Live at Cobi's 2

Review:
When saxophonist Bill Barron passed away in 1989, he left behind a trove of private tapes in his widow’s basement. Recognizing the artistic worth of the cache, she set about shopping it to labels, eventually inking an arrangement with Steeplechase. This second volume in the series ups the ante on its predecessor by presenting a live gig by a briefly reunited Barron Brothers Quartet. Bill and his pianist sibling Kenny jointly led a group from 1968 to 1974, recording all too infrequently but establishing themselves as one of the top echelon fraternal teams in jazz. Bassist Cecil McBee and Kenny’s Sphere colleague Ben Riley complete the rhythm section, contributing mightily to the overall passion and explosiveness of the performances.

Barron is sometimes shortchanged as a Coltrane disciple. In his accompanying notes, critic Mark Gardner corrects this misconception by asserting Barron’s advanced harmonic concepts as precursors to Trane’s own. Whatever the sequence, they’re in evidence throughout this disc and Barron plays the hell out of the six-tune set list starting with a rigorous run through his own “September 1979”. Incisive improvisations evolve fast and felicitous against a dense accompaniment forwarded by Kenny’s hard-comping keys. The pianist brings to mind Monk with staggered and suspended chords while Riley, a Monk alum, whips up a concentrated rhythmic force at his kit. McBee, sheathed in a rubbery velum of Eighties-era amplification, cuts a walking path down the middle. All four are in prime form throughout.

“Spring Thing” eases the intensity a shade with Barron betraying a bit of Dexter Gordon vernacular in his loquacious phrasing, repeating riffs and riding out a brightly swinging support of his band mates. The hardboppish “Interpretation,’ another product of saxophonist’s pen, hits an athletic clip and doesn’t let up for its entire 15-minute expanse, leaving behind a long trail of spent smoldering choruses from both brothers and a killer exchange of fours with the relentless Riley. Kenny’s “Tragic Magic” supplies a forum for his sibling’s soprano, and once again, the elder Barron surprises by evincing a sound on the straight horn much closer to Steve Lacy than Coltrane. It all leads up to a fuse-blowing version of “Cherokee”, the Bird conceit of supersonic phrasing taken to a libertine extreme in leader’s stratosphere-scraping solo and concluding gloves-off fisticuffs with Riley. Barron’s breadth wasn’t properly reflected in his commercially recorded legacy. This series sets in motion a strategy for righting the slight. That it’s such an exhilarating listening experience in the bargain almost seems like a bonus.
~ Derek Taylor