4 Harry Warren won three Oscars, partnered with the cream of lyricists—Johnny Mercer, Ira Gershwin, Mack Gordon and Al Dubin among them—and helped add “I Found a Million Dollar Baby,” “Lullaby of Broadway” and “Jeepers Creepers” to the pop-culture lexicon. So how is it that one of the Great American Songbook’s most prolific contributors also ranks among its least appreciated? Two years ago, trumpeter and bandleader David Berger attempted to amend Warren’s unfair anonymity when he and his octet released <I>I Had the Craziest Dream</I>, a collection of a dozen of the composer’s brightest gems. Berger’s research for that project unearthed a trove of lost Warren treasures, most lacking titles and all but one (“There Is No Music,” written with Ira Gershwin) lacking lyrics. Working with his full orchestra, enlisting vocal assistance from Freda Payne and Denzal Sinclaire and commissioning new lyrics from Paul Mendenhall, Berger brings 10 of these “undiscovered standards” to vibrant life. Payne lends a Rosemary Clooney-esque quality to the bouncy “I Wonder Who,” effervescent “Sing Me a Love Song” and sexily furtive “But Here We Are.” Sinclaire, strongly reminiscent of Nat Cole and Johnny Hartman, beautifully navigates the forlorn “I’m Sorry,” haunted “There Is No Music” and sultry “Positano Afternoon.” But top marks must be reserved for Berger, whose arrangements authentically suggest the soundtrack to some obscure musical from MGM’s golden years, and Mendenhall, whose lyrics are equally evocative of Warren’s heyday. true 204 2010-03-07T15:17:35-05:00 false 25830 181 true 60 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Harry Warren won three Oscars, partnered with the cream of lyricists—Johnny Mercer, Ira Gershwin, Mack Gordon and Al Dubin among them—and helped add “I Found a Million Dollar Baby,” “Lullaby of Broadway” and “Jeepers Creepers” to the pop-culture lexicon. So how is it that one of the Great American Songbook’s most prolific contributors also ranks among its least appreciated? Two years ago, trumpeter and bandleader David Berger attempted to amend Warren’s unfair anonymity when he and his octet released I Had the Craziest Dream , a collection of a dozen of the composer’s brightest gems. Berger’s research for that project unearthed a trove of lost Warren treasures, most lacking titles and all but one (“There Is No Music,” written with Ira Gershwin) lacking lyrics. Working with his full orchestra, enlisting vocal assistance from Freda Payne and Denzal Sinclaire and commissioning new lyrics from Paul Mendenhall, Berger brings 10 of these “undiscovered standards” to vibrant life. Payne lends a Rosemary Clooney-esque quality to the bouncy “I Wonder Who,” effervescent “Sing Me a Love Song” and sexily furtive “But Here We Are.” Sinclaire, strongly reminiscent of Nat Cole and Johnny Hartman, beautifully navigates the forlorn “I’m Sorry,” haunted “There Is No Music” and sultry “Positano Afternoon.” But top marks must be reserved for Berger, whose arrangements authentically suggest the soundtrack to some obscure musical from MGM’s golden years, and Mendenhall, whose lyrics are equally evocative of Warren’s heyday.

2010-03-07T15:37:41-05:00

4 A quarter-century ago, Dee Dee Bridgewater paid homage to the sound and style of Billie Holiday with the acclaimed stage production <I>Lady Day<I>, based on Holiday’s autobiography. Since she was actually portraying Holiday, it was necessary for Bridgewater to be vocally imitative—and what a fine mimic she was. Now, with Bridgewater having advanced from Holiday pupil to full-fledged peer, derivativeness is behind her. It comes as no surprise that her performances of a dozen Holiday classics, running the gamut from the lighthearted coquettishness of “Mother’s Son-in-Law” to the grisly depths of “Strange Fruit,” are astounding. We’d expect nothing less. But even greater credit for the tracks’ remarkable freshness and keen imaginativeness must go to pianist Edsel Gomez, who crafted the arrangements. Though some of the tracks represent complete transformation, like his swinging re-harmonization of “All of Me,” Gomez excels at subtle yet utterly arresting alterations. In “Lady Sings the Blues,” for example, rather than painting it in gray tones of prevailing sadness (as is usually done), Gomez understands that Holiday’s lyric is really about renewed self-possession, so he makes it pulse with vibrant energy. More profoundly, in “Strange Fruit,” the aching desperation that electrified Holiday’s reading remains fully evident in Bridgewater’s, but it is now underscored by a chilled anger. Assisting Gomez in the superb realization of his adroit vision is what Bridgewater aptly dubs her “dream band” of drummer Lewis Nash, bassist Christian McBride and woodwind player James Carter, magicians all. true 204 2010-03-07T15:41:09-05:00 false 25831 181 true 60 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

A quarter-century ago, Dee Dee Bridgewater paid homage to the sound and style of Billie Holiday with the acclaimed stage production Lady Day , based on Holiday’s autobiography. Since she was actually portraying Holiday, it was necessary for Bridgewater to be vocally imitative—and what a fine mimic she was. Now, with Bridgewater having advanced from Holiday pupil to full-fledged peer, derivativeness is behind her. It comes as no surprise that her performances of a dozen Holiday classics, running the gamut from the lighthearted coquettishness of “Mother’s Son-in-Law” to the grisly depths of “Strange Fruit,” are astounding. We’d expect nothing less. But even greater credit for the tracks’ remarkable freshness and keen imaginativeness must go to pianist Edsel Gomez, who crafted the arrangements. Though some of the tracks represent complete transformation, like his swinging re-harmonization of “All of Me,” Gomez excels at subtle yet utterly arresting alterations. In “Lady Sings the Blues,” for example, rather than painting it in gray tones of prevailing sadness (as is usually done), Gomez understands that Holiday’s lyric is really about renewed self-possession, so he makes it pulse with vibrant energy. More profoundly, in “Strange Fruit,” the aching desperation that electrified Holiday’s reading remains fully evident in Bridgewater’s, but it is now underscored by a chilled anger. Assisting Gomez in the superb realization of his adroit vision is what Bridgewater aptly dubs her “dream band” of drummer Lewis Nash, bassist Christian McBride and woodwind player James Carter, magicians all.

