Roll Call: Part One
People are not things, no matter what the world tells us, [therefore] we must seek excellence, quality, and craftsmanship wherever we can…
[Likewise] we must refuse to be diminished, to be made small and unimportant, reduced to a number in a spreadsheet or a line of code.
We must see others, and ourselves, as worthy of respect and dignity.
Nearly two weeks after his memorial, I’m still thinking about the sudden passing of my colleague and friend Anthony Pinciotti.
Here on Chronicles, I’m still looking for the balance between past, present, future. I’ve been very back-facing recently, so I spent the last few days going to gigs, listening to new music and new records, all made by people (potentially) playing tonight.
I’ve wanted to write a piece like this for months, but then I would think “I’ll wait until I have time to listen properly and give each artist the attention they deserve”. But if I do that, it will never happen.
The most important thing is that these musicians are out there, right now, today, keeping it going, immersed in overlapping scenes, creating a vibrant community. Some are grand masters who created the very art form; others are elders, dispersing wisdom and perspective; some are peers, colleagues, and friends. All are my heroes.
Ok, roll call:
We have at least two masters in our midst born in the 1930s, before Pearl Harbor was attacked— Louis Hayes (born 1937) and Andrew Cyrille (born 1939). Both are active, both have much to say.
I heard Hayes at Dizzy’s Club last summer with Santi Debriano, Dave Hazeltine, Steve Nelson, and Abraham Burton, and was moved by the truth of his playing. The quintet was remarkably cohesive and sympathetic— Hazeltine, Debriano, and Hayes, in particular, shared a deep understanding, Hazeltine and Debriano supporting the 86 year-old Hayes, yet also challenging him, bringing out his best. Their version of Cedar Walton’s “Bolivia” was defiant and joyous, Steve Nelson lighting up the room with his bold, edge-of-your-seat solo, Burton riding wave after wave of energy.
On Louis Hayes’s Serenade for Horace (Blue Note, 2016), produced by Dezron Douglas and Don Was, Silver’s compositions are played with a quiet reverence underpinned by the chemistry of Hayes and Douglas. Check them out on “Señor Blues”: Hayes commits to a tough shuffle, and Dezron’s bass line amounts to a hook. My ear goes right to Douglas and Louis. Hayes is from Detroit; the beat he and Douglas get on “Señor Blues” could undergird a Motown smash from the Sixties. I love this track.
On Music Delivery: Percussion (Intakt, 2023), Andrew Cyrille demonstrates the power of Max Roach’s conception of the drumset as a complete, self-contained orchestra. On his five-piece Ludwig drumset, augmented by a woodblock and cowbell— as common and typical a configuration as you’d ever find— Cyrille sings his songs and plays his variations, in a series of down-to-earth and pragmatic drumset poems: “Thruway”, “Water Water Water”, and Amina Claudine Myers’s “Jumping In the Sugar Bowl”. Do you know how hard it is to make an engaging, satisfying, downright soothing solo drumset recording? Bravo Andrew Cyrille!
There’s a strong cohort of drummers playing today who were born in the Forties.
Barry Altschul is the catalyst on Jon Irabagon’s Dinner and Dancing (Irabagast, 2023), an improv set at the Stone. Altschul and Irabagon have a long partnership now, dating back at least to Irabagon’s unforgettable Foxy (Hot Cup, 2010), a one-hour workout on Sonny Rollins’s “Doxy”, with bassist Pete Brendler.
Joe Chambers seems due for some new consideration. His autobiography and memoir, Cross-Rhythms, has just been released by Hudson Music, and he has an excellent new album called Onilu, a percussion ensemble date with Kevin Diehl and Chad Taylor. I made an attempt to get my head around Chambers in this post from 2023.
Al Foster’s Smoke Sessions release Reflections (2022) is beautiful and elegant—I love their “Pent-Up House”— while Bill Goodwin’s Sound on Sound, a two-drummer date featuring Billy Hart, is unlike anything else I’ve heard recently. Great to hear these old friends together on “Brilliant Corners”.
I look forward to seeing the Billy Hart Quartet the next time they play, and at home I listen to Angelica Sanchez’s Sparkle Beings all the time— Billy knocks me out on this. On the West Coast, Jim Keltner, a close comrade of Goodwin’s, brings his passion and wisdom to Mike Bagetta’s Everywhen We Go (2022).
