its absolute minimum. B+
• Jerry Gonzalez y los Piratas del Flamenco (2001 [2004], Sunnyside). In the gypsy flamenco that Gonzalez encountered on moving from New York to Madrid he found a third leg to his fusion of rumba and Monk. The old world is evident in Nino Josele's guitar and Diego El Cigala's vocals, but the rhythms sound Afro-Cuban. This record came from a rehearsal tape, with most tracks limited to two or three musicians. One is just conga and cajon; others muted trumpet, guitar, and percussion. And, of course, Monk goes flamenco, with hand claps. A-
• The Great Jazz Trio: Someday My Prince Will Come (2002-03 [2004], Eighty-Eights/Columbia). Hank Jones has used this group name several times before, starting in 1976 with Buster Williams and Tony Williams. This time he's joined by Richard Davis and Elvin Jones. I haven't heard the earlier editions, but I gather that the point is to show off the bass-drums stars, else this would just be a Hank Jones trio record (and there are plenty of those). Indeed, Davis gets prime time, with a fine arco solo on "Moose the Mooche." But in retrospect let's dedicate this one to the late great Elvin Jones, who even gives "Caravan" a new lease on life. Last chance to hear him on something new. B+
• Mats Gustafsson/Sonic Youth With Friends: Hidros 3 (2000 [2004], Smalltown Supersound). The spine just says "Mats Gustafssons Hidros 3" so I'm doing some name dropping per the sticker. One could further note that this is dedicated to Patti Smith, but the significance of that isn't obvious. Nor is this really a Sonic Youth record, although Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore are two of the four guitarists involved, Kim Gordon wrote lyrics and sings (declaims shrilly is more like it) four times, and Jim O'Rourke did a real-time mix of streams of music coming in from separated rooms. Gustafsson wrote the music and plays contrabass sax, an extremely low pitched instrument with limited acoustic range, so when he rips off a solo it sounds more like a drugged bull elephant than his usual whining stallion. The dominant sound, then, comes from the guitars and scattered electronics, a long recombinant metallic grind. Interesting experiment, remarkable when it comes together at the end, with Gordon complaining that "men talk to other men through fashion" and teasing Lou Reed's "I just don't know" until it becomes "I just don't know what to wear." B+
• Helen Merrill: Lilac Wine (2002 [2004], Sunnyside). The once and future Jelena Milcetic, one of the great jazz singers of the latter half-century (and we mean all of it; her early cohort Clifford Brown has been dead 48 years now), is still in remarkably fine voice, but her excursions in Eastern Europe have saddled her with some dull, dreary orchestras. This time it is a 32-piece group in Prague, and they plod through a set of pieces from "Wild Is the Wind" to "Love Me Tender" and something by Radiohead as slow and surreal as a coma. B-
• Bob Mintzer Big Band: Live at MCG With Special Guest Kurt Elling (2004, MCG Jazz). As a big band date, the sound is washed out a bit, the section work nothing special, the soloists (especially Mintzer) not bad. They have a slight inclination to delve south of the border, but they aren't especially good at it. But the problem I have isn't the big band; it's Kurt Elling, a hugely hyped jazz singer who embodies damn near everything I've never liked about '50s jazz vocalists -- especially those midway between crooning and hipsterism. Especially when he dumps a load of scat, he sounds like a caricature. C+
• Paal Nilssen-Love/Ken Vandermark: Dual Pleasure 2 (2003 [2004], Smalltown Supersound, 2CD). Two more discs of intense interplay between drums and tenor sax or clarinet: one from the studio session that yielded last year's Dual Pleasure, the other recorded live at Kampen Jazz in Oslo. Nothing new here for anyone who's heard the previous set, just a lot more of it. It does seem like more clarinet (at least on the first disc), a more subdued instrument which they take in more abstract directions. But the tenor sax duos are avant-honk, as you'd expect. B+
• Paradigm Shift: Shifting Times (2004, Nagel Heyer). At first I thought of this as an uncommonly sharp crossover group, but closer examination reveals that it is basically a throwback to the soul jazz groups of the '60s: organ-guitar-drums are the constant across the whole album; the other instruments are brought in for a song or two: trumpet, trombone, saxophone, vibes. Or more properly, it's an update. The core group is Melvin Henderson (guitar), Gerry Youngman (organ), and Ted Poor (drums), but the featured guests give them a lot of looks and angles. They're ready to cross over, but not to beg. B+
• Adam Pieronczyk: Amusos (2002 [2003], PAO). Singer Mina Agossi opens like a tipsy Sheila Jordan, unsettling until you refocus on the band busy pulling the rug out from under her. Pieronczyk's saxophones add to but rarely emerge from an ether of bass, cello, beats drummed and synthesized, intent on a postmodern cool in an arena where nothing is stable, where even the programming runs free. Agossi asks, "où donc est le bonheur?" Good question. B+
