To our great delight, these days it seems like that great new jazz guitar players are so plentiful you bump into them on the street. Brooklyn’s Max Light is one of the best of the new crop. (We’ll avoid the obvious pun on his name.) Light gathers a group of friends and colleagues for his third album, including pianist Julian Shore, bassist Walter Stinson, drummer Steven Crammer, and special guest Caleb Wheeler Curtis on winds. Backed by this formidable crew, Light makes __Unlearning_ another step forward in his artistic evolution.
Inspired by his father’s struggle with Alzheimer’s disease, Unlearning is an album that’s not only technically accomplished, but deeply felt. On the title track, Light takes us through the process of forgetting one’s past, with all its disadvantages and advantages. Memories get lost, but the problems of the past fade away as well, and the tune takes us through both fields, from the pensive bebop first half to the triumphant postbop second. “Talking to You” reaches back to the swing of hard bop, pondering the joys and sorrows of communication with a fallen loved one while also highlighting the conversation between Light and the band. “Caregiving” lurches and shudders forward, the fractured clatter punctuated by Curtis’ spiraling stritch lines as Light explores the difficulty of its titular activity, both in the work itself and the emotional toll it takes. The opening “Paul,” a direct tribute to Light’s dad, bends its elegiac tone with harmonized guitar and soprano sax that makes the guitarist’s feeling for this complicated man clear.
No mere technician, Light uses his guitar as a device for self-expression, wielding his considerable skills to make communication of his feelings absolutely direct. Backed by his sympathetic band, he turns Unlearning from an exercise in superior dexterity to an emotional exhibition of musical art.
