It’s somewhat common for an artist to make one or two great albums and then decline or have a short, intense period of creativity which then falls off (Sly Stone). But a sustained output of superb music is much more rare.

Here is a short list of examples. Feel free to add more examples in the comments section.

Elvin Jones’ Blue Note Period

Every album Elvin Jones made for Blue Note was at least very, very good. Some were out and out masterpieces.

Miles Davis, roughly from 1945 to 1973

Miles is probably the king of sustained bursts of creativity, at least if you don’t count Duke Ellington. (I don’t, because I’m most familiar with his early work from the 30s). This period included Miles’ participation in the formation of bebop, cool jazz, the sophisticated jazz of the 2nd great quintet, the birth of fusion, the great quintet of Live At The Fillmore, and the protean Jack Johnson sessions. And I’m not even including his comeback band with John Scofield in the 80s.

John Scofield, 1977-1987

Speaking of Scofield, he could basically do no wrong between ‘77 and ‘87. Yes, I know, he’s made many brilliant albums since (Hand Jive, Quiet, Uberjam), but his post 80s output has been inconsistent.

Aretha Franklin’s Atlantic Years

Practically every time Aretha opened her mouth during those years, gold poured out. Enough said.

John McLaughlin, 1969-1983

With a few exceptions, everything McLaughlin tried worked like a charm. He was absolutely reckless in his innovation. The free-ish jazz of Extrapolation, the proto world music of My Goals Beyond, the hard rock fusion of Mahavishnu, the soul jazz of New York On My Mind, the Indian fusion of Shakti, the French flavored fusion of Belo Horizonte…wow.

McCoy Tyner’s Milestone Period

I know, McCoy was great even before his tenure with Milestone, but he just caught fire with the label. He was consistently brilliant from ‘72 to ‘81.

James Brown, 1959-1974

Good Gawd! Brown was a protean soul stylist, and not content with that, basically invented funk.

The Beatles

They went from being competent rock and rollers and steadily increased in sophistication until their breakup in 1970. I know, it’s only 6 years, but what a 6 years! They changed styles like some people change socks.

John Coltrane

Coltrane’s career as a solo artist only lasted 10 years, but he made every minute count. He started out as a relatively straight forward bebop artist, but rapidly progressed in a number of directions, experimenting with rapidly shifting harmonies (Giant Steps), pulse-oriented jazz (the great quartet), and finally free jazz.

Now, keep in mind I came of age in the 70s, so there are earlier artists, like Ellington, that I probably haven’t given their due. And who knows? I probably left out somebody obvious. But I think it’s hard to argue with the artists I’ve included.

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With apologies to the few folks who use the forum for legitimate purposes, I’m shutting it down, effective immediately.

Also, I am belatedly getting rid of the contests link.

I used to give contests in which I would give away CDs, but since no one participated in these contests, I stopped doing it long ago.

I really should have gotten rid of it of the contest link a long time ago, but I slacked. My apologies to my faithful readers.

As for the Jazz Record Labels link and the Live Jazz Venues link, I simply don’t have the time or inclination to keep these current. It seems to me that providing out of date information is worse than no information at all, so I’m deleting these links.

If readers actually want me to reinstate the Jazz Record Labels link or the Live Jazz Venues link (keeping in mind that these materials won’t be updated), I will be happy to comply.

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For those expecting a rundown of the best B3 dates with a horn section, sorry to disappoint — this blog is still basically dead.

Actually, I’m asking any lingering readers out there to weigh in with their opinions of what the best Hammond B3 organ records are that feature a horn section. To me, there are few sounds more slammin’ than that.

I remember going to a killer Dr. Lonnie Smith date in Cambridge Mass around 30 ago. Just as impressive was his intermission music, which featured a horn section with a B3. I kick myself every time I recall that I didn’t ask Lonnie what that music was.

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Considering how capable Jan Hammer was in so many music genres, it’s ironic that the one he chose to concentrate his energies the most on was his weakest. When Hammer turned his back on formal complexity and tried his hand at a combination of R&B and rock, the results were mediocre at best.

