ORG Reissue of Hank Jones' Arigato

I need to get hoppin' on these new LP reissues from ORG Music--a big box arrived yesterday with a load of new titles from many different genres, everything from classic R&B to hardcore punk to something really bizarre from a guy named Tav Falco. (I mean bizarre in a really nice way, because it's very unique and fun.) In my new role as managing editor of The Occasional, I've been very busy covering trade shows and running to the west coast for events and even receiving and organizing a pile of audio equipment to review, all while my mailbox is still filled almost daily with new music. Last month I made 41 blog entries, a record for The Vinyl Anachronist, but less than half were actual music reviews. I've had Hank Jones' Arigato waiting patiently for far too long, and that's a shame because it's really good.

Hank Jones is one of those jazz pianists who is considered among the greats, but I feel like I rarely hear about him. He's the gentleman who plays piano on Cannonball Adderley's legendary Somethin' Else, and he's also the pianist who accompanied Marilyn Monroe when she sang "Happy Birthday" to JFK. (As a side note, his full name is Henry Jones Jr., which makes me wonder if Steven Spielberg and George Lucas were quietly paying tribute to him.) He's recorded 60 albums as a leader/front man, and I don't own any of them. Younger brothers Thad Jones and Elvin Jones, yes. Hank Jones, no. That's my bad.

Arigato was recorded and released in 1976 during his second wind of recording in the studio. In the '50s and '60s he was everywhere, playing with everyone, and he found a solid gig as the "staff pianist" for CBS from 1959 to 1975. He experienced a renewal of interest in his work in the '70s due to his involvement in the musical Ain't Misbehavin', and Arigato comes from that period. This is a simple collection of standards, performed by a stellar trio that included bassist Richard Davis and drummer Ronnie Bedford. What you'll notice first about this album is the sheer energy--Jones has a quick, lyrical style that has been described as "impeccable," and his two cohorts are game to turn the key and start the engines. This is a fast jazz album in the sense that it just speeds by, and it leaves you wanting more.

I'm starting to wax rhapsodic about these ORG Music reissues in the same way I gush about 2L Recordings, but for a slightly different reason. ORG is doing a fantastic job of preserving those countless historic windows no matter the view. There are a few great-sounding jazz albums from late '70s--a couple from Chico Freeman come to mind--but there's a thin quality that often seeps in, a digital clarity that suggests the recording engineers were turning their backs on the pure and effective methods used in the '50s and '60s and looking to bring out more detail at the cost of warmth. I noticed this on the ORG reissue of Roland Hanna's Perugia. These ORG reissues from that period shine, however, because they're both faithful to the original recording and yet there's just a tad more warmth and humanity than in the original pressings.

That means Arigato sounds a little light on its feet, but at the same time you get to dig deep into what makes Hank Jones tick. For someone like me, who is being introduced to such a skilled and fascinating pianist, that's a gift.

Rebecca Hass' Florescer

St. Paul, Minnesota, isn't known for being a hotbed of Brazilian music--or maybe it is since I know very little about the place--but pianist Rebecca Hass is doing something very special up there with the recording of her debut album, Florescer. Haas describes herself as "addicted to Brazilian rhythms" and she reached out to me after reading my review of Alexandra Jackson's new album a couple of weeks ago. At first she seems like someone new to the game, a young pianist and composer who's trying to get a foothold in the industry through Kickstarter, email blasts and whatever works in this day and age, but she's actually been performing for quite some time--she's been playing with the percussion group Batucada do Norte for a dozen years.

Florescer, which is Brazilian for bloom, instantly reveals those ties to percussion and South American rhythms. Hass originally conceived these compositions as solo piano works, but she enlisted the help of her friend Tim O'Keefe, who is an expert on all types of hand-drumming techniques. That's what you get with Florescer--Hass' piano, which is strong, steady and even a bit muscular, paired with O'Keefe's exotic drums. O'Keefe is just as steady--his style is measured and seems so coupled to Hass' dynamics that they chug along like a machine with two engines.

As a result, the music here is unusually focused--the first song, "Maracatu do Manitim," is angular in the way it takes modern Brazilian themes and sets them on their side, deconstructing the rhythms and laying them out so the listener can see how they're built. She's also fond of the lower registers of the piano in many of her songs, which gives the proceedings a certain weight that is not necessarily common to the genre. When she speeds up the momentum, such as "Baiao da Bicicleta," that's when the parts fit back together seamlessly. There's even a tango, "Naquele Tempo," which indeed uses a slightly slower tempo than usual to once again reveal some of the genre's secrets.

