My brother turned me on to jazz in the mid-80's. At that time, many classic records were out of print and just starting to be issued on CD. Columbia had the most distinguished catalog, with Miles Davis, the Armstrong Hot Fives and Sevens, all the early Billie Holiday, some Duke, the most popular Monk, and Dave Brubeck, to name just a few. One by one, Columbia reissued the old records on CD as part of the "Columbia Jazz Masterpieces" series, complete with new artwork, digital remastering and, in some cases (like Miles Ahead), radical remixing. I remember reading the promo material in the CD booklets and getting excited about what was going to be reissued next.
Another Columbia artist was Wynton Marsalis. When I first began listening to jazz, Wynton was creating high-profile records of his own. At that time, his quintet included his brother Branford and was heavily indebted to the Wayne Shorter/Herbie Hancock lineup of Miles Davis' quintet. I liked some of those mid-80's Marsalis records. Black Codes from the Underground, in particular, still stands as a powerful statement.
While he was making this music, Wynton was just hitting his stride as a tastemaker. Along with critic pal Stanley Crouch, he was telling the world that this music was the greatest form since the demise of symphonic music, but that only a narrow slice of what was being marketed as "jazz" actually deserved the appellation. To him, the biggest imposter was electrified fusion.
Now, I admit I was an impressionable teen. Wynton, Crouch and my brother all told me "fusion sucks," and I never thought to question their judgment. Any jazz with electric instruments, with the possible exception of In a Silent Way, was to be avoided at all costs. That was the Chuck Mangione shit. Fuck that.
Forgive me, Miles, for I knew not what I did. It took me another ten years to figure out that there was some great electrified jazz floating around. And now I find music that blends jazz with textures from other music more interesting than the "real thing." Like the last Isotope 217 album. Or this new one by the Chicago Underground Quartet.
Like Isotope, the Chicago Underground in its various numerical configurations is an adventurous fusion unit fronted by cornet player Rob Mazurek. The other constant is drummer/vibraphonist Chad Taylor. This edition also includes the guitar of Jeff Parker (of Isotope and Tortoise), in addition to the old standby Noel Kupersmith (now also a member of Brokeback) on bass. With so many musicians on loan from such familiar bands, the Chicago Underground Quartet is bound to sound a bit, well, familiar. And it does. This is definitely the kind of tech-tweaked instrumental music that Chicago has been specializing in for close to a decade. But the tweaks are subtle, and this is such a low key, unassuming and melodic record that it still sounds very fresh to my ears.
Jeff Parker opens the album on "Tunnel Chrome" with a deftly plucked guitar pattern that recalls the opening chords to "Night in Tunisia." Taylor doubles up on both drums and vibes, and Mazurek adds some heavily processed horn (he's also credited on the album sleeve with "electronics") that has a very guitar-like tonality. His processing gives the piece, which is very straightforward post-bop jazz, a bit of an otherworldly flavor.
In addition to Parker's lovely guitar playing throughout, these less traditional flourishes are what make this record interesting. "Three in the Morning" begins with a gorgeous guitar lead that soon dissolves into delicate phase-shifts and backward harmonies as Mazurek's cornet states the theme. "Four in the Morning" sounds all the world like a ballad off of Miles Davis Cookin', with Mazurek on Harmon mute. But Taylor's brushwork is so robotic it sounds like a Pro-Tools loop (which I suppose it might actually be). There's no thought of adding an offbeat accent to this brief song, which gives a whiff of the technology involved in the recording.
This restrained approach is the order of the day for the Chicago Underground Quartet, and only occasionally do they cut loose and blow. On the flowing, impressionistic "Welcome" (not the Coltrane tune), Parker adds some distortion to his guitar and Mazurek goes into gospelized Donald Ayler mode, sounding like he's gearing up for a march. It's a welcome change of pace, but the mood here tends toward the controlled, thoughtful and expressive. While this is nothing like the full-blown electronic love-in that was the last Isotope record, the Chicago Underground Quartet know how to integrate technology into their distinctive jazz sound. It's a fusion of some kind-- I'm sure of that-- so Wynton would not approve. But I'd call it a worthy extension of the tradition.
