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Along with Lee Morgan, Hubbard is an inheritor of the Clifford Brown bop-chops trumpet legacy. Freddie stretched the bonds of hardbop in the 1960s and fell into light fusion in the following decade. I’ll admit to a love/hate relationship with him: on the one hand, he’s the first big name jazz artist yours truly went to see in concert (circa 1990), and it had quite an effect, as did his albums I went out and bought not long after. On his own sessions as a leader, he is an incredible talent. But his sideman performances are often overblown, as if he was trying through his technique to sell himself. Maiden Voyage comes to mind, with all those notes that call attention to themselves. I cannot quite understand why he got the call for certain free albums, like Dolphy’s Out to Lunch. He sounds misplaced. At least Hubbard had the awareness to wonder in hindsight what he was doing on Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz. In any case, and this is all subjective anyway, I think Hubbard plays more appropriately on his own recordings, perhaps because he knows what he wants to hear from himself on those occasions, and no auditioning is necessary.
And so, a few items, out of many:
Cool hard bop with a Trane rhythm contingent (Tyner, Art Davis, Elvin) and Wayne Shorter and Bernard McKinney (euphonium) in the front line. The opening “Arietis” is one of Freddie’s best themes, and Shorter contributes the likeable “Marie Antoinette”. Both tunes make the complex sound simple, and the harmonies push the soloists into interesting territories. “Crisis” opens with similar promise on a good bassline, but the melody is dull. Decent solos, though. The group turns the blues “Birdlike” into an advanced jam session, and in the ballad feature “Weaver of Dreams”, Freddie reveals the sensitivity and taste often hiding behind his technical displays. He holds and shapes notes with beautiful suspense. Ready For Freddie is maybe the best first choice of Freddie’s Blue Notes, and you can take all of the sidemen’s contributions to the bank. Elvin stokes the fires and Wayne sings in his personalized tenor voice. The harmonies of “Arietis” point the way through the rest of the decade. Both Herbie Hancock and Wayne would soon be writing pieces that sound a lot like it.
This is with his working band - James Spaulding, Ronnie Mathews, Eddie Khan, and Joe Chambers - which probably made the more extreme material easier to handle. The title track’s fanfare is pure bravado, with a non-sequitur calypso section to boot, and the solos are free. It’s such a confident and strange piece that you can’t help but let it blow your hair back and enjoy the ride. “Far Away” has a purposeful piano and bass vamp in 6, very Coltrane-like, with a great Spaulding flute solo and an even better bass spot for Khan. In this track, Hubbard approaches the avant-garde through the side door - not quite gaining admittance, but not belonging there anyway. Chambers’ “Mirrors” is a lovely, mysterious script for trumpet and flute that sounds like something Brubeck and Corea might have co-written. Lest fans of Freddie’s earlier music be put off, “Blue Frenzy” and “D Minor Mint” are in a more traditional vein, with small twists of their own. Hubbard’s chops and ideas runneth over as his new music breaks artistic barriers. Pianist Ronnie Mathews is fantastic, and Chambers’ drumming is great as usual. A stimulating record.
Hubbard has regarded it as his personal best, and there’s no need to argue. He still has his stance in harmonically provocative swing, yet a few of the chords are the ambiguous types that were coming into favor at the time, suspended fourths and the like. And there are some tentative backbeats; it isn’t fusion, but it takes a step in that direction. The essence of the whole thing is summed up in the title track, a true classic with a snappy theme, sharp rhythm, enticing parallel chord movement, and much blowing room. With Joe Henderson, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, and Lenny White (post-Bitches Brew, pre-Return to Forever) on board, Freddie is well assisted in his search for a funky new thing. Under the supervision of producer Creed Taylor, “Red Clay” had no chance of coming across aggressively on record, although the hazy film of the recording (with great dynamic range) suits it entirely.
Also nodding to R&B is the 6/8 roadhouse section of “Delphia”, otherwise a semi-maudlin ballad with flute and dated Farfisa organ. After that, Freddie picks up where his more traditional Blue Notes left off. “Suite Sioux” (get it?) is a hot swinger, and “Intrepid Fox” is an amazing composition with modern chord shifts and a marvelous theme that tears the roof off. Groovy jams happen in Lennon’s “Cold Turkey” and the bonus live version of “Red Clay”.
Carrying over the funk from Red Clay, which wasn’t the main element of that album, yet it’s almost the sole essence of this one. The title track has a very catchy theme, and from then on, it’s over a quarter hour of a laid-back vamp for long-winded solos. So, after Henderson has wrestled dangerous phrases and Benson has gotten his guitar licks and Herbie has daubed his colors, you may well have forgotten what song you’re listening to. Very nearly as taxing is “Mr. Clean”, even funkier and nastier (inasmuch as any CTI recording may be called nasty), yet the cliched grooves get weary after a while, no matter how much grit the improv might have.
The third and final track is a gorgeous about-face: Hubbard on flugelhorn, accompanied only by guitar and bass, playing “Here’s That Rainy Day”. At the risk of dispatching a hasty superlative, I’ll say that it’s the best ballad performance I’ve ever heard him play. His phrasing, tone, breath, and pace are masterful. Perhaps it’s an illusion, after a half-hour of one-chord funk jams, but the performance is still remarkable. Beauty, as it has been said, is a rare thing.
On the job with a group of young lions: tenor Javon Jackson (who sounds uncannily like Joe Henderson), Benny Green (throwback piano), Chris McBride, and Tony Reedus. Freddie’s chops are weathered a bit, but that makes him have to work at the material, not necessarily a bad thing. Better than skating over it too easily with magic lip and fingers. The retrospective program on this two-disc set covers Hubbard’s hardbop angst (“CORE”, “One of a Kind”) along with CTI ‘70s funk timepieces (“Destiny’s Children”, “First Light”). Adding variety are McBride’s “EGAD” (riding the Trane) and the bright “Phoebe’s Samba” from Green. In fact, those last two are the highlights of the first half.
The second disc ups the intensity and indulgence, from the “CORE” manifesto (good, but in the shadow of the Jazz Messenger original) to the drawn-out jazz-funk jams. Bob your head with the beats, smile at the blue notes, waft away on the major seconds. The set captures the direct ambience of a club gig, where you can picture yourself nursing an import and applauding the satisfactory solos and heads. It’s no more or less special than that.
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