Jazz CD: Krantz Carlock Lefebvre

Krantz Carlock Lefebvre (Abstract Logix)

By Casey Dolan

Wayne Krantz, Keith Carlock and Tim Lefebvre have thrown down the gauntlet with their new album, Krantz Carlock Lefebvre, (Abstract Logix, Aug. 18), showering the listener with swaths of tone, color and dynamics. This is a remarkable release that sets the barre for all current guitarists, bassists and drummers.

As the first full album recording for the trio since 2003’s Your Basic Live and Krantz’ first studio album in 16 years, it bears significance. All three musicians have proven themselves as young turks of the post-fusion jazz world since the early ‘90s – Krantz with Steely Dan and his several solo albums, Carlock also with Steely Dan and Sting and Lefebvre with Chris Botti — but the new album takes in more influences than what is normally perceived as jazz: from drums ‘n’ bass to nu metal; from open-stringed folk modalities to hard-edged funk; from jam band excursions to pop.

It is not, however, a three-ring circus of pastiche, but consistent throughout; it sounds like the work of a trio guided by one vision. It may not be the Wayne Krantz Trio, but it is to Krantz we must look for the album’s overall design and concept. They are his tunes and the music fits into an important chapter in his musical development.

Wayne Krantz made a commitment over a decade ago to issue live recordings, chiefly on his website, that made up in the spontaneity of performance what they lacked in audio quality. It was perhaps an impetuous reaction to his first two studio albums – Signals (1991) and Long to be Loose (1993) – the debut heralding a player of uncommon speed, dexterity and imagination with a post-bop background deeply influenced by Pat Metheny. Much of that was jettisoned by album number two (try to find a bop phrase on …Loose) and by the live third, 2 Drink Minimum (1995), it was clear that Krantz was determined to work without a net and let the music simply happen (although most of the tunes were tightly structured).

As time went on, Krantz became more entrenched in an ideology of improvisation. Interviews revealed a man determined to work from clean slates and his guitar manual, An Improviser’s OS, (2005) codifies what possibilities exist from any given sequence of notes, or “formulas.” If it was not for a weekly gig at New York’s 55 Bar and the occasional tour with Steely Dan and Donald Fagen, Wayne Krantz would have disappeared from sight except to a small group of players and music academics.

Sometimes his explorations worked; sometimes they didn’t. He would say that is part of the deal, you take your chances. By 1999’s Greenwich Mean, gorgeous jewel-like prayers or ferocious Hendrixian workouts would be followed by baffling, serpentine, seemingly aimless noodlings or, even worse, the hint of an undeveloped great idea. However, something else took form – this trio involving Keith Carlock and bassist Tim Lefebvre – that and a pronounced harder, louder edge to the sound. In short, Krantz rocked and the band, abetted by Carlock’s rolling thunder and Lefebvre’s uncanny ability to listen to his colleagues and play off them, became an almost-legendary powerhouse in New York’s live music circles. It was the classic definition of a power trio, much like Hendrix’ Experience, Cream or Tony Williams’ original Lifetime.

Rock had always been part of the Krantz palette. Screaming bluesy lines on 2 Drink Minimum would not have been amiss on a Jeff Beck album, but, in the late ‘90s, Krantz started adding effects – octave dividers, nasty overdrives, wah-wah and, most importantly, the ring modulator, causing the guitar to sound like an out-of-control microphonic ringtone…all part of the new musical landscape.

Krantz Carlock Lefebvre is both a summation of what has gone on before and the gateway to yet another bold new sound. There is increased accessibility: more structure than before – some might even call it “pop” structure — with verses, choruses and bridges. Only two tunes exceed six minutes and repeated, hummable phrases abound. Somehow, Wayne Krantz has found a way of putting his improvisation agenda into an almost-pop context.

The album begins with the declaration that “It’s No Fun Not to Like Pop” and swings mightily, but the video for the Prince-like funky tune could be one of Krantz’ few missteps. Every era has heard the implicit criticism that current music stinks (The Byrds’ “So You Wanna Be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star” comes to mind as a critical perspective on the commercial packaging of pop and Frank Zappa made it a crucial theme in his career). True as it may be, the video, featuring a dissatisfied listener of new CDs, emphasizes its snobbish and snarky stance. Happily, though, the playing is a counterbalance to the sentiment and a portentous door of entry. Behold the mighty Carlock circus kick drum sound! Marvel at the playful syncopations in the phrasing (Krantz has a knack of beginning and ending phrases on off-beats; part of his bop training). Lefebvre is more felt than heard on this opening track, unfortunately, but that is not the norm for the album. Krantz sings the title several times (his only previous recorded vocal outing, to this writer’s knowledge, is on the album he shared with Leni Stern: 1996’s Separate Cages). No other lyric is required. Also making an early appearance is a descending scale. Simple, diatonic descending scales pop up with enough frequency on the album that they could even be regarded as a recurring motif.

“War-Torn Johnny” challenges the very notion of what is rock or jazz with a churning rhythm pattern evolving into a chorused Andy Summers-like head. Krantz has an opportunity to employ his quiver of sounds, most particularly the ring modulator. Carlock’s drumming has an almost African feel and timbre, another subliminal theme or subtext in the album, invoking talking drums and Moroccan hand drums. The interface between the mechanical (the ring modulator) and the real (Mr. Carlock, himself, surrounded by “skins”) becomes blurred.

The haunting “Rushdie” will recall guitarists Pat Metheny or Richard Thompson, but is wholly Krantz. It is one of the masterworks on the record with extraordinary performances by all. The second section of the tune features yet another descending scale with Lefebvre doubling Krantz over Carlock’s hybrid of swamp and military press rolls. A bridging section with Krantz on acoustic and Lefebvre, both soloing against each other, leads to an overpowering shattering electric section with Carlock unleashed playing 16ths then back to the main theme with a slight coda. The whole track is 3:59, but it’s all in there. All of it.

“Wine is the Thread” has a pleasant double-tracked vocal by Krantz and more shadowing of Krantz by Lefebvre. Lefebvre has his job cut out for him, locking in with Carlock or doubling Krantz’ impossibly syncopated lines. The melody goes into whole-tone territory, taking it out of the tonality and there’s a nasty treble overdrive lead which neatly plays against the A section.

The next track, the languidly magisterial “The Earth from Above,” is an essential distillation of everything important about the record. More echoes of vintage Richard Thompson with those open-stringed chords (or is he playing in a tuning?), sounding like something from the drone-y era of Thompson’s “Pour Down like Silver.” The descending scale is heard once more. Kudos must go to an understated Carlock. It’s not easy playing at a tempo this slow and the counterpoint between Lefebvre and Krantz is uncanny.

