JAZZBO NOTES RECOMMENDED RECORDING

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars


Pianist Hector Martignon imay be from Colombia, but it is too easy to merely peg him as a Latin Jazz artist. For evidence, examine Foreign Affair.

The first track, Benitez Sez, is basically a funky jazz tune. The only evidence you would have that Martignon is Latin would be the powerful rhythmic thrust of his playing. It’s a blistering track, and Martignon’s solo bristles with intelligence.

He does go Latin on My One and Only Love. Martignon mutates the standard into a joropo, a dance form from the Savanahs between Colombia and Venezuala. It’s a surprisingly choice, but Martignon pulls it off with consummate taste. Personally, I’ve heard this tune so many times, I’d just as soon not hear it again unless somebody is going to do something extraordinary with it. Bravo.

How much you enjoy La Propuesta will depend on your tolerance for sentimental Latino vocals, in this case by Ruben Blades. It seems that La Propuesta is a famous Brazlian ballad. Okey dokey. Hey, it’s not my thing, but I’ve got to admit that the tune is impeccably performed. Martignon’s respect and affection for the tune is obvious. His adaptations to the jazz idiom are minimal and his solo is tender and full of feeling.

Martignon introduces some surprisingly poppy flavors into Some Day My Spring Will Come. It’s a pretty tune with some gospel-ish touches. You can hear echoes of Keith Jarrett in his solo, which is a compliment.

You get a few bars into Blues For Leticia before you even realize it’s a blues. It’s pretty darn funky, and there are lots of harmonic interpolations that enrich the form, but the blues is there. Martignon’s solo is ingenious. Like the tune itself, it delves into the blues, but goes all sorts of other places, from bebop runs to funk to gospel to pop and everywhere in between. Here his training with Latin bands like Tito Puente, Ray Barretto and Mario Bauza shows, but not in any kind of obvious way, but rather in how he can turn rhythmically on a dime.

Sadly, the quality of The Foreign Affair declines somewhat as it proceeds. Unwritten Postcards is pretty enough, I suppose, and well played, but it somehow sounds generic and slippery. None of the melodies or harmonic sequences catch in the imagination. You’ll have trouble remembering a phrase within five minutes of hearing it.

The modified jazz samba As Heard, which closes the date, also doesn’t leave much of an impression. It meanders without much purpose. A lot is going on in the tune, and it doesn’t offend the ear, but neither does it engage it.

New Morning Mambo is a little better. It’s pretty catchy as a funky mambo. Too bad soprano saxophonist Donny McCaslin has such a thin, wimpy tone and nothing much to say. I can only imagine what the great Wayne Shorter could have done with this tune. He would have burned the house down. On the other hand, Luis Bonilla’s tasty trombone solo makes up for the lost opportunity to some extent.

Interestingly, I find Martignon even less compelling when he arranges for larger forces, as on the eponymous tune The Foreign Affair and Hermeto Pascoal’s Sorrindo. I cannot pin it down exactly, but Martignon can’t seem to find a way to make the orchestrations either bold and striking or featherweight caresses. Instead, they’re mushy and add nothing to the tunes they’re supposed to support. Also, Don Byon’s clarinet tone on Sorrindo is screechy and unpleasant. On the same tune, Randy Brecker contributes a fine solo on trumpet, but one wishes he were gracing a better arrangement.

Bach’s Prelude No. 8 in Eb Minor is marred by Satoshi Takeshi’s ham-fisted drums. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with this ballad and so he overplays, adding distracting martial flourishes. It’s a pity because Martignon’s interpretation is sensitive and engaging.

The funny thing is, in spite of all of these flaws, I would still recommend The Foreign Affair on the strength of four or five very strong tunes. Hector Martignon is a prodigiously talented pianist with interests in many areas of music. It’s not terribly surprising that he would lose focus here and there, given the depth of his ambitions. This is definitely a guy to keep an eye on.

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JAZZBO NOTES ESSENTIAL RECORDING

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars


Still Warm is unique among John Scofield’s recordings in a number of ways. The overall tactile effect of Still Warm is like the rippling heat waves rising off freshly poured tar on a hot summer’s day. More so than usual, even for Scofield’s Grammavision recordings, the emphasis is firmly on groove. In this, he is assisted immeasurably by the crack rhythm team of Omar Hakim on drums and percussion, and Darryl Jones on bass. The funny thing, Still Warm is also one of Scofield’s most bebop oriented albums, with Scofield running gorgeous scalar lines in and out of the prevailing harmonies.

