One of the best written sources on Barry Harris is Mark Stryker’s Jazz from Detroit, and Mark has also now given us the definitive obit at NPR: “Barry Harris, beloved jazz pianist devoted to bebop, dies at 91.”

On Twitter, Stryker curated at wonderful playlist of key Harris tracks, now reproduced (further edited) here at DTM as a more permanent record.

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These 20 tracks cover 46 years, from 1950 to 1996, and strike a balance between my favorites, the best of the best in terms of performance, and those that survey the sweep of Barry’s career and associations. The order is chronological except for one wrinkle at the end.

This playlist could have been far longer than 20 tracks, but this feels right. Not everything is represented here — there’s no Barry with Dexter Gordon or Coleman Hawkins, for example, and a couple of tracks that I might have chosen were not available online. Barry made a half dozen or so recordings after 1996, and there are some lovely moments that could be here, but I’m comfortable with my choices.

Whether you’re new to Barry’s discography or a committed disciple, there’s a lot to explore here.

1. “Hopper Topper” (1950). Barry’s debut record for the New Song label out of Toledo. “Cherokee” changes with no theme. Striking confidence for a 20-year-old, especially considering he had only been introduced to modern jazz three years earlier by way of the recording of “Webb City” by Fats, Bud, and Stitt. The even attack, precise beat and jabbing left hand here remind me of Horace Silver. Meanwhile, the young Frank Foster comes directly out of Sonny Stitt.

2. “All The Things You Are” (1958). Will Austin, bass; Frank Gant, drums. Barry’s first LP as a leader, Breakin’ it Up (Argo), opens with a ballad at a patient, walking tempo. Hardly anyone calls an adult tempo like this anymore. I think on some level Barry was always playing for dancers. Improvised curtains of lovely double-time melody. It’s an all-Detroit trio, and the record was produced for Argo (the jazz subsidiary of Chess Records) in Chicago by another Detroiter, Dave Usher. Dave had earlier co-founded Dee Gee Records with Dizzy Gillespie in Detroit but by 1958 was working for the Chess Brothers in Chicago. (Barry’s contemporary Dave is still with us here in Detroit.)

3. “Lolita” (1960) from At the Jazz Workshop (Riverside). An iconic record among pianists. Cannonball’s rhythm section, including Sam Jones on bass and 22-year-old Louis Hayes on drums. The cats are tippin’. Barry’s maturity is now in full flower. The whole LP kills. The sequential melody and harmony of Barry’s “Lolita” sticks with you, and he devours the changes like a ravenous wolf. Dig the eye-popping solo break and overall fluidity, swing, and expressive phrasing in the solo.

4. “Del Sasser” (1960) with the Cannonball Adderley Quintet at Newport. Holy shit! Cannonball sounds great, especially on the tag, but Barry wipes everybody out with insanely long-breathed lines, almost superhuman rhythmic drive and effortless flow. This is peak Barry Harris. Even at this blazing tempo he never gets bottled up. I showed this clip to Barry last year and, while he was often self-deprecating whenever I would tell him that he sounded great on some record or some tune, this time he raised his raised his eyebrow, smiled, and nodded his head as he listened, as if to say, “not bad.”

5. “Ascension” (1961). The standout track on Barry’s first solo piano LP, Listen to Barry Harris (Riverside). I don’t think solo piano was the best medium for Barry, and he sounds a little fidgety elsewhere on the date. But this track is bebop purity at its most swinging, eloquent, and sublime. Perfect time and enunciation. Barry’s tune descends from “Parisian Thoroughfare” with an altered bridge descending mostly by whole steps. The rubato verse winks at “Tea for Two.”