2010-03-07T15:41:17-05:00

4 In “Scrabble,” the penultimate track on Lorraine Feather’s latest, she dreams of whipping her opponent’s “Mensa fanny.” The sentiment is surely flippant, for no one as wickedly skilled as Feather at crafting cunning lyrics could possibility be poor at word games. As on her previous release, 2008’s terrific <I>Language</I>, Feather fills the album with guest artists who double as her tunesmiths. “Scrabble,” for instance, is based on Dick Hyman’s “Barrel of Keys.” Hyman not only arranged the new piece and provides piano accompaniment, but also challenged Feather to incorporate the name Dushka (a Hyman family friend) into the lyric. She does so, with Cole Porter panache. When Béla Fleck approved the Dalí-esque lyrics fitted to his “Circus of Regrets” (aptly re-titled “Peculiar Universe”), he also agreed to play on the track. Yellowjackets keyboardist Russell Ferrante, guitarist Eddie Arkin and pianist Shelly Berg, all of whom contributed to <I>Language</I>, each co-pilot multiple tracks. Arkin’s bouncy “A Lot to Remember,” a poignantly witty treatise on the voyage from birth to 60, is counterbalanced by the wistful “How Did We End Up Here?” Berg joins Feather for the swinging semi-regret of “I Forgot to Have Children” and sage “Things I Learned in High School.” But Ferrante is assigned the most fun, shaping the increasing urgency of “Two Desperate Women in Their Late 30s” and the slow-whirling madness of the macabre “The Girl With the Lazy Eye” which, with typical Feather flair, takes a last-minute U-turn, ending with a wonderful affirmation. true 204 2010-03-07T15:43:56-05:00 false 25833 181 true 60 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

In “Scrabble,” the penultimate track on Lorraine Feather’s latest, she dreams of whipping her opponent’s “Mensa fanny.” The sentiment is surely flippant, for no one as wickedly skilled as Feather at crafting cunning lyrics could possibility be poor at word games. As on her previous release, 2008’s terrific Language , Feather fills the album with guest artists who double as her tunesmiths. “Scrabble,” for instance, is based on Dick Hyman’s “Barrel of Keys.” Hyman not only arranged the new piece and provides piano accompaniment, but also challenged Feather to incorporate the name Dushka (a Hyman family friend) into the lyric. She does so, with Cole Porter panache. When Béla Fleck approved the Dalí-esque lyrics fitted to his “Circus of Regrets” (aptly re-titled “Peculiar Universe”), he also agreed to play on the track. Yellowjackets keyboardist Russell Ferrante, guitarist Eddie Arkin and pianist Shelly Berg, all of whom contributed to Language , each co-pilot multiple tracks. Arkin’s bouncy “A Lot to Remember,” a poignantly witty treatise on the voyage from birth to 60, is counterbalanced by the wistful “How Did We End Up Here?” Berg joins Feather for the swinging semi-regret of “I Forgot to Have Children” and sage “Things I Learned in High School.” But Ferrante is assigned the most fun, shaping the increasing urgency of “Two Desperate Women in Their Late 30s” and the slow-whirling madness of the macabre “The Girl With the Lazy Eye” which, with typical Feather flair, takes a last-minute U-turn, ending with a wonderful affirmation.

2010-03-07T15:44:26-05:00

4 Dave Holland, much like bass giant, composer and bandleader Charles Mingus before him, thinks and listens as intently as he plays. By doing so, this British-born, New York-based luminary creates maximum emotional impact and meaning with every carefully considered note he produces. In at least one instance on <I>Pathways</I>, the Mingus influence is literal as well as conceptual. Witness the sly manner in which the mid-section of the earthy yet eloquent bass solo on “How’s Never” alludes to Mingus’ gospel-fueled opening lines on 1959’s “Better Git It in Your Soul.” A master of concision, cohesion and propulsion—three qualities very much in evidence throughout <I>Pathways</I>—Holland also evokes the “social music” spirit of Miles Davis, in whose band he was featured between 1968 and 1970. His tenure included such landmark albums as <I>In a Silent Way</I> and <I>Bitches Brew</I>, as well as a performance with Davis at England’s historic 1970 Isle of Wight Festival. Truly a musician for all seasons, Holland, 63, has worked with Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, Anthony Braxton, Bonnie Raitt, Carlos Santana, Cassandra Wilson, Tunisian oud master Anouar Brahem, Pat Metheny and many more. He also has two solo bass albums to his credit (1977’s exquisite <I>Emerald Tears</I> and 1993’s similarly stunning <I>Ones All</I>), along with a solo cello album (1982’s <I>Life Cycle</I>). <I>Pathways</I> is his second album of the past decade to be recorded at New York’s Birdland nightclub. It is his first ever with his octet, which he deftly co-anchors with drum dynamo Nate Smith and Steve Nelson on vibes and marimba. They are joined by fellow Holland-band veterans Chris Potter on tenor and soprano saxes and Robin Eubanks on trombone. This core ensemble is seamlessly augmented by baritone saxophonist Gary Smulyan, Russian-born trumpeter/flugelhorn player Alex Sipiagin and alto saxophonist/flutist Antonio Hart (who regularly subs for Potter in Holland’s quintet). Together, these eight musicians combine the flexibility and tonal and textural range of a polished big band with the intimacy and in-the-moment daring of a seemingly telepathic small group. This is readily apparent beginning with the first selection, <I>Pathways</I>’ buoyant title track. It boasts a bravura baritone solo by Smulyan, a darting trumpet foray by Sipiagin and the first of several showcases for Holland, whose consistently solid yet fluid bass work is a marvel of sensitivity and frills-free invention. Even before the album climaxes with “Shadow Dance,” a 15-minute opus that finds Hart and Potter engaging in a galvanizing dual-sax dialogue following Smith’s expertly modulated drum solo, it is clear this is an exemplary performance by one of jazz’s most accomplished outfits. Fresh and vital, the octet sounds crisp and uncluttered even in its most animated moments. The brassy, strutting “Ebb and Flow” suggests what might happen if the city of New Orleans was temporarily relocated to Brazil, while the sumptuous ballad “Blue Jean” offers an ingenious marimba solo by the always arresting Nelson. As Holland has done in virtually every one of his previous bands, he provides a platform for his <I>Pathways</I> colleagues to realize an individual and collective sense of purpose and cooperation. The resulting spirit of generosity, of selflessly yet emphatically serving each composition, pays off from start to finish on the seven-song album (five penned by Holland), which clocks in at over 75 minutes but doesn’t contain a single extraneous note or gesture. Miles and Mingus would be proud. true 179 2010-03-07T15:47:52-05:00 false 25835 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Dave Holland, much like bass giant, composer and bandleader Charles Mingus before him, thinks and listens as intently as he plays. By doing so, this British-born, New York-based luminary creates maximum emotional impact and meaning with every carefully considered note he produces. In at least one instance on Pathways , the Mingus influence is literal as well as conceptual. Witness the sly manner in which the mid-section of the earthy yet eloquent bass solo on “How’s Never” alludes to Mingus’ gospel-fueled opening lines on 1959’s “Better Git It in Your Soul.” A master of concision, cohesion and propulsion—three qualities very much in evidence throughout Pathways —Holland also evokes the “social music” spirit of Miles Davis, in whose band he was featured between 1968 and 1970. His tenure included such landmark albums as In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew , as well as a performance with Davis at England’s historic 1970 Isle of Wight Festival. Truly a musician for all seasons, Holland, 63, has worked with Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, Anthony Braxton, Bonnie Raitt, Carlos Santana, Cassandra Wilson, Tunisian oud master Anouar Brahem, Pat Metheny and many more. He also has two solo bass albums to his credit (1977’s exquisite Emerald Tears and 1993’s similarly stunning Ones All ), along with a solo cello album (1982’s Life Cycle ). Pathways is his second album of the past decade to be recorded at New York’s Birdland nightclub. It is his first ever with his octet, which he deftly co-anchors with drum dynamo Nate Smith and Steve Nelson...