Techno has a long-limbed melody over an extended groove. At first, the melody stays within the bounds delineated by Darryl Jones’ bass pattern.  But the faded-in chords tell another story. They move in and around the harmony. Soon enough, the melody follows. When Scofield starts soloing, all bets are off. He’s all over the place, harmonically speaking. The only place I can detect keyboardist Don Grolnick on this tune is the bridge, unless it’s him on the faded in chords, which sounds just like a guitar using the volume knob to fade in. At the end of the tune, a vamp is introduced, which allows drummer Omar Hakim to go crazy over the form. Techno achieves something bizarre. It’s both laid back and burning.

On the eponymously named tune Still Warm, it’s revealed — that WAS keyboardist Don Grolnick fading in chords on Techno. He’s using an exceptionally warm and fluid keyboard sound, which sounds like it would melt in your mouth. Still Warm is taken at a slower tempo than Techno, but the harmonic rhythm is faster. The chords change every two bars, but Darryl Jones keeps a pedal point going underneath the changes. The melody is even more complex than on Still Warm. It goes on for ages, but it’s got a hummable quality to it. Scofield comes up with another cool way to give drummer Omar Hakim a solo. At the end of the tune, there’s a cyclicly ascending chord pattern to wail on.

We’re back to funky groves with High and Mighty, which is in a head-wagging 2/4. The opening section is basically a two chord funk riff resolving on the tonic, over which Scofield squeezes out blues licks. Then we get the melody section, with the harmony changing at the rate of one chord per bar, like Giant Steps, except at a much slower pace. On the solos, the emphasis is emphatically not on showing off, but rather on being melodic within the constraints of a constantly shifting harmonic landscape. As you would expect, both Scofield and keyboardist Don Grolnick pull this off beatifully. At the end of the tune, Scofield offers one of his patented, stuttering cadenzas.

Now we get to the real Giant Steps of this album, Protocol. Like Giant Steps, it’s one chord per bar, this time at a killer pace. In spite of the scalar emphasis of Scofield’s solos, he manages to be pithy, melodic and humorous, all at the same time. Somehow, the melody and the chord choices evoke the protocol of the title, which makes the whole thing even more fun. This tune gives me chills every time I hear it, and I’ve probably heard it hundreds of times by now.

On Rule of Thumb, bassist Darryl Jones pops his way up an ascending chord pattern, smoothly voiced by Don Grolnick like pancake syrup being poured on waffles. In fact, I like to think of this as International House of Pancakes jazz. There’s something Midwestern about it, but it’s so damned hip it blows my mind.

I could go on, but I think you get the point. Still Warm is one of the greatest of John Scofield’s Grammavision releases, which is record for record, Scofield’s most productive period so far. Still Warm is damned near perfect, and you can’t say that about too many recordings.

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JAZZBO NOTES RECOMMENDED RECORDING

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars


There’s probably something I should make clear. When I put on a John Coltrane CD, what I’m listening for is a clarity of thought and a willingness to go deeper than you’d think was possible.

Coltrane had incredible stamina as a player and an inexhaustible well of inspiration. He could spin out endless improvisations on a theme. He wasn’t afraid of playing simply. Many times, he would emphasize the tonic and the fifth in his improvisations. But sometimes, out of nowhere, he would come up with spellbinding inventions.

Basically, when I listen to Coltrane, I want to be astonished.

Does Coltrane (on the Impulse label — another album of that name was recorded for the Prestige label) fit that criterion? Not entirely.

Out Of This World is certainly a good start. Most of the way through the 14 minute piece, Coltrane expounds on the implications of one minor modal scale. And it’s not just aimless noodling either. These are searching, passionate statements. Adding to the excitement is the awesome groove generated by pianist McCoy Tyner and especially drummer Elvin Jones. McCoy provides a spare but effective comping style behind the leader, but Elvin is something else again. Elvin comes up with a unique loping 6/8 that gives Out Of This World an incantory power. It puts you into a trance, so much so that it’s a shock when the tune briefly abandons it’s predominant minor mode and passes through a bridge. It doesn’t get much better than this, folks.

Comparatively speaking, the rest of the date is a bit of a letdown.

