2 Michelin Stars for the chef de cuisine of European organ jazz.

Granted, the Americans could hardly be accused of completely ignoring the fantastic organist Eddy Louiss, since critics of Downbeat Magazine voted him “Organ Player Number One” in the category “Talent Deserving Wider Recognition” in 1969/70. But the general jazz buying public never caught up with him and it could be said that Louiss is still undervalued among American classic jazz lovers and Hammond aficionados.

The enigmatic Eddy Louiss refused to be pigeonholed. Although the influence of the groundbreaking pioneer Jimmy Smith didn’t leave him untouched, Louiss took different paths. To begin with, Louiss’ background was wonderfully quixotic, starting with a teenage career in vaudeville, playing in his father Pierre’s orchestra. Besides, he sang in the extremely popular vocal group Les Double Six from 1961 to 1963.

He played bop piano among France’s finest in the Parisian scene in the 1950’s. Louiss switched to the organ, deepening bebop and hard bop with flair, climaxing with a superb session recorded in 1968, Eddy Louiss Trio with guitarist René Thomas and drummer Kenny Clarke. But he had more up his sleeve. There was an exotic tinge to the style of Louiss, whose Creolian forebears hailed from the island and colony of Martinique, who had visited the island on family trips and soaked up folks songs played on the island and in Paris.

His style was dynamic and possessed the energy and sound of rock pioneers Keith Emerson and Brian Auger. He’d played furious post bop with violinist Jean-Luc Ponty in the mid-sixties and ultimately made it his business to mix jazz with world music. A far cry from maestro Smith and his many blues ‘n’ bop ‘n’ funk disciples. Different, as well, as that other modern pioneer, Larry Young, though there are similarities.

His career-defining highlight on Stan Getz’s Dynasty was recorded live in 1971. It featured five compositions by Louiss, who was a prolific tunesmith.

Before he’d joined the high-profile outfit of Stan Getz, Louiss had already recorded two of those tunes on Our Kind Of Sabi, his 1970 album with English saxophonist John Surman and his long-time musical brother, Swiss drummer Daniel Humair: the title track and Song For Martine.

Where Dynasty, with Getz, is fluid like mountain streams, Our Kind Of Sabi, with Surman, is rugged earth, hot sun streaks on the remains of the gold mine. Title tune Our Kind Of Sabi is an unforgettable, misterioso melody, handled sweetly by Louiss like a baby, set up by Surman on baritone, set on fire in the ensuing ten minutes, Surman stretching the limits of his baritone saxophone, a man with a hellhound on his trail, a man wearing the pain in his heart on his sleeve, leavened by Louis, whose Hammond is firm but balanced, a motorcyclist taking a ride on the beach, flexibly staying upright.

Surman is the exorcist, angry, maniacal, persistent, exuberant, on soprano on Song For Martine, avant groove that is akin to late-career Coltrane, segueing into Out Of The Sorcellery, a hefty duet between Louiss and Humair, which feels like early Soft Machine, perfectly dirty and rebellious. Zafe Ko Ida is traditional Martinique folkore, arranged by Louiss,  who interprets it on piano and marimba.

Too free for my taste as a result of Surman’s extremist inclusion, I can only take this for a couple of spins, preferring the unbeatable Dynasty, but Our Kind Of Sabi is certainly a unique organ combo album and a wild and woolly ride.