Ah! When jazz was jazz, men were men and women were women! From a 1977 gig at San Francisco’s famous Keystone Korner, when jazz dives were jazz dives, veteran pianist Cedar Walton (who just recently departed to his Maker and hopefully Savior) leads a hard hitting macho team of Bob Berg/ts, David Williams/b and sorely missed Billy Higgins/dr for a night that probably seemed like “just another night” but now seems like golden days gone by.
This is the kind of music, and the period of time, that I got hooked on jazz, and it was sets like this that helped me cross over the Jordan to the Promised Land. Berg’s got the Coltrane dna coming out of his sax with fiery solos that howl out to the moon. Higgins drives the rhythm team like it’s the Stagecoach races at the Calgary Stampede, while Walton’s comps and solos mix perfect time, note selection and the verve of a man that is trying to prove something.
For 3 songs, fellow Jazz Messenger alumnus Freddie Hubbard jumps on stage with his trumpet/flugelhorn and plays as if thinking “what would the world’s hottest horn man do right now?” This is when Hubbard was the cock of the walk, and whether it’s the fluffy foam of the sizzling “Ugetsu” the high voltage hard bop of “Byrdlike” or the 6 minutes of pure modal lightning on “Impressions,” you get a seminar on what a testosterone-filled horn is supposed to sound like. At times crisp and concise, other times wailing like a Pentacostal preacher, Hubbard throws down the notes as if to tell anyone within ear’s reach “Top THAT, Chump!” This whole disc is what’s missing in today’s music. Give it a listen as if you’re listening to a Biblical prophet tell of days gone by.
High Note Records