Terrible albums like Black Sheep and Oh, Yeah? tend to cast doubt on Jan Hammer’s talent and significance, but the fact is that Jan Hammer was a protean and unique keyboard stylist. There hasn’t been one similar before or since. His trademark was a rhythmic precision and a composer’s ear for laying down contrary harmonic concepts on top of whatever genre he was filtering through his sensibility at the time. Hammer could do blues, funk, Latin, jazz, and rock authentically, but in his best work, he burrowed deep into the DNA of the music and left his mark.

Take his acoustic piano work on G.G. or What’s Up – That’s It for example, both post bop tunes recorded with Elvin Jones in the late 60s, right after Jan Hammer arrived in the United States from his native Czeckoslavakia. On G.G., he alternates between swift arpeggiations that outline the harmony and extremely deliberate and deceptively simple melodies. He sounds like no one else. On What’s Up – That’s It, he startles us with a completely authentic Latin ostinato. On the solo, again, there are the deliberate, simple melodies that unexpectedly migrate into altered harmony. Listen to the comping behind his melodies, and how completely it contrasts with the melody.

Hammer continued to exhibit these characteristics in an electric context with the Mahavishnu Orchestra and his little heard work with flautist Jeremy Steig and reed player Steve Grossman, but probably the most complete flowering of his aesthetic can be heard on his solo masterpiece, The First Seven Days, which is mostly scored for various keyboards, augmented with percussion and violin. It’s here that his composing and arranging sensibility can be discerned most clearly.

Taking nothing away from Jan Hammer’s work with Jeff Beck on the classic fusion album Wired, probably the best setting for Hammer as an instrumentalist was on Elvin Jones’ On The Mountain. Really, it’s an Elvin Jones date only in name. All of the tunes were written either by Hammer or the bassist, Gene Perla. Hammer’s playing on this set has all of his virtues: sensitivity, far reaching harmonic knowledge, originality, and ferocity.

Jan Hammer was only a serious musician for maybe ten years before he devoted himself to more egalitarian pursuits, finally trailing off into silence, but it would be a mistake to underestimate his contribution to jazz. He would have no imitators, and next to no influence on musicians of future generations, but when you combine his early solo albums with his contributions as a sideman, you’re left with an estimable body of work.

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JAZZBO NOTES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED RECORDING

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars


Alright, a little disclosure here. I’m not a big fan of either Milt Jackson or Wes Montgomery (I know — total heresy). So you might want to take my opinion of Bags Meets Wes with grain of salt.

I actually think it’s really good.

First off, it’s a straight bebop date, which I generally find boring (Yeah, I know — I’m just digging myself deeper with each sentence), but that isn’t the case with Bags Meets Wes. Why?

Well, on many, many bebop dates, the cats just blow over the changes, seemingly without a whole lot of thought. Just alot of empty scale running. That’s not the case here.

Jackson and Montgomery make sure they have something to say before they play. Each of their solos is melodic and well constructed.

The rhythm section behind them is better than usual, too. I’ve always admired pianist Wynton Kelly. He’s the epitome of grace and taste. Drummer Philly Joe Jones gooses the music along aggressively, giving it an energy it otherwise might not have. Bassist Sam Jones isn’t a thumper, as many bassists were during the early sixties. Bassists could often get away with playing nonsense as long as they kept the rhythm because they were under recorded. Jones is far enough up front in the mix that you can tell what he’s doing, and his lines are classic, plus he swings.

Who knows, if I really liked bebop, maybe I would give Bags Meets Wes a full five stars, but frankly, I find the material a tad dull. Played perfectly, mind you, but dull. But that’s just me.

If you’re a straight up bop fan, I’d get this if I were you. Even if you aren’t, I still recommend Bags Meets Wes.

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WORTH A LISTEN

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars


I was pretty excited when I picked up The New Standard. I mean, talk about a dream team: Herbie Hancock, Michael Brecker, John Scofield, Dave Holland, Jack DeJohnette, and Don Alias. It doesn’t get any better than that.

