Urbanity by Urbanity

Remember FM radio stations that played so-called "beautiful music"? Back when I was young and living in Southern California, we had station such as KBIG and KOST that played a lot of easy listening music, the sort of music that was supposed to soothe you and take you away from all your problems. I know all about this because my dad always listened to this type of music when he came home from work. He had a hell of a nasty commute, fifteen miles that took him an hour on nasty Orange County freeways, and he needed KOST and KBIG to decompress when he came home. It was little more than elevator music, of course, but it's weird that these radio stations don't seem to exist anymore.

I think for the most part "beautiful music" has been replaced by smooth jazz. The "relaxed groove" and "melodic interplay" of the smooth jazz group Urbanity definitely fits into this genre. Normally I would cut a wide path around this kind of music because it just doesn't excite me that much. But something happened today, a relatively troubling news day, of course, and I've been in sort of a foul mood for the last 24 hours. Urbanity, the eponymous album from Urbanity, wasn't even near the top of the review pile and yet I felt compelled to play it again because I just didn't want to listen to something angry, agitated or edgy. I can't believe it, but it totally worked. This album really mellowed me out.

I've reviewed Urbanity before, tackling their last album Urban Soul back in July 2017. I felt a little disappointed with that title since I had expected something more funky, more Sly and the Family Stone than Larry Carlton. "Urban Soul did grow on me, despite the initial disappointment of having to critique more lite jazz," I wrote, and my ultimate recommendation was to have these two Australian gentlemen--guitarist Albare and keyboardist Phil Turcio--ditch the drum machines and the synthesizers for a modern sound. I feel like they've done exactly that on Urbanity--Turcio is still handling all the programming, including percussion, but it seems he has a much better grasp of it now, switching to a more natural and modern beat.

The real reason I like Urbanity, as well as Urbanity, is because it's hypnotic if you're in the right frame of mind. This is really well-recorded lite jazz, with plenty of air and space and depth. Yeah, we audiophiles like to call that soundstaging, but here it's more of a knowing embrace, an aural first (or second) martini. It relaxes me, and I don't even have a nasty commute to deal with since I work from home. My dad, who's about to turn 88 in a couple of months and hasn't had to deal with a daily commute in 30 years, would probably like it too.

Michael C. Lewis' Intimate Journey

This new album from trumpeter Michael C. Lewis sounds like a throwback, but not a throwback in typical jazz terms. We're not talking about be-bop and big band or any of that, but a more recent past where the sound is brighter and glassier and more, well, digital. I'm talking about '80s jazz, which has sort of this Patrick Nagel sheen covering it, with lots of electric keyboards and electric basses and smooth horn sections. We're getting uncomfortably close to terms like "lite jazz" or "smooth jazz," which is not my thing. But Michael C. Lewis and his horn start doing something else in Intimate Journey, something almost subversive.

When so-called smooth jazz started popping up about thirty years ago, it tried to do just one thing--it tried to update the traditional jazz forms into something that would appeal to larger pop-oriented audiences. You've heard of the old adage of trying to please everyone and therefore pleasing no one? That's what smooth jazz did in the '80s. But let's face it, lots of people did like it, and they still do. What Lewis is doing is taking that sound as a jumping-off point and adding all of the things we've heard since, especially when it comes to hip-hop production and even electronica. I'm not saying that Intimate Journey sounds anything like hip-hop, but you will hear those modern approaches in the synthesizers and percussion, steady and truncated beats that simply weren't around thirty years ago.

Lewis the man is quite talented--he also sings with a rich and deep voice that is made for old-fashioned love songs in the classic R&B style. And he plays the trumpet and the flugelhorn in that distant, shimmering and dipped-in-sugar way that was big in the '80s. This side of the music will sound familiar to you. But dig deeply into songs like "Miles to Go," with his muted horn obviously paying homage to a certain trumpeter, and you'll hear the new, the trip-hop expansions and the beats that are real but almost sound programmed.

When Lewis dives into the funk later in the album, he's definitely at his creative peak. Those are the elements that lift him into relevance, as opposed to being a confection for all those people who are still addicted to cool, smooth jazz. He's stretching across this bridge, almost slyly, bringing these two disparate crowds of fans together under one beat. You'll hear this as Intimate Journey moves along from track to track, getting ever more adventurous. You'll be caught up by the end once you learn there's another layer hiding deep in the mix, waiting to see if you notice.