Coltrane’s version of Mal Waldron’s Soul Eyes is indeed soulful, but Coltrane doesn’t exactly turn the tune inside out. It’s a quiet, respectful reading. Nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t capture the excitement of some of his live ballad performances like Billy Eckstein’s I Want To Talk About You from the Live At Birdland session.

The Inch Worm is a sing-songy ditty, and it just doesn’t seem to inspire Coltrane all that much. I mean, it’s listenable — after all, it’s Coltrane with the classic quartet — how could it not be? But it’s not great.

Tunji (Toon-Gee) is another minor modal tune, a low-key amble through a graveyard. It sounds like Coltrane is about to nod off. Frankly, most of the interest here accrues from Elvin Jones’ off-kilter drum style. He’s not playing time here, but rather pulse.

On Miles’ Mode, Coltrane recovers a bit of the intensity he displayed on Out Of This World. Miles’ Mode is yet another minor modal tune, this time taken at mid-tempo. The melody is memorable, outlining an unusual turnaround into the minor mode that dominates the proceedings. The implied chord changes of the melody occasionally find themselves referenced in both Coltrane’s and Tyner’s improvisations. Sadly, the tune ends just about the time Coltrane starts exploring it in depth. I could’ve used at least five more minutes of Coltrane tearing into the implied changes.

If I haven’t mentioned pianist McCoy Tyner and bassist Jimmy Garrison much in this review, it’s because they play mostly supportive roles. Garrison especially tends to fade into the grooves. Even Tyner, who would develop into an incredibly aggressive player, is tactful here, providing a soothing contrast to Coltrane’s restless horn.

On the whole, Coltrane (Impulse) finds the master on low burn. It’s unusually ruminative, even for him. There aren’t a whole lot of fireworks to satisfy the thrillseeker, just high quality modal jazz for the most part.

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JAZZBO NOTES ESSENTIAL RECORDING

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars


Hermeto’s debut album as a leader, Yogurt, was intriguing without a doubt, but it really doesn’t prepare you for the brilliance of his follow up, Slaves Mass.

The most striking composition is probably the title tune, which starts out with a rather strange form of percussion — Hermeto squeezing a pig like an accordion, with quite a variation of grunts and squeals. Then we get a wonderful melody on guitar (Hermeto again), utilizing an augmented fourth. Soon enough, percussionist Airto joins in, providing a groove behind the melody. But there are more surprises. Flora Purim and Airto start singing a two note octave unison ostinato that provides a background for a descending melody doubled by flute and guitar. The whole thing is magical.

Each tune is different from the last.

Cannon is dedicated to Cannonball Adderly. Mostly, it’s a vocalized flute solo by Hermeto, in the manner of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, with a cacophony of percussion, vocalisms and spoken word poetry in the background.

On Just Listen (Escuta Meu Piano), Hermeto treats us to a tour of his subconscious mind, through the medium of solo acoustic piano. He moves seemlessly from a pointillistic outpouring of notes examining the implications of certain modes and scales into gorgeous dancelike melodies. For the grand finale, he vocalizes along with the piano in a way which is guaranteed to bring a smile to your lips.

That Waltz (Aquela Valsa) showcases the buttery tones of the invaluable trombonist Raul de Souza. The tune falls squarely into the Brazilian fusion style that was briefly popular in the mid-70s, with Hermeto on electric piano and soprano sax, Airto grunting away in his inimitable fashion.

Much as Just Listen moved between free jazz and dance forms, Cherry Jam (Geleia De Cereja) does a similar thing within a trio context, with Hermeto on keyboards and soprano sax, Ron Carter on bass and Airto on drums and percussion. It’s not surprising that Carter handles the free jazz and swing sections so well, but he’s a revelation on the Return to Forever sounding samba sections. Good for him.

Of course it’s not such a surprise that the rhythm section from Weather Report, Chester Thompson on drums and Alphonso Johnson, would meld with Hermeto’s third world dance forms so thoroughly. On Mixing Pot (Tacho), they percolate a driving 6/8 beneath Hermeto, while he spews out wacky unison lines on electric piano and voice.

As if the brilliance of the original LP release wasn’t enough, producer Richard Seidel has generously included an extra tune with the acoustic Airto/Ron Carter rhythm section and two jams with the electric Chester Thompson/Alphonso Johnson rhythm section on this expanded CD reissue.

The acoustic number is reminiscent of Airto’s solo work, with Airto singing the lilting melody over a laid back samba, Hermeto comping on accordion, and the fabulous Raul De Souza once again providing lyrical support on trombone.