The challenge in a date like The New Standard comes in taking a batch of modern pop tunes and making them work as post bop. First of all, you’ve got to pick tunes that are sturdy enough for jazz improvisation. Second of all, you’ve got to find ways to translate pop tunes into the jazz idiom. The band has mixed success in both areas.

Before I sat down to review The New Standard, I hadn’t heard many of these tunes, so I checked out the tiny samples that are available at Amazon.com.

From what I can tell, Don Henley’s New York Minute is a lugubrious, synth infused slog. Hancock and the band take the tempo way up, finding ways to emphasize the dissonance implicit in the composition. The band emphasizes jagged rhythms during the verses, breaking into swing time on the chorus. The band’s sound is as terrific as you would expect. Of course, the rhythm team of Dave Holland, Jack DeJohnette and Don Alias is unbeatable. Their grooves kill. Herbie Hancock sparkles on piano in a way that he hasn’t since the 70s. Scofield, too is red hot. It’s great to see him in a post bop mode, concentrating on the notes instead of on tone and effects. Brecker is predictably fine on tenor. The band’s rendition of New York Minute shows that the basic concept of The New Standard could work.

Prince’s Thieves In The Temple is also successful. Hancock has simplified Prince’s original into an R&B groove tune, which works beautifully for the group. It’s the equivalent of someone like Jimmy Smith covering a Marvin Gaye tune back in the 70s.

Regrettably, these are the only unqualified successes. Let’s face it — Kurt Cobain’s All Apologies is a weak tune, redeemed mostly by Kurt’s performance, and given additional emotional heft by the circumstances under which it came out. Hancock’s arrangement doesn’t help matters. Scofield’s guitar sounds whiny. The whole thing sounds sing-songy, which is kind of hard to avoid because All Apologies is a sing-songy composition, not one of Kurt’s best.

Several of the tunes end up sounding like smooth jazz, which is hard to avoid, considering how bland the originals are.

I question the wisdom of including tunes like Sade’s Love Is Stronger Than Pride, Babyface’s When Can I See You, or even Stevie Wonder’s You’ve Got It Bad, Girl.

I just came from a Realistic Orchestra concert in which they covered Stevie Wonder’s Visions and Contusion, both much better choices for jazz covers. It’s almost like Herbie Hancock deliberately chose songs that were resistant to being covered in a jazz context, as if the performing capabilities of the musicians were infinitely more important than the compositions themselves.

If that was Hancock’s intent, I think it was misguided. Certainly, the band Herbie got together for this date is killer, and even the lamest of these songs has moments when the playing of the musicians overcomes the limitations of the material, but as a whole, The New Standard falls short of it’s potential.

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JAZZBO NOTES ESSENTIAL RECORDING

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars


Double Edge was to be David Liebman and Richie Beirach’s last great duet performance together, meaning that it has their characteristic combination of uncommon lyricism and intense swing. After this, as a duo, they leaned too far into 20th Century classical music harmony for me, at the expense of communication.

If you’re going to do a program of standards, especially if they are as familiar as Lover Man, On Green Dolphin Street, and Round Midnight, you’d better have a unique take on the material. And Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach do. On all of these standards, the duo alters the harmony, sometimes subtly, sometimes fairly outrageously. Mostly, their alterations take the material to a darker, harsher, more edgy place.

India starts with some atmospherics from pianist Richie Beirach, playing the strings inside the piano. When we get the melody, Liebman harps on the augmented 4th. I think maybe they were thinking of Calcutta when they were playing this.

Similarly, Round Midnight has a ghostly air, like the duo are imagining an all but abandoned street with only a few streetwalkers and a mangy cat.

Even when the duo plays pretty, like on the medley of Lover Man and Some Other Time, they still play around with harmony and instrumental effects.

Best of all is the duo’s take on Oleo, that venerable warhorse. If you didn’t know it was Oleo, you wouldn’t be able to tell until the last couple of choruses. The duo starts out the tune at a full gallop, distorting it beyond all recognition, swinging like mad. This is the most violent rendition of this tune I’ve ever heard. It’s brilliant.