6. “My Heart Stood Still” (1961). Barry and Elvin created a special vibe — they had worked together at the Blue Bird Inn in Detroit in the middle ‘50s. It’s a drag they only made two LPs together: Barry’s Preminado and Yusef’s Into Something (both on Riverside). Barry delivers four heroic choruses, locking into Elvin’s triplety lope. He carries the melody in gorgeous block chords like a man sauntering down the avenue in his finest threads. The solo unfurls in snake after snake through the changes. Barry might have surprised even himself with his astonishing turnback into 2^nd chorus. Dig the double-time in the second A of the 3^rd , the virtuoso flow of ideas throughout the 4^th, and the drapery of descending diminished chords at the end of the bridge on the out chorus.

Coda: The shitty, ill-tuned piano rankles. Would anyone expect Horowitz to record on that instrument? Of course not. Why should Barry have had to?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YigN4I897NE

7. “Stay Right With It” (1962) from Chasin’ the Bird (Riverside). Bob Cranshaw, bass; Clifford Jarvis drums. The blues. Nobody swings at this ever-so-slightly bright medium tempo like Barry. He’s really TALKING on the piano, the dips and dives, the melodic curlicues, the feints and parries of rhythm and accent, the subtle rise and fall of dynamics and touch as his lines unfurl. He slaps the syncopated beat back and forth for 12 choruses w/ Jarvis’ ride cymbal and snare. The essence of the art form.

8. “The Sidewinder” (1963). Barry is too much the bebop purist to be the ideal pianist for Lee Morgan’s proto-boogaloo hit, but bassist Bob Cranshaw remembers Barry in the studio saying he was gonna play as funky as he could. The piano vamp sells the song. Also with tenor saxophonist Joe Henderson (a regular at Barry’s daily colloquiums back in Detroit in the ‘50s) and drummer Billy Higgins.

9. “Luminescence!” (1967). The title track from Barry’s best LP with horns and his first record for Prestige. With baritone saxophonist Pepper Adams (another former student from Detroit), tenor man Junior Cook, trombonist Slide Hampton, Cranshaw, and drummer Lenny McBrowne. Barry’s lickety-split take on “How High the Moon” changes. High spirits from everyone — Slide! — with Barry batting clean-up & hitting it out of the park. Few reconcile grit, grace, and lyricism as seamlessly as Barry does here.

10. “Symphonic Blues Suite: Third Movement” (1970). With bassist Bob Cunningham, drummer Tootie Heath, and chamber orchestra. Wild stuff from Brother Yusef Lateef’s Suite 16. The side-long “Symphonic Blues Suite” for jazz quartet and chamber orchestra remains one of Lateef’s most rewarding large-scale compositions. At 2:42 here, Barry improvises Messiaen-like fragments (!) in the balcony of the piano, the closest this lifelong bebopper came to the avant-garde. Then he brings it all back home with a soulful slow blues. Preach, Brother Barry!

11. “Ray’s Idea” (1972) from Sonny Stitt’s masterpiece Constellation, with Sam Jones and Detroit-born drummer Roy Brooks (yet another former student of Barry’s). Stitt and Barry recorded together numerous times and had great chemistry. An inspired distillation of the bebop language. This is my all-time favorite Stitt solo for its freshly conceived melodic and rhythmic contours — not a cliche in sight — and in the key of D-flat to boot. Barry’s comping gooses the action and his 32 bars ring with exuberance, swing, and truth. Who needs a zillion choruses when you can say it all in one?

12.  “Renaissance” (1972). George Duvivier, bass; Leroy Williams, drums. One of Barry’s best LPs, Vicissitudes (MPS) is loaded with his intriguing original compositions, including this beguiling exercise in minor-key bebop. The interlude has a Barry-on-Bach feeling. He’s winking at Powell’s “Bud on Bach,” and perhaps also John Lewis’ baroque vibe. Then, surprise! Double-time and a deep groove from the trio, anchored by an animated drummer who worked more gigs with Barry than anyone. Coda: The first time I heard Barry live, in the summer of 1988 at a midtown Manhattan Chinese restaurant called the Fortune Garden Pavilion, the trio set up in the middle of the room. My buddy, guitarist Freddie Bryant, and I sat within inches of Williams’ ride cymbal as we ate; I felt like we were inside the band. Overpriced Midtown food never tasted so good.

