Brazilian-born, NYC-based guitarist/composer/bandleader Ricardo Grilli likes to revisit history when developing themes for his albums. His previous 1954 began in the year of his father’s birth and centered on such topics as the Dawn of the Space Age and the height of bebop in his adopted city as well as the formative years of rock n’ roll. The short gap in years, as this work is entitled 1962, marks the year of his mother’s birth, the beginning of one of the most fertile decades in terms of music, politics, and social unrest. Musically, bebop fused with R&B to create hard bop, transitioning from soul jazz. Of course, the British Invasion led to a heavier, less poppy brand of rock n’ roll and psychedelia. Apart from the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam, and Woodstock, Grilli’s native Brazil was undergoing a turmoil that would soon culminate in the 1964 coup d’état ushering in two decades of military rule. Such is the foundation for quite a soundtrack.
However, Grilli chose not to be literal or direct regarding these events and trends, instead opting to focus of ideas of evolution and change. Then he enlisted a remarkable quintet with the ability to bridge the concepts of the modern and the past. Bassist Joe Martin and drummer Eric Harland return from 1954, joined here by saxophone great Mark Turner and pianist Kevin Hays.
Though 1962 is far from a protest record, it does take a slightly darker view from both ends of its timeline. Grilli’s own birth in 1985 coincided with the end of Brazil’s military dictatorship and the country’s first direct elections. In 2020 things seem to have come full circle with the far right’s rise to power in Brazil along with parallel disconcerting tendencies in the U.S. Whether it’s this disturbing political trend or simply fond remembrance of his parents, Grilli found the influence of Brazilian music emerging much more strongly in his music for 1962 than it has in the past, though again the influences are subtle and filtered through his own singular vision. “Coyote,” for instance, is a subtle slow samba, a beautiful meshing of Grilli’s lyrical guitar and Hays’ gliding piano while Turner initially takes the low end with almost a background role before elegantly stating the melody in the second half. “Lunàtico” is built on the foundation of a maracatu groove, albeit slightly bent, as the title suggests. The name is also a reference to Brooklyn’s Bar Lunatico, a beloved venue close to the guitarist’s home. Martin has a rare solo opportunity that he delivers expressively.
The atmospheric intro “1954-1962” bridges the two albums, with Grilli playing alone through effects-laden guitar tones to suggest a journey through time. We hear the subtle support from Harland, Hays, and Martin, who know how to alternately be calm and spacious or rhythmic and grooving while Turner follows Grilli on “Mars,” which continues the composer’s fascination with astronomy through a soaring piece. That theme also appears on “Voyager,” another title with a double meaning – in addition to suggesting the exploratory spacecraft launched in the late 70s, Voyager is also the name of Harland’s adventurous band. As well as being a showcase for the freewheeling Harland, all get space to improvise in the spirt of Harland’s band through this cosmic vibe, with Turner’s explorative tenor leading the way. With a tiny apology for the obvious use of these words, this one appropriately has drive and thrust.
“183 W. 10th St.” refers to NYC’s Smalls Jazz Club of which retired founder Mitch Borden contributes to the liners. Grilli’s take is on the forward-looking bop vibe that found a home there for musicians like Mark Turner. It was also a home base for guitarist Peter Bernstein, to whom Grilli pays homage on “Signs.” “E.R.P.” looks farther back into that lineage, its title both a dedication to bop pioneer Bud Powell (whose birth name was Earl Rudolph Powell) and a reference to “E.S.P.,” the classic Wayne Shorter piece originally recorded by Miles Davis’ second quintet (whose existence roughly coincides with this album’s timeframe, as the first quintet did with 1954). Grilli plays in lightning-fast precise fashion in the mode of Pat Martino before yielding to Turner’s feverish tenor take.
“The Sea and the Night” finds inspiration in the isolation and darkness found adrift in the limitless ocean, as Grilli is again highly lyrical, dancing all over the fret board, as Hays reflects Grilli’s lines in his own sparking solo before Turner makes his own potent, soaring statement. Here, as on several, if not most tracks, one can hear “yeah” and other exclamations as the band urges each other on; emblematic of a live recording. “Virgo (Oliver’s Song)” was written for the birth of Grilli’s cousin’s first son and has Grilli, Turner, and Hays (who also solos impressively) blending beautifully on this elegant tune.
While 1954 straddled the line between jazz and progressive rock, Grilli adheres to a pure jazz mode throughout this one. His gorgeously clean guitar lines are all over every entry, propelled by his band that steps forward when asked while playing in unison as well as deferring to his lead throughout. Beyond the two timelines suggested by the album titles, Grilli sees this pair of recordings as the two halves of an interstellar journey – if 1954 launched listeners into the stratosphere, 1962 brings them home, wiser but still marveling at the communication and interplay among these gifted players, two of whom were aboard before.
