Prestige

Charles McPherson - The Quintet/Live!

Charles McPherson The Quintet/Live! (Prestige 1967)

- Francois 1 Comment

Altoist Gene Quill once walked off the stage, when a malignant member of the audience quipped: “All you do is play like Parker!” Whereupon Quill pushed his horn forward and replied: “You try to play like Charlie Parker!”* Discussions on Charles McPherson usually ran along the same lines. In the sixties, McPherson was often set aside by critics as a mere imitator of Bird. Too bad. Quills’ perky remark suggested it was far from easy to play Parker’s complex and spirited music. Yet, cats like McPherson carried on the flag of the Parker legacy eloquently and with great pride. For that, it would’ve been more than reasonable to be thankful.

Charles McPherson - The Quintet/Live!

Personnel

Charles McPherson (alto saxophone), Lonnie Hillyer (trumpet), Barry Harris (piano), Ray McKinney (bass), Billy Higgins (drums)

Recorded

on October 13, 1966 at the Five Spot, NYC

Released

as PR 7480 in 1967

Track listing

Side A:
The Viper
I Can’t Get Started
Shaw ‘Nuff
Side B:
Here’s That Rainy Day
Never Let Me Go
Suddenly


Undeniably, the influence from Bird on McPherson is evident throughout his career. Certainly on his live album The Quintet/Live!. But for all McPherson’s (articulate and furious) bebop sparks, as heard on the album’s highlight, Bird’s Shaw ‘Nuff, McPherson had grown into an alto saxophonist with a singular, vibrant style. A style appreciated by giant of jazz Charles Mingus, in whose group McPherson intermittingly played from 1960 to 1974, notably on Live At Town Hall and Music Written For Monterey 1965.

Beside being a first-class player in the bop and hard bop vein, McPherson proofs to be an outstanding balladeer as well. The attraction of Never Let Me Go lies in the combination of the altoist’s darkly lyrical mood, husky delivery and long lines alternating with swift phrasing. He also tells a sweet and sour story on Gershwin’s I Can’t Get Started, on which his interaction with pianist Barry Harris is particularly responsive. Harris nudges fellow Detroit-native McPherson into interesting directions and turns in an exquisite solo. Foremost bop interpreter Harris had mentored McPherson in the late fifties. Harris obviously pulls a lot of strings on this date, displaying sympathetic accompaniment, confident command of harmony and melodic finesse.

Drummer Billy Higgins, tasteful and propulsive, is a strong force as well. Crowd-mover The Viper has a similar vibe as Lee Morgan’s The Sidewinder, a hit that thanked its success for a big part to Higgins’ indomitable, fresh beat. (Barry Harris played on The Sidewinder as well) Greasy statements by McPherson and trumpeter Lonnie Hillyer (another Detroit friend and a colleague from the groups of Mingus and Barry Harris) are followed up by a percussive Barry Harris solo, who makes use of Monk-like delayed time.

The ‘Latinised’ Here’s That Rainy Day includes intriguing variations on the melody by McPherson. On the driving hard bop waltz Suddenly Lonnie Hillyer is in a Don Cherry mood. Both are fine performances. Shaw ‘Nuff, however, is of another order. McPerson cum suis set up an appropriate breakneck speed for Charlie Parker’s madly beautiful tune. It’s a lightning bolt. So fast Hillyer has trouble keeping up, both melody and solo-wise. McPherson’s solo is full of fire. Barry Harris seemingly effortlessly displays his vast knowledge of Bud Powell, brilliantly and suavely running through the complex changes. Both soloists thrive on the fierce, articulate backing of Billy Higgins and bassist Ray McKinney.

The Quintet/Live! contains varying repertoire, dynamic group interplay, a warm live atmosphere and immaculate improvisation by both leader and ‘consiglieri’ Barry Harris. An essential McPherson album.

*The little piece of jazz lore involving Gene Quill is chronicled in bassist and jazz writer Bill Crow’s wonderful and insightful book Jazz Anecdotes.

YouTube: Here’s That Rainy Day

John Coltrane - Lush Life

John Coltrane Lush Life (Prestige 1957/58/1961)

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When Prestige released the mid ‘57/early ’58 sessions that comprise Lush Life in 1961, John Coltrane, ever the restless seeker, had already moved into very different directions. But that doesn’t take anything away from the great material contained within these sides.

