Charles Mingus “Mingus Ah Um” (1959)

Mingus Ah Um is almost absurdly energetic. The pure joy of "Better Git It in Your Soul" is some of the most exciting, exuberant jazz I've ever heard, with the gospel shouts and calls, and the monumental tempo. Ah Um reminds me of Raymond Scott, as this outpouring of manic sound that seems perpetually on the brink of chaos, but always tightly controlled. I feel like I lack the lexicon to write about jazz, but I know this is some invigorating, essential music that never flags and serves as an excellent riposte to anyone who has the temerity to say that jazz is boring and/or wanky. I do prefer the first side to the calmer second side (or the back half of the album, anyway I don't own the LP), but it's all pretty stunning. –Jared

Miles Davis “Get Up With It” (1970)

Without a doubt, one of the greatest albums of them all, a double set only comparable to the likes of the Stooges' "Funhouse" in its darkness, intensity and raw, funky sexuality. Now for starters let's get something straight: I loathe "fusion", and to even CONSIDER putting Miles' music of the '70s in that category - a genre filled with lilly-livered chumps like Return To Forever and the Yellow Jackets - is a great disservice to Miles and his music. From 1969 to '75, Mr. Davis pioneered and created his own unique sounds, a mixture of hard funk, psychedelic rock, avant-garde electronics and free jazz, that has never been equalled in regards to its sonics or its "vibe". There is NOTHING that can touch the raised-middle-finger jab in the guts felt when one puts on discs like "Dark Magus", "Live Evil", "Agharta", "Big Fun" or "On The Corner". The feelings of utter loathing and despair, the overwhelming EMOTION of these discs can be too much, yet nothing can prepare you for 1974's "Get Up With It", a disc of such wildness and total lack of any commercial forethought (and thank the heavens for that) that it was granted pretty much instant deletion upon release and has mainly only been available from Japan for the last 25 years.

Start with the cover: a big, slightly unflattering, grainy photo of The Man. It's the sight of a man against the world, battling for his own identity. Hit the first track, "He Loved Him Madly" (a tribute to Duke Ellington), a 32-minute ambient piece only broken up occasionally by Peter Cosey's mumbling guitar lines. It's one of the saddest damn songs you'll ever hear, and you can bet yer booty that if it was made by a bunch of white guys in Berlin ca. '71, every Krautrock freak in town would be hailing it as a classic. Next track "Maiysha" is a schizophrenic one. For ten minutes in merely putters along like a lite Latin number, interrupted sporadically by Miles' Sun Ra-like organ, then it stops, gets into a hard groove and proceeds to move along to Peter Cosey's awesome guitar screeches for another five minutes. Hot. "Honky Tonk" is up next, a brief interlude of stop-start rhythms and noisy organ crunch. It prepares you for the next track the unstoppable "Rated X", THE peak of Miles' - or maybe anyone's - sonic capabilities. Part hyperdive breakbeat rhthyms, part uber-funk, and nine parts pure noise, there is no other sound on earth as MOVING as this song. Get up with it. Disc two starts with "Calypso Frelimo", another 32-minute piece that starts where "Rated X" finishes off. Ecstatic peaks of dark psychedelic jamming, aided by Miles' wah-wah'd trumpet, gel and compete. "Red China Blues" is a brief number that kicks it in a Chess-Records-meets-Ornette way, and the 15-minute+ "Mtume" once again takes you for a ride with its collision of Cosey's guitar (a highly under-rated player in a field with the likes of Sonny Sharrock) and about half a dozen percussionists. Finishing is "Billy Preston", more chilling mid-range avant-funk to close the set. "Get Up With It" is the perfect summation of what was filling Miles' head at the time: the avant electronics of Stockhausen, the cyclical funk of James Brown, the wailing psych guitar of Hendrix, the improvised freeness of Ornette Coleman and as The Man himself put it, "a deep African thing". Many words have been written on Miles' music of this period, but to really GET it, you have to LISTEN to it. Not a word is spoken on GUWI, yet it speaks volumes on its creator's alienation and sense of despair. As far as so-called "out-rock" goes, this is about as "out" as you could get, and certainly about as purely "psychedelic" as music has ever gotten, so do the done thing and get with it. –Dave