But, then in surprising fashion, we are woken from our dream state and thrown into the drums ‘n’ bass world of “Left it on the Playground,” sounding ever so much like a bang-your-head track from Squarepusher or Aphex Twin, with Carlock playing for real what those artists would have programmed. Krantz’ ring modulator work is extreme, sounding like a mad gamelan, with Lefebvre playing post-bop lines underneath. For all the notes, all the wonderful ring modulator space-age acid kitsch, this is really Carlock’s show. He alternates patterns at breakneck speed while never losing the funk, and delivers an inhumanly great performance for the books. If there is any criticism to be made, it might be that the track, the longest on the record at 8:59, goes on a bit and would not have suffered if it had been trimmed by a minute or so.

“Jeff Beck” follows, written for the man himself who elected not to perform it. Perhaps that is not surprising considering that it is difficult to assess what, beyond a few bluesy phrases, actually constitutes the song. It seems thin and lacks an emotional center, but Krantz and Lefebvre both shine with tight, funky playing.

There is no thinness at all with the manic, punk, noisy, adrenalized “I Was Like” which has so much going at once that your neighbors might think, during the solo section, that you are playing some industrial noise record. There’s a kind of hysterical busyness here that exhilarates, much like finding yourself in the middle of a riot. It features a frantic, almost out-of-breath Krantz vocal, not double-tracked, and is intended to be played loud.

“Mosley” (yet another song with a writer’s name) has a dirty, swampy groove that works as a soundtrack to Walter Mosley’s smog noir novels. Krantz gets an amazing overdriven wah-wah sound and when Lefebvre kicks in to the second section, the tune glides along on the bouncy shocks of a Roadmaster.

“Holy Joe” takes us back into manic land with the ring modulator with both Lefebvre and Carlock providing punchy accents. The tune ascends into a punk metal place, counterbalanced by an acoustic deftly placed in the mix.

But peace eventually comes to all: The album ends with “Rugged Individual,” another tune that seems to encompass everything right about the band and this album. Krantz’ Tyler is viscous, gliding through the opening contemplative theme, with a B section resolving into a bridge that has Krantz chording beautifully on the 1 and the 3. After an extended break with very subtle wah-wah, the bridge is repeated at the end, with Carlock playing so extraordinarily underneath (it’s basically a drum solo), that this listener could have heard an entire album of nothing but that section repeated endlessly.

Wayne Krantz continues to evolve. In some ways, he has come full circle back to the tight statements of “Signals,” but informed with even more confidence and the considerably freer playing and sonic expansion of the last ten years. With Krantz Carlock Lefebvre, he is affecting the kind of sea change that will be talked about by guitarists for years to come, much in the same way that John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra’s “Inner Mounting Flame” affected an earlier generation of guitarists.

I cannot recommend a CD more highly.

Jazz CDs: Jessy J and Paul Taylor

By Devon Wendell

Jessy J

True Love (Peak Records)

Jessy J is a refreshing and sexy force in the world of smooth jazz. Her sophomore CD, True Love, produced by Paul Brown, is low key, sweet and atmospheric, combining her Latin roots with her stylish vocals and lush, sultry tenor saxophone playing.

“Tropical Rain,” which features J’s tenor and flute backed by Tito Puente-like Latin percussion, is delivered with a strong sense of space and a warm tone recalling the minor key romanticism of Gato Barbieri’s Last Tango In Paris soundtrack. Gregg Karakus’ atmospheric keyboard work is particularly fine and immediately establishes the mood.

Continuing the Latin theme “Manha de Carnaval” (Morning of the Carnaval), from the film Black Orpheus, is an overtly modern take on the Luiz Bonfa classic soundtrack, with a playful yet strong vocal by J. “Somewhere In My Dreams” has a melancholy Brazilian mood, and the title track, “True Love,” adds a different Latin element via Brown’s soft, flamenco guitar, opening the way for J’s melancholy solos and modern groove hooks.

“Llegaste Tu,” however, is the weakest track on the record. J lays off her reeds and instead dishes out overly produced vocals backed by acoustic guitar work from Tom Strahle that is buried too far in the mix. “Brazilian Dance,” too, seems unnecessary. Sergio Aranda’s cloying, reverb-laden vocals get in the way of J’s soprano leads in places, and the piece cries for more percussion.

“Forever,” a gentle, r&b influenced ballad with stellar Spanish acoustic guitar work by Tommy Kay, is more appealing. J plays with confidence and dynamics, bringing her vocalist-like phrasing down to a soft, appealing hush. On “Mr. Prince,” an ode to the artist who formerly referred to himself, she adds some confident funk turns, her tenor phrasing reminiscent of Maceo Parker’s masterfully swinging, yet soft, alto punches. “Jessy’s Blues,” with its syncopated keyboard and sax lines and loose Latin groove, displays J’s most fiery solo work, swinging hard with her own bluesy sensibilities and rich tone. And “Baila” with its large, textural rhythm arrangements and steady percussion, is J’s strongest vocal performance because of its simplicity and purity. As the title suggests, it is also the album’s most fun and danceable track.

In their finest moments, Jessy J’s playing and singing are as seductive and alluring as her physical appearance. On True Love she has produced a spirited and adventurous genre-crossing album, filled with tunes accessible to a wide range of music tastes.

Paul Taylor

Burnin’ (Peak Records)

Breathing life and putting an energetic spin into what has been designated as “Smooth Jazz” is no easy task, but saxophonist Paul Taylor’s new CD Burnin’ is a devoted look back in time, combining retro, soul, and funk-flavored modern jazz hooks. His eighth solo recording, it showcases Taylor’s abilities on tenor saxophone — surprising because he is most commonly known for his alto and soprano work.

The unique presence of veteran r & b producer Barry Eastmond (Anita Baker, Al Jarreau, Gerald Albright, and Peabo Bryson, to name a few) — his fourth collaboration with Taylor — can be felt throughout the album’s many retro references.

The opening track “Back In The Day,” for example, has a soulful, mid-70’s Stevie Wonder feel, with subtle vocal coloring by Billy Cliff and more modern hip-hip influenced drum grooves by Michael White. “Revival” and “Groove Shack” instantly bring to mind Sly and The Family Stone’s post-Stand funk, with tight, in-the-pocket rhythm and some complimentary sax harmonies from Gary Meek.