John Coltrane - Lush Life

Personnel

John Coltrane (tenor saxophone), Donald Byrd (trumpet B1), Red Garland (piano B1-2), Earl May (bass A1-3), Art Taylor A1-3), Paul Chambers (bass B1-2), Louis Hayes (drums B1), Albert Heath (B2)

Recorded

on May 31 & August 16, 1957 and January 10, 1958 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Released

as PR 7188

Track listing

Side A:
Like Someone In Love
I Love You
Trane’s Slo Blues
Side B:
Lush Life
I Hear A Rhapsody


Coltrane had gained recognition and notoriety with his second stint with the Miles Davis Quintet and the recordings of Giant Steps and My Favorite Things on Atlantic. Prestige, eager to capitalise on Coltrane’s fame, released a string of LP’s up to 1965 containing material from the vaults. (Other tracks of the May/August ’57 and January ’58-sessions were released on Coltrane and The Last Trane) At the time of the Lush Life-sessions, people were still catching their breath after Coltrane’s tenures with Miles Davis (the first tenure) and Thelonious Monk, and after the recording of the classic hard bop album Blue Train.

Regardless of Lush Life’s haphazard nature, it includes a number of interesting and exciting moments, as one might expect from someone of Coltrane’s calibre. A great moment is the way Coltrane imaginatively deals with the straightforward chord sequence of Trane’s Slow Blues, wringing notes out of his tenor the way wrestlers tend to do with each other’s torso. Art Taylor’s insistent beat and Earl May’s big-sounding bass constitute a perfect vehicle for Coltrane’s forceful style. Included as well is a spirited stop-time section.

The other two trio tunes on side A lack dynamic rhythm work and Earl May’s bass sounds a bit muddy. But Coltrane turns Like Someone In Love inside out, utilizing melodic inversions (opening the tune with the bridge, in true bebop fashion, is just the starter) and cluster bombs of notes typical of early Coltrane. Furthermore, I Love You is a tale with beautiful lines and firmly placed blue notes. There wasn’t a particular artistic strategy to leave out the piano for this date, as Joe Goldberg states in the liner notes. The reality was prosaic: the piano player didn’t show up. The absentee probably was either Red Garland or Mal Waldron, frequent early Coltrane collaborators.

Red Garland is part of the other session, which resulted in a haunting rendition of Lush Life, in which the rhythm section of Paul Chambers and Louis Hayes responds well to Coltrane’s changes of mood, and a hard-swinging version of I Hear A Rhapsody. Young lion Donald Byrd, Coltrane’s sideman on this session, feels at home in the charged atmosphere of the reworked standard and his phrases have a floating quality not unlike the trumpeter that influenced many of the modern young trumpeters, Fats Navarro.

Prestige didn’t have the decency to consult Coltrane in the matters of organising a record release. However, as both a longtime Coltrane fan and vinyl freak, I’m glad those ‘crumbs’ of Coltrane saw the light of day in 1961. I’m not disputing the merit of listening to remastered jazz albums on that tiny, horrible absurdity they call the compact disc. Moreover, vinyl re-issues are pleasant commodities. But the vintage vinyl experience is priceless. The chills and feelings of surprise aroused by the crackling mono LP sounds of Trane’s Slow Blues still reverberate after all these years. Imagine what groundbreaking cuts like My Favorite Things (from My Favorite Things) and Dahomey’s Dance (from Ole) do to one’s nervous system. I guess you can.

Charles Kynard - Reelin' With The Feelin'

Charles Kynard Reelin’ With The Feelin’ (Prestige 1969)

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I first became aware of organist Charles Kynard a long time ago, when listening to a Tom Waits record, Blue Valentines. Greasy, sharp-as-a-knife organ injections were the cherries on top of Romeo Is Bleeding, one of that jazzy, theatrical shuffles that the incomparable growler and storyteller Tom Waits brings with so much zest. Ever quick to scroll through sleeve info, I bumped into the name of Kynard.