• Don Pullen: Mosaic Select (1986-90 [2004], Mosaic, 3CD). Pullen had a gimmick: he would turn his hands over and smash out huge clusters of notes with his knuckles. It was the most astonishing sound ever to come out of a piano, and he could play in that mode long enough to take your breath away. But it was less a gimmick than the ultimate example of his unprecedentedly physical attack on the piano. He built up harmonies with explosions of dissonant color and rhythmic complexity, as fast as Art Tatum with his curlicues. But he died in 1995, at 51 neither a shooting star nor a living legend, and his records have vanished from print -- especially the eight he cut for Blue Note from 1986 until his death. This limited edition brings the first four back, squeezed onto three CDs. The first two are quartet albums with r&b-flavored saxophonist George Adams. Both are rousing, especially the first. The next two were trios, where the focus is even more squarely on his piano. He did much more in a short career -- he was perhaps the most interesting organist to emerge since Larry Young, and his later Ode to Life is poignant and moving -- but this was the pinnacle of his pianistic power. A
• Gonzalo Rubalcaba: Paseo (2004, Blue Note). A-
• Septeto Rodriguez: Baila! Gutano Baila! (Tzadik). Roberto Juan Rodriguez learned klezmer as a Cuban expatriate in Miami, working Yiddish theatre companies and bar mitzvahs. His synthesis of Jewish melodies and Cuban percussion dreams of roots that never were, yet it is convincing enough that one can imagine generations of conversos gathering in private to keep the ancient secrets of their culture alive. This sequel to *El Danzon de Moises* is less surprising but broader and happier, with touches of tango and gypsy dance. A-
• Matthew Shipp: Harmony and Abyss (2004, Thirsty Ear). Shipp's early records were minimal affairs, often duos where he would project long melodic lines like Bud Powell swept into the avant '90s. Until he hooked up with Thirsty Ear he never showed much interest in rhythm, but working for a rock label brought out his inner David Bowie. Still, he veiled his increasingly rhythmic play behind horn leads. This one is the breakthrough he advertised on *Nu Bop* and promoted on *Equilibrium*, and the reason is that finally the masks are gone: no horns, no vibes, just a piano trio plus programmer Chris Flam, so Shipp's piano (or synth) is always up front, the pieces differentiated by rhythm, and the rhythms as varied and creative as Shipp's old melodic lines. A
• Steve Swallow/Ohad Talmor Sextet: L'Histoire du Clochard: The Bum's Tale (2002 [2004], Palmetto). With no drums, two reeds (tenor sax, clarinet), two brass (trumpet, trombone), violin and Swallow's electric bass, this is chamber music with virtually no pulse but a lot of color. Swallow wrote the pieces. Talmor arranged them. The sole saving grace that I can find is Meg Okura's violin, which could cut through some of the hyperseriousness if she could let loose. But nobody does. C+
• The Thing: Garage (2004, Smalltown Superjazz). They start with recent alt-rock songs by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and White Stripes and turn them into noise fests, then pick one from Peter Brötzmann to chill out with. Mats Gustafsson is the noise master, working on tenor and especially baritone sax, slicing each song to the bone then knicking it up like a bear smacking its chops. The rhythm section is the back end of Ken Vandermark's School Days, and Paal Nilssen-Love is especially active: this is further evidence that he's one of the great drummers working today, possibly *the* guy in the avant-rock spotlight. Harsh, nasty, chilling: most people will hate this, but it's close to being a tour de force. Play it for the young punk who thinks Black Sabbath is heavy. It will scare the hell out of him. B+
• Tripleplay: Gambit (2003 [2004], Clean Feed). The delta from Spaceways Inc. to Tripleplay is the replacement of Hamid Drake with Curt Newton, but switching bassist Nate McBride from electric to acoustic shifts the emphasis from funk grooves to blues. Both moves make the band more intimate, and Ken Vandermark responds with some of his most thoughtful chamber jazz. Even if it feels like it was made up on the fly, which it probably was. A-
• Warren Vaché: Dream Dancing (2003 [2004], Arbors). The difference between this and *2Gether*, the duo Vaché and Bill Charlap cut for Nagel Heyer in 2000, is the difference between a fine modernist antique and an overstuffed easy chair. With bass and drums, Charlap eases back, and Vaché settles into his comfort zone. Now that he's too old to be called a "young fogie" anymore, maybe the notion that his genteel swing is retro should also be retired. A-
• Kim Waters: In the Name of Love (2004, Shanachie). Touted as "the #1 Saxophonist in Smooth Urban Jazz," he gets a sweet, lustrous tone from his alto, which sounds good on top of the usual synth mishmash. Starts by covering the latest R. Kelly standard -- it's popped up on at least one competing record as well. Introduces a song in the middle of the album with "right now we're gonna go way back" -- way back to Barry White's "Love's Theme," which says something about his sense of history and tradition. I can't begrudge him on that one -- I find it even more comic than White's original. But without a foil like White his lite, brite soul funk doesn't offer much. C+

Over the course of the first three Jazz Consumer Guides I've collected notes on quite a few records that I'm very unlikely to write about there. I've been carrying these along in the workfile, where they're turning into clutter. So I'm moving the notes here, effectively to be buried.