2010-03-08T14:30:19-05:00

4 <I>Only Everything</I> picks up where David Sanborn’s previous release, <I>Here & Gone</I>, left off—literally. From its opening track, Hank Crawford’s “The Peeper,” the album continues along the bluesy path of its predecessor, paying tribute to the Atlantic Records R&B era of Ray Charles and, especially, the recently departed Crawford, the alto saxophonist who got his start with Charles in the late 1950s. There are other holdovers: Drummer Steve Gadd makes an encore appearance, as do producer Phil Ramone, arranger Gil Goldstein and vocalist Joss Stone, who lends her increasingly powerful pipes to a sweltering take on “Let the Good Times Roll.” But <I>Only Everything</I> isn’t strictly a part two, and what largely sets it apart is the presence throughout of Joey DeFrancesco on the Hammond B3. DeFrancesco’s lively musings on the organ permeate the set with an even deeper soulfulness than exhibited last time out. Where <I>Here & Gone</I>, even with such high-profile guests as Eric Clapton, Sam Moore and Derek Trucks, often felt like the homage it was, <I>Only Everything</I> stands on its own, approximating the sweat of a steamy late-night soul-jazz set in some long-ago roadhouse. Sanborn’s beefy alto tone is reliably sturdy and, in places, inspired—as on the closing Arlen-Mercer standard “Blues in the Night” and Charles’ “Hard Times,” which doubles as a tribute to another recently departed Charles alum, saxophonist David “Fathead” Newman—but too often he holds back. On more than one occasion, just as he appears poised to break out of form and transcend the inherent limitations of the material, Sanborn checks himself and lowers the temperature a few degrees. Oddly enough, on Charles’ “Hallelujah, I Love Her So,” it’s left to guest vocalist James Taylor, whose history suggests he’s better at emasculating classic R&B than pumping life into it, to give the arrangement the boost it’s looking for. Nonetheless, <I>Only Everything</I> succeeds in its goal of giving due props once again to some of Sanborn’s key influences. true 10422 2010-03-07T16:15:44-05:00 false 25836 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Only Everything picks up where David Sanborn’s previous release, Here & Gone , left off—literally. From its opening track, Hank Crawford’s “The Peeper,” the album continues along the bluesy path of its predecessor, paying tribute to the Atlantic Records R&B era of Ray Charles and, especially, the recently departed Crawford, the alto saxophonist who got his start with Charles in the late 1950s. There are other holdovers: Drummer Steve Gadd makes an encore appearance, as do producer Phil Ramone, arranger Gil Goldstein and vocalist Joss Stone, who lends her increasingly powerful pipes to a sweltering take on “Let the Good Times Roll.” But Only Everything isn’t strictly a part two, and what largely sets it apart is the presence throughout of Joey DeFrancesco on the Hammond B3. DeFrancesco’s lively musings on the organ permeate the set with an even deeper soulfulness than exhibited last time out. Where Here & Gone , even with such high-profile guests as Eric Clapton, Sam Moore and Derek Trucks, often felt like the homage it was, Only Everything stands on its own, approximating the sweat of a steamy late-night soul-jazz set in some long-ago roadhouse. Sanborn’s beefy alto tone is reliably sturdy and, in places, inspired—as on the closing Arlen-Mercer standard “Blues in the Night” and Charles’ “Hard Times,” which doubles as a tribute to another recently departed Charles alum, saxophonist David “Fathead” Newman—but too often he holds back. On more than one occasion, just as he appears poised to break out of form and transcend the inherent limitations of the...

2010-03-07T16:16:19-05:00

4 Since the late ’50s, Mose Allison’s distinctive approach has combined the vocal passion of a blues musician with a bop pianist’s harmonic flair and a country performer’s storytelling acumen. But until equally idiosyncratic producer Joe Henry lured him back into a studio, Allison hadn’t recorded in 12 years, something that makes his new release, <I>The Way of the World</I>, even more welcome. The prolonged absence impaired neither Allison’s humor nor his acerbic wit, and the disc’s 12 selections nicely balance sentimental musings with caustic commentary. He opens the disc with a nice reworking of Willie Dixon’s “My Babe,” only “My Brain” covers intellectual abilities rather than sexual prowess. “I’m Alright” and “The New Situation” are other tunes where Allison offers light or sentimental reflections and spry phrasing. He’s also smooth and relaxed on “Once in a While,” while he shifts into a more demonstrative tone on “Everybody Thinks You’re an Angel.” Still, the session’s high points are the instrumental “Crush” and the memorable title track, which pairs the elder Allison with his country vocalist daughter Amy for the first time on record. “Crush” spotlights the often underrated Allison piano touch, which shows plenty of Monk influence in some of the odd (or at least unconventional) chord combinations and phrasing, plus the fluid way he holds everything together rhythmically. Father and daughter seem comfortable on “The Way of the World,” easily adjusting to differences in range and delivery while credibly conveying the song’s theme of uneasy acceptance and adjustment to harsh realities. Henry’s restrained production and occasional smart musical flourishes (steel guitar in some places; terse, animated saxophone inserted on other occasions) provide the final touch to a wonderful comeback date. true 192 2010-03-07T16:18:48-05:00 false 25837 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Since the late ’50s, Mose Allison’s distinctive approach has combined the vocal passion of a blues musician with a bop pianist’s harmonic flair and a country performer’s storytelling acumen. But until equally idiosyncratic producer Joe Henry lured him back into a studio, Allison hadn’t recorded in 12 years, something that makes his new release, The Way of the World , even more welcome. The prolonged absence impaired neither Allison’s humor nor his acerbic wit, and the disc’s 12 selections nicely balance sentimental musings with caustic commentary. He opens the disc with a nice reworking of Willie Dixon’s “My Babe,” only “My Brain” covers intellectual abilities rather than sexual prowess. “I’m Alright” and “The New Situation” are other tunes where Allison offers light or sentimental reflections and spry phrasing. He’s also smooth and relaxed on “Once in a While,” while he shifts into a more demonstrative tone on “Everybody Thinks You’re an Angel.” Still, the session’s high points are the instrumental “Crush” and the memorable title track, which pairs the elder Allison with his country vocalist daughter Amy for the first time on record. “Crush” spotlights the often underrated Allison piano touch, which shows plenty of Monk influence in some of the odd (or at least unconventional) chord combinations and phrasing, plus the fluid way he holds everything together rhythmically. Father and daughter seem comfortable on “The Way of the World,” easily adjusting to differences in range and delivery while credibly conveying the song’s theme of uneasy acceptance and adjustment to harsh realities. Henry’s restrained production and...