Miles Davis “My Funny Valentine” (1965)

Never has there been such a perfect example of the difference between what we might call the Apollonian and Dionysian (if we were utterly pretentious). In February 1964, Miles Davis and his then band -- Tony Williams on drums, Ron Carter on bass, Herbie Hancock on piano and George Coleman on sax -- played a concert at New York's Philharmonic Hall that was subsequently split for release on two LPs. The fast numbers went on Four and More, a fun little album but no great shakes; there's plenty of power, but not much else. The ballads, though, wound up here, and the end result is one of the most beautiful and moving jazz records I own. It's stunningly delicate; the five musicians play with almost ESP-like sensitivity to each other. Listen, though, to Miles; he has rarely played with such lyricism, such emotion. "Stella by Starlight" in particular sounds like a direct connection to a place far deeper than any he has gone before. Naked, and necessary. –Brad

Les McCann “Layers” (1974)

Think of the work of the following artists in the early seventies: Tonto's Expanding Head Band, The Mizell Brothers, Lonnie Liston Smith, Stevie Wonder, George Duke, Herbie Hancock, Miles Davis. If you like their work, you'll like - love - this album. Aside from an electric bass and three percussionists, this is the epitome of a keyboard album. By overdubbing (this was the first album recorded in 32-track format), McCann employs ARP synths, clavinet, Fender-Rhodes e-piano, and piano to simulate horns, woodwinds, and whatnot. On the basis of funky grooves, he creates a reflective atmosphere that's both nostalgic and futuristic. The album is structured like a suite, with the tunes fading into each other. The result is something that could be called Prog-Jazz. McCann created a visionary sound when he recorded this album in '72. Layers is a groundbreaking Fusion album from the early seventies when fusion was not yet something to be ashamed of. The record belongs to the best of that genre. –Yofriend

Charlie Parker & Dizzy Gillespie “Bird and Diz”

This is hardly a typical recording, but I have to say that this is my favorite jazz album ever recorded. It's the only recording to have Thelonious Monk playing together with Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, which in itself is pretty amazing. Although their styles are so distinct, they do play quite well together. Hearing them playing together is almost surreal. It's hard for me to describe how and why I like this album. I think the main reason that I like it is that it's so strange and so normal at the same time. The tunes exemplify this...two catchy blues (Bloomdido and Mohawk), a laid-back song to the same chord changes as "Stompin at the Savoy" (Relaxin' with Lee), a slowish and rather bizarre rhythm-changes tune (An Oscar for Treadwell), leap frog which is just ridiculously fast, and rather cheerful...and then...my melancholy baby. And of course...bizarre stuff happens to the harmonies and rhythms when you put these musicians together. One moment it sounds so old-fashioned, the next moment totally modern. I love it all the way! –Alex

Ornette Coleman “This Is Our Music” (1961)

It was over 30 years ago that I bought my first Ornette Coleman album, Free Jazz, from the second-hand record shop: it was love at first sight (first hear?). Love is inexplicable, at least to those in love, but the sound of Coleman’s alto had an immediate effect on me, an emotional connection, that continues until today. It is the early Atlantic recordings that remain at the heart of my love for Coleman. I have only been listening to This Is Our Music for the past couple of months (I feel no need to rush a love affair), but, other than Free jazz, it has become my favorite of the Coleman-Atlantic albums (but I don’t feel I have to be bound by that judgement in the future). I have heard it said that compared to other figures of the 1960s jazz avant garde Coleman now seems very tame: I think that is true, at least as far as he doesn’t howl and shout in way that threatened to blow away all our assumptions of what music should be, but then the other avant garde sax players tended to fall in behind Coltrane, in their stance of difference they tended to sound the same, while Coleman remains unique. He has created his own musical world, one I find as vivid and friendly as an Impressionist painting, and it is a world that has no successful copies. The one musician who shared this vision was Don Cherry and he is the Engels to Coleman’s Marx, the Watson to his Holmes, the Robin to his Batman – he is the lesser figure, the one who takes his imaginative world from his dominating companion, but maybe he brings Coleman closer, creating a bridge between him and us. Charlie Haden is the anchor for this music, for most of this album playing an idiosyncratic hard bop bass, it has the clear lines that stabilize the music. The exception is Beauty Is a Strange Thing where, playing with a bow, he allows the music to drift away like a cloud without any clear edges. Ed Blackwell is a unique drummer (and I much prefer him to Billy Higgins’ work on the earlier Atlantic-Coleman albums) – he is the gentlest of drummers, not giving the music the rhythmic propulsion we expect a drummer to provide, but rather a rhythmic voice responding to and answering the horns. Writing about other Coleman-Atlantic albums I have said that their great limitation is that all the tracks tend to be a bit the same – here there are two numbers that stand out for their difference: the slow and hovering Beauty Is a Rare Thing and the reinvention of Embraceable You. The latter is the only Ornette Coleman version of a standard I know – it is as though Gershwin’s melody has been replanted in a totally alien soil and it has grown in an unforeseeable way, still recognisably having the same shape, but also disturbingly different. –Nick