• Josh Abrams: Cipher (2003, Delmark). Jeff Parker's guitar has such a pretty ring to it you wonder what he's doing hanging around with the rest of these guys. I guess it takes all sorts. Parker's payoff comes with the closer, "For SK," where both trumpet and clarinet follow him with lovely solos, and even Abrams lays out some nice bass. So pencil that down as a Choice Cut. Given the instrumentation, nothing here is plug ugly, but much of it is rather scattered. The opener ("Mental Politician") has a bass-guitar groove with the two horns flying off in odd tangents, unsettling the rhythm. It sets you up looking for expansive freejazz, but the next two cuts chill out with slow moving tone poems and some of Parker's pretty guitar. The title cut picks up some static (don't know where that's coming from). And so it goes. B
• Karrin Allyson: Wild for You (2003 [2004], Concord). Covers of '70s pop songs, mostly from women's albums -- Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Bonnie Raitt, Carole King, Melissa Manchester -- plus a little Cat Stevens and Elton John. The Joni Mitchell covers are carbon copies vocally, except that Mitchell sounded jazzier. In fact, none of the music sounds like they made much of an effort to jazz up. The result is as wan as any rock star's oldies album, although the oldies probably aren't up to the standards of any self-respecting rock star. C+
• The Essential Louis Armstrong (1925-67 [2004], Columbia/Legacy, 2CD). Scott Yanow panned Legacy's previous Armstrong compilation, the 4CD Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, arguing that anyone who inadvertently purchased the box would be throwing their money away, because they'd wind up wanting to buy all of the source discs that it was selected from. That's a pretty hardcore argument. Even if one were to concede that there's nothing that should be missed on Columbia's 7CD early Armstrong series -- which is truer than you can imagine -- the box did a brilliant job sorting out Armstrong's more marginal period work with King Oliver, Fletcher Henderson, and scads of blues singers (collected on 6CD by Affinity). However, limiting Armstrong to two CDs, covering the same early period plus another thirty-some years, will definitely leave you wanting more. We can argue about omissions, but it's hard to begrudge anything that was selected. Notably, Legacy reached out to UMG for the 1936 "Shadrack" and the 1967 "What a Wonderful World," and to BMG for the 1947 "Rockin' Chair," filling in holes in Columbia's own catalog. A nice gift for the young person you know who don't know squat, as is the more cost effective (25 classics on one CD, vs. 37 on two here) Ken Burns Jazz: Louis Armstrong. But get The Complete Hot Five and Hot Seven Recordings (4CD, on Columbia/Legacy, or cheaper on JSP) and The California Concerts (4CD, on Decca) for yourself. And don't expect to be satiated. Yanow was being foolish, but not stupid. A
• Barbara Balzan Quartet: Tender Awakening (2004, TCB). The road goes on forever, and the sad songs never end. But cut with cello, bass and piano, everything sounds sad -- especially in French or Italian, which crop up here and there. My first take was that this record is dreadfully dull. Subsequently I've had to revise my estimation: this record is very skillful at achieving a dreadfully dull finish. But I'm not sure what the practical difference is. B
• Gary Bartz Ntu Troop: Harlem Bush Music (1970-71 [2004], Milestone). This stitches together two more albums from the chance historical meeting of the jazz fringe with the black power masses, originally released as Uhuru and Taifa, but cut from the same sessions, with the same group, under the same rubric of "Harlem Bush Music." Bartz was a hard bop alto saxophonist who had done a tour with Art Blakey and would soon hook up with Miles Davis, but while his idiom was bop his fast and furious style came from the avant-garde. He is joined here by Andy Bey, whose polished jazz singing softens the edges of Bartz's agitprop lyrics. This renders "Vietcong" into a catchy hymn, although some lines bear repeating: "twenty years of fighting for his homeland/he won't give up the rights for no man." In "Blue (A Folk Tale)" Bartz critiques, "blues ain't nothing but misery on your mind"; but the blues he makes is a vehicle of strength and endurance and hope. A-
• Jamie Baum Septet: Moving Forward, Standing Still (2004, Omnitone). She's the product of a broad musical education: plays flute, composes pieces at least as deeply rooted in 20th century European modernism as the jazz tradition, able to slip in snatches of Latin music. She leads a skillful group, including Ralph Alessi (the standout here, on trumpet and flugelhorn), Tom Varner (french horn), and Drew Gress (bass). The one cover is a bit from Trilok Gurtu, which she works into a medley. I should be impressed, and to some extent I am, but I also find myself disinterested. B