2010-03-07T16:19:28-05:00

4 Pianist Tord Gustavsen is definitely pushing ahead. After three inspiring recordings working his distilled magic within the constructs of a quiet piano trio, the Norwegian bandleader has expanded his purview to include both saxophone and the human voice. Gustavsen has a solid history of working with singers, and vocalist Kristin Asbjørnsen was clearly up to the challenge. Opening with two beautiful instrumentals (“The Child Within” and “Way In”) before introducing Ms. Asbjørnsen, Gustavsen shows that he has lost nothing in terms of subtlety, nuance and gentleness of pacing. Saxophonist Tore Brunborg adds a burnished sound to the ensemble, and if left strictly to the instrumentalists this band could have ended up sounding a lot like Keith Jarrett’s old European quartet. But with Asbjørnsen in the mix, Gustavsen’s group becomes a more unpredictable entity, and more challenging. The overall mood still leans toward melancholy and down-tempo, and Asbjørnsen’s voice fits perfectly between Brunborg’s sax and Gustavsen’s keys—at the end of “Left Over Lullaby No. 1” she floats into a hypnotic, wordless dialogue with her eloquent bandmates. Gustavsen himself is never dominating as a player but is always in control and shrewdly uses Asbjørnsen on only half of the tracks. The rhythm section of drummer Jarle Vespestad and bassist Mats Eilertsen are appropriately restrained and maintain the gentle, lithe spirit that Gustavsen’s music demands. The group arrangements are spacious, and the improvisations consistently impressive. The album closes with “Left Over Lullaby No. 3,” leaving this listener restored and eager to return. true 11139 2010-03-07T16:20:16-05:00 false 25838 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Pianist Tord Gustavsen is definitely pushing ahead. After three inspiring recordings working his distilled magic within the constructs of a quiet piano trio, the Norwegian bandleader has expanded his purview to include both saxophone and the human voice. Gustavsen has a solid history of working with singers, and vocalist Kristin Asbjørnsen was clearly up to the challenge. Opening with two beautiful instrumentals (“The Child Within” and “Way In”) before introducing Ms. Asbjørnsen, Gustavsen shows that he has lost nothing in terms of subtlety, nuance and gentleness of pacing. Saxophonist Tore Brunborg adds a burnished sound to the ensemble, and if left strictly to the instrumentalists this band could have ended up sounding a lot like Keith Jarrett’s old European quartet. But with Asbjørnsen in the mix, Gustavsen’s group becomes a more unpredictable entity, and more challenging. The overall mood still leans toward melancholy and down-tempo, and Asbjørnsen’s voice fits perfectly between Brunborg’s sax and Gustavsen’s keys—at the end of “Left Over Lullaby No. 1” she floats into a hypnotic, wordless dialogue with her eloquent bandmates. Gustavsen himself is never dominating as a player but is always in control and shrewdly uses Asbjørnsen on only half of the tracks. The rhythm section of drummer Jarle Vespestad and bassist Mats Eilertsen are appropriately restrained and maintain the gentle, lithe spirit that Gustavsen’s music demands. The group arrangements are spacious, and the improvisations consistently impressive. The album closes with “Left Over Lullaby No. 3,” leaving this listener restored and eager to return.

2010-03-07T16:20:37-05:00

4 Throughout six decades on the jazz scene, pianist Ahmad Jamal has proven it’s possible to be a precise, restrained soloist without sacrificing soul or artistry. Perhaps the lone negative when it comes to his music is familiarity, since anyone remotely knowledgeable about jazz piano will immediately recognize the Jamal style, one that carefully combines elegance, speed and fervor. Jamal doesn’t veer far from the formula on his latest release, <I>A Quiet Time</I>, though he frequently demonstrates his facility in an area where he often doesn’t get enough credit: his ability to successfully navigate tough, intricate rhythms and textures from other sources besides mainstream jazz. Some of the best tracks venture into Latin beats and influences, particularly “My Inspiration” and “Paris After Dark,” as well as his adventurous solos and nimble flurries on Randy Weston’s “Hi Fly.” Kenny Washington’s drumming gives Jamal both a formidable anchor and another assertive voice within the ensemble, while bassist James Cammack lays down huge, booming support and also occasionally steps out front with forceful statements. An added bonus is Manolo Badrena’s percussive creativity. He provides strategic additional sounds from a wealth of Latin and African rhythm instruments. But no Jamal disc would be complete without beautiful ballad treatments, and Jamal excels on “I Hear a Rhapsody.” He delivers the melody with flair, then shifts into a rigorous, moving improvisation that both reworks and extends the tune into something that is inventive yet true to the original work. The same can be said for “The Love Is Lost,” “Poetry” and “The Blooming Flower.” He’s at his most dynamic on “After JALC (Jazz at Lincoln Center)” and “Tranquility,” a number first done back in the ’50s and rearranged here in more extensive fashion true 192 2010-03-07T16:22:21-05:00 false 25839 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Throughout six decades on the jazz scene, pianist Ahmad Jamal has proven it’s possible to be a precise, restrained soloist without sacrificing soul or artistry. Perhaps the lone negative when it comes to his music is familiarity, since anyone remotely knowledgeable about jazz piano will immediately recognize the Jamal style, one that carefully combines elegance, speed and fervor. Jamal doesn’t veer far from the formula on his latest release, A Quiet Time , though he frequently demonstrates his facility in an area where he often doesn’t get enough credit: his ability to successfully navigate tough, intricate rhythms and textures from other sources besides mainstream jazz. Some of the best tracks venture into Latin beats and influences, particularly “My Inspiration” and “Paris After Dark,” as well as his adventurous solos and nimble flurries on Randy Weston’s “Hi Fly.” Kenny Washington’s drumming gives Jamal both a formidable anchor and another assertive voice within the ensemble, while bassist James Cammack lays down huge, booming support and also occasionally steps out front with forceful statements. An added bonus is Manolo Badrena’s percussive creativity. He provides strategic additional sounds from a wealth of Latin and African rhythm instruments. But no Jamal disc would be complete without beautiful ballad treatments, and Jamal excels on “I Hear a Rhapsody.” He delivers the melody with flair, then shifts into a rigorous, moving improvisation that both reworks and extends the tune into something that is inventive yet true to the original work. The same can be said for “The Love Is Lost,” “Poetry” and “The...

