Jazz

Billy Cobham “Spectrum” (Atlantic, 1973)

Mahavishnu Orchestra drummer Billy Cobham’s Spectrum is one of the greatest debut solo albums ever. It peaked at #26 on the Billboard albums chart, which tells you how sophisticated listening audiences were in 1973-74. However, not so sophisticated was the opinion of self-proclaimed “Dean of Rock Critics,” Robert Christgau, who called Spectrum “slick, gimmicky, and one-dimensional” in his Consumer Guide column in the Village Voice. Right then, he should’ve been ejected from the academy. Anyway…

Recorded in a couple of days, with all of the tracks completed in one or two takes, Spectrum features the innovative Jan Hammer on Moog synth and electric and acoustic piano and James Gang/Deep Purple guitarist Tommy Bolin scorching the stereo field on several tracks. On opener “Quadrant 4,” everyone’s off the blocks like Olympic 100-meter sprinters. Bolin’s in hyper-intricate, amphetamine-fueled typist mode, with hammer ons galore, Jan Hammer’s generating crazily warped emissions, Cobham’s at his speedy and powerful best, and bassist Lee Sklar’s pumping out the roiling undercurrent. Holy shit, “Quadrant 4” is the fusion burner against which all fusion burners must be measured! Sorry, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Tony Williams Lifetime, and Return To Forever.

The title track’s fluttery fusion that possesses an Airto/Flora Purim brand of jittery elegance. Joe Farrell’s soaring soprano sax solo lifts this to lofty heights while Jimmy Owens’ flugelhorn solo adds graceful melodic beauty. Ron Carter’s acoustic bass and Ray Barretto’s congas further class up the joint. Another standout is the very bullish “Taurian Matador,” in which Bolin broke his high E string during a solo while making his instrument squeal in weird tongues and Hammer frazzles nerves with his mad synth ripples.

Side two peaks with the nearly 10-minute “Stratus,” which Massive Attack famously sampled for “Safe From Harm.” A spacey intro leads into a Hammer tour de force of turbulent synth percolations as Cobham gives his entire kit an artful tattooing. Three minutes in, Sklar’s famous bass throb enters and the cooking intensifies to a simmering ominousness. Once more, Bolin asserts himself as a guitar hero for the ages, as if he were trying to out John McLaughlin John McLaughlin. Sklar thumbs out muscular Holger Czukay-like bass cable while Cobham adds athletic fills to his steady proto-trip-hop beats. “Stratus” thoroughly debunks the common belief that fusion isn’t sexy. With John Tropea providing easy-going comping on guitar and Hammer getting floridly sinuous on synth, “Le Lis” finesses some Elysian beach jazz of exquisite mellowness and pulchritude. Sweet relief!

“Snoopy’s Search” finds Hammer going HAM on Moog, which leads into “Red Baron,” a slice of subliminal jazz-funk hipness that’s become a fertile source of hip-hop and trip-hop samples for artists such as Common, Compton’s Most Wanted, Material, and DJ Food. The track’s rhythm has a rolling inevitability that demands repeat plays. In the head-nod hall of fame, “Red Baron” makes you feel 83% cooler than you actually are.

Odds are, a pretty good a decent copy of Spectrum‘s sitting in a bargain bin near you. It remains one of the top examples of cheap heat on the planet. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Harold Budd “The Pavilion Of Dreams” (Editions E.G., 1978)

Through years of rigorous research, I’ve found that Harold Budd’s music ranks among the best for facilitating the transition from wakefulness to sleep. If you think that’s a derogatory statement, you don’t understand the importance of sound slumber to mental and physical health. And if you believe that music that helps you to get some shut-eye is, ipso facto, boring, you need to open your mind.

[Stepping off my soapbox] As a keyboardist and composer, Budd had one of the nicest soft touches in music. Odd, because Budd’s origins lie in bebop and he played drums in an Army band with free-jazz titan Albert Ayler. Gradually, though, Budd gravitated to the minimalist, pacific approach that drew him into Brian Eno and Gavin Bryars’ orbit of ambient geniuses. The rest is tranquil sonic history.

