Time Out Take Five is a regular column comprised of pithy takes on recent jazz releases, spotlighting titles deserving attention that might otherwise go unnoticed.
Charles Mingus: The Lost Album From Ronnie Scott’s – This recently-recovered gem is a clear and comprehensive depiction of the jazz icon’s skills as a composer, musician, and bandleader. “Fables of Faubus” is just one number arranged to highlight composed sections in contrast with improvisations: lesser writers would turn one of the multiple motifs here into a number of its own, while most ensembles would be hard pressed to think and act so quickly in the moment on stage. Contained in a deluxe package with period photos and insightful prose aplenty (as is the custom of Resonance Records,) this roiling jazz not only reaffirms the elevated stature of Mingus, but also the idiosyncratic nature of the irascible frontman: the three selections timing around thirty minutes alone are indicative of the relish with which he savored this occasion.
Frank Kimbrough: 2003-2006 – Frank Kimbrough’s piano playing is the essence of unpredictable on this package of two trio albums remixed by Palmetto Records’ founder, guitarist Matt Balitsaris (then remastered by A.T. Michael MacDonald). In an apposite contrast to another three-piece outing, 2021’s Ancestors (with bassist Masa Kamaguchi and cornetist Kirk Knuffke), the late pianist/composer regularly takes turns in unexpected directions and/or concludes a piece before it turns aimless: the element of surprise is delightful in either context, especially as such instances invariably whet the listener’s appetite for more over the course of this near-two hours total playing time. In the end, hearing this music becomes engrossing not only for what the leader’s doing but for the action of his co-musicians, one of whom is the ever-so-singular drummer Paul Motian on Volume II – Play.
Dave Bass: The Trio Vol. 2 – A reminder of what a bountiful source of inspiration is this venerated instrumental jazz configuration, the sole appearance of guitarist Barry Finnerty (Miles Davis, Brecker Bros., Billy Cobham) on the colorfully-titled “Baltic Bolero” only underscores the almost subliminal variety of compositions here. Ranging from sources including Denny Zeitlin, Bud Powell, Andrew Hill and Bass himself (in four instances), spare takes on unorthodox material sound like an unending exposition of imagination; with consummate grace and alacrity, the musicians contour their motion through the twists and turns of convoluted material commencing so emphatically with Annette Peacock’s”El Cordobes.” Bass invariably leads the charge with his assertive piano work, but he is otherwise hardly more authoritative or lithe of touch than his counterparts Kerry Kashiwagi and Scott Gordon on bass and drums respectively.
Felipe Salles/Zaccai Curtis/Avery Sharpe/Jonathan Barber: Tiyo’s Songs Of Life – How much more of an earnest homage can there be than this recording of material by late saxophonist/composer Tiyo Attalah Salah-El (written when he was serving a life sentence in prison). Perhaps not surprisingly, the arrangements and musicianship course with a lilting, balmy lyricism and not just in songs titled “Steppin’ Up” or “I’m Reaching Out;” “My Love Is Deep Inside” bespeaks a potent mix of self-sufficiency and patience in the way saxophonist/leader Felipe Salles sets a liberating tone for this quartet. In reflecting the virtues inherent in the work of their esteemed subject, the ensemble never becomes too careful in its nine renderings: it’s as if becoming overly reverential on something like “Blues To Change Your Views-On Stage Is A Cage” would thus undermine the propose of their tribute.
J. Peter Schwalm/Stephen Thelen: Transneptunian Planets – The mammoth pulse of Transneptunian Planets becomes all enveloping within seconds after it begins with “Pluto,” then continues unabated for its duration of sixty-plus minutes. In keeping with the interstellar overtures in its title, J. Peter Schwalm and Stephan Telen conjure images of space and time that metamorphose within tracks like “Haumea:” some float and some dart across the stereo spectrum, but all make an impact due to the unity of the two principals as they bond with the accompanying three musicians and vocalist. Apart from the guitar harmonics that appear at various intervals, there’s a definite warmth in these sounds that belies the frigidity of deep space as we know it, all of which makes for an evocative soundtrack for mind movies of many and varied nature.