Charles Kynard - Reelin' With The Feelin'

Personnel

Charles Kynard (organ), Wilton Felder (tenor saxophone), Joe Pass (guitar), Carol Kaye (electric bass), Paul Humphrey (drums)

Recorded

on August 11, 1969 in Los Angeles, California

Released

as PR 7688 in 1969

Track listing

Side A:
Reelin’ With The Feelin’
Soul Reggae
Slow Burn
Side B:
Boogalooin’
Be My Love
Stomp


My mind went elsewhere, as minds often have the inkling to do. Yet, Kynard had stayed in the back of my mind and when I started digging organ jazz of the likes of Jimmy Smith, Don Patterson and Lonnie Smith, out of the ditch climbed Kynard as well. What I learned is that the fact that Kynard did a Waits date is part of the proof that the organist’s nature was ambidextrous. Kynard is best known for his groovy funk and blues recordings on Prestige and Mainstream. But he also was a regular attributor to Hollywood productions and played gospel in church as well.

Reelin’ With The Feelin’ is Kynard’s third release on Prestige and a fitting example of his blues and soul jazz personality. It has an interesting line-up including guitarist Joe Pass – not often heard in such surroundings – The Jazz Crusaders’ tenorist Wilton Felder and ace studio bassist, Carol Kaye. Re-listening this album only for Kaye’s delicious dry, plucky sound and articulate style, is, as I now know for a fact, a far from weird effort, but on the contrary, very worthwhile.

The three longest cuts of the album – Reelin’ With The Feelin’, Slow Burn and Boogalooin’ – written by arranger Richard Fritz, are fresh funkblues jams. Slow Burn is the highlight. The tight rhythm consisting of tacky drums and a rumbling bass figure so deep it makes you wonder how deep the ocean is in Carol Kaye’s mind, sets things in motion. From then on things are hard to pull to a stop. Kynard builds his solo well, veering from crunchy bass notes to burning rubber-phrases in the upper register. Felder puts in a yearning statement and throws in squeaky and honky twists. Joe Pass produces a mix of funky licks and fast, tricky phrases that travel beyond the confines of the pentatonic blues format. Ever thus, Slow Burn has to come to an end, and it does with a humorous stretch of notes by Kynard.

Predictably, Carol Kaye’s Soul Reggae is a reggae-type tune. It’s a charming ditty that bounces along merrily. Is Kaye the first to incorporate reggae into a jazz format? She might well be. In 1969, reggae wasn’t as yet the big thing it would become when Bob Marley got into the picture. Be My Love is a nice Latin tune. Kynard’s solo is a throat grabber, containing swift, fiery and freewheelin’ phrases, occasional outbursts and repeated r&b attacks. Stomp, written by Wilton Felder, is a variation of Dizzy Gillespie’s Blue ‘n’ Boogie. The drums fail to swing, but the immaculate unisono figures each couple plays behind the given soloist give it the necessary bite. As you may have noticed, Kynard didn’t bring any tunes to this session. You’ll hear, however, that it doesn’t effect the very pleasant and funky proceedings.

Charles Kynard’s date with Tom Waits took place in 1978. He died on July 8, 1979. There’s no such thing as an appropriate passing, but Kynard’s comes close. He died while playing his home organ.

Eric Kloss - Love And All That Jazz

Eric Kloss Love And All That Jazz (Prestige 1966)

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Pipe-smoking Eric Kloss was seventeen when he recorded Love And All That Jazz. It was the second album for the young alto and tenor saxophonist on Prestige. Quite exceptional for a young man to be appointed leader from the start, but Kloss was an exceptional talent. At age twelve Kloss sat in with the bebop giant and fellow saxophonist Sonny Stitt, renowned for blowing many asses of stage. Kloss, blind since birth, received plenty encouragement from the fearsome saxophonist.

Eric Kloss - Love And All That Jazz

Personnel

Eric Kloss (alto & tenor saxophone), Don Patterson (organ, A1-A4), Vinnie Corrao (guitar, A1-A4), Billy James (drums, A1-A4), Richard “Groove” Holmes (organ, B1-B3), Gene Edwards (B1-B3), Grady Tate (drums, B1-B3)

Recorded

on March 14 & April 11, 1966 at Rudy van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey

Released

as PR 7469 in 1966

Track listing

Side A:
You’d Be So Nice To Come Home To
Just For Fun-K
The Shadow Of Your Smile
No Blues
Side B:
Love For Sale
I’m Glad There Is You
Gemini


His playing is impressive both for its technical mastery and bravado. Indeed, sometimes the ideas stop flowing and Kloss finds himself in a neverland, squirting meaningless titbits to regain his posture. But it’s only logical, considering his age, that his conception was not as yet full-grown. It was developing rapidly and excitedly. There are moments of charming recklessness as Pensylvannia-born Kloss blasts his way through the standard You’d Be So Nice To Come Home To. Kloss meanders through scales and low and high registers with the sudden aplomb of Eric Dolphy. His tone and attack is reminiscent of Stitt. Kloss himself brings long, crunchy wails, fiery, suprising twists and off-the-cuff double-time gymnastics in between.