• Joshua Breakstone: A Jamais (2003 [2004], Capri). Straightforward bop, transcribed to guitar in the usual manner, which is to say as long lines of notes. He gets a distinctive tone on the guitar: a dull metal thud, with a little reverb. This was done as a trio, with notable help from Louis Petrucciani on bass, and two cuts done solo. The absence of a horn keeps the guitar on top. Skillful, pleasant, just not a lot to it. B
• Bob Brookmeyer: Get Well Soon (2002 [2004], Challenge). Big band record; what the hell, huge band record. Brookmeyer has a rep as an arranger, which he shows off in spades here. The band crackles. Still, who cares? B+
• Lenny Bruce: Let the Buyer Beware (1948-66 [2004], Shout! Factory). I wonder how many people born after Bruce's death in 1966 have any idea who he was. Can't be many: comics don't have much of a shelf life, especially ones with no tv exposure. Older generations will know the name, even though few actually saw him perform, heard his LPs, or read his book. No, he was famous for getting busted -- 15 times in two years, mostly for saying bad words. Bruce was one of those Jews who adopted a goyische stage name to start his career, then spent nearly every moment on stage reminding you that he was Jewish: he savaged Barry Goldwater for changing his religion and not his name; he ran through lists of entertainers ("the Mills Brothers were goy; Coleman Hawkins was a Jew; Ben Webster was so Jewish, he was an orthodox Jew"); he poured so much Yiddish into his act the box includes a dictionary. Most of his shtick has dated: even with the biographical notes you had to have lived through Lawrence Welk and the Lone Ranger to get those bits. He barely touches politics -- nothing on Vietnam or Israel, but lots on race and homosexuals and the hypocrisies of the pious and the merely liberal. And by featuring mostly unreleased tapes the box aims to flesh out a portrait that only his devoted fans can fully dig. But excessive and peculiar as it is, those fans fear it may become timely again. America in the '50s was a cloistered society of deeply repressed people, and Bruce sliced through all that false consciousness, with an innocent's faith in simple justice and a mischievous glee. He didn't live to enjoy the liberating lifeforce of the '60s, but he had something to do with making it possible -- in death as much as in life. For most of the years since he's just been history, but some bits here do seem to be coming back to life: take his "Religions, Inc." and substitute Jerry Falwell for Oral Roberts, or let him quote Will Rogers again, "I never met a dyke I didn't like." So maybe it is time to resurrect him; after all, Jesus wasn't the only Jew who died for our sins. A-
• Dave Budbill/William Parker/Hamid Drake: Songs for a Suffering World (2003, Boxholder). Incantation and improvisation, subtitled "A Prayer for Peace, a Protest Against War." Good sentiments, but Budbill's poetry is so obvious and so forthright it makes me cringe. His eastern religious schtick is also way beyond my pale, and the constant declamations of "we want to live" give me second thoughts. A good guy, no doubt, but a little wit, even a bit of irony would be appreciated. What saves this from a grade down in the E range is the improvisations, the work of two more good guys, who also happen to be geniuses. Even so, I would be tempted to point you to other records they've done together, but I have to note that they get the spirit here even when Budbill himself goes over the deep end, and as such they do things here I haven't heard them do elsewhere. B-
• Joey Calderazzo: Haiku (2002 [2004], Marsalis Music/Rounder). Solo piano, from a pianist best known for taking over Kenny Kirkland's chair in the Branford Marsalis Quartet. Plays a piece by Marsalis, one by Kirkland, one by Cole Porter, another old one called "My One and Only Love," and a bunch of originals. I don't really see the point of it all, but it's pleasant enough. B
• Jesse Chandler: Somewhere Between (2003, Fresh Sound). Chandler plays organ without grits; combined with Mike Moreno's guitar and limited but tasty sax and reeds, this sounds like uncommonly smart crossover pop, except that it's not pop, and it's not about to cross over anywhere. Which makes it just another nice record all dressed up with nowhere to go. B
• Ray Charles: Genius Loves Company (2004, Concord/Hear Music). Having skipped virtually everything Charles recorded after 1965, except for brief checks on box sets which didn't convince me I had erred, one thing I can't judge is where this one ranks among his post-Genius work. I think it depends a lot on your expectations, and on how sympathetic you feel following his passing. (It was, I have to admit, a nice touch that the Feds declared a national holiday to memorialize the sad event.) On the other hand, the fact that this isn't half bad isn't really cause for rejoicing. It's not a return to form so much as a lot of help from his friends and admirers, which include the producers who do so much to prop him up. On the plus side: two old classics with pop jazz singers, neither as delectable as Roseanna Vitro; a "Fever" that reminds you that it was his kind of song; and Van Morrison clearing the table with "Crazy Love." On the down side Willie Nelson bites into the wrong loaf, while James Taylor, Elton John, and Michael McDonald do nothing to elevate their sullied reputations. So is the glass half full? Or half empty? B