Terje Rypdal “Odyssey” (1975)

Producer Manfred Eicher's ECM label has been a mixed bag over the years. Much of the output has been criticized for being homogenized, self-indulgent & dull as well as being praised for genius production, adventurous artists making groundbreaking recordings, with an inner fire underneath the slick recordings. Love it or hate it, there is a definite sound environment that Eicher has created, it's simply known as the "ECM sound". The use of space in music, as loud as silence, free improv without a million notes, composed chaos that whispers screams. When it works it is timeless & innovative, when it doesn't, it can sound like elevator music that was thrown aside because it sounded too much like, well, elevator music.

Odyssey is guitarist Terje Rypdal's fourth record for ECM & it works. A double album of low-fi fusion intertwined with progressive rock string interludes, distorted organs, hissy snare fills, groovy bass lines , ethereal horns, & of course, Rypdal's guitar playing, which sounds like a cross between Jimi Hendrix & an avant garde cello player. The melodies are dark, cold & funky as hell. Rypdal was definitely channeling Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew" on this record but only softer, all the groove & dissonance, but less crowded, like someone whispering a hurricane in your ear. The record opens with "Darkness Falls". Rypdal's guitar screeching like an injured space bird along side organ stabs & chattering drums with the bass searching for a cohesive rhythm: a gentle panic within the group forms but slowly subsides as the sound fades & flows right into the second track, "Midnite". Warm, pulsating bass & drums lock into each other & they begin to groove with Rypdal's wah pedal over the top of moaning trombones & snaky organ lines in the background, holding it all together; quietly. Odyssey has it's heavier moments as well- "Rolling Stone" a twenty-five minute rock-funk gem that sounds as if Sly Stone & crew ran into the boys from Black Sabbath & said, "Let's jam". "Over Birkerot" would be perfectly comfortable on a mid- seventies King Crimson record. It does bog down a bit with a couple of almost contemporary classical string/synthesizer drone marathons that can get a little sleepy, but there's just enough smolder in there to keep the listener curious. The tracks heard on Odyssey still sound relevant. Manfred Eicher's production stamp make these tunes sound as if they could be on any modern down-tempo electronic record from today. –ECM Tim

The Mahavishnu Orchestra “The Inner Mounting Flame” (1971)

Fusion has become a dirty word in most jazz circles these days, which have been thoroughly Marsalis-ised to the point of declaring that the only good jazz is acoustic jazz. And yes, there were a lot of crimes committed in the name of jazz-rock (I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out than have to listen to a Lenny White LP again) but a handful of classics did emerge from it. This is one. I'm tempted to say this is THE one, which wouldn't be correct, but you do tend to get carried away listening to McLaughlin and the boys in full flight. As opposed to their subsequent albums, the emphasis here is on virtuoso playing that still comes from the heart. And the all-acoustic "A Lotus on Irish Streams" is quite simply one of the most beautiful pieces of music to come out of the 1970s. In some ways Birds of Fire is a better, more ambitious and fully-conceived album than this one, but it just misses out on the questing spirit and beauty that makes The Inner Mounting Flame such a compelling listening experience. –Brad

Airto Moreira “Free” (1972)