Described as “an extended cycle of works begun in 1972,” The Pavilion Of Dreams was produced by Eno, and it shows. It kicks off with the 18-minute 1974 opus, “Bismillahi ‘Rrahman ‘Rrahim.” Composed for Marion Brown, it features the great jazzman on alto sax. Joining him are Budd on electric piano, of course, four marimba players, including Michael Nyman, Bryars on glockenspiel, Maggie Thomas on harp, and Richard Bernas on celeste. One of the pinnacles of Budd’s career, this unspeakably gorgeous work is marked by Brown’s über-chill alto sax trills and mellow melisma (talk about a gentle tour de force), Budd’s gleaming electric piano, and Bryars’ glistening glockenspiel. The peace this composition brings is nearly unsurpassed. It almost makes Miles Davis’ In A Silent Way sound like a free-jazz blowout.

Things can’t help sounding a little anticlimactic after this. “Let Us Go Into The House Of The Lord”—a traditional hymn that Pharoah Sanders previously had adapted—features mezzo soprano Lynda Richardson’s spiritual, operatic singing and Thomas’ lean, pretty harp cascades. It’s nice enough, but it’s not really what I come to Budd for. Ditto for “Butterfly Sunday, which was adapted from John Coltrane’s “After The Rain,” one of his most languid ballads. “Rosetti Noise” and “The Crystal Garden And A Coda” are serene art songs with more of Richardson’s sonorous, wordless vocalizing, underscored by pastel dapples of electric piano. On “Juno,” Eno provides lovely, distant “aaahhh”s and Budd dramatic chord progressions on piano in this caressing, low-lit jazz jewel, which Bill Evans surely loved… assuming he heard it.

The Pavilion Of Dreams isn’t Budd’s best album; that would probably be Ambient 2 (The Plateaux Of Mirrors), The Pearl (with Eno and Daniel Lanois), or The Oak Of The Golden Dreams. But in “Bismillahi ‘Rrahman ‘Rrahim,” it boasts one of the world’s most beautiful and calming tracks, an immortal, blood-pressure-lowering miracle. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Dexter Wansel “Life On Mars” (Philadelphia International, 1976)

Respect is due to Dexter Wansel, the Philadelphia musician/producer who passed away on May 31 at age 75, for, among many other feats, his vastly influential debut album, Life On Mars. He’d made his name as an in-demand session keyboardist at Sigma Sound Studios for artists such as the O’Jays, Yellow Sunshine, MFSB, and Billy Paul. Wansel also had played with Stanley Clarke, the Jacksons, and Grover Washington Jr. After signing with Philadelphia International Records as an in-house arranger, producer, and composer, Dexter launched his auspicious solo career, making a huge splash with Life On Mars.

Inspired by David Bowie‘s “Life On Mars?” this record stands as Wansel’s peak. It’s an outward-bound jazz-funk opus that can hold its own with Herbie Hancock and Lenny White‘s contemporaneous releases. “A Prophet Named K.G.” kicks off the record with brash, brassy cop-show jazz-funk that would make Quincy Jones do a double take. Similarly cinematic is “Stargazer,” a sweeping, aerodynamic theme for an imaginary TV sci-fi series that may remind some of the breathless one for The Jetsons cartoon. The title track’s glimmering ambient intro gradually gives way to an elegant strut into galactic funk. Derrick Graves’ probing bass line and the backing corona of vocals by Carla Benson, Barbara Ingram, and Evette Benton elevate this jam to even greater heights. When Wansel goes wild on the ARP 2600, it truly separates the astronauts from the earthbound.

As its title suggests, “You Can Be What You Wanna Be” is a supremely earnest self-esteem-booster in the form of the bubbly jazz-funk bangers found on Hancock’s Thrust and Man-Child. Wansel sings in falsetto, which isn’t optimal, but the fantastic drum and congas break compensates for that. Wansel’s best-known song, “Theme From The Planets,” begins with one of the most sampled drum breaks ever (shout out to drummer Darryl Brown and percussionists Joe Johnson and Charles Collins), with over 300 documented on WhoSampled. Then Wansel’s wickedly sensual and sinuous synth motif intertwines with Bobby Malach’s smoky sax and the song lifts off for distant interstellar realms. Soooo smoooooth. “Rings Of Saturn” is an ideal LP-closer, a swirling, valedictorian space-jazz meditation that sends you to the exit signs with a deep sense of poignancy. A couple of oleaginous R&B ballads kill the momentum, but overall, Life On Mars is a thrilling journey that’s as sophisticated as it is thrilling. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Marvin Gaye “Trouble Man” (Tamla, 1972)

Marvin Gaye’s only film score is one of the zeniths of the short-lived blaxploitation genre. (Though I’ve not seen it, the Trouble Man movie is generally considered a dud.) Beyond that major feat, Trouble Man stands as one of Gaye’s greatest albums, as well as the first one he totally wrote and produced. Matter of fact, I like it better than consensus all-time #1 classic What’s Going On—and, no, I’m not just being a contrarian.