• Miles Davis: Seven Steps: The Complete Columbia Recordings of Miles Davis 1963-1964 ([2004], Columbia/Legacy). Seven discs, starting with a nondescript L.A. studio session released as Seven Steps to Heaven, stepping through a series of live recordings including the date in Berlin when Wayne Shorter completed the Quintet, the most famous Davis group of all. As the pieces come together -- Ron Carter from the start, Herbie Hancock and Tony Williams to finish the studio album in New York -- the band starts to sizzle and Davis plays as imaginatively as ever. In retrospect one likes to see this period as transitional, but the one disc with Shorter is anticlimactic. One thing this box should do is give George Coleman, who plays tenor sax on five discs here, some well deserved respect. Even more intriguing is the road not taken: Sam Rivers lights up the stage in Tokyo, prodding Davis to play as far out as he ever got. All but six cuts are previously released, but only the studio album has been in print recently. When/if this gets cut up, look first for the Antibes and Japan sets. A-
• Alex DeGrassi: Folk Songs for the 21st Century (2003, Tropo). Subtitled "contemporary arrangements for guitar": solo acoustic guitar (except for two songs, one adding bass, both percussion), mostly on well worn songs where we are not used to such simple treatments ("Swing Low Sweet Chariot," "Saint James Informary") or songs whose inate simplicity makes this treatment seem unduly fancy ("Shortnin' Bread," "Oh Susanna"). Pleasant, of course, but compared to its intention this doesn't go very far. B-
• Baby Dodds: Talking and Drum Solos (1946-54 [2003], Atavistic). B
• Duke Ellington: Piano in the Background (1960-61 [2004], Columbia/Legacy). New arrangements of old warhorses, designed to feature the piano player, at least as they start and sometimes for brief breaks. But with the full orchestra in tow, that's most of what you hear. He must have been right when he said that his real instrument is the orchestra. B+
• Duke Ellington: Piano in the Foreground (1957-61 [2004], Columbia/Legacy). Ellington wasn't a great pianist, but he was a smart one, with a marvelous touch. These simple trio pieces isolate him, but also draw him out a bit. It's tempting to give this extra credit for that, but when all is said and done, 'tis true that his real instrument was the orchestra. This is roughly as good as his 1952-53 trios for Capitol; haven't heard the 1972 This One's for Blanton (Pablo OJC). B+
• Dexter Gordon: Dexter Calling . . . (1961 [2004], Blue Note). A quartet with his old bop chums including Kenny Drew, leaving him a lot of space to blow, and with eight pieces he casts his net wide enough to show his stuff. B+
• Dexter Gordon: One Flight Up (1964 [2004], Blue Note). One of the later Blue Notes, recorded in Paris with Donald Byrd, Kenny Drew, Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen (their first of many sessions), and Art Taylor -- the line-up a matter of convenience, although the bassist (age 18) was quite a find. The original LP had three longish hard bop jams; a fourth cut, Gordon's "Kong Neptune" didn't make it, but has been tacked on here. Probably the most ordinary of his Blue Notes, not that there's anything particularly wrong with it. B
• Charlie Haden: Land of the Sun (2004, Verve). Beautiful record. Mexican themes, the land of enchantment. A-
• Dave Holland: Rarum Vol. 10: Selected Recordings (1972-2000 [2004], ECM). Holland has recorded 15 albums under his own name for ECM, plus two as Gateway (with John Abercrombie and Jack DeJohnette), starting with a 1971 bass duo (with Barre Phillips) and 1972's Conference of the Birds -- an amazing piece of avant blowing by Anthony Braxton. AMG lists 217 albums that Holland has appeared on (excluding VA comps, but including some artist comps). B+
• The Hot Club of San Francisco: Be That Way (2004, Panda Digital). Not as hot as you'd figure: the name and lineup is meant to recall Django Reinhardt, which makes this a string-driven thing (three guitars, violin and bass) devoted to laconic gypsy jazz, as opposed to the really hot dixieland revival bands that also frequently hail from San Francisco. This is something like their seventh album, going back to 1993. First one I've heard, so I don't know how it compares. But I do have a shelf full of Reinhardt and/or Grappelli, and compared to them this is slower, thinner, more wistful -- not a bad idea, but not a convincing one either. B
• Freddie Hubbard: Blue Spirits (1965 [2004], Blue Note). The best of his later Blue Notes, even though the album proper is split between two somewhat different groups: "Soul Surge" is a groove piece driven by Big Black's congas and Harold Mabern's gospel-tinged piano, a strong mover by any measure; "Blue Spirits" is lighter and slicker, with McCoy Tyner, Bob Cranshaw and Pete LaRoca in the rhythm section, and one of James Spaulding's best flute solos ever. The contrast between Mabern and Tyner is clearer than the one between Joe Henderson and Hank Mobley -- if it had been planned one might have switched them. Two bonus cuts bring in a Herbie Hancock/Reggie Workman/Elvin Jones rhythm section, including the relatively abstract "True Colors," a slippery excursion outside. That these all fit together just reminds you that Hubbard could do it all. A-