The electric jams, Pica Pau and Star Trap, provide the rare opportunity to observe Hermeto in a jazz fusion context. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised, but Hermeto turns out to be a burning and endlessly inventive keyboard soloist.

Slaves Mass is a spectacular album, made more so by the inclusion of extra tracks from the original sessions. If I were you, I’d pick it up before it goes the way of the dodo. Hermeto is not exactly a household name in the United States, you know.

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JAZZBO NOTES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED RECORDING

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars


The general critical consensus on Wayne Shorter is that he has been creatively fallow since his Weather Report days, and is only now beginnning to recapture the glory of his Blue Note years. That’s just nonsense. Critics simply weren’t able to follow Shorter’s innovations and were too lazy to put in the effort to try.

With Alegria however, Shorter is back into recognizable acoustic post bop mode, which has given critics the license to approve of what he’s doing. Besides, he’s got the cream of the young lions behind him, such as Danilo Perez and Brad Mehldau on piano, John Pattitucci on bass, and Brian Blade on drums. Old master Alex Acuna helps out on percussion.

Shorter may be emphasizing small group improvisation a bit more, but his fascination with third world rhythms, closely voiced chords, and a variety of textures is as much in evidence as ever.

Shorter, who was turning 70 when he recorded Alegria, is in complete command of his craft, as an instrumentalist, composer and arranger.

On the opening cut, Sacajawea, Shorter seizes our attention instantly with a wacked out cadenza on soprano sax. Sacajawea is the only new Shorter composition on Alegria, but it’s a beaut, with a memorable melody and a unique groove that makes you want to shake your booty. The melody is carried by Shorter on tenor and soprano, alternating with unison and creatively harmonized statements. The solos, by Shorter and Danilo Perez on piano, are as cerebral and involving as you would expect.

The rest of the tunes on Alegria are taken from a variety of sources, including classical music, older tunes by Wayne, and even traditional English folk tunes, but they are all so radically reinterpreted that they might as well be original compositions.

Serenata ebbs and flows in unpredictable directions, with intricate woodwind section writing topped by Shorter’s soaring soprano.

Vendiendo Alegria is reportedly an old flamenco piece that Miles Davis gave to Shorter back in the 60s. There are only hints of the origin of the piece in Shorter’s elaborate woodwind and brass orchestration. Even though Shorter is utilizing large instrumental forces, the overall effect is delicate, like a cobweb gently undulating in a breeze. Halfway through the tune, the rhythm section develops a groove, punctuated by stabs from the brass section. Very cool.

Classical composer Hector Villa Lobos’ Bachianas Brasilieras No. 5 is the only tune on Alegria not arranged by Wayne Shorter. Robert Sadin, who produced Alegria, takes a rather interesting approach, using a cello ensemble over Alex Acuna’s bongos, with Wayne having a conversation with himself on overdubbed tenor sax. Sadin avoids the cheesiness that can result from mixing classical and jazz genres.

Shorter makes an Afrocuban groove central to his reconception of Angola, a composition he originally played with Miles Davis. It actually sounds a little like a Weather Report tune, with a brass section taking the place of Zawinul’s keyboards. An awesome performance by the band.

Interlude is a completely extemporaneous duet between drummer Brian Blade and Shorter. What’s remarkable about it is the subtlety of the communication between the two men.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Each tune is different than the one before it, but the commonality is the searching, cerebral quality of the arrangements and Wayne’s soloing. This is one of those recordings that can pass by pleasantly enough if you aren’t listening to it, but the real rewards come in close listening with no distractions.

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JAZZBO NOTES RECOMMENDED RECORDING

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars


It’s tough to call what Ralph Towner does jazz, since it has nothing to do with the blues, even tangentially. It kind of exists in it’s own category. One way to describe it is chamber music with improvisation.

Towner likes odd time signatures. For example, the song Distant Hills, which opens the album, is in 11/8.

He also loves dissonance. It is not at all uncommon for him to start a composition with a completely dissonant chord, and then move to another dissonant chord and then another.

But the funny thing is that Ralph Towner doesn’t use dissonance in the way that avant guarde musicians like Anthony Braxton use it. He uses it to undercut any sense of cornyness or nostalgia in his compositions, while muscling it into an unorthodox path to lyricism.