The odd thing about Trouble Man is that Gaye—one of soul music’s most emotive and powerful vocalists—seldom sings on it. No, Marvin was more interested in playing the Moog synthesizer that fellow Motown superstar Stevie Wonder had recently gifted him. The result is a stunning anomaly in Gaye’s phenomenal catalog.

Musicians on Trouble Man included members of the Motown session band the Funk Brothers and Bohannon‘s group. Having Ray Parker Jr. and David T. Walker on guitar and Stix Hooper and Leon “Ndugu” Chancler on drums surely helped Gaye achieve his aims here. “Main Theme From Trouble Man (2)” kicks off with articulated, wah-wah guitar wails and bass/drum action akin to Jimi Hendrix Experience‘s “Rainy Day, Dream Away.” Add rolling piano storminess, a melismatic sax solo, and an attention-grabbing keyboard motif that puts all of your synapses on high alert, and you may ask yourself, “What’s going on?” Answer: not the Marvin Gaye status quo, brothers and sisters. Later comes “Main Theme From Trouble Man (1),” a version that’s as tough as nails and as velvety as a pimp’s strides. Confuisingly, there is also a track titled “Theme From Trouble Man,” which is super tranquil and woozy, with sax and strings to the fore. Then there’s “Deep-In-It”; with its freaky Moog solo squiggling over piano and strings chiaroscuro, it might be Gaye’s strangest track.

“’T’ Plays It Cool” delivers mellow yet rock-ribbed jazz funk enhanced by staccato, funky Moog riffs and cracking drums while the sax- and strings-laden “Poor Abbey Walsh,” by contrast, verges on melodrama. Still, it’s interesting to hear Marvin stretch out of his comfort zone. The contemplative “Life Is A Gamble” also flirts with sentimentality and features some very morose vocalizations by Gaye. The spare, bongo-heavy suspense-thriller cut “’T’ Stands For Trouble” is as incisive as anything library-music titans Pierro Umiliani or Alan Hawkshaw did, with the record’s stealthiest bass line, played either by Wilton Felder or Ron Brown. (Oddly, I can find no bassist credits on Wikipedia or on the LP cover; Motown was notoriously stingy with info.)

Last but most, “Trouble Man” is the epitome of cool in the über-cool blaxploitation-soundtrack game. Gaye’s falsetto has never been sleeker nor steelier, his “yeah”s never more wracked and his “hoo”s never eerier. The music’s minimalist, subtly funky and swinging, full of implied menace. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and call this Gaye’s greatest song and maybe his most impressive vocal performance. It’s a whole mood, as some young folk are wont to say. I could live to be 900 years old and never tire of it. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

King Crimson “Red” (Island, 1974)

The final King Crimson album before they took an extended hiatus and transformed into a different beast altogether in 1981, Red is the British prog-rock pioneers’ heaviest LP and is considered by many smart people to be their peak. The band went into London’s Olympic Studio with a core lineup of guitarist Robert Fripp, bassist/vocalist John Wetton, and drummer Bill Bruford—talk about your ultimate badasses. Robert also called in some prog-rock studs to accentuate the five tracks on Red: saxophonists Mel Collins and Ian McDonald, violinist David Cross, cornetist Mark Charig, oboist Robin Miller, and others. Richard Palmer-James penned lyrics on a couple of songs. All concerned will enter Valhalla for their efforts.

The paradox of the phenomenal Red is, Fripp thought that King Crimson was an obsolete dinosaur; he was itching to do other musical projects, as releases with Brian Eno and guest appearances with David Bowie and Peter Gabriel, among other endeavors, proved. And yet, KC created a masterpiece that’s influenced a raft of rock groups in the ensuing decades. What wags call math-rock pretty much germinated in Red‘s brainy and brawny DNA.

The title track kicks off the LP with one of the most monumental, magisterial instrumentals in all of rock. It sounds like the song you play after winning World War III—wait, there will be no winners of that war. Anyway, you get what I mean… I hope. This music abounds with heroic motifs and empowering riffs of magmatic ebb and flow that render any words a vocalist may emit as superfluous. By contrast, “Fallen Angel” starts as a sweet, baroque art-rock ballad before accruing heft and angst in its second half. It’s a blessed respite before KC plunge into another paragon of infernal menace, “One More Red Nightmare.” This is rock that would make Satan himself soil his boxers. Bruford manifests some amazingly wonky percussion timbres from… sheet metal? Whatever the case, it sounds fantastic. The song also contains a couple of compelling saxophone solos, which few rock songs do.