13. “No Place to Hide Now” (1975). From a sweetheart LP, David Allyn’s Don’t Look Back. Piano-vocal duets with an oft-forgotten, plummy-voiced baritone. Barry’s masterful accompaniment — gorgeous harmony and voice leading — is a work of art. For all the singers who have trained at Barry’s classes over the years, there’s precious little of the maestro accompanying songbirds on record. Too bad. He was great at it.

14. “Like Someone in Love”(1976). Sam Jones, bass; Leroy Williams, drums. Barry enjoyed a productive run with producer Don Schlitten’s Xanadu label in the 1970s, taping five LPs as a leader and about 20 as a sideman. Rule of thumb: Buy any Xanadu record that includes Barry. Live in Tokyo is one of Barry’s top-tier sides. This is Bud Powell’s arrangement of “Live Someone in Love.” Super relaxed and super expressive. Barry’s varied articulation and placement of the beat—laying back, pushing ahead, riding right on it—excites the emotions. As he liked to say when teaching: Triplets rule the world!

15. “Round Midnight” (1976) from Live in Tokyo. Tremendous ballad playing, dramatic storytelling, and a surprising intro to the intro that’s a song all on its own. These eight bars, penned by Cootie Williams, originated as an interlude in the original 1944 recording of the tune by Williams’ Orchestra. Of course, Barry and Monk were close, living together at (Baroness) Nica’s house in Weehawken for a decade. Barry plays Monk compositions with the utmost respect but still delivers his own personality – a tricky balance.

16. “Oblivion” (1985). Hal Dodson, bass; Leroy Williams, drums. Look out! Bud’s flag-waver taken WAY upstairs. It’s not just the speed, but the melodic, rhythmic, and harmonic integrity of Barry’s lines. God is in the details. Barry looks as relaxed as if playing a ballad.

17. “Giant Steps” (c. 1990). The YouTube videos of Barry’s workshops overseas are extraordinary windows into the mind of a master teacher. You can find his complete 14-minute-plus exegesis on Coltrane’s “Giant Steps,” but here is an excerpt: a chorus and a half — 39 seconds — of the most startlingly melodic playing over these changes you will ever hear. I wish Barry had recorded a full version of the song.

18. “All God’s Children Got Rhythm” (1990) from Live at Maybeck (Concord). Another upstairs tempo but with a twist: Barry opens at a moderate lope with a nutty arrangement. Dig the descending quasi-boogie figure in the left-hand that Barry copped from a tape he had of Monk practicing the tune. Barry’s spoken introduction is cut off here, but what he tells the audience is: “I have a special tape of Monk … I’m going to start it out like that and then play it fast.”

19. “Nascimento” (1996). From First Time Ever (Alfa Jazz/Evidence) George Mraz, bass; Leroy Williams, drums. One of Barry’s most alluring compositions, “Nascimento” was named not for the the famous Brazilian singer-songwriter but for a percussionist friend Barry once described as “a beautiful little cat.” The song was for many years Barry’s set closer. His diehard fans would always lead the audience participation — rhythmic handclaps during the interludes and wordless singing of the splendorous melody. It was magical. Every time.

20. “The Bird of Red & Gold” (1979). Dial BH for beauty. The title track from the best of Barry’s four solo piano recordings. It’s a celestial original ballad as radiant as a Shelley ode. Barry sings — literally — his own poetic lyric. Brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it.

— Mark Stryker

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Mark Stryker is the author of Jazz from Detroit (University of Michigan Press).

Also on DTM:

Connector in Chief: Chick Corea, 1941-1921 (by Mark Stryker)

One That Got Away: Steve Grossman, 1951-2020 (by Mark Stryker)

Interview with Mark Stryker — Part one about a career in journalism and Jazz in Detroit, part two is about saxophonists.

