Notable Jazz Recordings, 1980-1989: Re-Evaluating A Decade (Part 2/6)

1. Charles Brackeen Quartet, Worshippers Come Nigh (1987)
Brackeen’s soberly brief discography doesn’t begin to hint at his influence and reputation, which stretches back to the late 1960s and includes time with Strata East and an appearance on the legendary Downtown Loft scene chronicle, 1977’s Wildflowers. The liner notes to this release even suggest the Silkheart record label was partly founded to give Brackeen a voice for recording new material, and even if that’s promotional hyperbole, he remains a much-missed presence. With Olu Dara on cornet, Air alumnus Fred Hopkins on bass, and powerhouse Andrew Cyrille on drums, there’s actually very little of the post-Ayler spiritual hokum one might fear upon glancing at the title. But Ayler’s spirit hovers near – “Bannar” especially resembles the kind of woozy marching band tune the free jazz giant might have made his own, while “Tiny Town” adds conga and pao de chuva to create a quasi-Caribbean tinge. But the screams of Ayler can also be heard in Brackeen’s crystal-clear tenor, even if he just as often suggests Arthur Blythe (while others hear Sun Ra’s John Gilmore). The second half moves along more slowly. But both sides deliver the swing so often missing from post-Ayler spiritual jazz while never shying away from the spirited improv many of us hold dear.

2. David Murray Trio, The Hill (1987)
Loft Jazz pioneer, dogged composer, World Saxophone Project visionary, ostensible big band leader, Deadhead – from the minute his epochal Flowers For Albert dropped in 1976, David Murray has amassed an intimidating cache of releases encompassing wide swaths of post-swing jazz. Ayler was, unsurprisingly, his most noted influence, and many others cite Coltrane, but with the passage of time, I think more often of Sonny Rollins – at the very least, Murray’s singular voice on tenor conjures up positive comparisons with the warm, sexy, audacious physicality of prime Sonny. Returning as he does again and again to old compositions, never satisfied with previous incarnations or arrangements, to stroll through Murray’s vast back catalogue is to continually rediscover familiar songs, and this Black Saint session (based on a one-off November club engagement) epitomizes his hunger for reworking old ground. Whereas his octet hovered darkly and noisily around “The Hill” on 1980’s Ming, several years later he’s paired it down to a mere trio, with Richard Davis and Joe Chambers playing elders to his just-turned-thirty. On “Herbie Miller,” he trains his gaze on the sometimes-confounding bass clarinet, employing all manner of screams and clicks against Davis’ arco bass. For Billy Strayhorn’s “Chelsea Bridge,” he plays glowing-ember warm lines against chiming vibraphone in one of the loveliest ten minutes from that or any other year. And he takes on Duke Ellington, riding a finger-snapping rhythm while honking and blowing overhead, veering between Ben Webster and, yes, Albert Ayler.

3. Anthony Braxton, Six Monk’s Compositions (1987)
Scattered throughout the discography of our most exhaustively documented jazz artist lie plenty of “in the tradition” exercises, but not all are created equal – Braxton’s 1993 Charlie Parker Project, for example, starts strong before devolving into farts and rummaging around inside pianos. But here, six spirited performances tackle Monk’s unique canon head-on, discarding post-structuralist tendencies for glorious bebop. Perhaps the lack of gristle is due to the magisterial presence of bassist Buell Neidlinger and, especially, pianist Mal Waldron, whose portfolio ranges from backing Billie Holliday to dueling with Eric Dolphy and Steve Lacy (an interesting point of comparison with this record would be Lacy’s all-Monk 1958 Reflections, which shares Waldron, Neidlinger, and four of six songs). Or perhaps Braxton simply felt some kinship with an artist whose compositional skills and staggering intelligence were too often downgraded in favor of his more easily digestible eccentricities. Note the title – not tunes, not songs, and certainly not tricky heads to figure out and cast aside, but compositions.

4. Lee Konitz, Wild As Springtime (1984)
Konitz rests comfortably alongside Lennie Tristano and Warne Marsh as a definite exemplar of West Coast Cool, even if Konitz hailed from Chicago and just as often pursued a fairly radical agenda embracing solo saxophone (1974’s Lone-Lee, nearly as groundbreaking as Braxton’s For Alto a few years prior) and free improvisation. Given that he spent much of the 1960s in a partly self-imposed musical exile, his resurgence beginning in the mid-70s is all the more startling, especially in the way he’s given Braxton a run for his money in sheer documentation. This duo session with pianist Harold Danko resulted from a working relationship that included several earlier albums and a tour, leading producer Elliot Meadow to bring the two together in the studio. Effortless interplay that never once settles into complacency, like much of Konitz’s best work, it can seem remarkably easy to listen to until one remembers to follow along, at which point his improvisational gifts begin to wow – a mere cerebral technician he is not. The set list runs from Chick Corea to Chopin. Plus, the very weird “Hi Beck,” an exercise in high octave piano tinkling, and a closing free improvisation that encompasses Konitz’s artistry in two minutes – adventurous yet lovely, cool to the end.

5. Frank Lowe Quintet, Exotic Heartbreak (1981)
Upon his death in 2003, Frank Lowe occupied a strange position in contemporary jazz – a supposed member of the avant-garde who more often than not echoed the gentler sounds of pre-bop stylists like Chu Berry and Lester Young. While his earliest appearances on vinyl were pretty scorched earth (see his 1973 pairing with Rashied Ali, Duo Exchange), beginning with his mid-70s Black Lion dates, Lowe perfected a unique approach to tenor saxophone that critics Richard Cook and Brian Morton have democratically dubbed “backward-looking modernism or radical conservatism”. Never a mere historian and certainly not afraid to let loose with a mighty roar, his is a voice that only gradual opens itself up to the casual listener. Exotic Heartbreak is a quintet recording that includes Lawrence Butch Morris on cornet, slowing down just twice for gutbucket blues on “Close To The Soul” and the formally arranged balladic exploration that is the title track. Elsewhere, Lowe drives his band onward in a focused swing that blends the seemingly tossed-off with practiced mastery. Perhaps condemned to relative obscurity due to his deeply attractive lack of flash, Lowe’s body of work begs for rediscovery.
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