Edited down to eight minutes from an improvisation at a 1974 Rhode Island gig, “Providence” is Red‘s outlier. It’s a gradually intensifying piece that builds to a glowering, suspenseful climax. Wetton’s bass is in particular monstrous form, while Fripp tears off the paint in the room with sculpted skree. Finally, “Starless” is a slice of grandiose, regal prog that harks back to KC’s 1969 debut, In The Court Of The Crimson King. It’s one of the most beautiful songs in rock history, yet it also possesses an exhilarating jazz-rock blow-out that would make John McLaughlin lose his Mahavishnu. The refrain of “Starless and… BIBLE BLACK!” always ricochets around my noggin for hours after I listen to it, with no complaints. Wetton’s vocals here really soar, making me forget about this time in Asia (the band, not the continent). “Starless” earns every second of its 12:24 run time. It’s a grandiloquent climax to an indestructible record. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Herbie Hancock “Sextant” (Columbia, 1973)

One of the hardest things for a music fanatic to do is name a favorite Herbie Hancock album. Like his former bandmate Miles Davis, the virtuoso keyboardist/composer has had so many phases in his eventful career, with so many peaks in myriad styles. But for me, Sextant might be #1. If nothing else, it boasts my fave cover, created by the excellent Robert Springett. But to the music…

Sextant contains three epic tracks, averaging 13 minutes. Combine this structure with the extremely uncompromising nature of the music, and one longs for any photos and/or footage of Columbia Records execs listening to the finished product and hearing no commercial potential whatsoever. Imagine their facial expressions… and try not to laugh. Sextant is the first LP in an extraordinary run Hancock had for Columbia, encompassing Head Hunters, Thrust, the Death Wish OST, Man-Child, and Secrets. Undoubtedly, Sextant remains the farthest-out record among them all. Crossings, which Warner Bros. released in 1972, soars pretty high, too, but it’s not nearly as intense as Sextant.

The shortest piece here at 9:19, “Rain Dance” starts with the most tantalizing array of bleeps and eruptions from Herbie’s keyboards and Dr. Patrick Gleeson’s Arp 2600; think Morton Subotnick (also on Columbia!) going to town in a jazz-funk frenzy. This section’s been sampled 35 times, and even that seems low. Gradually, the rest of Hancock’s world-class band jump in to embellish the splendid chaos that the good doctor instigated. It sounds like the soundtrack to a major cyborgian malfunction or an outtake from Gil Mellé’s score for The Andromeda Strain. “Rain Dance” was so far ahead of its time, many heads still ain’t ready for its discombobulating brilliance 53 years later.

“Hidden Shadows” is a slightly more conventional species of psychedelic fusion in the vein of Bitches Brew and On The Corner (on both of which Herbie played, of course). Bassist Buster Williams and drummer Billy Hart really work some coiled magic here, creating a humid funk churn, bolstered by Herbie and Gleeson’s space-dusted keyboards and synths and Buck Clarke’s root-chakra-aligning conga and bongo slaps. At over 19 minutes, “Hornets” offers almost too much pressure-cooking heat. It’s another white-knuckler of busy jazz-funk exploration, full of artful aggression, a bass line that elegantly drills to Earth’s core, and pugnacious quacks from saxophonist Bennie Maupin’s kazoo. This isn’t your dad’s jazz, amigo. Everyone here’s playing as if they have huge chips on their shoulders, and it’s freaking exhilarating.

Sextant found Hancock and his band of explorers taking jazz to extremes seldom traversed outside of Sun Ra’s omniverse. Columbia Records’ executives and accountants could not be reached for comment. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Frank Zappa “Apostrophe (‘)” (Discreet, 1974)

Cantankerous iconoclast Frank Zappa attained his commercial peak with Apostrophe (‘) , which landed at #10 in the albums chart and went Gold in 1976. It’s not hard to hear why. The first side was recorded during the sessions for 1973’s similarly catchy-song-oriented Over-Nite Sensation, while side two arose from various 1972 studio dates, except for “Excentrifugal Forz,” which dated back to the 1969 sessions that yielded Hot Rats, another beloved Zappa record.