The Bard of Bebop: Ira Gitler (by Mark Stryker)

George Walker: Dispatches from Detroit (by Mark Stryker)

Traps, the Drum Wonder: on Buddy Rich (by Mark Stryker)

My next trio record Every Note is True features Larry Grenadier and Jack DeJohnette and releases February on Blue Note records.

The opening track is “The More It Changes” with lyrics by Sarah Deming, and can be seen with a scrolling score video on YouTube.

A 44-person socially-distanced choir (they all sent in voice memo recordings) includes Jackson Andrews, Mikelle Budge, Eva Carrozza, Shannon Cronin, Miranda Cuckson, Sarah Deming, Aaron Diehl, Mercedes Etchegaray, Sally Fenley, Benson Gardner, Matthew Guerrieri, Tim Harmston, Marcy Harriell, Rob Harriell, Hyland Harris, Eric Hove, Sylvie Hove, John Heginbotham, Haeun Joo, Vince Keenan, Rosemarie Keenan, Glenn Kenny, David Kimball, Hayoung Lyou, John Meline, Isaac Mizrahi, Mark Morris, Elsie Mortimer, Vicki Mortimer, Justin Neely, Maile Okamura, Mark Padmore, Alex Ross, Veronica Rueckert, Genevieve Rueckert-Gardner, William Rueckert-Gardner, Marta Sanchez, Rob Schwimmer, Heather Sessler, Vinnie Sperrazza, Kevin Sun, Alicia Villarosa, Scott Wollschleger, and Julie Worden.

The cover art is by Jessica Brilli

and the photo is by Keith Major.

There are two album concerts with the same program and personnel.

February 7, Jordan Hall, Boston
February 11 Roulette, Brooklyn

The trio set will feature music from the album played with Larry Grenadier and Nasheet Waits; there will be also be the American premieres of Ritornello, Sinfonias, and Cadenzas, a through-composed, 40-minute suite for eight horns and rhythm section played by members of the New England Conservatory Jazz Orchestra. (Ritornello, Sinfonias, and Cadenzas was commissioned by the Umbria Jazz Festival and successfully premiered in Perugia last summer.)

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I’m at the Zinc Bar all December, playing every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5:30 to 7. Solo piano: standards and originals. It’s somewhat like cocktail piano but I’ve been drawing a serious listening audience. No admission, but reservations can be made.

We then ring in the New Year at the Zinc with Marcy Harriell and the songs of Burt Bacharach. Corcoran Holt and Vinnie Sperrazza complete the festive ensemble.

Chef passed away this morning of neuroendocrine cancer. He lived well, full of fight, until a couple of weeks ago, when he finally sat down and let it go.

I met Jack Riebel when he was working at the Dakota in Minneapolis in the 2000s, where he transformed a traditional jazz club menu into something unforgettable. My wife Sarah Deming would come out with me when the Bad Plus did our stint every Xmas; Jack had just started dating Kathryne Cramer, and within a few years Sarah would attend their wedding. During the past year Sarah spent a lot of time with Jack and Kathryne, and Sarah was at present this morning at the finish.

Photo from August:

Earlier in the summer, Chef, Kathryne, Sarah, and myself enjoyed a spectacular Fourth of July together in Greenpoint watching the fireworks. Chef believed in America at its best, and his extraordinary cooking proved that he was right to believe.

Now online: A recording/video documenting Alvin Singleton’s set of piano variations, Mutations, performed by Jackie Leung. From 1966, this is an early piece from Singleton: florid, dissonant, and intense, especially when compared to more recent spacious masterpieces.

