Carrying on with a couple more of my favorites from this rapidly disappearing year. Despite being ignored by pretty much every media outlet you can name, jazz is still vital and thriving in the 21st century, and the Beatles' ability to grab our attention 51 years after they broke up is truly remarkable.
*The Beatles, Let It Be (50th Anniversary) – I was hooked by the newly remastered sound of this classic release the first time I gave it a listen, but it took a YouTube demo to point out to me exactly why. The guy made a fairly exhaustive comparison of five different versions of Let It Be vinyl – a 1970 first U.S. pressing, a 1980s U.K. reissue, the previous most recent remastered version from 2012, this one, and a Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab copy from 1986. He played 10-second sound clips of every song from each (10 seconds is what you can get away with on YouTube before the copyright police perk up their ears), in random order. I followed along with my better-than-average headphones, keeping notes about which of the clips I liked and didn’t like and why. True music nerd stuff, I know, but it keeps me out of the bars.
The winner, to my ears, was clear in every sample. The one labeled "example D" always sounded warmer, fuller, more spacious and detailed than the others. It was this 50th anniversary edition, of course, remastered by “fifth Beatle” George Martin’s son, Giles. What Giles did, and what I love about it, was to take the original recordings, which were made in different locations and under widely varying circumstances (and sounded like it), and make the whole record feel like a cohesive musical statement for the first time. The differences are subtle, more feeling than specific sonic examples, but there are an enormous number of Beatle fanatics out there who consider his minor tweaks sacrilege. I’m not one of them. I love the new version’s warmth and depth, the clarity of the vocal harmonies, and the instruments placed in a consistent and realistic soundstage. It’s not the original, somewhat disjointed, Let It Be, but it’s a moving, damn fine listen, and will continue to get a lot of play in my house.
EARWORM: “Let It Be” (1970) – I remember this song and “ABC” by the Jackson Five going head-to-head on the radio back in middle school. The cool kids preferred this, as I recall.
*Charles Lloyd & the Marvels, Tone Poem – It’s hard to know what to say about my top new jazz record of 2021 because, let’s face it, who listens to new jazz records anymore? Mr. Lloyd and the Marvels are one of my favorite bands from any genre in recent years. They came into being in 2016, with Tone Poem being their third release, but Mr. Lloyd himself has been a fixture on the New York City and international jazz scenes since the mid-1960s. Now 82, he’s still one of the most vital and innovative player/composers in the game.
The Marvels are his most recent band featuring himself on saxophone and occasional flute, guitarist extraordinaire Bill Frisell, pedal steel wizard Greg Leisz, and the rhythm section of Reuben Rogers on bass and Eric Harland on drums. They’ve created a wholly unique sound that some writers and critics have labeled “Americana” jazz, meaning it captures some blues and country music feel, especially with the two guitarists. While accurate, it’s a very narrow label for such expansive music.
Mr. Lloyd and the Marvels don’t do themselves any commercial favors by opening Tone Poem with two Ornette Coleman covers. It doesn’t take long when you start diving into the jazz world to come across Ornette, he’s one of the true titans of the genre. He can also be quite a challenge to warm up to, his music is highly intellectualized, angular, often atonal, the polar opposite of “smooth” jazz. But even with all of his indifference to traditional approaches, Coleman’s music was still based on blues and pop song structures, like abstract paintings of familiar subjects. The Marvels’ ability to dive into his compositions and bring out the songs buried deep within is a breathtaking feat of musicianship. Equally impressive is the cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Anthem” that follows the Coleman re-constructions. Mr. Lloyd’s sax, soloing where Leonard’s voice should be, is melodic and lovely, as are the guitarist’s brief solos. Beauty without sentimentality, just like Leonard.
The rest of the album doesn’t let up after such an astonishing start. The originals are always engaging and highlight the consummate level of interplay of the band and their unique feel for melody. There’s a Thelonious Monk cover for good measure and an exquisite live recording of the band playing the Cuban love ballad “Ay Amor,” a showcase for Frisell and Leisz to wind beautiful lines around each other before the boss comes back in with his sax. Tone Poem ends with “Prayer,” a ballad that certainly sounds like its title, a deeply-felt Coltrane-like spiritual performance by all involved.
Which brings us back around to my original question – who listens to new jazz records these days? That’s a subject I intend to address (or, more accurately, ponder) in a future post, but for now, I’ll end with this: if you like jazz, if you used to like jazz, if you think you might like jazz, if you wonder what the jazz fuss is all about, I can’t recommend this record highly enough. If you unplug and give it your attention, it’s a thrilling and satisfying journey.
EARWORM: “Anthem” (2021) – Charles and Leonard should meet up more often. Two kinds of poetry that mesh spectacularly well.
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