The five songs that compose Apostrophe (‘)‘s side 1 form a suite of Zappa’s patented wise-guy, strained-humor rock, mixed with elements of prog, jazz, and doo-wop. In this vein, Frank’s voice tends to get on my nerves, but that’s always redeemed by his wonderfully wonky guitar solos and by Ruth Underwood’s amphetamined, twinkle-toes vibraphone runs. The spasmodic, madly accelerating prog rock of “Father O’Blivion” is probably the side’s highlight. But the laid-back boogie of “Cosmik Debris” boasts the most eloquent guitar solo. It helps that Zappa has a crack team behind him, including George Duke on keyboards, Don “Sugarcane” Harris and Jean-Luc Ponty on violin, Aynsley Dunbar on drums for “Uncle Remus” and “Stink-Foot,” Ruth Underwood on vibraphone and percussion, and Ian Underwood on sax.

Side 2 possesses the LP’s zenith, “Apostrophe’.” This track came out of a jam that featured the phenomenal session drummer Jim Gordon and Cream/Tony Williams Lifetime bassist Jack Bruce. Zappa said it was hard to play with Bruce because his style was “too busy. He doesn’t really want to play the bass in terms of root functions.” Whatever the case, the song’s one of Zappa’s greatest and funkiest creations and it’s blessedly vocal-free. It features Bruce unleashing one of rock’s most thickly fuzzed and deliciously serpentine bass lines, Gordon getting filthily funky on his kit, and Zappa soloing with insane dexterity. My eyes never fail to roll around their sockets like roulette balls when listening to this.

Besides this towering opus, “Excentrifugal Forz” launches into space courtesy of Duke’s sci-fi synth filigrees and Zappa’s scalding, Sonny Sharrock-like solo and the busy gospel rock of “Uncle Remus” (cowritten by Duke) is an anti-racism song in the tradition of Mothers Of Invention’s “Trouble Every Day.” The album ends with “Stink-Foot,” whose sleazy blues rock plagued by goofy lyrics is not exactly a lane in which I wish to spend much time. That being said, Zappa gets off a fantastic guitar solo that makes my synapses do the jerk.

All of which is to say, Apostrophe (‘) is probably the greatest album named after a punctuation mark. It’s hard not to feel possessive about it. If you need an entry point into Zappa’s dauntingly vast solo catalog, this might be the best one. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Minnie Riperton “Come To My Garden” (GRT, 1970)

Blessed with a five-octave vocal range, singer-songwriter Minnie Riperton (1947-1979) was one of the most distinctive American soul/R&B vocalists. She got her start singing back-up for Etta James, Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Muddy Waters, and Ramsey Lewis, before joining the excellent psychedelic-soul group Rotary Connection as lead singer. She also had a stint singing with Stevie Wonder’s bands in the first half of the ’70s. You’ve probably heard her stunning voice, whether you realize it or not.

Riperton’s debut album had the good fortune to be produced and written by Chicago studio legends Charles Stepney and Minnie’s husband, Richard Rudolph. Both titans had contributed mightily to Rotary Connection‘s unique psychedelic-soul sound, but for Come To My Garden, they toned down the bombastic sonics and Riperton mostly eschewed the Theremin-like, high-pitched operatics. Pianist Ramsey Lewis’ band—Earth, Wind & Fire leader Maurice White (drums), Cleveland Eaton (bass), Phil Upchurch (guitar), and backing vocalists Elsa Harris and Kitty Hayward—provide the stellar backing.

The LP’s peak is opening track “Les Fleurs,” simply one of the most majestic and gorgeous songs ever penned. It’s an orchestral-soul tune so grandiosely salubrious, it nearly nullifies all of the evil humanity’s done over the millennia. Call this hyperbole if you must, but the proof is in the grooves. Riperton sings from the perspective of a flower, and her voice is as smoothly soft and gloriously beautiful as its petals. That moment when the song gathers its energy for the chorus and then soars to a higher plane is the most lip-smacking chef’s kiss, god damn. Rotary Connection and Ramsey Lewis also recorded this song, and, honestly, you need every version of this classic in your collection. It might be Stepney and Rudolph’s crowning achievement. No wonder “Les Fleurs” has appeared on the soundtracks to at least seven films and TV shows.

