By Michael J. West | Published February 2026
Wow. Young jazz musicians who want to traverse the cosmic paths of Pharoah Sanders, Sun Ra, Alice Coltrane, etc., are a dime a dozen. Far rarer are the ones who go about it with the delicate touch that L.A. multi-reedist Aaron Shaw does. All the more remarkably, Shaw is a protégé of Kamasi Washington’s (whose name has never, ever appeared alongside the phrase “delicate touch”). Let there be no doubt, though, that on And So It Is, Shaw stands alone.
In fact, Shaw’s production (with drummer/percussionist Carlos Niño) often emphasizes that aloneness, despite the presence of multiple collaborators. His tenor on the first half of “Heart Of A Phoenix” has so much reverb it’s as if he was recorded at the other end of a warehouse from the mics capturing pianist Sam Reid, harpist Merci B, bassist Lawrence Shaw, cellist Kiernan Wegler, vocalist Dwight Trible and Niño — and indeed Shaw’s own flute. It’s as if he’s already well ahead on the journey (though they all catch up in the back half). “The Path To Clarity,” meanwhile, is dense, but it’s dense with Shaw’s own overdubs of himself on flute; some of these layers are electronica-like drones that evoke Sanders’ final album with Floating Points. “Echoes Of The Heart” replicates this device, but adds in saxophones; Shaw is that much more alone with himself.
The spiritual dimensions of And So It Is, then, are rarely the usual confluence of gospel and raga (though that confluence makes its presence known, especially on the opening “Soul Journey”). “Jubilant Voyage” instead sounds at first more like a field recording of some tribal ritual, at least until it becomes a feast of tape loops and glitches. The soft-spoken tenor/piano duo “Windows To The Soul,” on the other hand, has a hard-bop melody that might have highlighted a ’50s Blue Note album or even found a place on pop radio of the era. Shaw has much to say, and many glorious ways to say it. DB