This gives his soloists a distinct challenge. They can’t rely on blues patterns because there is no blues in Ralph Towner’s music. They can’t imply outside harmonies because the harmonies are so abstruse as it is. So they can either find melodies within the modal scales that fit the harmonies or they can complement or contrast the rhythms found within the composition.

This has the effect of placing emphasis on the compositions rather than the soloists.

Distant Hills has a droning, stately, somewhat mournful quality to it. Jan Garbarek elaborates on the melody with his keening tenor sax, rather than simply running scales. Towner himself employs a similar strategy on guitar. A more rhythmic approach is taken by bassist Eberhard Weber, who employs triplets on a major 7th interval at one point to give the effect of an echo.

It’s a beautiful tune. You find yourself going into a trance while listening to it, and the solos kind of flit in and out of your consciousness.

In Balance Beam, Towner begins the tune with an enigmatic rhythmic figure consisting of sustained chords that kind of hang in the air. Then a sprightly melody like an Irish jig breaks in before veering off into a series of dissonant chords.

Interestingly, Garbarek doesn’t solo over the form. Instead, the quartet freely improvises, using the materials from the composition as inspiration.

Along the Way is a 32 bar waltz. The solos are pretty straightforward.

For Arion, Towner switches to piano, although he takes a solo on guitar. Arion has a long winding structure that repeatedly harmonizes a descending figure in various ways. However, the solos don’t follow the form. Instead, Towner composed material specifically for the solo sections, which is kind of unusual, before restating the theme.

Song of the Shadows starts out with Towner stating the theme on solo guitar, taken rubato. Jan Garbarek comes in on flute, while Towner doubletracks harmonies on French Horn. For Jan Garbarek’s solo, Towner and Jon Christensen play freely behind him, Christensen employing a modified march rhythm on the snare drum.

Eventually, Towner introduces a repetitive motif on guitar that takes over the tune. While Garbarek continues to solo, Towner adds accents on French Horn.

Sound and Shadows is all about mood. Really, all the compositions are essentially tone poems. This won’t appeal to everybody, certainly not to post-bop purists, but for what it is, it’s pretty compelling stuff.

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Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

On a previous post, in which I reviewed Stone Alliance’s Live In Amsterdam, I wrote that the music felt incomplete, as if bassist Gene Perla was so busy outlining the chords and providing a groove that he couldn’t imply any outside harmonies for saxophonist Steve Grossman to play over.

I realize now that I was wrong. The problem with that live record is that the instruments weren’t properly balanced and the sound was distorted. That’s not an issue on Stone Alliance’s debut album.

With the instruments properly balanced and impeccably recorded (not to mention Perla’s bass being in tune), you can appreciate the beauty of each player’s tone and enjoy their intense interaction without any distractions.

It is true that it falls to Steve Grossman to imply the outside harmonies, but rather than the skeletal backdrop by Gene Perla and percussionist Don Alias sounding unfinished, it gives the music a weird sort of incantory, tribalistic power.

Don Alias and Steve Grossman are both monster players, but Grossman is out front pretty much the whole date, so he gets to show off more. Grossman practically sets fire to the CD on Duet, with burning pentatonic riffs over Alias’ churning drums.

Probably the weakest track on the album is an interpretation of Stevie Wonder’s Creepin’. I love the tune, but Stone Alliance doesn’t really have anything to add — the song cries out for Wonder’s velvet pipes. Grossman could have turned the tune inside out if he’d wanted to. I’m not sure it would have been in the best taste, but it would have been more interesting.

But don’t let that dissuade you from picking up this killer CD. Stone Alliance has got the energy of the first Mahavishnu Orchestra, but coming from a Latin/post bop direction.

You’ll know what I mean if you listen to the samples here.

Unbelievably, you can only get this wonderful music from Gene Perla’s PM Records site.

Check it out.

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Rating: 5 out of 5 stars


There are a lot of things that make Monk a classic date.

Let’s start with the tunes. With the exception of Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, they’re all written by Monk, and every last one is a gem.

For that matter, Monk’s rendition of Smoke Gets In Your Eyes is so radically different from the Platters’ version, it might as well be a different tune. Monk plays up the rhythmic displacement and minor second dissonances to puncture the melodrama of the tune, somehow not only making it funny, but far more moving than the original.

Let’s Call This is a masterful example of using weak chord resolutions to create suspense.

Think of One demonstrates Monk’s ability to use a minimum of notes to sculpt a memorable melody.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Monk is like a master class in Monk’s composing strategies.