The rest of Come To My Garden doesn’t reach those heights, but it does feature plenty of sophisticated love ballads with grand orchestrations, excellent dynamics, and bravura vocals. On the title track, Riperton ululates in her upper register in a hushed ballad that periodically blooms into intoxicating epiphanies, boosted by deeply soulful female backing vocals. It’s ineffably beautiful. The feather Latin jazz reverie “Memory Band” (also recorded by Rotary Connection on 1968’s The Rotary Connection) is lovely, while the lush, sweeping “Rainy Day In Centerville” recalls David Axelrod at his most romantic. Riperton’s voice is sheerest silk, sweetest honey, most radiant passion. “Expecting” might be the music you hear while you’re ascending to heaven—if there is such a place; the jury is still out. Throughout the record, Minnie’s voice makes Diana Ross’ sound like Joe Tex’s.

Riperton did some more good work in the ’70s, including 1974’s #1 hit “Lovin’ You” and 1975’s Adventures In Paradise, but her premature death robbed us of a major talent.

(Come To My Garden has been reissued thrice in this decade, including by Janus Records in 2024, so it should be relatively easy to find and affordable.) -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Miles Davis “On The Corner” (Columbia, 1972)

We recently lost the phenomenal jazz-fusion drummer Jack DeJohnette, and tribute must be paid. The man released many great solo LPs, engaged in countless interesting collabs, and sat in on many crucial sessions, but there may be no better way to honor him than to review Miles Davis’ On The Corner. It’s Miles’ peak and, by the way, my second favorite album of all time. (Rest assured, I will likely review one of Jack’s solo or group records in the near future.)

DeJohnette was one of three drummers playing on these sessions (all of which have been collected in a lavish, essential six-CD box set), including Billy Hart and Don Alias. Jack and his cohorts behind the kit—along with an array of percussionists, featuring tabla master Badal Roy and conga supremo Mtume—helped to make On The Corner a tornado of innovative rhythm. But it’s so much more than that, as well.

With On The Corner, Davis strove to appeal to the young Black Americans who dug Jimi Hendrix, James Brown, and Sly & the Family Stone. Yeah, that didn’t pan out. Insult to injury, the establishment jazz critics couldn’t handle it, either. They were vexed by one of the most rhythmically complex, atmospherically ominous, and brutally psychedelic works ever to get classified as “jazz.” In hindsight, you have to wonder how they blew it so badly.

The funny thing is, Davis was in the midst of a heavy Karlheinz Stockhausen phase before heading up the On The Corner sessions. How he thought that the German avant-garde composer’s abstruse electronic experiments would inspire him to construct accessible songs remains a mystery. Whereas earlier milestones such as In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew deftly blended jazz, rock, and funk, On The Corner alchemized those genres until they combusted into something otherworldly and unprecedented.

On The Corner‘s first four tracks bleed into one another, an infernal medley, of which every second is loaded with portent. The record starts in media res, just as the band’s reaching a boiling point of panther-stealthy funk. Sax and trumpet dart and flow over Roy’s humid tabla patter and an OCD-groove bass line by Michael Henderson that would put a perma-grin on Holger Czukay’s mug. John McLaughlin creates utterly filthy wah-wah guitar parts, hiccuping and growling with brute eloquence, and Miles matches that with his own wah’d counterpunches. This shit is too XXX-rated for blaxploitation-flick soundtracks. There’s a Cubist aspect to the way the instruments abut one another, a disorienting legerdemain with arrangements that attest to producer Teo Macero’s mastery in the editing suite—with counsel from Mr. Davis, of course. Even when the intensity slightly diminishes, the vibe remains tense, exuding a looming danger that’s downright thrilling, thanks in part to Khalil Balakrishna and Collin Walcott’s glowering sitar drones.

“Black Satin” is the standalone standout, a blazing precursor to the drum & bass genre about 20 years before the fact. The rhythm makes it feel as if the ground is shifting beneath your feet and the Earth is spinning off its axis, as the sound whirls in five dimensions. Trust me, you’ve never heard a more disorienting use of bell tree and handclaps in your life. Listen to “Black Satin” on headphones while tripping and journey to the mountains of madness. Sly & Robbie bravely covered this on Language Barrier, but even those geniuses couldn’t match the sorcery happening here.

On the second side, “One And One” finds Henderson producing one of the illest bass tones ever, like a duck quacking after swallowing a bullfrog. Roy’s tabla and Mtume’s conga madly percolate under Miles’ poignantly undulating trumpet, and those urgent bells tickle your medulla oblongata. Toss in some of DeJohnette’s demonic cymbal work and lethal snare slaps and revel in a band cooking some of the spiciest fusion stew your ears have ever tasted.