But really, Double Edge as a whole is brilliant. I can’t think of a piano/reeds date that’s even close to as good, other that Dave Liebman and Richie Beirach’s earlier dates, Forgotten Fantasies and Omerta.

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WORTH A LISTEN

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars


There can never be too many recordings from the early 70s featuring keyboardist Jan Hammer. At the time, Hammer was simply on fire. On John Abercrombie’s Timeless, he’s featured on organ, synthesizer and piano. Too bad he had to be playing with guitarist John Abercrombie. I’m sorry, but no way is Abercrombie qualified to trade fours with Hammer. Abercrombie’s intonation is sloppy as heck. He misses the notes he’s aiming for half of the time. His note choices aren’t very interesting. He can’t even stay in rhythm.

Check out the fierce and uptempo Lungs. Abercrombie’s solos are embarassing. He’s the weakest link on his own date. He should be relegated to playing color, like he is on Dave Liebman’s Lookout Farm.

On the other hand, Jack DeJohnette is one of the great drummers, which helps to give Timeless some badly needed drive and swing.

Why on earth did Abercrombie want Jan Hammer to play on this date? Didn’t Abercrombie realize that Hammer’s hair-trigger accuracy would make Abercrombie look like a fool? Apparently not.

Thanks to Hammer and DeJohnette, Timeless has a pretty nifty sound. Listen to Hammer’s gorgeous acoustic piano on Ralph’s Piano Waltz. Too bad so much of Timeless is dominated by wanky guitar solos.

If you want to hear Hammer better showcased in a trio setting, check out Elvin Jones’ On The Mountain, which is absolutely killer.

For Jan Hammer fanatics, Timeless is worth owning. For everyone else, don’t bother.

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JAZZBO NOTES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED RECORDING

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars


I’ve got to admit, I’ve been sleeping on Terence Blanchard. I had the impression that he was a traditionalist in the Wynton Marsalis mode. Guess not.

Flow Part 1, starts out with a tasty groove, courtesy of Derrick Hodge on acoustic bass and drummer Kendrick Scott. Blanchard’s head plays around the implied tonal center and you can’t really tend when his improv begins. I’m not sure whether it was producer Herbie Hancock’s influence or not, but there are some electronics on this track and some guitar from African musician Lionel Loueke. On part 2 of Flow, Loueke feeds his guitar through electronics for some nifty effects.

Things get even more adventurous on Wadagbe, with chants, percussion, African grooves, and a doubled bass and guitar ostinato. When Blanchard starts the melody, guitarist Lionel Loueke sometimes doubles it and sometimes plays accompanying arpeggios. Saxophonist Brice Winston also enriches the head. At some point, pianist Aaron Parks joins in. When Winston takes a solo, it’s fierce but also respects the compositional structure Lionel Loueke has put in place. He’s not just blowing, he’s trying to be part of the total effect. Lionel Loueke is a real find. He plays beautiful, totally original post bop lines on guitar, singing along with them. He also comps part of his solo, and his voicings are gorgeous and unusual.

At this point, I’ve got to admit, I’ve never heard of these people. Good for Terence Blanchard. On the one hand, he’s giving young people a chance to get themselves known. At the same time, he isn’t compromising on talent or ability one whit. These kids smoke.

Blanchard himself is impressive in his note choices. He can also riff with the best of them. Occasionally, he has the tendency to bluster or bully, but that’s the worst I can say about him.

Finally, we get a fairly conventional jazz tune. I fully expected it to be written by Blanchard, but actually it was composed by Lionel Loueke, who also wrote Wadagbe! Still, with the busy bassline, and the acoustic guitar of Loueke, it still has plenty of interest. Aaron Parks gets a chance to shine on piano and he proves himself to be thoughtful and lyrical in his approach.

Blanchard’s Wandering Wonder is even more explicitly post bop in conception, but there is plenty to hold one’s interest. It has a bewilderingly complex structure, with thickets of gnarly grooves and harmonies to hack through. Pianist Aaron Parks has a pointillistic solo that echoes some of the stylistic devices in the piece.