When I interviewed him, Singleton told me how much he liked Herbie Hancock, and that he was at the 1964 Philharmonic concert that produced the Miles Davis albums My Funny Valentine and Four and More. Perhaps I hear a taste of Hancock’s more abstract harmonic language in Mutations, especially as the piece finds a slower, jazzier space around 4:45 in the Leung performance, the transition from the 3rd variation into the epic 4th variation. The whole piece is great; as far as I know, this is the first recording.

[…Hancock studied Olivier Messiaen’s modes of transposition…]

In 1998, Mark Turner recorded “Bo Brussels” on In This World with Kurt Rosenwinkel and two drummers, Jorge Rossy and Brian Blade. In the background of the composition is Messiaen’s third mode. Another great piece!

Starting tonight through the end of the month; solo piano; Monday through Thursday at the Zinc Bar, 5:30 to 7. No charge but you can make a reservation…

(The month-long gig culminates in New Years Eve at the Zinc, with Marcy Harriell, Corcoran Holt, and Vinnie Sperrazza, and the music of Burt Bacharach and Hal David.)

On Twitter I goofed off and crowd-sourced a “top 10 fusion tracks” list.

Only six ending up being perfect, meaning tracks that are strong musically and have popular outreach beyond dedicated music fans. (The idea that this is “popular” music is important, for this was the move from clubs to stadiums, and the records really sold much better than almost all previous acoustic jazz.)

Criteria?

Instrumental. Hot jazz improv. Nerdy and aspirational. Even 8th beats. Electric instruments. One artist, one tune.

First six in chronological order:

1. “Red Clay.” Freddie Hubbard, Joe Henderson and Herbie Hancock build burning solos over the big beat of Lenny White. A perfect “intervallic” pop melody and a CTI best-seller: Hubbard’s career wasn’t the same after. The chaotic fanfare intro is most “pure fusion” element but it’s still 1969, they are just getting going. Another track from the same era and related personnel is Joe Henderson’s “Power to the People,” which might be even greater than “Red Clay,” but it’s just not as popular.

2. “Spain.” 1972. While from the earliest and least-fusion version of Return to Forever, this tune circles the planet. Iconic, etc. Chick Corea stole opening fanfare and was sued. Airto’s beat is a mixture of clave and rock; when Lenny White took over, the rock would be heavier but the clave would still be there.

3. “Chameleon.” 1973. Long, almost a funk jam, but the tune is perfect and still a hook, and Hancock and Bennie Maupin play awesome solos. Track speeds up unbelievably, Hancock regrets that now. A best-seller far and wide.

4. “Some Skunk Funk.” 1975. Among civilians, this is the least known of the top six. Still, when we say FUSION, we mean the Brecker Brothers and SOME SKUNK FUNK. Absolutely! It was really Randy’s band — he wrote the tune and plays great on it — but Michael will forever be the hero. (I never heard the original studio version until working on this post, I grew up on the faster live performance on Heavy Metal Bebop. Both have their charms: maybe a better overall feel in the studio, but more going-for-it insanity from Michael live.)

5. “Birdland.” 1977. My personal favorite Weather Report music lies between the spacey sounds with Miroslav Vitous and coiled virtuosity of Jaco Pastorius, usually powered by the very funky Alphonso Johnson on bass. But you can’t deny the epic Joe Zawinul composition that most humans know and like. Wayne Shorter plays the blues for about eight bars, and Jaco makes the most of a few fills. The whole album Heavy Weather really is wonderful: down with the haters!

6. “Phase Dance.” 1978. Pat Metheny rode the fusion wave into the longest and most consistent run of the big acts. Of course, I love Rejoicing with Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins more myself, but this list isn’t about that. This list is about the pure joy “Phase Dance” has given to millions of humans over the years.

After the first six, it’s less obvious. Thanks in part to Maynard Ferguson, several generations of high school marching bands learned “Chameleon” and “Birdland.” But now we are in a different area, where guitarists and drummers know the music from trying to play along in their basements. These themes are not so familiar to civilians.

