As 1970s sounds make a comeback in rock music, maybe it’s time for nostalgia for ‘70s jazz. It was underrated, mostly because jazz purists were still taken seriously back then and the ‘70s were anything but pure – more like “anything goes,” and there’s a little of everything on my roughly chronological list of favorites from that decade.
There was much talk of fusion capturing the power of rock, but in most cases it just borrowed the beats and the electricity. Guitarist John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra really did have the power; probably the only rock bands that could have matched them in 1971, when they made their debut with The Inner Mounting Flame, were King Crimson, Stooges, and the MC5. McLaughlin had paid his dues with Tony Williams Lifetime and with Miles Davis, but Mahavishnu’s music was much flashier. Where Davis’s music was eerie and subversive, Mahavishnu’s would just snap your neck. The other members contributed mightily too. Drummer Billy Cobham’s powerhouse drummer was less subtle than Tony Williams’s, but made up for that with sheer brutal strength and speed. Jerry Goodman managed to make the electric violin an instrument of aggression. Keyboardist Jan Hammer and bassist Rick Laird filled in every crack in the sound to create an impenetrable wall. (They do quiet down for the lovely “A Lotus on Irish Streams.”) It remains an iconic sound.
This 1972 release isn’t Kirk’s best album, but it’s his most soulful, funky, and accessible. Not only does it feature one of his greatest moments, a driving version of the gospel standard “Old Rugged Cross” (that’s not a sax section, it’s Kirk playing three horns at once, no overdubs), it’s got covers of hits of the time – Bill Withers’s “Ain’t No Sunshine,” Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Goin’ On”/”Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology),” The Temptations’ “My Girl,” “Never Can Say Goodbye” (a hit for many), and more, even Bread’s “Make It with You” (which, yes, sounds soulful). Some might say this disc is not high art in the way that everything else on this list is, to which I say A) I love it too much to care; B) if what he does with “Old Rugged Cross” isn’t great art, then you’re defining “art” wrong.
Stitt was an established bebop icon who worked with Dizzy Gillespie in 1945-46, with Miles Davis 15 years later, and extensively as a leader. His alto sax style is similar to Charlie Parker’s but still individual, while his tenor sax work looks back to the big band tenors a bit more. In the 1960s he went the soul jazz route, with electric keyboards and guitar, but in 1971-72 he toured with the Giants of Jazz, a bebop all-star band, which re-established his straight-ahead credentials. Shortly thereafter Stitt cut the two quartet albums collected here. Pianist Barry Harris and bassist Sam Jones are on both, with the drummers being Roy Brooks and Alan Dawson. Stitt’s playing is the totally assured work of a master as he reels off fluid runs on largely classic Bebop-associated material. Look in used bins for this out-of-print disc.
Tyner’s work on Milestone (from 1972 through 1980) made it clear he was a creative force in his own right, much more than just the pianist in the John Coltrane Quartet. A pair of live albums featuring under-recorded tenor and soprano saxophonist Azar Lawrence are the most brilliant of Tyner’s many sparkling gems from the period, recapturing the vastness and overflowing creative spirit of the classic Coltrane Quartet, but with Tyner’s own special flavor dominating. The highlights of 1973’s Enlightenment are the contrasting moods of the three-movement title suite and the 25-minute blues workout “Walk Spirit, Talk Spirit.” The following year, Atlantis recaptured the magic. The solo piano “In a Sentimental Mood” offers a nostalgic but entirely relevant nod from one master to another, and is also something of a sonic breather after the epic title track rhythmically stoked by drummer Wilby Fletcher’s powerful polyrhythms. I can’t choose between these two!
No other jazz group has ever had the same personnel for as long as the MJQ consisted of Milt Jackson (vibraphone), John Lewis (piano), Percy Heath (bass), and Connie Kay (drums). The group arose from the Dizzy Gillespie Big Band’s rhythm section, and thus is securely grounded in bebop, but became famous for albums exploring the fusion of jazz, classical, and mildly avant-garde musics. This 1974 gig came just before a hiatus; this two-CD set finds them relaxing and stretching out (especially Jackson) on brilliant solos.
Taylor has long been a polarizing figure (not what one would expect of someone who played for Jimmy Carter at the White House!). Some have said that what he plays isn’t jazz. Certainly there are aspects of it that come from avant-garde classical music, yet I find it hard to imagine this largely or entirely improvised, highly kinetic music being played by anyone not coming from a jazz background, and on his early recordings in the late 1950s Taylor definitely played jazz. Taylor’s band music is also important and inspired, but this virtuosic solo concert recorded July 2, 1974 at the Montreux Jazz Festival gives the best idea of the essence of his approach. It’s been said that Taylor plays the piano as though it were 88 tuned drums, and he does often have a highly percussive, aggressive sound, but he is also capable of quiet lyricism.
Made in the throes of pain from a serious hip ailment and various other medical problems, this double album recorded live in Japan in 1975, just before Miles’s half-decade hiatus, wasn’t issued until several years later. Keyed by the coruscating guitars of Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey, with the versatile Sonny Fortune reaching his apex as a saxophonist and flutist, it’s a shattering cathartic outburst, the quiet moods as intense as the full-force grooves. Cosey in particular unleashes a vast array of unearthly sounds and wild freakouts, and this music is as much about sonic sculpture as it is about rhythm. No matter what the volume or the rhythm, the tension never lets up, with moments of shattering beauty and soul-rending vehemence combined.
This 1975 solo concert is by acclamation the pinnacle of Jarrett’s creativity and the album that displays his most important style in its purest and most inspired essence. On some of his other solo concert albums, the vamps sound like he’s treading water trying to think of something; here, the vamps are propulsive and engaging even before he puts melodies over them; when the melodies appear, having been organically conceived, the effect is positively orgasmic. Jarrett’s solo style is often strongly grounded in gospel-flavored grooves (which is certainly the case on this disc) but also takes in aspects of Bill Evans, Bud Powell, and Paul Bley (an underrated master) and often extends to classical influences (especially Chopin and Scriabin). He can also turn on a dime, switching instantaneously from a loud, jangling groove (that’s been likened to strumming and even to bagpipe drones) to spare, quiet lyricism. This disc is intensely compelling.
This 1977 release is one of the most tuneful albums by a serious fusion group, as opposed to the more pop-oriented ones. The most famous track is “Birdland,” which was a radio hit as covered by the Manhattan Transfer, but WR leader Joe Zawinul’s arrangement is far better than that vocal group’s simplification. Saxophonist Wayne Shorter’s tunes “Harlequin” and “Palladium” are also high points, and this was the album that introduced electric bass prodigy Jaco Pastorius to many listeners.
This Detroit native was one of the first female bebop singers, earning her the nickname “Betty Bebop” from Lionel Hampton when she was his featured singer in 1948-51. She forged an agile style that found her comfortable at faster tempos than other singers dared attempt, dazzling the cognoscenti but never achieving the widespread fame of some contemporaries. Recorded live in December 1979 with the backing trio of pianist John Hicks, bassist Curtis Lundy, and drummer Kenny Washington, this 91-minute, two-CD set opens with a 25-minute version of Carter’s song “Sounds (Movin’ On),” as good a demonstration of how she uses her voice like a horn (or, actually, a succession of several horns, because she varies her timbre considerably). Not only does she roll out some of the most exciting, unclichéd scatting ever, the line between parts with words and without is very thin.