Sustaining the old school retro theme, “Remember The Love” is a slow, sensual, Prince-like ballad featuring Darrell Crooks’ delightfully distorted/psychedelic guitar. His call and response to Taylor’s upper register tenor playing makes this one of the album’s highlights. The title track, “Burnin’,” brings to mind the 80’s sleek R&B jazz soul of Quincy Jones, and Herbie Hancock’s more commercial recordings of the same era. Eastmond’s stellar clavinet and Rhodes playing drive the Isaac Hayes “Hot Buttered,” soulful feeling of “It’s Like That.” And the album closes with “So Fine,” recalling Eastmond’s lavish, upbeat production work with Al Jarreau.

Taylor’s playing seems intent on sticking to very distinct, lead singer-style choruses and verses in a no-frills fashion, avoiding fast scales and flashy technique. A good enough idea when it works (check out “Juke Joint”). When it doesn’t — as in “Side Pocket,” and War’s “Me and Baby Brother” — the tracks feel watered down, as though they’re asking for a little more energy.

At its best, Burnin’, though occasionally lacking excitement and originality, is an entertaining, nostalgic journey through the heart of relaxed, jazzy R&B. Like his contemporaries Gordon Goodwin and Boney James, Paul Taylor doesn’t try to adventure beyond his musical limits and plays what he knows and loves with fun, soul, and enthusiasm.

Jazz CDs: Canaries of August — Tessa Souter, Gretchen Parlato, Willie Nelson, Greta Matassa, Judy Carmichael

By Don Heckman

Tessa Souter

Obsession (Motema)

There are some jazz singers who tell stories, some who become virtual instruments, some who transform songs into expressions of their own pain. Tessa Souter does all that — and more, from time to time — in her quest to inhabit a song, to give it a life of her own fashioning. And “Obsession” is a gripping display of her ability to do it all with a startlingly far-reaching collection of material.

Her spirited versions, for example, of a pair of Milton Nascimento songs — “”Make This City Ours Tonight” and “Vera Cruz (Empty Faces)” — are showcase items for the warm, caressing sound of her voice, her innate sense of swing and her articulate way with a lyric. Reaching in a very different direction, she tells the story of Lennon & McCartney’s “Eleanor Rigby” with a revelatory quality I’ve never heard before. Then, with Cream’s “White Room” — superbly aided by guitarist Jason Ennis’ epic arrangement — she finds substance in a lightweight tune, her voice soaring freely across a turbulent landscape of shifting rhythmic meters.

Souter’s musical imagining produces an arrangement perfectly pairing Mongo Santamaria’s “Afro-Blue” and Wayne Shorter’s “Footprints” and adds her own tender lyrics to Freddie Hubbard’s “Little Sunflower.” She also includes a pair of her own originals — the torch song regrets of “Now and Then” and the incantatory “Usha’s Wedding” — and a dramatic, rubato reading of Alex North’s “Love Theme From Spartacus.”

It’s a remarkable program, as entertaining as it is illuminating, the work of an artist with the talent and the imagination to match her compelling musical visions.

Tessa Souter performs in Los Angeles at Catalina Bar & Grill on Tues. and Wed., Sept. 1 & 2.

Gretchen Parlato

In A Dream (ObliqSound)

There’s an enigmatic quality to Gretchen Parlato’s singing, a mysterious brew of sound and breath, of simmering inner rhythms and phrasing that curls seductively around the words. It seems to me that it’s a quality that was slowly beginning to surface in her earliest work, even while she was still a student at USC’s Thelonious Monk Institute. But it’s never been more apparent than it is in this mesmerizing, appropriately titled new recording.

The first track, Stevie Wonder’s “I Can’t Help It,” immediately announces that the album is going be an extraordinary musical experience. Sung with the sole accompaniment of Lionel Loueke’s body-moving guitar lines, Parlato’s hand claps and clicking sounds, the tune roves from the song itself across individual and collective improvising. And that musical intimacy between Parlato and Loueke continues to be a foundation of many of the songs: their rhythmically layered vocal interaction in Herbie Hancock’s “Butterfly”; the blending of their voices in the body percussion-and-vocal version of Dorival Caymmi’s “Doralice”; their floating harmonies in Duke Ellington’s “Azure”; the back and forth vocal dueting, spiced with accents from Loueke’s guitar and Aaron Parks’ keyboards in Francis Jacob’s delightful “On the Other Side.”

There’s more, much more: a pair of tunes with Parlato lyrics (the title track, “In A Dream” and “Turning Into Blue”; wordless vocal explorations with her quartet (Loueke, Parks, bassist Derrick Hodge and drummer Kendrick Scott) on Wayne Shorter’s “E.S.P.”; and an album-wrapping, darkly intense version of SWV’s #1 r&b hit, “Weak.”

Parlato has been blessed with extraordinary talents — an unerring sense of pitch, utterly relaxed rhythmic clarity, an open ear for harmony. Other singers have similar abilities. But what makes Parlato so unique is the imaginative way in which she uses those skills to rove deeply within the instrumental sounds, while still retaining her presence as the vocal center of the music.

So here’s an announcement to the members of the Recording Academy and the Grammy nominating committees: “In A Dream” belongs in the four or five Grammy nominations for Best Jazz Vocal Album (and maybe more than that). Omit it and your credibility — already subject to question — goes out the window.

Gretchen Parlato performs in Los Angeles at Catalina Bar & Grill on Mon. Sept. 21.

Willie Nelson

American Classic (Blue Note)

Willie Nelson’s previous foray into the Great American Songbook -- Stardust – was released in 1978 But this new collection is very different from the vaguely country qualities of Stardust. It is, for the most part, a completely characteristic, lushly atmospheric Tommy LiPuma production of the sort that he’s done for the last decade or so with Diana Krall. But it’s at its best when LiPuma occasionally spices it with country. rhythms and timbres. (Krall guests on one of the tracks — “If I Had You” and contributes some piano stylings, as well. Norah Jones duets with Nelson on “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”)

Nelson’s familiar, raspy sound and spoken-style phrasing are the essence of a country poet vocal technique that has made him one of popular music’s most engaging personas. And, in this outing, he is most effective with songs that allow him to work his narratives and tell his stories, rather than with material that demands soaring vocal musicality. His versions of “Come Rain or Come Shine,” “I Miss You So,” “You Were Always On My Mind” (a song he owns) and, curiously, a reading of “On the Street Where You Live” that shimmers with an undercurrent of western Swing, are delightful displays of the singing poet in action.

Willie Nelson will be touring the U.S. in Sept. and Oct.