Smashed together at album’s end, “Helen Butte” and “Mr. Freedom X” are essentially vibrant mutations of the “One And One” and “Black Satin” themes. The torque on these rhythms generates crazy sparks, with Jack and Hart’s beats hitting like sweetest revenge. These tracks tilt beyond funk into a futuristic, alien music for unfathomable rituals and contortionist sexual encounters, played by musicians with superhuman reflexes and instincts. Either that or it’s all studio magic… Either way, Miles, Jack, and company—in fact, every single person who contributed to On The Corner—became immortals for manifesting this masterpiece. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Passport “Cross-Collateral” (ATCO, 1975)

German saxophonist/clarinetist/composer Klaus Doldinger—who passed away in October at age 89—is best known (and likely best paid) for his soundtracks to Das Boot and The NeverEnding Story (with Giorgio Moroder). But true heads dig Doldinger more for his run of albums during the ’70s as leader of jazz-rock dynamos Passport. Basically, if you see any Passport LP whose cover was designed by Wandrey’s Studio, grab it. You can tell them by the frequent use of majority blue backgrounds and surrealist, Magritte-like illustrations.

Honestly, I could’ve chosen any of the six action-packed studio albums that Passport released between 1971 and 1976 to review, but I’m going with Cross-Collateral because it boasts my favorite cover by the band. Bonus: The music’s scorching jazz-rock that’ll have your head spinning at all the Teutonic virtuosity on display. Doldinger, of course, is a demon on sax, clarinet, Mellotron, Moog, and electric piano, but his band deserves respect, too: drummer/percussionist Curt Cress, bassist/guitarist Wolfgang Schmid, and Fender pianist/organist Kristian Schultze.

Cross-Collateral begins auspiciously with “Homunculus,” a rhythmically mercurial and intricate cut with a memorably soaring melody. “Homunculus” can hold its own with the greatest American fusion groups and would slot nicely in a DJ set between Return To Forever and Weather Report. The 13:32 title track is an absolute burner from start to finish, rumbling into a turbulent start-stop attack, with Doldinger blowing frantic, fluid gold and Cress going mad with eight-limbed fury. There’s a strutting funk passage—bolstered by Cress’ inventive fills and Schmid’s tensile, buoyant bass lines—that reminds you of how often hip-hop producers sampled Passport. J Dilla, Company Flow, the Pharcyde, Ultramagnetic MCs, and Boogie Down Productions are the most notable to do so.

The relatively concise “Jadoo” also bears sample-worthy traits—plus, it’s so funky and kinetic, it could be a sports-highlight jam from the KPM music library. The gripping, corkscrewing jazz-funk of “Will-O’The-Wisp” would make mid-’70s Herbie Hancock nod in approval, while “Albatross Song” channels the chill, groovy vibes of Miles Davis’ In A Silent Way. The only misstep is the smooth-jazz snoozer “Damals.”

From today’s perspective, it’s crazy to realize that a major label championed music as complicated and un-radio-friendly as Passport’s. And that unlikely scenario has led to the group’s albums being fairly affordable in used bins (the most I’ve ever paid for a Passport LP is $5.99). It’s never too late—nor too expensive—to get into Klaus Doldinger’s bag. May he rest in power. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Assagai “Assagai” (Vertigo, 1971)

If my research is accurate, Assagai were the lone majority Black group on the storied Vertigo label. (The great Marsha Hunt also released a single on the imprint.) Composed of South African and Nigerian musicians, with some backing help from British prog-folk greats Jade Warrior (apparently arranged by Vertigo, unbeknownst to the latter), Assagai only released two albums, but they’re very good specimens of the early-’70s Afro-rock movement.

Assagai’s self-titled debut album features Dudu Pukwana (alto sax), Charles Ononogbo (bass), Louis Moholo (drums), Fred Coker (guitar), Mongezi Feza (cornet), and Bizo Mnnggikana (tenor sax). Some of these cats went on to have long, distinguished careers in the jazz world. Jade Warrior went on to cut some fantastic prog opuses, which I hope to get around to reviewing here eventually.

