Greg Osby’s music does not offer obvious points of entry. It lacks the appeal of direct emotional exposure and is almost never pretty. His alto saxophone tone has a serrated edge; his lines extend or attenuate to their own logic and lurch into sudden hard turns. But you have to trust Osby and stay with him. Then, on pieces like “Mob Job,” you hear solos become fully realized abstract designs that you have never heard before. Instead of prettiness, he sometimes delivers austere beauty.
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