Greta Matassa

I Wanna Be Loved (Resonance Records)

Greta Matassa’s career has been plagued by reviews identifying her residence in Seattle as the reason why her impressive jazz vocal skills have had such minimal visibility. I’ve been guilty of it, myself, in coverage of both live and recorded Matassa performances. But, redundant as it may seem, it is nonetheless a shame that, after eight albums she’s still hasn’t had the attention she deserves. Will this album make the difference? Based solely on Matassa’s singing and her fine choice of repertoire, it should.

The problem is that the album has been conceptualized with Matassa’s singing as the central element in a busy surrounding of far too many instrumental solos, busy ensemble textures and thick strings. Well done though they may be, the net effect is to draw attention away from some extraordinary vocal performances. On the title track, for example, Matassa sings superbly in a gently swinging segment in which she’s backed only by bass; but the tune then comes apart with the arrival of a fiery tenor saxophone solo that, for all its rapid articulation, is unrelated from the meaning of the tune. On the Henry Mancini classic, “Two For the Road,” a dense forest of strings distracts from Matassa’s tender reading of Leslie Bricusse’s evocative lyrics.

All that said, the richly varied timbres of Matassa’s voice, her far-roving interpretations and her gifts for story telling through song are fully present in every track. Viewed from the perspective of those qualities alone, this is an album that should be heard — far beyond Seattle.

Greta Matassa performs frequently at Tula’s Jazz Restaurant in Seattle.

Judy Carmichael

Come and Get It (C & D Productions)

Judy Carmichael’s performances have always been among the jazz world’s most entertaining events. With every tune driven by the rhythmic engine of her stride style, enhanced by the always-adept, straight ahead players in her bands, it’s almost impossible to resist the foot-tapping seduction of one classic tune after another. As if all that wasn’t enough, she now has added vocals to her musical arsenal in this new recording. And it’s a good move. Phrasing like the improvising musician she is, Carmichael also has a sound — especially in the slower tunes — reminiscent of the throaty tones of Peggy Lee.

The result is a collection of irresistible tunes backed by the Judy Carmichael seven — an ensemble she describes as her “long held dream of having a big band.” Are some of the styles dated? Sure. But anyone who thinks in those terms doesn’t appreciate the full value of jazz — from ragtime to avant-garde — as a living art. Carmichael knows better, and her singing, her playing, her wit and her humor on pieces such as “All the Cats,” “Memories of You,” “Gee, Baby,” “You’re Driving Me Crazy,” “Minor Drag,” the title track and more, reach beyond labels and into the timeless heart of the music.

Judy Carmichael performs in New York City at Feinstein’s at the Regency on Mon. Aug. 31.

CD – Jazz Review: Bebo and Chucho Valdes

Bebo Valdés / Chucho Valdés

“Juntos Para Siempre” (Sony Music Latin- Calle 54 Records)

By Fernando Gonzalez

For years, when his name was mentioned at all, Ramon “Bebo” Valdés was merely a footnote in popular music history: the father of Cuban pianist, composer, and arranger Jesús “Chucho” Valdés, a solo artist and director of the Afro-Cuban jazz fusion group Irakere. But, as time revealed, Valdés Sr. was himself an exceptional artist with a remarkable story.

As the house pianist, bandleader and music consultant at Havana’s fabled Tropicana nightclub at an era many consider the Golden Age of Cuban music, Bebo Valdés wrote arrangements for such top Cuban singers and entertainers as Beny Moré, Pio Leyva, Rita Montaner and Rolando La Serie. He accompanied visiting stars like Nat “King” Cole (for whom he wrote the orchestrations for his Cole Español album); composed for films, and had his own commercial hits. In 1952, he led an all-star session for producer Norman Granz that captured — for the first time on record — a descarga, or Cuban jam session.

In 1959 Bebo Valdés formed the fabled Sabor de Cuba orchestra, featuring singer Rolando La Serie. But then came the Revolution, and Valdés found himself “chased” (as he once put it), from job to job. So with the tapes of two freshly recorded sessions of his band under his arm as his savings, he left for Mexico. He stayed there for 18 months, then moved to Spain, and worked in Europe until, while on a tour in Sweden, he fell in love with an 18-year old local beauty and decided to marry, settle down, and raise a family. He remained active, but in time, his family´s needs prevailed over the demands of a music career and he accepted jobs as a lounge pianist on cruise ships and, later, in Stockholm hotels. In 1990, he retired.

It was Cuban saxophonist/clarinetist Paquito D’Rivera – who remembers being a kid in short pants when he first met Bebo — who called Valdés in 1994, trying to entice him back to the piano and into the recording studio. The resulting Bebo Rides Again (Messidor, reissued by Pimienta, 2004) featured eight new original pieces written and arranged by Valdés, reportedly in a mere 36 hours. When Bebo Rides Again unexpectedly won a Grammy, it launched a new chapter in his career.  Since then, Bebo Valdés, now 90, has won another Grammy and five Latin Grammys.

Jesus Dionisio “Chucho” Valdés, 67, is Bebo´s son from his first family. Since exploding on to the jazz scene in the late 70s as the leader, pianist and main composer and arranger of Irakere, Chucho has developed a very active, and very successful, solo career. He is widely respected as one of the premier jazz pianists in world.

But Chucho lives in Havana, and Bebo has sworn to not return to Cuba as long as Fidel Castro´s regime remains in power. As a result, father and son did not see each other for many years. They finally met again backstage at Carnegie Hall, in New York City, in 1978. Chucho was appearing with Irakere and Bebo flew in from Stockholm for the occasion. But even after the senior Valdés became active again in music, and the opportunities for father and son to meet outside Cuba improved, bridging family history, years and distance, took some time.

Chucho, Bebo and Chucho's daughter, Leyanis, at the Son Latinos Canarias Festival in Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain, 2003

Eventually, they did begin to play together — a joint performance on D´Rivera´s Cuba Jazz 90 Miles from Cuba, in 1995; a tantalizing duet in the Latin jazz film Calle 54 (2000) by Spanish Oscar winning filmmaker Fernando Trueba, and live appearances such as the one at the Son Latinos Canarias Festival in Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain, in 2003. Whatever distance and differences may have existed, Bebo and Chucho have grown close in recent years. Theirs has become, as producer Nat Chediak puts it, “a love story.”

Bebo & Chucho: Juntos Para Siempre, their first full recording together, sounds like a natural culmination of their renewed relationship.