And then there’s the band. Monk himself is in tremendous form. He’s never been sharper or more witty.

He was probably inspired by Art Blakey, the ideal drummer for Monk. He understands Monk’s rhythms, and he adds wonderful touches of his own that complement Monk’s approach. Check out his fills on We See for evidence.

Monk is short at 33 minutes, but it’s sweet.

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Rating: 2 out of 5 stars


After disbanding Shakti, John McLaughlin took stock and reaffirmed his love for the electric guitar with John McLaughlin - Electric Guitarist, using a large roster of musicians he had worked with in the past to realize his disparate visions.

Truth to be told, it is not a triumphant return for the most part.

The best tune is the first, New York On My Mind. True to form, McLaughlin creates something entirely new, a sort of New York soul meets Mahavishnu. It truly is soulful, the most emotionally romantic thing McLaughlin had ever done up to that point. But he couldn’t have pulled it off without his band mates on this tune.

Stu Goldberg gives a glowing background on organ and electric piano for the verses. On the rapid fire cadenzas, who better than Mahavishnu alumni drummer Billy Cobham and violinist Jerry Goodman to execute the complex tutti passages?

The only other tune that sticks out is Do You Hear The Voices That You Left Behind? That’s mostly because of the kickass musicians behind McLaughlin: Chick Corea on piano and mini-moog, Stanley Clarke on bass, and Jack DeJohnette on drums. It’s a swing tune, and the band swings it’s ass off. Corea’s wonderful in his guest solo spot on mini-moog. I’m not so sure about McLaughlin’s approach. His choked notes and nervous vibrato seem more constipated than anything else. It just doesn’t work for me.

The rest of the album is even more misbegotten.

Honestly, I can’t recommend John McLaughlin, Electric Guitarist as a whole, but the leadoff tune is fantastic and well worth downloading.

There’s another option, too. There’s a McLaughlin sampler appropriate enough called The Best of John McLaughlin which has New York on My Mind on it, as well as another great tune, The Dark Prince, again the only truly cut on another mediocre McLaughlin Release, The One Truth Band. Picking up the sampler is probably your best option.

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Rating: 2 out of 5 stars


On her debut recording, Another Mind, Hiromi impressed with her technical abilities, as well as her willingness to embrace a variety of musical approaches. Wild hair up the butt guitarist David Fiuczynski helped her to expand the sonic possibilities of her music considerably. There was enough going on throughout the record that Hiromi’s occasional flirtations with Quiet Storm style soul jazz were tolerable. I figured that, at the very least, Hiromi’s subsequent releases would be interesting, which is why you are reading this post.

For her sophomore recording, Brain, Hiromi strips down to a trio for a more intimate sound. She also downplays the wackiness that so enlivened her debut. That would be fine if she had more mature compositions and deeper contemplation to replace it with.

Unfortunately, Brain leaves you wondering if Hiromi really has all that much on her mind.

The CD opens with the playful, silly, and technically impressive Kung-Fu World Champion, which constantly shifts gears rhythmically, slows down and speeds up and accentuates her virtuosity, and that of the other members of her trio, Tony Grey (bass) and Martin Valihora (drums). Frankly, it’s not all that deep, but it’s fun.

Then, we get If…, which is pretty much a total loss. It’s drab soul jazz that wouldn’t be out of place on The Quiet Storm. Bo-ring. That one features bass great Anthony Jackson, to little effect.

Wind Song is a theme reminiscent of some of the Vince Guaraldi tunes from the Charlie Brown specials. It’s pleasant enough, but doesn’t amount to much.

Again, the title cut, Brain, just isn’t all that interesting, and the synth noodling inserted within isn’t integrated with the composition.

And so it goes. The compositions are pleasant enough but have no hooks to speak of. They can’t get any traction in your brain. It’s all kind of bland, unfortunately.

Keytalk gets some funk action going, but by this time, you’ll probably be getting impatient. It’s a case of too little, too late.

It’s clear that on Brain, Hiromi wanted to get away from the kicky but somewhat shallow hijinks of her debut and delve deeper. I admire the intention, but her strategy backfires on her.

Maybe this is all she has to offer at this stage of her life and career. Hiromi seems like a nice person, I admire her eclecticism, and she’s got a lot of ability. Maybe she needs some life experience to focus all of that knowledge and technique. That I’d like to hear.

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