2010-03-07T16:22:21-05:00

4 Now that the whole Return to Forever reunion experience is in his rearview mirror (and unlikely to be repeated ever again), guitar star Al Di Meola is pursuing his own musical vision with newfound conviction via his World Sinfonia. Essentially an acoustic ensemble featuring Fausto Beccalossi on accordion and Di Meola’s longtime collaborator Gumbi Ortiz on cajon and assorted hand percussion, along with second guitarist Peo Alfonsi, bassist Victor Miranda and drummer Peter Kaszas, this edition of the World Sinfonia has developed a tightly knit chemistry through frequent touring. This limited-edition release, the first in a series of live recordings being sold initially at World Sinfonia gigs, documents their easy rapport in concerts held in Seattle, San Francisco and Istanbul. Di Meola’s rhythmically charged, flamenco- and tango-inspired originals, like the opening “Misterio” and the dynamic “Siberiana,” reveal his interest in advanced harmony along with his unapologetic embrace of simple, beautiful melodies. And although a romantic at heart, he is not above layering on the kind of impressive speed-demon licks that graced ’70s Di Meola classics like <I>Elegant Gypsy</I> and <I>Casin</I>o, as he demonstrates with typical macho flair on the Latin-flavored cooker “Gumbiero” and the alternately alluring and exhilarating “Umbras.” Accordion ace Beccalossi proves more than a worthy foil on the frontline for this challenging material, matching Di Meola’s intricate lines note for note on the heads while delivering some scintillating solos of his own. The virtuoso guitarist plays primarily on a nylon-string acoustic with a MIDI pickup that allows him to shadow notes with a wide array of synth colors and textures, or dial up some nasty distortion tones when the music calls for it (as on the moody “Paramour’s Lullaby” and the flamenco burner “Fireflies”). Special guest Husnu Şenlendirici sits in on Turkish clarinet on the lovely Sardinian folk tune “No Potho Reposare.” true 21 2010-03-07T16:23:40-05:00 false 25840 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Now that the whole Return to Forever reunion experience is in his rearview mirror (and unlikely to be repeated ever again), guitar star Al Di Meola is pursuing his own musical vision with newfound conviction via his World Sinfonia. Essentially an acoustic ensemble featuring Fausto Beccalossi on accordion and Di Meola’s longtime collaborator Gumbi Ortiz on cajon and assorted hand percussion, along with second guitarist Peo Alfonsi, bassist Victor Miranda and drummer Peter Kaszas, this edition of the World Sinfonia has developed a tightly knit chemistry through frequent touring. This limited-edition release, the first in a series of live recordings being sold initially at World Sinfonia gigs, documents their easy rapport in concerts held in Seattle, San Francisco and Istanbul. Di Meola’s rhythmically charged, flamenco- and tango-inspired originals, like the opening “Misterio” and the dynamic “Siberiana,” reveal his interest in advanced harmony along with his unapologetic embrace of simple, beautiful melodies. And although a romantic at heart, he is not above layering on the kind of impressive speed-demon licks that graced ’70s Di Meola classics like Elegant Gypsy and Casin o, as he demonstrates with typical macho flair on the Latin-flavored cooker “Gumbiero” and the alternately alluring and exhilarating “Umbras.” Accordion ace Beccalossi proves more than a worthy foil on the frontline for this challenging material, matching Di Meola’s intricate lines note for note on the heads while delivering some scintillating solos of his own. The virtuoso guitarist plays primarily on a nylon-string acoustic with a MIDI pickup that allows him to shadow notes with a...

2010-03-07T16:24:59-05:00

4 Tomasz Stanko began his career as an ECM recording artist with 1975’s <I>Balladyna</I>, a post-Ornette outburst that gives little hint of the kind of trumpeter he has become. Taken together, the best of his recent work—2006’s <I>Lontano</I>, 2004’s <I>Suspended Night</I> and 2002’s <I>Soul of Things</I>—represent some of the most evocative, atmospheric jazz this side of <I>In a Silent Way</I>. All three records were recorded with the Polish musician’s native quartet, which, as the Marcin Wasilewski Trio, has gone on to make excellent music of its own. No one would fault Stanko for making yet another record with this elegant ensemble, but it’s still good to hear him in a new setting. On his latest album <I>Dark Eyes</I>, Stanko teams up with four musicians from Northern Europe: pianist Alexi Tuomarila, guitarist Jakob Bro, bassist Anders Christensen and drummer Olavi Louhivuori. Already this disc has scaled the top 10 of the Polish pop charts and it’s easy to understand why. For the Stanko novice, <I>Dark Eyes</I> has it all: the trumpeter’s crisp-yet-ethereal tone, his Eastern European melodic sensibility, and accompaniment that balances precision with languidness. And yet, for those well acquainted with the Pole, there are surprises here as well. “The Dark Eyes of Martha Hirsch” makes an unexpected feint toward <I>Balladyn</I>a territory. And “Terminal 7” is but one example of the prominence given to Bro, who recalls Pat Metheny and Bill Frisell with note-stretching impressionism. His playing, like the album as a whole, can be summed up by the title of the opening track: “So Nice.” true 300 2010-03-07T16:25:51-05:00 false 25841 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Tomasz Stanko began his career as an ECM recording artist with 1975’s Balladyna , a post-Ornette outburst that gives little hint of the kind of trumpeter he has become. Taken together, the best of his recent work—2006’s Lontano , 2004’s Suspended Night and 2002’s Soul of Things —represent some of the most evocative, atmospheric jazz this side of In a Silent Way . All three records were recorded with the Polish musician’s native quartet, which, as the Marcin Wasilewski Trio, has gone on to make excellent music of its own. No one would fault Stanko for making yet another record with this elegant ensemble, but it’s still good to hear him in a new setting. On his latest album Dark Eyes , Stanko teams up with four musicians from Northern Europe: pianist Alexi Tuomarila, guitarist Jakob Bro, bassist Anders Christensen and drummer Olavi Louhivuori. Already this disc has scaled the top 10 of the Polish pop charts and it’s easy to understand why. For the Stanko novice, Dark Eyes has it all: the trumpeter’s crisp-yet-ethereal tone, his Eastern European melodic sensibility, and accompaniment that balances precision with languidness. And yet, for those well acquainted with the Pole, there are surprises here as well. “The Dark Eyes of Martha Hirsch” makes an unexpected feint toward Balladyn a territory. And “Terminal 7” is but one example of the prominence given to Bro, who recalls Pat Metheny and Bill Frisell with note-stretching impressionism. His playing, like the album as a whole, can be summed up by the title of...