As might be expected, given the players and the circumstances, it is a very rich, highly charged session. This is not your off-the-shelf father-and-son get together. Personal history aside, these are both extraordinary artists who are successful in their own right. And while there might have been a lot of love in the air in that studio – and some of it can be heard explicitly in Chucho’s passionate “Preludio para Bebo,” and Bebo’s “A Chucho,” a playful tribute with a gentle danzón sway — these are also two proud musicians who are not about to be topped by anyone, much less while sitting at the piano playing this repertoire.

The set also includes Cuban classics (such as Osvaldo Farre’s “Tres Palabras,” and Miguel Matamoros’ “Son de La Loma,” and “Lágrimas Negras”); jazz standards (“Tea for Two,” “Perdido”); “Rareza del Siglo” (Bebo’s first big hit in the 1940s); and a joint improvisation or “descarga.”

The playing throughout is consistently virtuosic, exuberant, and — reflecting their personalities — often mischievous. (“Tea for Two” gets a playful rope-skipping rhythmic treatment that belies the cleverness of the arrangement) Bebo and Chucho sound solidly supportive of each other in every way, changing roles generously, smoothly and effectively, now playing the lead, improvising long, curling single-note runs, now accompanying discreetly, making room for the other one’s flights of fancy. Listen for example their reading of “Son de la Loma” or the seamless back and forth in “La Gloria ..” and “Lágrimas Negras.”

Also, these are not only top notch players (and Bebo, especially, is a living repository of Cuban popular music tradition), but also astute arrangers, composers and bandleaders. So while their approach to the instrument is highly pianistic – and then lushly, romantically so – in their playing in Juntos Para Siempre they often suggest a small orchestra. Listen to Chucho´s accompaniment behind Bebo’s melody in Jose Antonio Méndez’s “La Gloria Eres Tú,” or the arrangement of Juan Tizol’s “Perdido,” detailed with clever bass lines, counterlines and punchy voicings just waiting for a horn section to show up.

Part family portrait, part piano extravaganza, part music history lesson, Juntos Para Siempre is, most of all, a damn fine good time.

CD – Jazz: The Crimson Jazz Trio

“The King Crimson Songbook Volume 2″ (Inner Knot)

By Fernando Gonzalez

Standards in jazz have become what they are, in part because of their harmonic and melodic possibilities, but also because of the shared language they represent between players and audiences. Only when both are familiar with the music — be it a Cole Porter song, “Someday My Prince Will Come” or “My Favorite Things” – does the dialog between improvisers and listeners (and the understanding of the art and craft of improvisation) truly take place and flourish. And so, for the past 25 years, jazz musicians have been looking to remain in touch with their audiences by updating the repertoire — with various degrees of success. Consider Miles Davis’s remake of Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time,” Herbie Hancock’s take on Kurt Cobain’s “All Apologies,” or more recently, and most notably, the efforts by Brad Mehldau or The Bad Plus.

The Crimson Jazz Trio, on the other hand, is a jazz group specifically created to explore a rock group’s repertoire (the art-rock cult band King Crimson) with a jazz sensibility. It’s an intriguing proposition with some obvious challenges.

Formed in 1969 and still somewhat active, the original King Crimson has been reassembled from time to time, featuring different lineups, by its guitarist, composer, and creative mastermind, Robert Fripp. But even as it changed members and instrumentation over the years, King Crimson consistently informed its music with elements of rock, European classical music and jazz. Still, the changes in the sound of its music over those decades might have given even some brave souls pause — but they didn’t seem to faze the Crimson Jazz Trio.

Led by drummer Ian Wallace, a King Crimson alumnus (1971- 1972, appearing on “Islands”), and featuring Jody Nardone, piano, and Tim Landers, bass, the Crimson Jazz Trio (or CJ3) began by approaching the music not as a tribute project (something Nardone explicitly address in his notes) but rather, as a true re-imagining of the material. The group’s first album, “King Crimson Songbook Volume One” (Voiceprint, 2005), brimmed with an insight, imagination and why-not? attitude usually missing in other rock-to-jazz reinterpretations. And oh yes, by the way, it was a very rewarding jazz record.

Sadly, Wallace died in February 2007, but not before recording a Volume 2. To the Trio’s credit, they took the concept even further. Volume 2 offers a mostly instrumental set (all but one song), drawn from Crimson’s book going back as far back as “The Court of the Crimson King” (1969), and “In The Wake of The Poseidon” (1970) and up to “THRAK” (1995). The CD also includes original contributions, brief solo pieces, by Wallace, Nardone and Landers as part of an “Islands Suite.”

Throughout, the trio manages to convey the elegant design and brilliant neurosis of Crimson’s music, while also offering surprising alternative readings, finding hidden melodies, and blowing up small rhythmic gestures from the originals into fresh grooves.

No doubt, this in part reflects the range and musicianship of Wallace who, in his life after his King Crimson tenure, became a busy studio hand and sideman while holding on to his love of jazz. He sounds at ease and in control here at every turn.

The trio seems to mock the faux majesty of “The Court of the Crimson King” by arranging it instead as a playful, high-energy, Latin-tinged piece — a king’s court set not so much in royal crimson as in a warm Caribbean mango-orange. “Inner Garden” gets a smart rethinking that turns the almost morbid original into a luminous, open-faced ballad. (Extra credit here to pianist Nardone whose voice and delivery sound not just expressive and effective but, well, Crimsonian.) “Frame by Frame,” from “Discipline,” (1981), features another Crimson alumnus, saxophonist Mel Collins, and emerges as a hard swinging post-bop piece. And “Pictures of a City,” from “In The Wake of the Poseidon” (1970), smoothly alternates a sort of heavy metal rock jazz (those doubled lines) with driving swing, down to the almost-sinister ending.

Still, you don’t need to know the originals to enjoy “King Crimson Songbook Volume 2.” This is, after all, a jazz record and it works as such. Still, perhaps one of CJ3’s most obvious contributions will be to work as both a window for jazz musicians and fans into the music of King Crimson, while serving as an introduction and enticement to jazz for fans of Crimson and art rock in general.

And if you are already a fan of both, you’ll probably find yourself smiling, nodding in recognition at the smarts and musicianship of these players – just what listeners 40, 50 years ago must have felt when they heard their Cole Porter songs or their favorite Broadway tunes turned into jazz standards. Aging has its privileges.