By now, Airto must have released about 30 LPs and played on and spiced up countless albums, yet Free may still be his best. Simply because the conditions were perfect: there are Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett on piano, Ron Carter on bass, the master himself on drums and percussion, Hubert Laws and Joe Farrell on reeds, George Benson on guitar, Don Sebesky with exceptionally good arrangements directing a big band of super-professionals and Rudy van Gelder making sure the recording sound is crystal clear. There's a very good version of Return To Forever, there's this little gem, Lucky Southern on which Keith Jarrett plays a wonderful solo, and there's the highlight, Flora's Song and again, it's Keith Jarrett who along with Don Sebesky, gets the crown. Airto himself? Not just his percussion is top, but also his drumming. A joyful event, whenever the record is played. –Yofriend

David Axelrod “Song of Innocence” (1968)

Trying to put a tag on the music of legendary producer David Axelrod is almost impossible as his music, especially [when] early offerings such as this, straddles so many genres. You get funk, jazz, classical and rock all thrown into the melting pot to create a rather unique sound that has had a large influence on many people. Nowhere has this been more apparent than in hip hop and trip hop where this LP has been heavily sampled. If you are a fan of those two genres prepare to hear a lot of familiar breaks when you hear this record for the first time. The LP itself was heavily influenced by the poetry of William Blake hence there is a dark brooding feel throughout and Axelrod uses layers of strings playing minor keys to obtain this mood. The drums and percussion drive the music on and there are some fantastic guitar breaks. –Jon

Cannonball Adderley “At the Lighthouse” (1961)

Cannonball Adderley is a tremendously joyful performer. It’s the trait that makes him such a great foil for melancholy Miles on their collaborations. It’s also the trait that makes At the Lighthouse such a beautiful album. A lot of jazz music is aimed at expanding boundaries, or breaking them down entirely. A great deal of the most highly regarded work is exploratory in nature, and that exploration can be breath-taking. There is something to be said, however, for simplicity. The musicians on At the Lighthouse never force a note. Each solo is in complete service of the song, rather than taking the first opportunity to bust free of the song’s framework. The rhythm section of Sam Jones and, particularly, drummer Louis Hayes are economical and straight-forward. Adderley and his brother Nat deliver lovingly crafted solos and have a precise but easy-going chemistry when playing together. The real stand-out, in my mind, is pianist Victor Feldman. He always waits patiently for his solo (always third) and accentuates the rhythm section. Then, he takes the reigns and delivers these long, eloquent solos while still helping to propel the song along. Really lovely stuff. If your thing is Ascension and The Shape of Jazz to Come, and you’re only interested in the outer edge of jazz, then this album may not be for you. If you just love great music, however, then this magical, casual recording of a night at a club in 1960 will make you smile, guaranteed. –Lucas

Centipede “Septober Energy” (1971)

This ominous double LP has been sitting there in my record collection since 1973. I don't know why I haven't played it for ages, I used to play it a lot. So, the first of October is an apt day to play and review Septober Energy. It is a project assembled by Keith Tippett and produced by Robert Fripp (both members of King Crimson at the time). These two gathered virtually the entire creative British music scene - a who-is-who of some 50 musicians, horns, brass, strings, singers, Alan Skidmore, Elton Dean, Ian Carr, Alan Skidmore, Paul Rutherford, John Marshall, Robert Wyatt, Ian MacDonald, Boz Burrell, Julie Driscoll (Tippett at the time of recording), just to name a few. The music sounds as if Tippett and Fripp were struggling to find a home for their jazzier, freer ideas which they couldn't incorporate into the King Crimson concept.
There are moments of grandezza, pathos, Jazz-Rock passages, Free Jazz - both loud and aggressive and soft and gentle, Bolero-like crescendos, concert music, sheet music, smashing arrangements and orchestrations, all of it played live in the studio and simultaneously recorded. Of course, due to the concept, there are also passages which don't succeed or which are too long - I'm thinking of the finale. Septober Energy has been put down as megalomania, usually from King Crimson fans. I don't agree. It's difficult music, certainly. You have to make an effort to follow the music. It might just not be your taste. But that doesn't make it a flop. Septober Energy is like nothing else from the early seventies, it's an important musical document from one of the most exiting musical phases in the twentieth century. I'm glad I re-discovered this album. It's out on CD and should not be overlooked. –Yofriend

