Looking back at where Steve Reid has been is just as intriguing as looking ahead to where he's going. A visionary drummer with a CV dating back to the early 1960s, Reid has an epic backstory that would make crate diggers swoon: Self-taught Motown session player. In-house drummer at the Apollo Theater. Jailed during Vietnam as a conscientious objector. Member of Sun Ra's Arkestra. A teenaged sojourn through Africa resulting in a stint with Fela. Four roiling, passionate records-- limited to just 1,000 pressings each, filed under the loosely-defined kosmigroov genre-- released on his own Bronx-based Mustevic Sound label from 1975 -79. After Reid's 20-plus years off the map, it's a minor miracle that the spelunkers at Soul Jazz unearthed his Rhythmatism and Nova albums for reissue in 2004. And it's nothing short of divine intervention that Reid, who now makes his home in Switzerland, recently found a kindred spirit in Four Tet's Kieren Hebden.
The two have been collaborating since a series of European performances in early 2005. Hebden plays a minor yet important role in Reid's latest, Spirit Walk: As part of an eight-man ensemble that includes Reid's propulsive drums, tenor, soprano, and bass saxophones, a vast array of keyboards, and upright bass, Hebden's interjections add luminous filigree to a sound galvanized by bottom-end groove. It's a next-gen enrichment of Reid's earlier work, much of which was marked by acoustic instrumentation and less ornate, more syncopated spaciousness. That kind of digital detailing renders Spirit Walk at once timeless and totally in the moment, stretching out towards jazz's greatest potential.
Take the steamrolling "Lions of Juda"-- a track Reid revisits from Nova. Where the previous version was played with hectic urgency, this one rumbles along with a commanding, marshal steadiness. Hebden stitches a glitchy silver lining around the rest of the band, his minimal electronic deviance emphasizing rather than obscuring the music's sanguine, organic heart. "Bridget" and "Which One?" are likewise illuminated, while bellicose bass sax argues with bubbly electric organ or righteous soprano horn, landing somewhere between Afrobeat's dark march, Bitches Brew-style incantation, and Yesterday's New Quintet's streetwise shuffle.
Melody occasionally takes the reigns, even as Reid's percussive cantor and bassist John Edward's hearty upright bass stay the course. Album opener "Lugano", with its reverent alto line, or the gurgling, tumbling staggers of 23-year-old Russian keysman Boris Netsvetaev on the apt-named "For Coltrane", both highlight sweet, yearning progressions. These are songs that could've come from Pharaoh Sanders' Karma period, minus the discord, or Trane's Crescent-era recordings, but Reid tethers these spiritual flights with a rhythmic root that's both supple and strong.
Spirit Walk's one misstep is "Drum Story", an overlong, spoken-word ode to the history of percussion recited by Reid himself. There's no need for hindsight here-- thanks to its coy foreplay with Four Tet, Reid's music is going nowhere but forward.