Jazz CDs: Denny Zeitlin

“Denny Zeitlin: The Columbia Studio Trio Sessions” (Mosaic Select)

“Denny Zeitlin Trio In Concert” (Sunnyside)

By Don Heckman

The rub on writing about Denny Zeitlin has always been his unlikely dual career track – as a working jazz musician and a teaching and practicing psychiatrist. The immediate temptation, frequently succumbed to, is to search for the subtle (and not so subtle) linkages between psychotherapy and improvisation. But that gets old fast. And, taking a contrary view, it may well be that Zeitlin’s enormous potential as a jazz artist has, in fact, been dimmed somewhat by the difficulty of getting away from patients and classrooms long enough to maintain a regular schedule of live performances, recordings, and all the other minutiae that are vital to international jazz visibility.

What’s most remarkable about Zeitlin, however, is how successful he has been at reaching into the deepest reaches of his creativity, despite the academic and clinical demands on his attention. And these two recent releases – which serendipitously reveal the seemingly boundary-less aspects of his art – underscore the remarkable aspects of what could have been, and what has been.

The Mosaic releases includes three studio albums Zeitlin recorded for Columbia in the ’60s: “Cathexis” (March, 1964), “Carnival” (October, 1964) and “Zeitgeist” (1966 and 1967), as well as an hour of previously unissued material. “Denny Zeitlin Trio In Concert” takes a forty year leap, chronicling live performances with bassist Buster Williams and drummer Matt Wilson, recorded at the Jazz Bakery and the Outpost Performance Space in Albuquerque between 2001 and 2006.

Then: Denny Zeitlin with Cecil McBee and Freddie Waits at the "Cathexis" session

The Columbia sessions, recorded at a time when the jazz world was flaming with new ideas, reveal a remarkably assured improvisational mind at work. Still in his ’20s, working on a medical degree at the same time, Zeitlin nonetheless had an astonishingly mature grasp of his creative goals. Well aware of the diverse currents coursing through the music – via the work of Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, George Russell, Cecil Taylor, Charles Mingus, Don Ellis, Miles Davis, among many others – Zeitlin steered his own steady creative course. Taking what he could use from his surroundings, filtering ideas through his own creative prism, he produced a set of performances that have been sitting on the shelves, unavailable on CD for far too long.

There is, first of all, his prodigious technical ability. But, unlike many of the current fast-fingered young players, Zeitlin’s virtuosity was completely at the service of an expansive musical imagination. Stunningly fleet bebop figures are juxtaposed against thick chordal clusters; tone-rich lyrical lines alternate with roving bass lines and two-handed, harmonic tsunamis; jaunty, blues and funk-driven melodies are contrasted by occasional forays across the piano strings. All of it pulling the listener into musical territories which, despite their utter sense of newness, continue to resonate with echoes of jazz familiarity.

Originals such as “Carnival,” “Little Children, Don’t Go Near That House,” “The Bells of Solitude,” “Dormammu” and the multi-part “Blue Phoenix” and “Mirage” reach well beyond the characteristic theme-and-improvisations jazz pattern, into fascinating areas of composition, improvisation and expressionistic idea-making.

Zeitlin’s take on standards is equally, if differently, fascinating. Blessed with vivid harmonic intuition, he transforms such familiar items as “I Got Rhythm,” “We’ll Be Together Again,” “Night and Day” and “Here’s That Rainy Day” into startling inspirations, as magically transformative of the originals as a Faberge egg is of its original source of reference.. On “The Boy Next Door,” he playfully devotes most of his interpretation to the verse, before climaxing with the song’s chorus. And the often-performed “All The Things You Are” becomes a tone poem, infused with rich, multi-hued cross-currents of harmony and melody.

Now: Denny Zeitlin in his home studio. Photo by Josephine Zeitlin

The new, in-concert CD, like the Mosaic package, has been released in celebration of Zeitlin’s 70th birthday. And what it reveals is the inexorable continuity of his music. Here, too, there is a pair of extended works – “Mr. P.C.” (based on the John Coltrane line), “The Night Has 1000 Eyes/10,000 Eyes” (positioning the old standard against a Zeitlin original), as well as a similarly episodic juxtaposition of Zeitlin’s “The We Of Us” with Cole Porter’s “All of You.” And, once again, Zeitlin’s improvisations find the sensitivity in virtuosity, the playfulness in emotional intensity, the swing in spontaneity – the product of a career arc spanning more than four decades of brilliant, still too little recognized, musical creativity..

It’s also worth keeping in mind that Zeitlin had a period in the ’70s, during which he embarked on a range of musical experimentation combining various electronic and acoustic media with rock, classical, pop, jazz and avant-garde techniques, before returning to his familiar acoustic, piano trio environment in the ’80s. Much of that music has been too rarely heard, as well. And one wonders what it will take to produce a full career overview of the work of this adventurous, extraordinarily gifted artist

CD Reviews/Jazz: Marsalis, Masekela, Roditi, Jones

By Michael Katz

The trumpet has long been jazz’s signature instrument, from Buddy Bolden and Louis Armstrong through Miles and Dizzy, Clifford Brown, Clark Terry and Freddie Hubbard. It seems like there is a cornucopia of fine trumpeters today; here are four recent releases from some greater and lesser known players.

 Wynton Marsalis

“He and She” (Blue Note)

            Leave it to Wynton Marsalis, in this age of limited attention span and digital downloads, to come out with a 75 minute performance piece that demands the listener’s unyielding attention. He and She mixes Marsalis’ poetic voice with a talented quintet drawn from his Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. 

            The title poem, read by Marsalis with an engaging wink towards southern bluesmen, is broken into short riffs introducing the music, intended to explore the mystery of man and woman. Early on, it seems like a wonderfully performed period piece; School Boy features a ragtime groove, with Dan Nimmer on speakeasy piano and Walter Blanding echoing Sidney Bechet on soprano sax. Marsalis plays a muted trumpet on The Sun and the Moon, with Blanding on tenor and Nimmer playing a striking piano solo that carries the piece into the present.

              From there the suite picks up steam. Marsalis delves into the darker realm of self-doubt in his introduction to Fear: “What passions could cosmic bluesmen blame/if a man too scared to ask a woman her name”. That leads to a wah wah trumpet line, backed by Carlos Henriquez’s  foreboding bass.  The momentum builds with the suite’s most extended piece, The Razor Rim. Wynton’s mute is off now, Blanding provides a stunning tenor solo and drummer Ali Jackson  carries the time changes from ¾  to what Marsalis describes as “Elvin Jones 5/4″ and back to 4/4.

            A live performance might have an intermission here, reconvening for Blanding’s lovely opening solo in Zero, which leads to a four part medley, First Crush/First Slow Dance/First Kiss/First Time.  By now the poetic themes become a bit muddled, and the listener wonders if he/she can just sit back and enjoy the music, especially the last segment which has a Latin flourish featuring Marsalis and Blanding. Marsalis must sense this, delivering his ensuing verse with tongue in cheek: What folly do sophic bluesmen find when a man think he know a woman mind?  He gives his quintet plenty of room to answer. Whenever the listener’s mind wanders, Dan Nimmer brings us back with emphatic swing.