Florescer does have that "square one" feeling that comes from getting out there and taking a chance--I think Hass might benefit from a larger ensemble around her in future recordings, but that requires time and perhaps more hard work. This album shows that this pianist/composer has unusual ideas about Brazilian music, and she isn't content to just play it the same way as everyone else. This is a snapshot of an artist at the beginning of a long and exciting journey, and I'm happy that she reached out.

You can download Florescer at her website.

Christopher Hollyday's Telepathy

Classic bop. I like that label. It's the stuff that got me into jazz once I was in college, the stuff that's invented on the fly, music that soars and wails and has more pure momentum than any other genre in jazz. I cover a lot of jazz in this blog--big band, organ trios, women vocalists, Latin and Caribbean jazz--but the jazz that really excites me is this. Christopher Hollyday's new album, Telepathy, didn't seem to stand out when it invaded my review pile, or even when I played it on the big system for the first time. But here, now, on this fabulous new headphone rig, this is magic.

You know altor saxophonist Christopher Hollyday is the real thing when his bio notes that he's "back" after an extended hiatus, that he was huge in the '80s and '90s and is now ready "to start a new phase of his career." That can mean a lot of different things, none of which are revealed in the press kit, but from listening to these six standards, everything from Freddie Hubbard's "One of Another Kind" to "Autumn in New York," I think I know. I think Hollyday's been out there, living life, playing when he can.

Jazz, of course, is about experience. You don't have to be old to play jazz, but you need to have lived through some things for those meaningful emotions to come out in the notes that you play. They need to sound real and honest. Hollyday's alto sax is a swirling, dense messenger, with more weight than you'd imagine, and it recalls a lot of different horn players who might be playing even bigger instruments. Ultimately this is about an original soul who should have never stopped recording. In his wisdom, Hollyday has realized that it's not all about him, since trumpet player Gilbert Castellanos is right up at the edge of the stage, standing next to his friend. These two bounce off each other, not in counterpoint but in a distinct way that echoes while it diverges. They remind me at times of those great sax-trumpet tandems in the old days--I don't have to name names.

The remaining members of this quintet--pianist Joshua White, bassist Rob Thorson and drummer Tyler Kreutel--aren't wallflowers. They understand the endeavor, that they re-staking a claim. As you might have already guessed, this is as pure as jazz gets. It's equal parts melody and improvisation, and while it's grounded in the past it obviously wants to remind everyone of the power of "classic bop" and how it influenced everything that came afterward.

Monika Wall's Earth

Monika Wall is a delightful anachronism, a singer-songwriter who seems to have stepped out of the 1970s to deliver a gentle, mid-tempo folk rock that is from the same mold as Carole King and even Joni Mitchell. She's been traveling the world for inspiration, from "an African American gospel choir to majestic 1000 year old cathedrals, country churches and concert halls." I feel like I grew up with this sound, pulled from Southern California's mellow past, the birth of FM, the signature warmth that is dipped in love for nature, God, being at peace.

The word hippie comes to mind, but Monika Wall is not that unless you're going to use it in the kindest way. In her new album Earth, Wall shows off a number of styles that slowly veer away from that template--by the time she gets to the fourth song on this EP, "One Step," she's right in the middle of jazz, and that's about as far from the classic '70s sound as it gets. But she returns to her home by the end with the Anne Bisson-esque "Season of Rain" and "We Will Rise," which is, of course, an anthem.

I have to be honest--I wasn't listening to this music even in the '70s. I was always a wild child in my musical tastes, preferring music that was loud, fast and threatening to the old folks. (My older brother constantly foisted the quieter music on me such as Loggins and Messina, Seals and Croft, etc., and I didn't bite.) As someone who seems to be flying through his fifties at a breakneck pace, however, I enjoy two specific things--the strong recording quality of Earth, much better than the music it evokes, and a sense of nostalgic that may not have been mine but still floated through the air when I was young. It's a common thing to gravitate toward the music of your youth, and I feel that Monika Wall might be doing that very same thing.

Elliot Deutsch's Make Big Band Great Again

Uh oh, I thought.