Miles Davis “Nefertiti” (1968)

I wish I'd been a fly on the wall, no, a fly on producer Teo Macero's shoulder during the classic sessions which yielded this album and the rest of the quintet's catalogue in the late 60s. Creative tension probably doesn't even begin to describe the atmosphere. Strangely, there are no Davis compositions here, but Wayne Shorter weighs in with the first two tracks - the slightly off key, circular title track and beautiful Hand Jive. On the latter, the sax is a true wonder in his hands, soulful, searching, graceful. I much prefer the version of Herbie Hancock's Riot heard here, rather than on his own album Speak Like A Child. It's slightly faster, with an almost mambo, Latin sounding tempo. –Neal

Eric Dolphy “Out There” (1960)

At first Out There sounds like an Ornette Coleman album, but then you realize that Eric Dolphy has twisted Coleman's weird ideas around his even stranger finger. I mean...legendary bassist Ron Carter plays cello. Cello!!! George Duvivier plays bass. What a stroke of genius. There's less musicians on Out There than on Dolphy masterpiece Out To Lunch. In fact, Dolphy is the only horn period. He puts in mind blowing solos on alto sax, flute, b-flat clarinet and bass clarinet. If I had to choose the most talented reed and woodwind player of all time it would be a tie between Eric Dolphy and Rahsaan Roland Kirk. While Kirk absolutely mastered more than 50 instruments, Dolphy can make a clarinet sound drop-dead sexy one moment and convince you that the world is ending the next. The same goes for any instrument that he played. "Sketch of Melba" has some stunning flute playing. –Rob

James Blood Ulmer “Tales of Captain Black” (1979)

"HOLY CRAP!" is a good summary of my reaction to Tales of Captain Black. If you ever wanted to hear a Jazz album that could match...make that surpass Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica then this is it. It's a Free-Jazz-Post-Punk-Polka-Funk-Blues merry-go-round, pushing the limits of any music listener's tolerance levels. The most famous member of the band is certainly Ornette Coleman. He's great company for James Blood Ulmer. You can hear briefly from time to time that Ulmer is a great Blues guitarist as well, when he's not being a demon. Bassist Jamaaladeen Tacuma books it at light speed. And Denardo Coleman's performance makes me wonder if anyone has ever recorded the drumming tracks for an album by mounting a small drum kit to a horse, having their beats thrown off by galloping and bucking of freaked-out horse as they rode it around the studio. That would be pretty "Free-Jazz" of them. –Rob

Santana “Welcome” (1973)

Welcome stands between two popular Santana LPs, Caravanserei and Borboletta, and it's perhaps the most underrated Santana album. Like the previous LP, Welcome has a recording sound which can easily match today's standards. This band had it all. The album opens with an instrumental meditation dominated by Alice Coltrane's organ sound. The first highlight is Samba de Sausalito with a marvelous undercurrent of percussion and a good e-piano solo by Tom Coster. The next song, When I Look Into Your Eyes is a light Pop tune greatly upvalued by Joe Farrell's lovely flute solo and the band's accompaniment and the adventurous production: Leon Thomas uses his yodel as a sound effect and Richard Kermode comes in with a super-funky keyboard riff on which the song fades out. Next is one of my all-time Santana favorites, Yours Is The Light featuring Flora Purim, a Brazilian rhythm, Leon Thomas' whistling and a very disciplined yet inspired solo by Carlos himself. Side Two starts with another great instrumental, Mother Africa recalling Earth, Wind & Fire's Head To The Sky from the same year, Coltrane (Jules Brussard's soprano solo) and McCoy Tyner. Light Of Life evokes the atmosphere of Gato Barbieri's soundtrack, Last Tango In Paris. And now, the most ambitious instrumental piece on the set, Flame-Sky introducing John McLaughlin. In the face of this guitar giant, however, Carlos does not shy away, he opens with a typical yet inspired solo; the band shows they hold up to any challenge and finally, the Mahavishnu does what he does so well until they duet. The title song closes the circle of this marvelous LP in a quiet way with a meditation. A fantastic LP from beginning to end. The sound engineer can't be praised too high. Welcome sounds as good today as it sounded back then, a musical adventure and one of the best Rock albums of the 70s. –Yofriend