            The suite closes with a gutsy blues, A Train, A Banjo and A Chicken Wing, with a burning solo by Blanding and a shout out by Marsalis.

 Hugh Masekela

“Phola” (Times Square)

            At 70, Hugh Masekela still possesses a warm tone on flugelhorn, a voice reminiscent of Harry Belafonte and a social conscience to match. His latest CD, Phola, is full of South African rhythms, the vocals mixed between English and native tongues. Phola translates to “heal, get well” or in slang, to chill, and that is what Masekela does here, aided by collaborators Eric Paliani and Ezra Erasmus, who between them contribute various guitars and keyboards. A couple of the tunes are autobiographical – Ghana tells how he first met his wife, Elinam at the Paris airport, where she was being held by immigration officials (They don’t care if you insult them/as long as it is en Francais) as he was on his way to Ghana. Sonny Boy takes him back to his childhood in apartheid South Africa, playing his first notes on the trumpet. In Bring It back Home, he chides the politicians and businessmen who have prospered from the end of apartheid to remember where they came from.

            All of this is played against the familiarly pleasing pop-jazz lilt that Masekela has been performing for the better part of fifty years. Guitarist Jimmy Dludlu sits in on Malungelo and the closer Hunger with some appealing work. Befitting Masekela’s international appeal, the music resonates through repeated listenings, even when the language is unfamiliar.

 Claudio Roditi

“Brazilliance x 4″ (Resonance)

            Claudio Roditi is a veteran Brazilian trumpeter whose credits include stints with McCoy Tyner, Herbie Mann and Dizzy Gillespsie’s United Nations Orchestra. As dominant as the trumpet is in jazz, we don’t see it as often taking the lead in bossa nova, which tends to favor guitars (think Joao Gilberto and Charlie Byrd) or the  keyboards of singer/composers like Jobim and Ivan Lins. And, from the American side, the silky tenor sound of Stan Getz.

            Roditi, in his new CD Brazilliance x 4, has assembled a Brazilian quartet featuring pianist Helio Alves and percussionist Duduka Da Fonseca, along with bassist Leonardo Cioglia. It’s a sprightly program from the start, leading off with the upbeat Pro Zeca, an infectious line by Victor Assis Brasil. Alves, as he does throughout the CD, provides a bright Brazilian patter on the piano. Roditi has a clear, slightly muted sound, adroitly dancing in and out of the percussive themes. He alternates the more upbeat songs with slower bossas on the flugelhorn, most notably a gently swinging version of Miles Davis’ Tune Up. Rapez A Bem is a pre-bossa tune by Johnny Alf, written in 1953, that seems oddly familiar, perhaps because Roditi closes it with a riff from C Jam Blues.  Song For Nana is a nod to singer Nana Caymmi with a piano solo by Alves. Two of the last three cuts are extended versions of Roditi compositions, recorded live in Beverly Hills, and provide an added energy to an eminently listenable collection.

 Sean Jones

“The Search Within” (Mack Avenue)

            Sean Jones is one of the new wave of trumpeters, which includes Christian Scott and Jeremy Pelt. Like them, he is full of energy and a fine improviser. Similarly, his writing hasn’t yet caught up to his virtuosity on the horn.  His newest CD, The Search Within, features mostly his own compositions, with mixed results. The title track is broken into three interludes, played with a clear, resonant tone, leaving the listener to wish that any one of them might be stretched into a single tune.  Jones fares best in Life Cycles, which begins with a melodic solo on flugelhorn and features the harmonica of Gregoire Maret and the flute of Erika Von Kleist.  The Storm, one of two pieces inspired by philosopher Kahlil Gibran, has a bright Afro-Latin beat by percussionist Kahlil Bell, and more crisp soloing by Jones. Pianist Orrin Evans, bassist Lucques Curtis and drummer Obed Calvaire contribute a steady rhythm section.  There’s some fine saxophone work by altoist Brian Hogans, who contributes one of the two outside compositions, Summer’s Spring,  and by Walter Smith on tenor, particularly on Sunday Reflections and Frank Foster’s composition, Sean’s Jones Comes Down.  Jones ballads tend to be more declarative statements, serving as platforms for his soloing.  It would be nice to see some of the creativity evident in his improvisations go into the melodic themes. It’s laudable for musicians to explore their personal growth with their own tunes, but it would be useful to look to the compositions of other great improvisers – Freddie Hubbard and Cedar Walton come to mind – who have created more urgent or lyrical themes that endure long past their original recordings.

CD Review: A Little Bit of Stomp, A Little Bit of Whomp

by Casey Dolan

Rudder

“Matorning” (Nineteen-Eight Records) Most rock listeners will not know who the hell these guys are, coming up, as they do, from the modern jazz ranks. That’s an injustice and just ridiculous. Rudder should be major. This is neither jazz in the strict sense nor rock, nor any of the conventional notions of fusion, although Rudder owes much to all three traditions. It is music, call it Party Whomp, that should appeal to an extremely wide variety of listeners – from lovers of new electronica to jam band enthusiasts; from the most discerning jazz musos to crunchy rockers (despite there being no guitar in the band); from trip hop isolationists to acid jazzers of every stripe.

The second album from Keith Carlock, Tim Lefebvre, Henry Hey and Chris Cheek doesn’t depart too far from their 2007 eponymous debut. The same comical, herky-jerky heads, the deep, molasses grooves, a pretty ballad (“Lucy,” with a seamless arc of crescendo in the arrangement) – they are all there with each player adding his signature style. In other words, there are few surprises, but there are some. Tenor sax player Chris Cheek seems to have added more effects (no saxophonist alive works a wah-wah like him — check out “Tokyo Chicken” and “One Note Mosh”) and bassist Tim Lefebvre, conversely, seems to be playing with more organic sounds this time and less coloration. Not so with keyboardist Henry Hey who uses his usual bag of tricks that seem to lift as much from bad science fiction films as from the chitlin circuit. The undeniable center of Rudder’s universe, though, the quasar, the eye of God itself, is drummer Keith Carlock, one of the greatest drummers in existence.