Kloss would go on to record a highly proficient string of records for Prestige and Muse in the sixties and early seventies, subsequently incorporating popular music as well as avantgarde features into his hardbop bag. Unfortunately, Kloss largely disappeared from the scene after 1981, due to a struggle with asthma.

Waltz blues Just For Fun-K, that consists of a droll theme and kinky extension, finds Kloss building tension comprehensively. His alto work on Cole Porter’s Love For Sale is more virtuoso than heartfelt. The manner in which Kloss strikes a balance between tenderness and hard-boiled bluff in ballad I’m Glad There Is You, however, proofs Kloss doesn’t merely engage in youthful show-offs.

The album is divided between two backing groups. Don Patterson’s trio proves to be better attuned to the hi-voltage style of Eric Kloss. Their cooperation on Kloss’ debut album, Introducing Eric Kloss, might’ve been the reason of their rapport. The pulsating drum rolls of Billy James spur Kloss on and Patterson’s comping behind Kloss is urgent and his solo’s are well above average. The Groove Holmes trio is not bad. Guitarist Gene Edwards plays an uplifting bit in Love For Sale. But the sound of the organ is harsher and creates a messy atmosphere. And the more conservative style of Groove Holmes on this album doesn’t match as well with Kloss than does Patterson’s.

That doesn’t stop Kloss from forcefully blowing his way through Jimmy Heath’s Gemini. But the session with Don Patterson is more coherent. A demanding and provocative session of the young Eric Kloss.

YouTube: Love For Sale

SN325256

“Brother” Jack McDuff Hot Barbecue (Prestige 1964)

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I once saw Hot Barbecue, the 1965 album of popular organist “Brother” Jack McDuff, recommended as perfectly suitable as background music for a BBQ party. It wasn’t a joke. I thought it was hilarious.

SN325256

Personnel

“Brother Jack McDuff (organ), George Benson (guitar), Red Holloway (tenor sax), Joe Dukes (drums)

Recorded

October 19, 1965

Released

as PR 7422 in 1965

Track listing

Side A:
Hot Barbecue
The Party’s Over
Briar Patch
Hippy Dip
Side B:
601 ½ North Popular
Cry Me A River
The Three Day Thang


Admittedly, Hot Barbecue is a party record. Try standing still in front of the grill. Virtually impossible. And that’s cool; indeed, the so-called BBQ-factor, or should we say danceability, is a profound aspect of jazz. On closer inspection, moreover, one cannot help but stumble upon a related, underlying level of profound meaning of the soul jazz McDuff brings: the fact that it is part of, and creates, a communal experience.

Something of a ‘working class hero of soul jazz’, Jack McDuff was always specifically intent on entertaining audience and listeners. Deeply rooted in both secular entertainment (profanity included) and church morals – that peculiar mix that lies at the heart of black culture – McDuff was the kind of guy who is firmly part of the community; as the record cover shows, tastin’ that spicey ribs just like fellows on the ball. His exciting live performances were ‘gefundenes fressen’ for folks to let their hair down after a tough working day and as such dealt with the connection between music and everyday life, between artist and community. His records often touched a nerve. And consequently sold really well.

Hot Barbecue swings all the way through. After the kickstart of the uplifting, riotious title track, that’s quite a feat. The group gets into the groove with a rollicking drum pattern that tastefully combinates snare and toms and an organ and guitar rhythm accent on the second and fourth bar. Sandwiched between the recurring, contagious theme that is topped off with happy, unpolished and joyful shouts of the group – “Hot Barbecue Today!” – are short and swift solo’s by McDuff, Benson and Holloway.

Not easy to top. Yet the set of concise soul jazz outings that follow maintain the same excitement; burners resplendent with affective themes, stop choruses and ‘screaming’ organ fills by McDuff such as 601 ½ North Popular, The Three Day Thang and Briar Patch alternate with the medium-tempo, frisky ditty Hippy Dip. McDuff also transforms two standards into soul jazz staples utilising a cleaner, sharp organ sound – The Party’s Over and Cry Me A River. The latter is the ‘churchiest’ of the set. Through McDuff’s carefully crafted storytelling the tension grows and the high spirits of a congregation are invoked.

