Blog - Jazz Spectrum

Andrew Hill’s Book of Compositions

Among the more audacious album titles in jazz is Genius of Modern Music (Vols. 1 & 2), applied to a pair of separate albums that Blue Note released in 1956, gathering the recordings from 1947 through 1952 of Thelonious Monk. I’ve always been happy the producers avoided leading with either “A” or “The”. “The” would been a smidge too bold, since around that time there were doubtless more than one genius mining the modern vein. But “A” would have been far too pallid – Thelonious was always too singular to be lumped with anyone else. So, “Genius” it was. And it was apt. Read More

Sasha Berliner – The State of the Vibraphone

I came to the vibraphone early in my jazz listening, and I’ve been there ever since, as the Jazz Spectrum archives document. And in this decade, the instrument has become ever more prevalent on the show, as it is on the current scene. Read More

Finding Sasha Berliner

In that winter of Lockdown, the Smalls/Mezzrow livestreams were my way of accessing at least some kind of live music performance.  I hit a jackpot (on a pretty safe bet) with a band called Palladium promising to play Wayne Shorter’s Speak No Evil on Christmas Eve 2020, 56 years to the day after its original recording. This was also the first time I heard Nicole Glover who met the responsibility of playing tenor saxophone by being a fresh voice, very much her own, respectful but not too deferential. Read More

So Many Lovely Things

In 1992, I was drawn to a show at the Regatta Bar in Cambridge featuring Joe Henderson and Freddie Hubbard on the front line. With his 1985 recording, The State of the Tenor, Joe had reestablished himself as a not-to-be-missed musician and one of the inarguable occupants of jazz’s vaunted tenor-saxophone. And Freddie, a wunderkind trumpeter who rose to heady prominence in the early 1960s, had reliably returned from his fusion digressions to produce a series of notable records in the mid-to late 80s. Read More

The Incredible Jazz Guitar of Wes Montgomery

Wes Montgomery recorded The Incredible Jazz Guitar of Wes Montgomery (featured on a recent Jazz Spectrum Friday) for the Riverside label over two days in January 1960, his second date as a leader and the first to fully chart the new territory he was defining for the instrument. The boastful title, so at odds with Wes’s mild and modest nature, came from the producer, Orrin Keepnews, who during those years was both an incisive judge of talent and an astute marketer. Read More

For Abdullah Ibrahim (1934–2026)

In 2005 I traveled with my oldest daughter to South Africa for a bit of work and a lot of what Duke Ellington called the “Tourist Point of View.” One afternoon during our interlude in Cape Town we were hosted for tea and dessert at a Cape Malay home. I’ve lost most of the small facts about the visit, but I recall the mood, the laughter, and the warmth of our hosts. This I really do recall: the sensation, as the hours unwound, of having been in that room, or at least having felt its ambience, before. Read More

On Seeing Abdullah Ibrahim in 2018

My most recent contribution to this blog was a recollection of seeing Sonny Rollins perform in 2009. Now I return with a memory, now bittersweet due to his own death this week, of seeing Abdullah Ibrahim in 2018. Rollins was 79, old only until the moment when the band and his own playing lit a spark. Ibrahim was 83 and although ever alert and observant, he was less energetic. Read More

Don Byas: A Celebration

The recent death of Sonny Rollins prompted the kind of grand homage that a career of that magnitude warrants. For nearly seven decades, Sonny was the — or at least a —  dominant voice on the tenor saxophone, not immune from the whims of musical fashion or the occasional eclipse of a brighter new star, but always present, active, recording, performing, forever searching. His fame was proportionate to his genius.  It grew as he aged, and it will survive his passing. Not every genius is so fortunate. Read More

For Sonny Rollins (1930–2026)

Imagine it: you’re scuffling in New York, Autumn 1959, writing your first stage play and believing that you might be Chekhov or Brecht. Your late shift ends somewhere in Brooklyn, and you make your way home through the New York night – across the Williamsburg Bridge and on toward your tiny studio with the grimy window overlooking Washington Square. Somewhere above you on the bridge, carried on the night air, you hear something – a sound at once keening and robust, probing and assured. Read More