Selections 7 and 8 are “Birds of Fire” and “Stratus.” John McLaughlin! Billy Cobham! Mahavishnu! More dated than the top six, also busier, crazier, and the true heart of the snarling fusion beast. Odd-meters! GUITAR. DRUMS. Other selections may do just as well as “Birds of Fire” and “Stratus.”

Selections 9 and 10 are shared by Tony Williams and Miles Davis. Going back to the acoustic music of the 60s, Tony was ahead of everybody; he liked the Beatles and Brazilian music. Some say “Eighty One” on E.S.P. is the first fusion track.

Tony found a British Invasion guitarist for his Lifetime, and Miles poached McLaughlin for In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew. Miles gets the credit for the fusion revolution but Tony was there first. (Tony was mad about it, that’s why he plays so simply on In a Silent Way. Tony also wanted to call the style “Jazz-rock” instead of “fusion.”)

I personally never listened to either In a Silent Way or Bitches Brew much, they are too jammy for me — I like hit melodies best — but one can’t consider fusion without Miles Davis, the man who gave the style his imprimatur with both the audiences and the musicians. Pick a track from either — or pick excellent “Right Off” from Jack Johnson (which has no larger cultural footprint) or the later ’81 “Jean Pierre” which has entered the common practice rep. However, having made my list, I think the era really is ’69-’78. (Some would mention the earlier Filles de Kilimanjaro here as well.)

For Tony, the specialists (ok, it was just one specialist I trust, Vinnie Sperrazza, and a few people I don’t know on Twitter) gave me “Fred,” with another key fusion musician, Allan Holdsworth, who also wrote the track. It’s great, right in there (1975), and if you go to YouTube you can see 135 commenters losing their minds over the GUITAR and the DRUMS.

There were big hits that were not nerdy or aspirational, like “Breezin” and “Mr. Magic,” other things by Donald Byrd, Jeff Lorber, Stanley Clarke, Bob James, etc., and one can certainly stretch to Spyro Gyra and the Yellowjackets in one direction and Herbie Mann, the Crusaders, and Gary Burton in the other.

But I like my list, it feels right. Indeed, this is the definitive listing. No other list is necessary. (LOL!)

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Related DTM: 10 gateway tracks to modern jazz.

New DTM page: The late Dave Frishberg and his marvelous book, My Dear Departed Past.

In my recent article on A Love Supreme, I make the observation that Kind of Blue and A Love Supreme are in a class of two.

The criteria includes:

• Peak popularity with a general audience aligned with peak musicianship
• Small group instrumental modern jazz with extensive improvised horn solos
• A priority on group interplay, where each member of the band makes a personal and undeniable contribution to the overall sound.

Kind of Blue is obviously first. A Love Supreme is obviously second.

After those two there’s nothing else that fits the same profile. Time Out is not peak musicianship (I love it, but it can’t possibly be compared to the other two), and piano trios like Concert by the Sea, Live at the Pershing, and Sunday at the Village Vanguard aren’t quite right either.

In lieu of a third place winner, I’d submit ten Blue Note LPs.

They all deal with essentially the same continuum. Nothing that avant-garde, and not just no piano trios, but no organ or guitar dates either. A certain thing, and a thing that has outreach beyond serious jazz fans. These records could be in anyone’s collection; I’ve heard all of them in coffee shops and airports.

David Sanborn told me that classic Blue Note records were like classic Film Noir. That’s a perfect comparison. A baseline, all engineered by Rudy Van Gelder in a humble studio, all more truly alike than truly different.

There’s a lot of great jazz from all sorts of angles, but this is the center of the mosaic. A peak of American music, 1958-1967.