Think I’m talking hyperbole here? That’s because you don’t read drummer polls or hang out in New York jazz dives. That’s because the musician’s world of musicians is not a concentric universe with radio play, or the appallingly (un)hip music magazine focus or whatever awful thing makes it on a TV soundtrack these days. Please, take it from me. Whether your percussive God is John Bonham, JackDeJohnette, Al Jackson, Mastodon’s Brann Dailor, Bill Bruford, Ringo Starr, Charlie Watts, Neil Peart, whomever…Carlock will make you weep. Live, he is an electrified muppet, multi-limbed like Shiva, but he dominates the proceedings (and not in an overbalanced sense) on both the first album and “Matorning.” It is Carlock (with some help from Lefebvre) who will make you bounce around your house uncontrollably with a cattle prod up your bottom and not merely because of his tribal thumping, but the sound of it as well (listen to his beautifully hollow kick drum on “Jackass Surcharge” or his snare on “Innit”).

But Rudder is not a showcase for Carlock, it is a band. And a band that displays much humor. There’s a Funkadelic cartoon feel to some of the tunes, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t have subtleties. The album is far from painted in primary colors. The 7/4 whomp of “Jackass Surcharge” has a soft, insinuating horn arrangement that sounds like cats mewing or distant traffic (Lefebvre is astonishing on this, popping away). There are the fun games with meter: “Lucky Beard” has Carlock laying down a funky 6/8, but Cheek is playing in 4 with a bar of 6 thrown in, and it works beautifully. “Daitu” has Lefebvre channeling Jack Bruce’s distinctly trebley bass against an acid jazz background. “Neppe” (possibly the most otherworldly track on the whole album) weds an “Addams Family” sax to trip hop. And Hey deserves special recognition as a keyboardist who really knows when to play it simply and be most effective. The closing track, “CDL,” has him playing eighth-note chords almost throughout, lending a Radiohead feel to the track.

If “Matorning” has an inherent cautionary tale for its participants, it may be to always keep things lively and fresh, to not become complacent with a sound. This is such a fine aggregation of musicians that they should be willing, on occasion, to put the Party Whomp aside and stroll into unheard territories, to consider greater use of electronics, tape manipulation and digital editing, maybe to even add an instrument or two. (What would happen if Four Tet, Danger Mouse, Dan Deacon, Adrian Sherwood, or one of those bhangra nutjob remixers did mixes? Could be monstrous). The second half of the album begins to do that, but it might be a good idea for album number three to go further and eschew even that solid stomp that Carlock supplies (at least part of the time). I believe Rudder has the capacity to do almost anything and the compositional skills of all three writers — Cheek, Lefebvre and Hey — could lead the band into greater recognition and success.

This is a video from the 2007 Fall tour in the Rex in Toronto. “Circle of Jerks”:

CD Jazz Review: Al Di Meola and World Sinfonia

By Fernando Gonzalez

Al Di Meola and World Sinfonia

“La Melodia Live in Milano” (Valiana)

Al Di Meola

Best know for his electric fusion work, guitarist and composer Al Di Meola, leading an acoustic group he calls World Sinfonia, has been exploring his interest in tango, in general, and his friendship with New Tango master Astor Piazzolla, in particular, for nearly two decades now.  In “La Melodia. Live in Milano,” Di Meola leads a revamped World Sinfonia featuring Fausto Beccalossi on accordion and vocals, Peo Alfonsi on guitar, and old collaborator Gumbi Ortiz on cajón [a wooden box].

In the program, Di Meola & Co. revisit Piazzolla (“Café 1930,” “Double Concerto”), and explores Ennio Morricone (“Cinema Paradiso,” which is quickly becoming a jazz standard), the late Sardinian singer Andrea Parodi (“Umbras”), as well as four originals.

Be it because of the presence of the undramatic accordion (as opposed to the bandoneón, the melancholy sounding, button squeezebox that is the quintessential instrument in tango), the pared down arrangements or the flamenco flair that seeps through here and there, the music in :La Melodia” has a bright (at time harsh) tone. (Di Meola fans looking to be wowed by dazzling bursts of speed won’t be disappointed.)

But be it because of the players or the approach, the music, as performed by this World Sinfonia, also has lost some of its richness and subtlety. Then again, Di Meola believes that “although the tango was developed in Argentina it was born in the region of Italy where my parents are from, Napoli. (Naples)” With all due respect, that’s like saying that jazz is African music.\

Like jazz, tango is a fusion of many elements, which, in tango’s case, coalesced in Buenos Aires. One of those elements, no doubt, is the Neapolitan song. Is Di Meola’s artistic prerogative to reinterpret this in his Neapolitan and fusion-tinged version of tango. It certainly comes with a bright flash that is all his own.

CD Jazz Review: Codona

By Fernando Gonzalez

Don Cherry, Nana Vasconcelos, Collin Walcott

“The Codona Trilogy“  (ECM)

Don Cherry, Collin Walcott, Nana Vasconcelos

Formed in 1977, Codona, the trio comprising multi-instrumentalist Collin Walcott, trumpeter-cornetist Don Cherry and  percussionist Nana Vasconcelos, foreshadowed the World Music phenomenon that exploded in the 1980s. Looking back at their individual careers to that point (and the fact that their paths purposefully crossed at different times in multiple combinations) Codona suggests the logical culmination of years of exploration: a meeting place for cross cultural conversation and experimentation.

The results, captured in three releases originally titled “Codona 1″ (1979), “Codona 2″ (1981) and “Codona 3″ (1983), have now been all reissued in this box set.

Almost by definition, the work of explorers does not age well. Its value often resides more in the spirit, the philosophy and the processes probed than in the final product – and yet. As it turns out, these recordings sound more remarkable now than in their day. The music in these discs is not just intriguing but engaging, deeply enjoyable – and blessedly comes without any of the and-here-is-me-with-natives cultural tourism approach that has marred so many other cross-cultural musical attempts in pop, jazz and elsewhere.

Part of the music’s success traces to the extraordinary musicianship of the players.  And it’s not just their technical prowess; you can hear them listening to each other and hear their responses unfold logically, organically, no matter how improbable the turn. Part of it is their attitude toward the materials and the ideas at hand, their respect for different traditions without fetishizing, for example.

But just as important is the sense of serious fun running through the music. This is not church, this is not a lab experiment, and this is not a proposal for world peace. It’s music.  Check “Colemanwonder,” which connects Ornette Coleman with Stevie Wonder; or the Steve Reich-like minimalism of “Godumaduma,” actually a traditional African song arranged by Walcott; or the blues-like “Clicky Clacky” featuring Cherry’s vocals and kazoo. The blend of child-like joy, curiosity, intelligence and superior craft in Codona’s music is a find.