You got one of them red caps on the album cover, you start off with "America, the Beautiful" and you follow up with original compositions with titles such as "Fake News," "Repeal and Replace" and "The Great Wall"...what am I getting myself into here? Fortunately, Make Big Band Great Again is not what you think, or it's exactly what you think, depending upon your views. "It made no sense to me that Donald Trump aimed to dismantle the progress of the Obama era while simultaneously presenting himself as a man of the people," composer and arranger Elliot Deutsch explains.

This EP--outside of the patriotic intro, there are only four compositions here--is Deutsch's musical reaction to the 2016 election as someone who depends upon Obamacare and the NEA. He originally intended this album as a tribute to Los Angeles, which is why the final song is titled "Pink Sunset (Over Gray Skies)." You can listen to these four main pieces without attaching any message to them, since this is a bright, jazzy big band performance with a tight groove and solid melodies. If you dig deep into Deutsch's intentions, the music changes.

"Repeal and Replace," for instance, alternates between a tighter groove that represents Trump's vision for health care, and wild sections that describe the actual mess he created. A lone trumpet represents a single citizen trying to navigate the chasm. "The Great Wall" has an enthusiastic and celebratory feel to it which is meant to symbolize the idea of a "migrant-free utopia" while secretly presenting the idea that an easier path to immigration would be the wiser solution.

This is a brave album, just like John Daversa's American Dreamers--one has to think that a majority of big band jazz fans are older and possibly conservative in their views. That brings you back to the title, about making big band great again, and how that might occur in one of two ways--by enlightening the current fans or by bringing in the younger folks who are more in tune with this approach. Then again, music has always been an effective medium for those who cherish free speech. If that brings more people to big jazz, or if that makes some people re-evaluate their values, it's a good thing.

Part-Time Audiophile: YG Acoustics Sonja XV and Dan D'Agostino Relentless Monoblocks

Here's the reason why I went to San Diego a couple of weeks ago--to see the North American debut of the $265,900/system YG Acoustics loudspeakers and the $250,000/pair Dan D'Agostino monoblock amplifiers at Alma Audio! You can read all about it here.

Annie Chen Octet's Secret Treetop

I haven't mentioned this yet, but I have a new headphone rig in for review--an Inspire Dragon IHA-1 tubed amplifier from Dennis Had, and a pair of Focal Clear headphones. I have this hooked up to my Unison Research CDE CD player as well as my laptop where I have access to Tidal and Roon and now Qobuz. The only reason I'm bring this up now is Secret Treetop from the Annie Chen Octet is playing this evening. I've been listening to it on my main system in the living room before now, and I've been intrigued.

This new headphone rig is pretty special, by the way. It's revealing and yet easy on the ears.

Well, I just listened to Secret Treetop on this rig for the first time, and I literally jumped out of my chair during the first track, "Ozledim Seni." This track begins like an outtake from Peter Gabriel's Passion, filled with Middle Eastern themes and lots of unusual percussion. I'm not sure what percussion instrument startled me so--it sounded like some kind of wooden chimes--but it wasn't in the headphones. It was out in the room. I thought something had fallen behind me, to the left, all around. I thought something was going to land on my head. It was the music, this exotic hybrid of jazz and world music and, most significantly, Chinese poetry. And stuff was falling and crashing all around me.

So far this sounds more like a review of the hardware than the software, but I did want to illustrate just how unusual this album is and how there are multiple surprises around every corner. Annie Chen was born in Beijing and now lives in New York. She was trained to be a classical pianist but fell in love with jazz, as the story so often goes. She sings as well, and this exciting album, her second, is wonderfully eclectic and filled with so many fascinating ideas that come from both classical and jazz. Her poetry is the bridge between the media, mostly sung in Chinese (English lyrics are supplied), full of distinct imagery that is on a very different level than mere lyrics in an ordinary song. I've called this poetry, and it is:

I'll stay in bed, there might be a man next to me.
More often left, I'm just alone,
Just me and the express way, running right next to my room.

There is a profound richness to this project, and exciting attention to detail that consumes both the music and the vocals. Chen's voice is both personable and lovely--she's telling stories here but you are also lulled by the beauty of her voice. While much of the music performed by these eight musicians is based primarily within jazz motifs, there is a freedom to explore that will remind you of a small classical ensemble. It's the words, however, that will command your attention. Chen has even borrowed rhythmic structures from other cultures--Japan and Italy and Turkey are also influences--and there isn't a single idea expressed that is not a deliberate choice from someone who understands language just as much as music. Secret Treetop is intelligent and mysterious, and it sounds wonderful on headphones, too.