• Freddie Hubbard: Breaking Point (1964 [2004], Blue Note). The liner notes posit this as the launching point for Hubbard's career -- the first time he recorded with his own touring group. That must mean that the half-dozen or so previous albums that he recorded for Blue Note, as well as three for Impulse, were just studio groups; conversely, that explains his no-name rhythm section. This is a mixed bag of pieces. The title cut is a strange mix of stops and lurches, at times dazzling and at other times puzzling. The next three are more conventional, "Blue Frenzy" especially pleasing. Joe Chambers' "Mirrors" is slow, opaque, rather hazy. James Spaulding complements, including a flute solo. But most of the interest comes from Hubbard, who plays superbly. B+
• Freddie Hubbard: The Night of the Cookers (1965 [2004], Blue Note, 2CD). Recorded live at Club la Marchal in Brooklyn on Apr. 9-10, 1965, the treat here is in hearing Hubbard square off with Lee Morgan, an equally brilliant and even more fiery second trumpet. Each disc has two long pieces, and they develop as long pieces do, with lots of trade-offs. The rhythm section includes Harold Mabern on piano, and is supplemented by Big Black on congas -- a nice touch. The fireworks are present, but hardly as spectacular as hoped, which leaves us with not much more than the usual jam session. B
• Frank Jackson: New York After Dark (2003 [2004], Kasis). Evidently a fixture on the San Francisco jazz scene, where he has worked since getting a start in Slim Gaillard's Voute City. But I can't find any records under his name before he started recording for Kasis c. 2002, nearing his 80th birthday. The late James Williams produced this one, welcoming Jackson to New York with a group that includes Ron Carter and Kenny Washington, with Billy Pierce adding soprano or tenor sax to a couple of cuts. Some of this, especially "Summertime," is worth the listen just for Carter. Jackson is an impeccable but pale singer, with little accent, not much nuance, little to distinguish himself beyond his undoubted skill. B
• Illinois Jacquet: Desert Winds (1964 [2004], Verve). B+
• Vic Juris: Blue Horizon (2002-03 [2004], Zoho). Juris has a distinctive style on guitar -- not Montgomery, not McLaughlin, not Abercrombie (although we're getting warmer). I've heard him compared to Larry Coryell and Birelli Lagrene -- at least he's duetted with both -- but I don't know them well enough to say. This album pairs him with Joe Locke (vibes, marimba), which adds some tinkle to the ring of his guitar. The record is artful, perhaps masterful, but in a way that I don't quite feel like sussing out. B
• Eric Kloss: First Class! (1966-67 [2004], Prestige). Blind since birth, but as prodigously talented as anyone who ever picked up an alto saxophone, Kloss was barely 16 when he started recording for Prestige. He recorded prolifically up to 1981, then vanished. He could play anything, any way, but as far as I can tell he never developed a style or sound of his own. Some argue that he could have become the greatest jazz saxophonist of all time, but nobody argues that he did. This CD collects his 3rd and 4th LPs, cut when he was 17-18. The music is all over the place, but Prestige paired him with first rate modernists, keeping the mix interesting and providing a solid platform for Kloss to lick his chops. The first LP, Grits & Gravy, seems to have been meant as a soul jazz shot, but most of it was cut with Jaki Byard's trio, and it all seems a bit confused. At times it makes me wonder what he might have done in the age of Kenny G -- compared to which he's Roland Kirk. The latter LP, First Class Kloss, is more scattered and much more fun. It ranges from the warped polyphony of "Psychedelicatessen Rag" to the avant-blowout "African Cookbook" without stopping any place long enough to get your bearings -- except to marvel at Cedar Walton. B+
• David Krakauer: Live in Krakow (2004, Label Bleu). Krakauer in Krakow, "welcome to my town." He has a group called Klezmer Madness, which on this evidence doesn't strike me as quite mad enough. The addition to the group here is Socalled, a DJ who tosses in some samples and beats, but ultimately doesn't make much of an impression. Most of what's left is competent enough, with a slight edge to the traditional pieces over the originals. The most promising track comes after the close of the show (the track where they introduce the band, ending in applause): a short one called "Sirba" where guitarist Sheryl Bailey manages to make some noise. B