Hart (born 1940), Chambers (born 1942), Foster (born 1943), are impossible to consider without Jack DeJohnette (born 1942). I’ve been writing about Jack recently here and here, but focussed on his past achievements. To hear him at his recent best, checkout Ethan Iverson’s Every Note Is True (Blue Note, 2022).
Billy Mintz is a source of poetic truth and commitment. There is assurance and grace in his ride cymbal on Russ Lossing’s upcoming Moon Inhabitants featuring bassist Masa Kamaguchi. Bob Moses sounds great on guitarist Samo Salamon’s Pure and Simple (2022), while Lenny White, swinging effortlessly and in profound sympathy with the band, sounds so great on Eddie Henderson’s Witness To History (Smoke Sessions, 2023). Lenny White and George Cables go all the way back to their teens; we are hearing a deep musical connection.
Here’s a sampling of players born in the Fifties:
On Now You Hear Me (Intakt, 2018) Joey Baron and classical percussionist Robyn Schulkowsky—one of the most important percussionists in 20th and 21st century composed music— conjure distinct and emotional soundscapes. I’ve been trying to burrow inside Now You Hear Me for years, but it keeps slipping away, and I’m left simply enjoying it, marveling at the still-unexplored lyrical, emotional capability of percussion. Drums can break your heat, don’t you know.
I never miss a chance to hear Billy Drummond. Stopping into Mezzrow where he was playing with Alan Broadbent recently, his beat and focus cast a spell on us, and we were lulled into his reality. On his recent Valse Sinistre (Cellar Music, 2022), Drummond’s version of the Carla Bley composition demonstrates his wide-angle view of the music. I especially appreciate Billy’s version of Tony Williams’s “Lawra”.
On “Sing Sing Overkill” from guitarist Nate Radley’s Puzzle People (SteepleChase, 2021), Adam Nussbaum, with understanding from Jay Anderson, finds a spot where backbeats co-exist with Elvin Jones and Nussbaum’s infectious, joyful looseness, a lovely track from a great album. Tom Rainey does something similar on Tim Berne’s recent Yikes Too (Screwgun, 2025) grounding Berne and guitarist Greg Belisle-Chi’s beautiful, careening solos in energized, fragmented, swinging dance rhythms on “Oddly Enough”. Tom is on fire.
Kenny Washington is about a year younger than Rainey, and holding those two giants in my mind lets me focus on their dual achievement. Like Tom Rainey, Kenny Washington is a fierce individualist of the highest integrity, authentically committed to his personal vision. Listen to Washington’s brushes-all-the-way on “The Man I Love” from Bill Charlap’s And Then Again (Blue Note, 2024). This is tough individuality, deeply informed by Washington’s unparalleled life with the music’s history.
I love the way Herlin Riley mediates on “Flux Fuelings” from Ambrose Akimurinse’s Owl Song. Like Rainey with Tim Berne, he grounds the horn-guitar-drums configuration with a beat. Kudos to Ambrose for featuring this side of Herlin, showing us how it’s all connected.
And kudos to Rich Perry for featuring John Riley, long noted for his large-ensemble playing, in a series of quartet dates for SteepleChase. On Gary Versace’s “Rebirth”, from Progression (2023), John, with exquisite reserve, lets the composition and soloists speak, gracefully communing with his cymbals. This is a side of John Riley most have only glimpsed.
SteepleChase, Cellar Music, Smoke Sessions, Sunnyside, and Bandcamp go a long way to filling in the gaps in our understanding, and releasing or hosting an endless amount of fun albums. Jeff Williams released a 2022 gig at London’s Pizza Express on his Bandcamp as Round Up, featuring John O’Gallagher. On Williams’ “Oddity”, Jeff’s transparent, flexible, and buoyant approach is a perfect foil to O’Gallagher’s stark, clear, and breathtaking solo. There’s still so much possibility in jazz.
Undoubtedly I’ve overlooked important, vital voices. It pains me to rush through so many excellent albums, each pointing to deep relationships, committed audiences, each one containing a moment of human truth. But this is just a beginning, there’s more to come.
As always, respect, and gratitude.
Another great article, Vinnie. Thanks.
loved this one, I've now got tons of new stuff to listen to!