2010-03-07T16:25:51-05:00

4 Fans of Egberto Gismonti probably expected him to play throughout his new two-CD set, but as with <I>Meeting Point</I>, Gismonti’s 1997 ECM outing featuring the Lithuanian State Symphony Orchestra, classical convention trumps jazz tradition. Gismonti is merely the composer of “Sertões Veredas: Tributo à Miscigenação” (“Desert Paths: A Tribute to Miscegenation”), the first disc. His piano and classical guitars, famously custom-made with as many as 14 strings, are absent. The musicians are conductor Zenaida Romeu and her all-female string orchestra, Camerata Romeu. The second disc, entitled “Duetos de Violões” (“Guitar Duets”), is a duo affair pairing Gismonti with his son, Alexandre. Since the liner notes don’t tell us who’s on the left or right channels, we queried the artist and learned that Egberto plays first on all the duet tracks. Compared with Gismonti’s <I>Meeting Point</I> of 1997, the “Sertões” suite is more folksy and lighthearted, yet strangely more labored. Gismonti writes beautifully and resourcefully for the string ensemble, beginning with an Appalachian-sounding fiddle theme and later evoking Brazilian cowboys, <I>choros</I>, movies, the circus and Xingu Indian dance rituals. But the sameness of the strings’ textures impedes the composer’s coloristic impulses when we compare this new piece with <I>Sol Do Meio Dia, Dança Das Cabeças, Magico</I>, or even <I>Infância</I>. Since the miscegenation Gismonti celebrates is the cultural and geographical diversity of his homeland, the choice of instrumentation remains a paradox. The fine booklet notes by Lilian Dias, generously supplemented with extracts from the score, give us valuable insights into Gismonti’s intentions and where he draws inspiration from Beethoven, Villa-Lobos, Bach, Stravinsky and the Xingu. The “Guitar Duets” CD is most akin to the soundworld of <I>Infância</I> in its churning aesthetic, but there are numerous titles reprised here—including “Lundú,” “Palhaço” and “Dança dos Escravos”—that longtime Gismonti followers will have heard before. After 75-plus minutes of “Sertões,” the simple raindrop patterns that greet us from the left channel at the start of “Lundú” are instantly refreshing. The low notes accessible on the Gismontis’ customized guitars become more evident in the ballad section of the ensuing track, “Mestiço & Caboclo,” before the duo speeds up and we’re showered with a harmonics rampage. Electricity and trancelike repetition reach Jarrett proportions over the predictable vamp played by Alexandre on the right channel. Skip ahead to “Escravos” (the only duet track where Egberto plays on the right channel) and you’ll find plenty of fascinating percussive and tremolo action. On two solos, dad’s “Palhaço” and his own “Chora Antônio,” Alexandre proves to be an artist worthy of his own following. Both tracks carry a teasing taste of bossa nova, but the sly quote from Rodrigo’s “Concierto de Aranjuez,” in the second half of “Antônio,” also shows that Alexandre, like his father, is firmly rooted in the classics. true 11252 2010-03-07T16:26:59-05:00 false 25842 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

Fans of Egberto Gismonti probably expected him to play throughout his new two-CD set, but as with Meeting Point , Gismonti’s 1997 ECM outing featuring the Lithuanian State Symphony Orchestra, classical convention trumps jazz tradition. Gismonti is merely the composer of “Sertões Veredas: Tributo à Miscigenação” (“Desert Paths: A Tribute to Miscegenation”), the first disc. His piano and classical guitars, famously custom-made with as many as 14 strings, are absent. The musicians are conductor Zenaida Romeu and her all-female string orchestra, Camerata Romeu. The second disc, entitled “Duetos de Violões” (“Guitar Duets”), is a duo affair pairing Gismonti with his son, Alexandre. Since the liner notes don’t tell us who’s on the left or right channels, we queried the artist and learned that Egberto plays first on all the duet tracks. Compared with Gismonti’s Meeting Point of 1997, the “Sertões” suite is more folksy and lighthearted, yet strangely more labored. Gismonti writes beautifully and resourcefully for the string ensemble, beginning with an Appalachian-sounding fiddle theme and later evoking Brazilian cowboys, choros , movies, the circus and Xingu Indian dance rituals. But the sameness of the strings’ textures impedes the composer’s coloristic impulses when we compare this new piece with Sol Do Meio Dia, Dança Das Cabeças, Magico , or even Infância . Since the miscegenation Gismonti celebrates is the cultural and geographical diversity of his homeland, the choice of instrumentation remains a paradox. The fine booklet notes by Lilian Dias, generously supplemented with extracts from the score, give us valuable insights into Gismonti’s intentions and where...

2010-03-07T16:27:00-05:00

4 This set’s title suggests small strands coming together to form a greater whole, which is indeed an important aspect of Bill Dixon’s conception. Yet tapestries are inert, and Dixon’s music is not. It might move slowly much of the time, but it most certainly moves; it’s a study in movement sans rhythm. Pieces like “Motorcycle ’66: Reflections and Ruminations” and “Adagio: Slow Mauve Scribblings” travel across the sound field like clouds: some thin and iridescent, others thick and dark, still others flecked with shards of ice on the verge of falling to earth. They form and dissolve, meet and coalesce in infinite variety, different on the surface but each comprising the same elemental natural forces. Dixon leads a nonet made up of five trumpeters and/or cornet players (three of whom—Dixon, Taylor Ho Bynum and Graham Haynes—utilize electronics to some degree), bass/contrabass clarinetist Michel Côté, cellist Glynis Lomon, the always excellent bassist Ken Filiano (who also uses electronics), and percussionist/mallet player Warren Smith. Dixon takes full advantage of the sound-making possibilities inherent in the grouping, and his manner of combining tonal shapes parallels his visual art, several examples of which are shown in the packaging of this two-CD/DVD set. The DVD is a nice touch, though the visuals of the band in the recording studio playing are necessarily claustrophobic and run counter to the music’s spaciousness. As a whole, however, it’s a respectful—one might even say loving—presentation of Dixon’s art. true 214 2010-03-07T16:28:32-05:00 false 25843 181 true 20 2010-04-01T00:00:00-04:00

This set’s title suggests small strands coming together to form a greater whole, which is indeed an important aspect of Bill Dixon’s conception. Yet tapestries are inert, and Dixon’s music is not. It might move slowly much of the time, but it most certainly moves; it’s a study in movement sans rhythm. Pieces like “Motorcycle ’66: Reflections and Ruminations” and “Adagio: Slow Mauve Scribblings” travel across the sound field like clouds: some thin and iridescent, others thick and dark, still others flecked with shards of ice on the verge of falling to earth. They form and dissolve, meet and coalesce in infinite variety, different on the surface but each comprising the same elemental natural forces. Dixon leads a nonet made up of five trumpeters and/or cornet players (three of whom—Dixon, Taylor Ho Bynum and Graham Haynes—utilize electronics to some degree), bass/contrabass clarinetist Michel Côté, cellist Glynis Lomon, the always excellent bassist Ken Filiano (who also uses electronics), and percussionist/mallet player Warren Smith. Dixon takes full advantage of the sound-making possibilities inherent in the grouping, and his manner of combining tonal shapes parallels his visual art, several examples of which are shown in the packaging of this two-CD/DVD set. The DVD is a nice touch, though the visuals of the band in the recording studio playing are necessarily claustrophobic and run counter to the music’s spaciousness. As a whole, however, it’s a respectful—one might even say loving—presentation of Dixon’s art.

