In two new releases, Jane Ira Bloom and Brian Carpenter complete their work on self-defined projects that are tonics for a time of trouble.
If you want to know how exquisitely intuition and structure can be balanced, you could hardly do better than to hear these two new discs.
These three area pianists offer up a mini-festival of satisfying keyboard music.
But, good as the support is, it’s all about Thelonious Monk, who is in superlative form throughout.
I try to be optimistic, but it’s hard not to observe that the jazz club scene in eastern Massachusetts is worse than it’s been in decades.
This is music that says things that cannot be said any other way, music that cannot wear its heart on its sleeve.
At his best, Albert Murray is a thinker passionately in love with thinking, a virtuoso of verbal music, an American to his core.
“Art . . . is . . . fundamental equipment for existence on human terms.” — Albert Murray
I think any one of these releases would be received gratefully by a person who listens with both ears.
Sheila Jordan, to the club crowd in Central Square: “What do I care? I’m still alive.”