Sonny Clark, Cool Struttin‘ (1958)

Cannonball Adderley, Somethin’ Else (1958)

Art Blakey, Moanin’ (1958)

Hank Mobley, Soul Station (1960)

Dexter Gordon, Go (1962)

Lee Morgan, The Sidewinder (1963)

Horace Silver, Song for My Father (1964)

Herbie Hancock, Maiden Voyage (1965)

Wayne Shorter, Speak No Evil (1965)

McCoy Tyner, The Real McCoy (1967)

In half the cases the album is not my personal top selection for the given leader. Many would disagree with me, but I’d choose Empyrean Isles over Maiden Voyage and JuJu over Speak No Evil. Less controversial is the suggestion the Blakey, Silver, and Morgan LPs aren’t automatically their best; it’s more that the opening title tunes have such a hold on the human imagination that they simply must be included. (Of course, they are all still great records from top to bottom.) With Adderley it is a similar case, that moody opening “Autumn Leaves” is just too important. (It’s also almost a way of sneaking another Miles Davis date on to this list.) As for Clark, Mobley, Gordon, and Tyner, it is a smooth 1:1 ratio, these albums make the list and are also personal favorites.

Lists are banal and reductive, but they are also interesting thought experiments. The complete list ends up being my proposal for “What do you give someone to introduce them to modern jazz?” A banal and reductive question, but an important question nonetheless. That’s the answer: Kind of Blue, A Love Supreme, and these ten Blue Notes.

In the age of streaming playlists, the opening tracks of the dozen are a notably perfect “starter kit.”

“Cool Struttin'”
“Autumn Leaves”
“Moanin'”
“So What”
“Remember”
“Cheesecake”
“The Sidewinder”
“Song for My Father”
“Part 1: Acknowledgement”
“Maiden Voyage”
“Witch Hunt”
“Passion Dance”

Of course, there are plenty of other things to play for a newbie, including Time Out, Getz/Gilberto, the great vocalists, the great piano trio records, the organ records, the guitar records, the big band records. But I like my list. It is all the same yet different, it’s all got charisma, and it’s all absolutely the finest music imaginable. Again, the center of the mosaic.

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Footnotes:

The first tune on the earliest date, “Cool Struttin,” and the last tune on the final, “Blues on the Corner,” are both 12-bar blues. They even walk at a similar tempo while referencing street life in the title. More truly alike than truly different — yet under the hood, what a turbo-charged nine years of change, evolving from peak Sonny Clark/Jackie McLean to peak McCoy Tyner/Joe Henderson.

Joe Henderson doesn’t get a selection — Inner Urge starts with a long bass solo, making it ineligible — but he is a force of nature on three sideman appearances.

It’s hard not to include Sonny Rollins’s A Night at the Village Vanguard but the lack of piano — and, frankly, the raw mistakes of a fearless live performance — renders it a bit too abstract for civilians.

Perhaps the most commonplace modern jazz instrumentation is a quartet of tenor saxophone, piano, bass and drums. A Love Supreme is the fancy version; the meat and potatoes are on Soul Station and Go. But what meat and potatoes!

Modal jazz is more accessible and popular than bebop. Kind of Blue and A Love Supreme are the alpha and omega of modal jazz. Several of the Blue Notes are also a bit modal, especially the opening tracks. In a related topic: There’s plenty of hot blowing but there is not an undue emphasis on fast tempos. None of the opening tunes are fast.

Original compositions heavily outweigh songbook standards, although the standards are there. Only a few albums don’t have a literal blues form, but all have a blues ethos.

Drums: Elvin Jones, three. Art Blakey, three. Billy Higgins, two. One apiece to Jimmy Cobb, Philly Joe Jones, and Tony Williams; Roger Humphries and Roy Brooks split Song for My Father.

Bass: Paul Chambers, three. Ron Carter, three. One apiece to Sam Jones, Butch Warren, Bob Cranshaw, Jimmy Garrison, and Jymie Merritt; Teddy Smith and Gene Taylor split Song for My Father.

Piano: Sonny Clark, two. McCoy Tyner, two. Herbie Hancock, two. Wynton Kelly, one (plus one track on Kind of Blue). One apiece to Hank Jones, Bobby Timmons, Bill Evans, Barry Harris, and Horace Silver.