2010-03-07T16:28:32-05:00

4 Although he’s been a leading drummer on the Latin pop and jazz scene for over two decades, this is the first album where Robby Ameen has served as both leader and principal composer/arranger. Definitely a drummer’s date, it spotlights Ameen’s versatility, with the emphasis on Afro-Cuban rhythms and rocking beats. It’s not surprising that he and the CD’s bassist, Lincoln Goines, co-authored a method book titled <i>Funkifying the Clave: Afro-Cuban Grooves for Bass and Drums</i>. The pair is joined here by pianist/keyboardist John Beasley, a core trio expanded variously by guitarist Wayne Krantz, conguero Richie Flores, trombonist Conrad Herwig and trumpeter Brian Lynch. Ameen’s originals veer from a pronounced rock/funk edge on electric quartet pieces like the fusiony “Swiftboating” and heavy-metal bashing “Skateboard Intifada” to horn-led tracks with a Latin jazz-soul feel such as “Una Muy Anita,” which resembles a standard on the album, Lee Morgan’s “Ceora.” That and the other jazz standard, Joe Farrell’s “Sound Down,” have the most memorable melodic lines, although Ameen’s pieces make up in atmosphere and action what they lack in tunefulness. “Stagger,” a medium to slow blues, finds Ameen creating distinctive rhythms with bundles rather than sticks or brushes; also on that track, Krantz’s distorted, whammy-bar-inflected phrases contrast the down-home acoustic bass and piano. “Baakline,” the only track with guitar and horns, creates a dense ensemble sound with added organ plus synth strings over a chugging backbeat and horn solos that overlap. The final track is a sizzling duet by Ameen and conguero Flores. true 325 2010-03-07T13:06:29-05:00 false 25811 true 20 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00

Although he’s been a leading drummer on the Latin pop and jazz scene for over two decades, this is the first album where Robby Ameen has served as both leader and principal composer/arranger. Definitely a drummer’s date, it spotlights Ameen’s versatility, with the emphasis on Afro-Cuban rhythms and rocking beats. It’s not surprising that he and the CD’s bassist, Lincoln Goines, co-authored a method book titled Funkifying the Clave: Afro-Cuban Grooves for Bass and Drums . The pair is joined here by pianist/keyboardist John Beasley, a core trio expanded variously by guitarist Wayne Krantz, conguero Richie Flores, trombonist Conrad Herwig and trumpeter Brian Lynch. Ameen’s originals veer from a pronounced rock/funk edge on electric quartet pieces like the fusiony “Swiftboating” and heavy-metal bashing “Skateboard Intifada” to horn-led tracks with a Latin jazz-soul feel such as “Una Muy Anita,” which resembles a standard on the album, Lee Morgan’s “Ceora.” That and the other jazz standard, Joe Farrell’s “Sound Down,” have the most memorable melodic lines, although Ameen’s pieces make up in atmosphere and action what they lack in tunefulness. “Stagger,” a medium to slow blues, finds Ameen creating distinctive rhythms with bundles rather than sticks or brushes; also on that track, Krantz’s distorted, whammy-bar-inflected phrases contrast the down-home acoustic bass and piano. “Baakline,” the only track with guitar and horns, creates a dense ensemble sound with added organ plus synth strings over a chugging backbeat and horn solos that overlap. The final track is a sizzling duet by Ameen and conguero Flores.

2010-03-07T13:36:51-05:00

4 The 17-piece Brooklyn Big Band, formed in 2000, is heavy on saxophone players, starting with its leaders, Craig Bailey (alto and flute) and Tim Armacost (tenor and clarinet). As displayed on this debut recording, Bailey and Armacost’s conception is to explore contemporary possibilities for the big band, in part by reviewing the past. The unsigned liner notes say of the disc’s longest track, “Take the Coltrane,” “This performance encapsulates a lot of what the group is trying to achieve,” which might be summarized as trying to answer the musical question, “What would Duke Ellington and His Orchestra have sounded like if John Coltrane had been their saxophonist in the 1960s?” “Take the Coltrane” is generously credited to Ellington as composer (notwithstanding that “Take the ‘A’ Train” was written by Billy Strayhorn), and while there isn’t much Ellington in it, it does attempt to reinterpret mature Coltrane in a big-band context. But that’s really only one track in a quite varied set. Trombonist Jason Jackson’s “Brazilian Bop” brings in the inevitable Latin tinge prior to “Take the Coltrane,” in what is basically a history lesson that makes up the first section of the disc, following the bravura opener, “Long Haired Girl.” Bailey’s palate-cleansing “East of Enid” inaugurates a mellow midsection for the album, giving David Berkman a chance to make like a New Age pianist before he joins in with a delicate flute line. Armacost’s big moment is his unaccompanied solo late in the melodic “Animated,” after which Bailey makes the argument that his old boss Ray Charles represented a valid strain of big-band jazz in “Quiet Time” and “My Blues.” Whether or not that’s true, the Brooklyn Big Band fully delivers on its claim to be an evolution of the big-band sound here. true 10609 2010-03-07T13:25:53-05:00 false 25812 true 20 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00

The 17-piece Brooklyn Big Band, formed in 2000, is heavy on saxophone players, starting with its leaders, Craig Bailey (alto and flute) and Tim Armacost (tenor and clarinet). As displayed on this debut recording, Bailey and Armacost’s conception is to explore contemporary possibilities for the big band, in part by reviewing the past. The unsigned liner notes say of the disc’s longest track, “Take the Coltrane,” “This performance encapsulates a lot of what the group is trying to achieve,” which might be summarized as trying to answer the musical question, “What would Duke Ellington and His Orchestra have sounded like if John Coltrane had been their saxophonist in the 1960s?” “Take the Coltrane” is generously credited to Ellington as composer (notwithstanding that “Take the ‘A’ Train” was written by Billy Strayhorn), and while there isn’t much Ellington in it, it does attempt to reinterpret mature Coltrane in a big-band context. But that’s really only one track in a quite varied set. Trombonist Jason Jackson’s “Brazilian Bop” brings in the inevitable Latin tinge prior to “Take the Coltrane,” in what is basically a history lesson that makes up the first section of the disc, following the bravura opener, “Long Haired Girl.” Bailey’s palate-cleansing “East of Enid” inaugurates a mellow midsection for the album, giving David Berkman a chance to make like a New Age pianist before he joins in with a delicate flute line. Armacost’s big moment is his unaccompanied solo late in the melodic “Animated,” after which Bailey makes the argument that his old boss Ray...