Weather Report “Weather Report” (1971)

If you know Weather Report primarily from their latter-day funk-groove thang, this may come as a surprise -- perhaps even a pleasant one. For one thing, Joe Zawinul is restricted mostly to organ and piano, with none of the synthesizer excess of later albums. The balance between Zawinul and Wayne Shorter, too, is much more even (and Shorter's "Eurydice" is my favourite piece on the record). With bassist Miroslav Vitous on acoustic instruments, the album may remind you of Miles Davis's In A Silent Way, on which, of course, Zawinul and Shorter played crucial parts. There's a kind of calm and serenity hanging over the music, even when the playing gets furious (which, with these guys involved, it often does). "Orange Lady" was also recorded by Miles Davis as "Great Expectations" (for which he cheekily took the composition credit). –Brad

McCoy Tyner “The Real McCoy” (1967)

Yes! Here we have the album that lifts Tyner out of the shadow of Coltrane and propels him to deity status in jazz. A formidable pianist with a unique style Tyner was the defining muscular pianist whose hard aggressive block right hand chords and subtle left hand work made him eay to recognise and even easier to admire. With this album he simply explodes in every sense. His playing has never been bettered and it seems that all shackles are off. What also stands out is the stunning maturity of his compostion. This has the best opening of any jazz album with the romping Passion Dance and the perfectly titled Contemplation. Ron Carter has never sounded better either and Jones has a telepathic understanding with Tyner as is to be expected after so many years together. This would be in my ten jazz albums as a collection starter for any new or aspiring jazz fan. –Jon

Sam Rivers “Contours” (1965)

Along with True Blue by Tina Brooks this is one of those Blue Note LPs that is painfully rare and unheard. What a shame as it is an absolute classic. Very different in feel to Brooks but just as essential. Avant Garde yet never forgetting to swing and what a line up: Hubbard, Hancock, Carter and Chambers! That should be worth the price of the LP alone but Rivers stamps his authority all over the set which is no mean feat in this company. His solos are at times tempered and sensitive and at other times scream with bursts of noise from the speakers. Carter and Hubbard are also on great form. The album also highlights what a great composer Rivers was. –Jon

Gil Scott-Heron “Pieces of a Man” (1971)

The song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" is the earliest incidence of rap that I've heard so far. What's more, it features the flute playing of Hubert Laws. That's right, flute in a rap song. The next thing that really struck me was the bass. None other than Ron Carter makes the switch to electric bass, reminding me of Jaco Pastorius a little bit. Those three musicians form a deadly trio. Hubert Laws only plays on three songs, I think. That's not much of an issue though because he wouldn't have really fit in many of the other songs. The style of the music varies from fusion on the first half to soul and jazz on the rest of the record. What takes the album from being good to being great is the fact that everyone can identify with the lyrics about the plight of African Americans and subjects like depression. "Lady Day and John Coltrane" feels more like a statement about the power of music in general to enhance you life, with John Coltrane and Billie Holiday used as examples. Scott-Heron has made it known on his records that he's a huge fan of Coltrane. Kind of makes a person wonder what kind of crazy supergroup would have been inevitable had a few people not died prematurely. Let's say Coltrane lived on. Heron might have used Ron Carter to recruit Coltrane into this band. Pretty much wherever Coltrane went, Elvin Jones followed, so they wouldn't have had to look far for a drummer. So far we've got flute, vocal, drums, sax and bass. What about guitar? The only right person for the job would have Jimi Hendrix, yet another victim of too much celebrity. Maybe throw John's talented wife Alice in on piano and harp. Voila! Potentially one of the best supergroups that will never be. It's sad, really. What I like better about this album versus Free Will is the presence of Ron Carter and that the lyrics are still political but don't go so far as to border on being anti-white. It's one thing to stick up for your people but it's other to sound like you're verbally attacking another group in the process. Let's not fight hate with hate. Pieces of a Man was released the same year as What's Going On by Marvin Gaye, has just as much political and social commentary, might be better, and yet gets a meager amount of recognition in comparison. Yup, that's about how much sense I've come to expect from the music world. –Rob