• The Ramsey Lewis Trio: Sound of Christmas (1961 [2004], Verve). There's nothing like Christmas music to bring out the "bah humbug!" in me, but if you really want to rub it in, toss in a string orchestra. The first half here, with just the trio, is tolerable, although I doubt that Charlie Parker could roast some of these chestnuts. The second half, with Riley Hampton's strings, is appalling hackwork. D+
• Ramsey Lewis Trio: Time Flies (2004, Narada Jazz). Not really a trio: he picks up guests here and there, including a whole gospel choir for two cuts and another vocalist for "Wade in the Water." He plunders Bach and Brahms, and covers things like "Midnight at the Oasis" and "The In Crowd" (how many times has he done that one?). He picks up programmed beats, especially when he wants a bit of that Spanish Tinge. He shifts bassist Larry Gray over to cello and flute, brings Kevin Randolph in to play organ. In other words, this has nothing to do with his jazz roots. Rather, this is pure kitsch. It would be easy to trash, but everywhere you go his piano sparkles. Maybe not like diamonds, but more than the mere glitter he'd probably be satisfied with. B
• Dave Liebman Group: In a Mellow Tone (2001 [2004], Zoho). Liebman comments in his liner notes that this album has more tenor sax than is usual for the group, but his soprano sax predominates. Guitarist Vic Juris chimes in, sometimes taking the role of second horn, sometimes piano, but his tone tends to reinforce the soprano - keeps this up in the higher registers. Mostly soft pieces, not so fast, but not really ballads either, despite the Ellington composition which serves as a title. I like Liebman's tenor a lot more than his soprano, which also tends to subdue Juris; Juris' tone adds a metallic tinge to Liebman's soprano which tends to sound thin and whiny. B
• Guitar Moods by Mundell Lowe (1956 [2004], Riverside/OJC). He's got an interesting guitar sound: not quite metallic like so many guitarists, almost harp-like. These mood pieces are played so slow that sound is most of what you get. The bass and drums add little in the way of dynamics, and the occasional horns (one each on 7 of 12 tracks) just supplement Lowe's sound -- the horns themselves being unorthodox enough (English horn, flute, bass clarinet, oboe) that they bring virtually no jazz baggage with them. Not ambient, just ambling. B
• Machito and His Afro-Cuban Orchestra: Vacation at the Concord (1958 [2004], Verve). A souvenir of one of those pleasant summer weekends in the Catskills, back when Cuba was still a well-behaved (well, not really) colonial outpost. The band is uncredited, and plays anonymously: the brass is bright but securely tethered, the rhythm is full of cha-cha but never shows off. Sorry to pick on such a nice little record, but I've heard Machito when he had something to say, and know he can make himself and his band heard. Just not here. B-
• Herbie Mann/Phil Woods: Beyond Brooklyn (2004, MCG Jazz). Herbie Mann was a tough guy who played a wimpy instrument. He was by far the most famous flute player in jazz -- probably because he had a few successful commercial flings in the '60s, but also because there hasn't been much competition (James Newton? Jeremy Steig? Robert Dick? 80% of the players who show up in Downbeat's annual flute poll are dabblers who spend most of their lives on other instruments). But he grew up in thrall to bebop, like most of his generation -- like Phil Woods, in fact -- and up to this his last recording bebop vitiated his work. Still, it's just flute, the instrument of the pied piper. One is tempted to cut him some slack in memoriam, but the flute still feels disembodied here. The real meat comes from Woods, who has rarely sounded so relaxed and settled. B
• Billy Martin: Drop the Needle / Illy B Eats (2002, Amulet, 2CD). Two discs. The first is remixed from Martin's beats, with anonymous raps and other distractions. The second is just the beats. I actually prefer the second. The raps and remixes don't strike me as especially noteworthy, although they function in a rather utilitarian way, as do the beats. Martin knocked off a bunch of records like this, fine as a side-project when away from Messrs. Medeski et Wood. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing earthshaking either. B
• Lee Morgan: The Sixth Sense (1967-68 [2004], Blue Note). The album proper -- with Jackie McLean, Frank Mitchell, and Cedar Walton -- is plain old hard bop, bright and shiny, exuberant even, but little more than typical for someone as sparkly as Morgan. The three bonus tracks are more narrowly bebop, two fast ones and a ballad -- McLean is absent, and Harold Mabern replaces Walton. B+
• Paul Motian: Rarum Vol. 16: Selected Recordings (1972-87 [2004], ECM). Best known as the drummer of choice for pianists from Bill Evans to Marilyn Crispell (including Keith Jarrett and Paul Bley here), Motian's own groups eschew piano in favor of saxophonists from Charles Brackeen to Joe Lovano (both heavily featured here), playing his own loose-limbed compositions. This is an appetizing platter, but Motian's later groups (including much more with Lovano and Bill Frisell) developed further, recording extensively with JMT and Winter & Winter. B+