For bringing this kind of sizzling stuff, McDuff happily relied on a group of soulful sidemen. The tag of ‘new man in town’ that George Benson, heir to the precursor in McDuff’s band Benson’d been so in awe of, Grant Green, wore, was worn off by now. On Benson’s fifth release with McDuff, the guitarist shows that his development from the cocky rock&roll-player in 1963 to one that delivers quicksilver jazz phrasing, using glissandos, pull-offs and such guitar trickery for added pleasure, was fulfilled. To be sure, in Benson’s style there’s brittle r&b abound. A highlight of his juicy amalgam of r&b and jazz on Hot Barbecue is The Three-Day Thang.

Both tenorist Red Holloway and drummer Joe Dukes, reliable constituents of McDuff’s entourage in the mid-sixties, cook up a spicey dish. Dukes tackles 601 ½ North Popular and Briar Patch as if he’s supporting Bill Haley and he might as well be! Besides incorporating the flair of rock&roll it should be obvious Dukes is also a very tasteful and smart drummer. His charming and sharp-as-a-razor way of embellishing the theme of Hippy Dip is but one example of Joe Dukes’ unforgettable, soulful style.

Hot Barbecue is a showcase for the hottest group of McDuff’s career. It involves an exciting, ‘screaming’ organ. It also involves sophistication and a fun atmosphere. As such, it doesn’t leave much to be desired.

Pat Martino - Strings

Pat Martino Strings! (Prestige 1967)

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I’ve been on the lookout for snippets of Pat Martino ever since my college years. Once there was a guy in college who asked me about my favorite jazz guitar players. When I mentioned that one of them was Pat Martino the guy, a sophomore guitarist, sneered: “O, that single-line player.” I’m glad I’ve never seen that guy since, I need him as a hole in the head. He’s probably drooling over the umteenth remastering of Kind Of Blue. So very sound.

Pat Martino - Strings

Personnel

Pat Martino (guitar), Joe Farell (tenor saxophone, flute), Cedar Walton (piano), Ben Tucker (bass), Walter Perkins (drums), Ray Appleton, Dave Levin (percussion A1)

Recorded

on October 2, 1967 at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey

Released

as PR 7547 in 1967

Track listing

Side A:
Strings
Minority
Side B:
Lean Years
Mom
Querido


Naturally, Mr. Kind Of Blue had every right to his own particular tastes. Yet, in denouncing Martino as merely a player with a ‘lineair conception’, he obviously was oblivious to the emotional effect of Martino’s approach; and furthermore traded objective critique for subjectivism. Because surely it would be hard to find a Pat Martino record or side date on which the single-line maestro omits Wes Montgomery-style octave playing.

It’s there on Strings!, Martino’s second album on Prestige in 1967; particularly in Minority, Gigi Gryce’s Impressions-type composition, a driving piece in which Martino’s pyrotechnical, flowing statements create a whirlwind of ecstatic feelings. And pianist Cedar Walton is in fine enough form to follow this up with perhaps a just as impressive solo.

One would expect a breather after this, but what follows in the footsteps of Minority, Lean Years, is the same type of tune, but less interesting compositionally, and a bit crudely formed. It doesn’t seduce us enough to take heed of the solo’s.

Two more originals encompass the start and finish of the guitarist’s endearing follow-up to his debut on Prestige El Hombre. Opener and title track Strings! is a real treat. It consists of a smooth, effective Latin rhythm made up off drums and percussion and a joyful theme flavoured with thrilling breaks, stated by Joe Farrell’s flute and Martino’s guitar, that intelligently alternates between licks and chords. Reedman Farrell proves to be a proficient flutist and Martino an astute improviser, not interested in virtuosity for virtuosity’s sake, but instead in what it brings about as concerned to feeling.

Strings! is the most enjoyable tune of the album, but Querido, the last track, has the same Latin-American atmosphere and is also worthwhile. Mom is a slow mood piece that basically revolves around three chords, in which not much is happening until the third minute, when Martino follows up ebullient romantic with hard speed phrases. Other ballad work of Martino of this kind comes to mind, such as his contribution to Embraceable You from Don Patterson’s Four Dimensions. Martino’s comprehension of balladry is striking.

Early Martino was a striking period. With or without single lines.