We are so lucky to have these records!

New DTM page, “Two Richie Powell Intros, Land and Brown on ‘Joy Spring'”

The TD James Moody Jazz Festival is celebrating 10 years, and the relief and joy of both the performers and the audience was palpable. NJPAC is a lovely hall, good sound, good vibes all-around.

Artemis is a supergroup of hot players that scans as a collective, but the music director and MC is the experienced Renee Rosnes, who has played with seemingly every consecrated mainstream jazz master. Anat Cohen, Ingrid Jensen, and Nicole Glover tell their stories in the front line, Noriko Ueda and Allison Miller are the engine room.

A group like this is not necessarily organic, but I always like hearing people who wouldn’t automatically play together work it out in real time. Indeed, the members of Artemis are more diverse aesthetically than the Blue Note confabs two generations ago such as Out of the Blue or Superblue. (Trivia: I bought Superblue 2 on cassette tape in 1989, with Renee Rosnes on piano.) The repertoire is varied but the intent is unified.

Set list:

“Galapagos” (Rosnes) — a burning modal fanfare, everyone got a say. Clarinet, Trumpet, and Tenor is reasonably unusual, but the impact was similar to any good hard bop sextet.

“Step Forward” (Ueda) — jokes about early piano lessons (Debussy’s “Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum” lurks in the background) moves into a fast and pretty waltz.

“Nocturnal” (Cohen) — Cohen showed off her skills as a colorist in the Ellington line in a moody number.

“Big Top” (Rosnes) — a multi-sectional showstopper, the highlight of the set. Even a bit of the AACM was present in the circus touches. However, when it comes time to play serious uptempo jazz, the cats in Artemis throw down. Jensen really is one of the best trumpeters around.

“The Fool on the Hill” (arr. Jensen) — A Beatles classic in Jensen’s slow and chromatic reharmonization.

“The Procrastinator” (Lee Morgan) — I suspect Rosnes did this arrangement, with an exotic piano intro and an emphasis on parallel harmony. By this time everyone was all the way in gear; Glover tore the changes completely apart.

“Goddess of the Hunt” (Miller) — another notably strong original. As with “Big Top” this kind sprawling form suits the band. Miller was dynamite throughout, and the drum solos were crowd-pleasers, but I’ve heard some of Miller’s own records, and I wouldn’t object if some of her more avant and pop tendencies pushed further into the mix as Artemis evolves. During the piano solo, Rosnes played some truly impossible double-time runs.

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Dianne Reeves’s fine band included Romero Lubambo, Peter Martin, Ben Williams, and Terreon Gully. They walked through a casual “Alone Together” to warm up with before Reeves came out. Her opening rubato a cappella statement on “Stella by Starlight” was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Perfect pitch, perfect sound, wide range, direct emotion.

Josh Redman told me once, “The only person I don’t want to follow at a jazz festival is Dianne Reeves,” and by the end of the set, I could see why. This audience was in the palm of her hand, she put everyone on the same page, preaching the truth of love and forgiveness.

I didn’t know every tune, but was surprised to hear Pat Metheny’s “Minuano,” which featured a strong scat solo from Reeves. (Trivia: I bought Still Life/Talking on LP in 1988.) There was a Brazilian theme throughout; of course Lubambo is a master Brazilian guitarist, and at the end Reeves said her next album will be all-Brazilian.

Other highlights included “A Time for Love,” duo with Lubambo, and Peter Martin’s rather astonishing opening cadenza to “Infant Eyes.” The band was grooving hard. It was apparently Williams’s first gig with the group and he offered serious vibes on both acoustic and electric bass. Gully played the room, played a “singer’s gig,” but a few happily esoteric fills confirmed his status as one of the heavy cats.

It was so nice to go out and hear a serious concert!