• Eddy Orini: Divine Mustache: Musical Tribute to the Genius of Salvador Dali (2003 [2004], TCB). AMG characterizes Orini, born in Switzerland in 1943, as a versatile musician more closely associated with prog rock than jazz. Indeed, his credits here (percussion, vocals) don't make for much of a jazz career. His label doesn't disagree: TCB has a color scheme for the spines of their releases, and this one came out black -- their code for "world music," but perhaps more tellingly the last classification on their list. Evidently Orini cut an earlier version of this album in 1976, and had it blessed by Dali himself. There are even pictures of the young Orini with an old Dali, the former doing his best to look like the latter. I find this weird, for while it's easy to take Dali to be a subversive the fact is that he sided with the fascists, and once one knows that it affects how one looks at everything else he did. But while the book and lyrics are pointed at Dali, the music is off in its own world. Or several of them. It's been orchestrated hugely, turned into something of an opera under an aesthetic that is, indeed, more prog rock than jazz. Some small pieces are lovely, and the keyboard work (by Joel Vandroogenbroek, a Daliesque name if ever there one) is fine. And the operatics are never excessive; indeed, if anything they shortchange expressiveness. Seems harmless enough; pointless too. B-
• Ken Peplowski: Easy to Remember (2003 [2004], Nagel Heyer). A lot brighter and bouncier than the stuff he was doing on Concord: while Peplowski was always a young fogie, he never actually swung all that hard, and his preference for the clarinet over the tenor sax (which he is actually quite good at) seemed like an expression of shyness. (He also had a classical jones, which he's indulged on several occasions.) So credit new producer Frank Nagel-Heyer with the hot band, the two singer shots (the winner is Bobby Short's Tom Waits impression on "It's Easy to Remember"), and the general uplift. Still, this seems kind of rote, perhaps because it's not really Peplowski's kind of thing. B
• P.J. Perry Quintet (1993 [2004], Unity Jazz/Page Music). Not sure whether this is a reissue or just something from the vault. Perry is a Canadian saxophonist (alto, soprano; mostly alto here) who plays in an aggressive postbop vein. He's joined here by relative unknowns, some of whom (e.g., trumpeter Bob Tildesley) have played with him at least since 1977. While much of this album is sprightly and energetic, two things annoy me: the unision horn work and some melodramatic piling on. When they keep it simple, as in the closer with its organ-like synth, "Don't Forget," they can put on a good show. B
• Dave Pike and His Orchestra: Manhattan Latin (1964 [2004], Verve). Some first-rate latin rhythm here (Cachao, Patato), which provides a natural backdrop for Pike's vibraphone. The few horns are deployed one at a time: some trumpet, Hubert Laws on tenor sax and piccolo. It might be a nice diversion, but it sags in the middle -- why slow things down when all you really got going for you is rhythm? B-
• Maria Schneider: Concert in the Garden (2004, Artists Share). Francis Davis swears this is the jazz album of the year, by a huge margin. Nate Chinen put it #3 on his year-end list. It is popping up elsewhere, and it seems likely that the consensus will side with Davis. Nonetheless, I don't hear whatever it is they hear, or more likely I'm just not impressed by it. I'm tempted to write this off as evidence that my primordial loathing of euroclassical music still at work. The first point worth making is that this isn't a big band, at least not in the sense that Ellington and Lunceford and Herman and even Kenton were big bands; this is an orchestra, even if there are no strings and lots of brass. Big bands were built for volume (at least in the pre-amplified era) and as such they were built to reinforce the music, to muscle it up. This is a lot more intricate, with the surplus of instruments employed like so much filagree. This is too complex for me, with no center that I can recognize -- just a lot of effects. Of course, that may be the point, and I'm just being dense expecting something that is not there when the point is more likely to enjoy what is there. Schneider was a protege of Gil Evans, and it's likely that she picks up where Evans left off. Evans differed from the big band leaders in that he was a studio arranger who specialized in tiny little effects. His work with Miles Davis was full of that sort of thing, but it at least was always centered on the boss man. Even without Miles, Evans was a guy who had simple tastes and a particular fondness for the bold and brassy. But I don't hear that sort of thing here: I can count up the brass instruments in the credits, but I don't feel them in the music. Similarly, I can recognize the numerous Latin influences, but I don't feel them. I suspect that in the long run the real problem I have with this record is one of utility: I don't listen to music so closely that I give this sort of thing a fair chance to dazzle me. I want records that grab my attention even when I'm not paying any, and this is wa