Written by Jade Warrior, “Telephone Girl” first appeared on their own 1971 self-titled album. Assagai’s version starts with Moholo’s incredibly orotund funky break and then bursts to a higher level of vibrancy with lascivious sax riffs, Coker’s flamboyant wah-wah guitar, Ononogbo’s suave bass line, and warm, African-dude vocals about how well he’s going to treat the titular sex worker. Unbelievably, Assagai earned a slot on Top Of The Pops with this fantastic, raunchy song. This fistful of DJ dynamite is Assagai‘s peak, but other treasures appear. “Akasa” is simmering Afrobeat with mellifluously triumphant sax charts and an extended drum break that would make the late Tony Allen smile. Coker gets off a crispy, complex guitar solo that has a similar timbre to Howard Roberts’ on the Electric Prunes‘ “General Confessional”—a very good thing.

The stealthy “Cocoa” is a slinky psych-rock chiller while the rolling, humid, and chant-heavy Afrobeat cut “Irin Ajolawa” thrills with another elongated drum break. “Ayieo” provides breezy, swaying funk with South African jazz brass enhancements and the bustling, joyous jazz of “Beka” will make you want to jump like NBA Slam Dunk champ Mac McClung. The album’s low point comes on “Hey Jude,” which all groups were legally obligated to cover during the Nixon administration. (Go look it up.) It pains me to say that this is one of the worst Beatles interpretations I’ve heard—and I’ve heard a lot. Assagai turn the beloved power ballad into a saccharine highlife cringefest. That being said, they do a nice, albeit truncated, job with the transcendent, arm-waving coda.

In 2016, Prog Temple did the last legit reissue of Assagai, though a label called Cosmic Rock issued an unofficial one in 2022. Overall, it shouldn’t be too hard to track down a vinyl copy. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Okay Temiz “Drummer Of Two Worlds” (WEA, 1980)

Besides having one of the coolest names in music, Okay Temiz has been a key rhythmic force in the zone where jazz meets “world” music. The Turkish drummer/percussionist has worked with deep musicians such as Don Cherry, Björn J:son Lindh, Johnny Dyani and Mongezi Feza (in the group Xaba), Tony Scott, and others while maintaining a long, fruitful solo career. Unlike many jazz musicians of a certain vintage (Okay was born in 1939 and is still living), Temiz has released excellent LPs well into the 1990s. But for my money, the standout in his catalog is 1980’s Drummer Of Two Worlds.

On this nine-track stunner, Temiz composed, arranged, and played a long list of percussion instruments, including sheep bells, thavil, cuíca, berimbau, Jew’s harp, Indian tuned sticks, and goblet drum (aka darbuka)—some of which he constructed himself. On Two Worlds, he received crucial help from Arif Sag (saz), Ziya Aytekin (woodwinds), and Attila Özdemiroğlu (synth). It turns out, when you make your own instruments as well as possess otherworldly skills and unique ideas, amazing, hard-to-categorize music ensues.

Temiz may be Turkish, but his sound diverges even from that Middle Eastern country’s distinctive output. It’s hard to imagine a more arresting start to an album than “East Breeze.” An utterly gripping berimbau intro leads into a dance-floor banger full of weird tones (what is producing that wild low frequency?!), a sinuous earworm whistle, rococo berimbau motif, an oddly metered groove (9/8?), and amphetamine bongos. “Galaxy Nine” defies all logic and classification, its tensile Jew’s harp wowows, rapid-fire drum triplets, metallic and wooden percussive accents building to a hectic cacophony.

With its insane monkey chatter and laughter, vibrant birdsong, and mercurial metallic percussion, “Ocean Roller” would stop you dead in your tracks if you heard it in public. Lest you think Temiz couldn’t get funky, “Penguin” offers solid, in-the-pocket funk with a woodwind that sounds like frog hiccups and harp-like strings (gopijantra, I think) adding distinctive texture. It may surprise some that Geto Boys’ Scarface sampled this track. “Drummer Of Two Worlds” brings god-like fusion motion—a magnum opus of funky disorientation. Let’s call it “whirled music for twirling dervishes.” The album closes with “Fantasia Drive,” a percussion orgy with crazy berimbau fibrillations rippling through it. An imaginary soundtrack for the most exciting car-chase scene ever, the song boasts timbres seldom heard anywhere. “Fantasia Drive” seems to be mutating and dispersing with each passing minute, as if in a science-lab experiment. Temiz’s peak record exists in its own unprecedented, psychedelic world.

CAZ PLAK reissued Drummer Of Two Worlds in 2024, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. DO NOT SLEEP. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.