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Jazz and Blue Notes

Photo by Joe Kovar

One From the Harp: Blues blower Sugar Blue

One last look back at 1995's best albums

By Nicky Baxter

It's impossible to discuss music without taking into consideration alternative forms. And, no, we're not talking Radiohead or Garbage here, folks, but black roots music: blues and improvisational music. Without them, "American" music would scarcely exist. Yet, in marked contrast to that other "alternative," you can twirl the commercial radio knob (AM and FM) from morning till midnight, and come up with precious little. Despite radio's cold shoulder, these idioms continue to survive, if not exactly thrive, thanks largely to the persistence of indie record companies and a small but fiercely loyal band of record-buying aficionados.

If on the blues front, few new faces have emerged as clear heirs to the Kings' throne, a few youngbloods, relatively speaking, dropped discs that made us sit up and listen in 1995. A personal favorite was Sugar Blue's In Your Eyes (Alligator).

The Harlem expatriate is definitely onto something. His horn- and guitar-influenced harmonica blowing fairly bristles with power and invention. While echoes of both Big and Little Walter can be detected, there are at least as many differences as similarities. Unlike those greats' love for dirty, ear-rattling distortion, Sugar Blue favors a clean tone, and he isn't averse to tossing off a rock or funk lick either. Indeed, self-appointed tastemakers may find the new album too funky and not "bluesy" enough; maybe these folk have forgotten that blues is the original funk.

Like Sugar Blue, Luther Allison's music blithely ignores borders. The veteran singer/guitarist's Blue Streak (Alligator) incorporates elements of Stax soul and southern R&B (thanks to the Memphis Horns) and rock to get his groove on. An accomplished, aggressive guitarist, Allison's extroverted yet controlled style rings with authority. On tracks like "All the King's Horses," his playing and raw-throated vocals hit like a hurricane, an unyielding force of nature scattering everything in their path.

It was a very good year for reissues, as well. Leading the pack, Evidence issued a couple of the best, spotlighting Chicago blues. Blues Anytime!, featuring Herbert Sumlin's immaculate and surprisingly modern-sounding guitar and Sunnyland Slim's bracing piano, primarily showcased the jazz-inflected blues of upstart Melvin Taylor (you'll be hearing a whole lot more from this young man).

A fat shout-out to Excello for its Louisiana blues collection, Dark Clouds Rollin'. Boasting a formidable lineup led by Lightnin' Slim ("I'm Evil"), Slim Harpo ("I'm a King Bee") and Lazy Lester ("I'm a Lover Not a Fighter"), the compilation offers compelling evidence that in the 1950s and early '60s, bayou blues ranked with Chicago's as the era's most influential sound.

Jazz was jumpin' in 1995 (as, indeed, it has been for the past several years), boasting a bumper crop of fine releases from myriad artists, youngbloods and graybeards alike. Equally diverse was the stylistic range.

The new-breed post-bop of reedmen Joshua Redman's Spirit of the Moment: Live at the Village Vanguard (Warner Bros.) and J.C. Carter's The Real Quiet Storm (Atlantic) provided ample proof that these two saxophonists, still in their mid-20s, acknowledge the past without being imprisoned by it.

Meanwhile, adherents of the New Thing continue to come up with unexpected delights. Out late last year, David Ware's Earthquation (DIW) is a stellar illustration of beautiful turbulence. With outstanding contributions from pianist David Shipp and bassist William Parker, the tenor saxophonist's highly distinctive style and stunning compositional skills are given free rein. Advanced without being overly arty, the album is full of passion and intelligence, a singular achievement.

Ditto, Charnett Moffett's Planet Home (Evidence). Disputing the hegemony of the horn, Moffett's bass-centric release is a genre-smashing tour de force. More than anything, Moffett's Planet Home is about freedom. He is a gifted improviser on upright bass (the brilliant unaccompanied solo piece "Aura"), electric bass ("The Jam"'s 21st-century funky fusion) and electric piccolo bass (the excellent title track). Bowed, plucked, fretless and fuzzed, Planet Home is like no other world you've visited.

The Broun Fellinis know all about alternative worlds. On their debut album, aphrokubist improvisations vol. 9 (Moonshine), the San Francisco-based trio explored an Africentric universe with its own "soulogik" syntax. If Jimi Hendrix, George Clinton and John Coltrane came up with an improvisational-music unit, the Fellinis would be it. Though informed obliquely by hip-hop culture, there's nothing flaccid about this jazz; it's Mad metaphysikal phlavor--like the year itself.

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