With Kendrick Scott’s The Source, we get a ballad with balls. As befits a drummer’s composition, there’s plenty of rhythmic interest, but it’s also harmonically rich, with some pretty melodic fragments. It’s mysterious and evocative and never once sappy. Of course, a lot of that is due to the sharp performances of the musicians.

Bassist Derrick Hodge’s Over There is even prettier. It’s almost pop like in the singability of it’s melody, and it has a very nice sense of melancholy. Wisely, the band doesn’t overplay it. In a date full of thorny, blistering ensemble playing, Over There shows that Terence Blanchard and his band can play simply when they want to. Over There is a very emotional piece.

Flow goes through any number of compositional and performance styles. If there’s any commonality, it’s in the intensity of the band’s approach. This is go for broke playing. Amazingly, with a band this young, the performers have the musical maturity to pull it off. I wonder how much producer Herbie Hancock’s coaching had to do with it.

In any event, Flow is very adventurous, first-rate post bop, which incorporates elements from world music, funk, and pop. I don’t even know why I’m not giving it an Essential rating. Flow is well-performed, innovative conceptually, and powerful. Probably I would like it to be even more accessible. That’s kind of a copout, but it’s the best I can do.

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WORTH A LISTEN

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars


Pianist Makoto Ozone can be a problematic musician. On the one hand, he has an unquestioned wealth of musician scholarship and his technique is hard to fault. On the other hand, he can fall prey to cuteness at times. On the other hand, sometimes his ambition exceeds his grasp.

The last time I had listened to Makoto was on Afterward, way back in 1986, and I was not terribly impressed with his work as a leader. So I was curious as to how much he might have improved.

The cuteness and ambition is still in evidence on tunes such as New Child On The Way, in which a simple phrase is played through different chords and at malleable tempos. One can’t deny that the music is well-played, but the conception is irritating and glib.

Again, on Blues of Oz, Makoto comes up with all sorts of cutesy phrases which are more annoying than clever. Dali is a stop and go composition that tries to approximate Dali’s surrealism and fails miserably.

On You’re Not Alone, Makoto indulges his Chopin jones. I’m sorry, but in a jazz context, Makoto’s half-baked classicism comes across as both insipid and overreaching.

In fact, the ballads in general are weak, whether written by Makoto or someone else in the band. The problem is that Makoto falls prey to sentimentality when he’s interpreting ballads. Instead of crying, he simpers.

The uptempo tunes are much better.

I was especially impressed by Makoto’s idiomatically tasteful playing on the Fender Rhodes, which was apparently a new instrument for Makoto, according to his liner notes.

James Genus and Clarence Penn accompany Makoto with incredible sensitivity, which makes sense when you consider that the trio has been playing together for almost six years when Real was recorded. These young musicians also swing like mad and can bring the funk if they want, a challenge which seems to have stimulated Makoto.

I like the bizarre groove at the end of Blue Zone, which drummer Clarence Penn uses to take a crisp and funky solo.

The samba Dance On The Beach could almost be a Chick Corea tune with it’s sprightly, whimsical tone, but thankfully it doesn’t spill over into smarm like Corea can sometimes.

Real ends up being a mixed bag. There’s sparkling musicianship on the uptempo numbers, but the ballads weigh the date down. Makoto’s tendency to write gimmicky heads is a major drawback. Makoto seems to be at his most inspired when reacting to grooves. That makes sense when you have a rhythm section as hot as James Genus and Clarence Penn.

I don’t know what to tell you. You could cut all of the ballads out of Real without missing anything. But if you cut out Makoto’s gimmicky tunes, you’ll miss out on some good playing. Here’s what I would do. Download Central Booking, The Blue Zone, and Dance On The Beach to start with. These tunes are sure winners. Then check out Blues of Oz. If you can deal with Makoto’s affectations as a composer, you might also enjoy Dali. That’s the best I can do.

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