YouTube: Strings

Don Patterson - The Exciting New Organ

Don Patterson The Exciting New Organ Of Don Patterson (Prestige 1964)

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A very confident Don Patterson made the most of his de facto debut (Goin’ Down Home was a Patterson session as a leader for Cadet in 1963, but was not released until 1966) on Prestige. Eschewing the use of guitar, The Exciting New Organ Of Don Patterson stresses the potential of the organ in the era of advanced hard bop.

Don Patterson - The Exciting New Organ

Personnel

Don Patterson (organ), Booker Ervin (tenor sax), Billy James (drums)

Recorded

on May 12, 1964 at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey

Released

as PR 7323 in 1964

Track listing

Side A:
S’Bout Time
Up In Betty’s Room
Oleo
Side B:
When Johnny Comes Marching Home
The Good Life


Presumably, as it goes, Prestige headquarters called it The Exciting New Organ Of Don Patterson for marketing purposes primarily, along the same lines of, for instance, Atlantic’s idea behind Ornette Coleman’s The Shape Of Jazz To Come; not a title Coleman was said to be particularly fond of, and I assume Patterson also was too bright and modest to appreciate his album title very much. Furthermore, isn’t it a bit shaky on a linguistic level? Naturally, it isn’t the organ of Don Patterson that is exciting. As if said Hammond B3 would make an entree in some corner bistro, where two Scarlett Johansson-type dames’d whisper: “Wow, that organ’s really exciting!” Albeit a tad overweight, one might add. Of course, what they say, either consciously or winsomely, is that the man seated behind that giant machine made up of wood, metal tonewheel, electromagnetic pick-up, a row of keyboards and countless pulls and stops, creates quite a fervor. In that case, they’re correct. As far as ‘new’ (music) is concerned: the adjective had become stale even by then; in jazz, as in most art forms, an artistic endeavor is never completely new, but adds fresh (entertaining and/or often disconcerting) views to an already rich heritage. It’s partly new though in the manner hereafter discussed.

Three years of experience playing alongside tenor and alto giant Sonny Stitt saw Patterson cooperating with guitar player Paul Weeden, and the remaining decade he would strike up an engaging companionship with Pat Martino. Martino and Patterson certainly inspired eachother to career heights. Without the guitar, however, Patterson is far from handicapped. The dynamics are not so much better as different. A whole bit of elbow room is created and judged by the manner in which Patterson takes it, for him it must be assumed a welcome deviation from the organ/sax/guitar-format.

Whereas in When Johnny Comes Marching Home Patterson doesn’t stray far from the methods of Jimmy Smith (who recorded the traditional tune on Crazy Baby in 1960) – in renaissance terminology Patterson surpasses imitatio and comes close to aemulatio – Patterson original S’Bout Time is a whole different ballgame. By far the album’s greatest achievement, (eclipsing the rendition of Sonny Rollins’ Oleo, itself a fine performance that receives meticulous attention to its tricky theme and a fair dose of fast-fingered bop-blues riffs from Patterson and tenorist Booker Ervin, and Up In Betty’s Room, a lively blues composition containing some freewheeling improvisation as well as a too distorted B3 sound near the end) S’Bout Time stretches the boundaries of soul jazz by way of a modal “feel” reminiscent of the work of contemporaries such as Joe Henderson, Wayne Shorter and Herbie Hancock. Horn and piano players, yes, since theirs is the broad-minded approach Patterson felt comfortable with and challenged by.

A sassy build-up from drummer Billy James and Patterson’s “walkin” bass lines is followed by a simple melody that is somewhat in the vein of (a speeded-up) So What, from whence Booker Ervin takes off. And I do mean take off! Ervin, an astute contributor to many of Charles Mingus’ finest recordings, is fiery all the way, splendid in his combination of blues and the depth of Coltrane. Patterson’s answer to Ervin’s spontaneous combustion is dynamic, coherent, unashamedly freeflowing. With only two chord changes to play with, and no percussive guitar obstacles, Patterson really stretches out, leaving smart spaces, playfully running up and down the scale and veering from robust behind-the-beat-accents to delicate, suave bopeology. Patterson uses his right hand almost exclusively and the effect is mesmerizing. After four and a half minutes of classy soloing, Ervin re-enters for a few heated bars and the trio trades fours down to the coda.

It’s a powerful statement from a refreshing record of organ jazz.

YouTube: ‘S Bout Time