2010-03-07T13:36:20-05:00

4 Sheryl Bailey eloquently salutes a fellow guitarist, the late Emily Remler, on #A New Promise#, and, not surprisingly, Wes Montgomery by extension. “East to Wes,” the first of three Remler compositions to surface on the album, finds Bailey fluidly evoking Montgomery’s octaves-gliding touch and Remler’s strong stylistic ties to the guitar legend. The mood is relaxed and groove-rooted, of course—how could a spot-on Remler/Montgomery-inspired performance be otherwise? Yet there’s nothing off-the cuff about the performance or John Wilson’s big-band arrangement. In fact, the unusually colorful treatment is punctuated by a Mike Tomaro-devised guitar, trombone and soprano soli section that mirrors and amplifies Remler’s recorded solo. Suffice it to say that Wilson and Tomaro, who share arranging duties throughout this session, are always mindful of the sort of details that ultimately distinguished an orchestrated collaboration. As for Bailey, whose influences also include the likes of Kenny Burrell and Pat Martino, if she was ever the least bit hesitant about engaging in this big-band enterprise, there’s no sign of it. She sails effortlessly, for example, through “Carenia,” another Remler piece, stringing together single-note lines over samba rhythms, weaving in and out of the harmonies created by brass and reeds with ease and precision. Tomaro, who penned most of the arrangements here, also deftly enhances Bailey’s compositions. They include the album’s haunting, soulfully harmonized title track and the surging postbop romp “Unified Field,” which features guest Hendrik Meurkens on vibes. true 110 2010-03-07T13:27:28-05:00 false 25813 true 20 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00

Sheryl Bailey eloquently salutes a fellow guitarist, the late Emily Remler, on #A New Promise#, and, not surprisingly, Wes Montgomery by extension. “East to Wes,” the first of three Remler compositions to surface on the album, finds Bailey fluidly evoking Montgomery’s octaves-gliding touch and Remler’s strong stylistic ties to the guitar legend. The mood is relaxed and groove-rooted, of course—how could a spot-on Remler/Montgomery-inspired performance be otherwise? Yet there’s nothing off-the cuff about the performance or John Wilson’s big-band arrangement. In fact, the unusually colorful treatment is punctuated by a Mike Tomaro-devised guitar, trombone and soprano soli section that mirrors and amplifies Remler’s recorded solo. Suffice it to say that Wilson and Tomaro, who share arranging duties throughout this session, are always mindful of the sort of details that ultimately distinguished an orchestrated collaboration. As for Bailey, whose influences also include the likes of Kenny Burrell and Pat Martino, if she was ever the least bit hesitant about engaging in this big-band enterprise, there’s no sign of it. She sails effortlessly, for example, through “Carenia,” another Remler piece, stringing together single-note lines over samba rhythms, weaving in and out of the harmonies created by brass and reeds with ease and precision. Tomaro, who penned most of the arrangements here, also deftly enhances Bailey’s compositions. They include the album’s haunting, soulfully harmonized title track and the surging postbop romp “Unified Field,” which features guest Hendrik Meurkens on vibes.

2010-03-07T13:37:15-05:00

4 Since Glenn Cashman has spent much of his career in academia (he is an associate professor of music at Colgate University), it is no surprise that his debut album with the big band he leads in Southern California sounds, from track to track, like a history of postwar jazz. It’s possible to hear Stan Kenton, Sauter-Finegan, Miles Davis with Gil Evans, Thad Jones/Mel Lewis and even some Third Stream here. (“Satellite Twelve” is based on a tone row and dedicated to Cashman’s doctoral advisor, “new music” composer Robert Gibson.) Cashman himself cites Maynard Ferguson’s Birdland Dream Band, however, and although none of the trumpeter/flugelhorn players approaches Ferguson’s stratospheric style, that’s really a telling reference, since, despite being overtly steeped in jazz history, this is a living, breathing jazz band that swings and takes some hot solos. For example, “The Circuit” (which Cashman wrote and previously recorded with the Bill Warfield Big Band) is a slinky number paced by Ed Czach’s Hammond B3 and also boasting some funky guitar work from Ron Escheté (its inspiration is the old Chitlin’ Circuit of African-American clubs and theaters), while “Concerto per Basso Pavimento” gives lots of room to bassist Luther Hughes. In this sense, Glenn Cashman & the Southland Big Band resemble not so much the historic ensembles listed above, but rather a group in which the composer made a point of writing for his individual soloists and giving them space to play; a band such as, say, Duke Ellington’s orchestra. Is there a higher compliment than that comparison? true 10609 2010-03-07T13:31:17-05:00 false 25814 true 20 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00 2010-03-10T09:00:00-05:00

Since Glenn Cashman has spent much of his career in academia (he is an associate professor of music at Colgate University), it is no surprise that his debut album with the big band he leads in Southern California sounds, from track to track, like a history of postwar jazz. It’s possible to hear Stan Kenton, Sauter-Finegan, Miles Davis with Gil Evans, Thad Jones/Mel Lewis and even some Third Stream here. (“Satellite Twelve” is based on a tone row and dedicated to Cashman’s doctoral advisor, “new music” composer Robert Gibson.) Cashman himself cites Maynard Ferguson’s Birdland Dream Band, however, and although none of the trumpeter/flugelhorn players approaches Ferguson’s stratospheric style, that’s really a telling reference, since, despite being overtly steeped in jazz history, this is a living, breathing jazz band that swings and takes some hot solos. For example, “The Circuit” (which Cashman wrote and previously recorded with the Bill Warfield Big Band) is a slinky number paced by Ed Czach’s Hammond B3 and also boasting some funky guitar work from Ron Escheté (its inspiration is the old Chitlin’ Circuit of African-American clubs and theaters), while “Concerto per Basso Pavimento” gives lots of room to bassist Luther Hughes. In this sense, Glenn Cashman & the Southland Big Band resemble not so much the historic ensembles listed above, but rather a group in which the composer made a point of writing for his individual soloists and giving them space to play; a band such as, say, Duke Ellington’s orchestra. Is there a higher compliment than that comparison?

2010-03-07T13:37:33-05:00