Here’s one that makes you say, “Don’t blink, time passes too quickly.” Back in 2008, Southside Johnny, the godfather of blue-eyed soul from the Jersey Shore, produced a DIY pet project—him, singing the songs of Tom Waits with a big band. It was an ambitious project, probably too ambitious for the DIY nature of this beast.

But he did it, and it turned out to be a beautiful beast—the music, unparalleled; the musicianship, incredible; Southside, at his full-throated, barroom bard best.

Johnny had a secret weapon, an accomplice, on this improbable journey. Richard “LaBamba” Rosenberg—the multi-talented trombonist best known for his work in the Late Night with Conan O’Brien band as well as touring with the likes of Bruce Springsteen and Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes—turns out to be an amazing arranger. And his work on this record shimmers.

With all that buildup, the project never got its due, but it did get a feature in DownBeat by this writer, which you can read HERE. As a result, it’s great to see, some 13 years later, the folks at Pacific Records have lovingly remastered, reissued and breathed new life into the project. Bravo to all on this one, and special credit goes out to Sascha Peterfreund, the remaster engineer on this project.

The sound has been completely revamped. The horns, rhythm section and Johnny’s voice are crisper, cleaner and more nuanced. It’s the way this album was meant to sound. The 12 tracks include some of Waits’ more memorable tunes—“Yesterday Is Here,” “Down, Down, Down,” “Grapefruit Moon,” “Tango Till They’re Sore” and “Shiver Me Timbers,” to name a few. Tom Waits himself joins Johnny for a vampy dance around “Walk Away.”

As a bonus track, LaBamba and Johnny dish a live duet on “Straight Up To The Top,” a swinging romp of big-band brawn and beauty that would be amazing to experience in a festival setting.

There’s a disquieting, fanciful narrative at the heart of Sana Nagano’s Smashing Humans.

The Brooklyn-based violinist, whose compositions here work to render an aural depiction of the 8-bit, sci-fi tableau shown on the album cover, oversees a quintet that relies as much on jazz-world facility as it does on rock aesthetics. Nagano, while remaining a defining element of the mix, cedes space to guitarist Keisuke Matsuno on the album’s first pair of tracks, the shuffling “Strings & Figures” and the dirge-like “Loud Dinner Wanted.”

Her writing begins to pixelate on the compositions that follow, granting a unique view of other contributors—all caught up in the bandleader’s noisy arrangements. There’s space for drummer Joe Hertenstein to direct the band on “Chance Music,” and Nagano’s violin narrates the tale of “The Orange Monster” being bullied on “Heavenly Evil Devil.”

But interactivity—where veteran saxophonist Peter Apfelbaum makes his most resonant contributions—really propels Smashing Humans and its redemptive storytelling; the repetitive lines that make up the core of “Humans In Grey” create a wash of power not felt elsewhere on the album. And as calamity is avoided in Nagano’s narrative, “The Other Humans” concludes an album that both feels and sounds a bit like Blade Runner looks.

New York-based alto saxophonist and educator Peter DiCarlo makes an auspicious leader debut with the release of Onward. Bridging modern and traditional jazz styles, DiCarlo’s original compositions and arrangements are brought to life by a crack ensemble that brings together trumpeter Scott Wendholt, tenor saxophonist Rich Perry, baritone saxophonist Claire Daly, pianist Jim Ridl, bassist Tom DiCarlo, drummer Chris Parker, percussionist Keisel Jiménez Leyva and in various-sized instrumental configurations. The title track starts the album out on an energetic note, with a driving ostinato in the bass and piano establishing a firm foundation for the horn section. DiCarlo’s alto makes its presence felt during his solo on “Onward,” demonstrating strong showmanship and brimming with confidence. The mellow waltz “Feast In The Fuar” is a casually paced feast of improvisation served up by DiCarlo, Wendholt and Ridl. The winding bopper “Stepping Off” has Ridl flying over the keys in his solo, while DiCarlo steps a little further out into more adventurous harmonic territory and speeds up into a higher gear, spurring some spirited band interaction. “The Imposter” takes a fresh look back on the essence of tenor saxophonist Joe Henderson’s 1963 composition “Recorda Me” with its light drums-and-congas groove and a tenor solo by Perry that starts out breathy and gradully ramps up tin intensity. DiCarlo really lets it rip during his alto solo, pushing his range ever higher and revealing the gritty side of his tone. Warmth radiates from the horns of DiCarlo and Perry on the Parker-penned ballad “Arrival.” “Hint Of Mint” is a fun, uptempo hard-bopper arranged for alto and trumpet, Adderley-style. Things get a little breezier on a smooth, Latin-flavored arrangement of “There Will Never Be Another You” that gives the drums and percussion a nice combined solo spot. Soulful guest vocals by Jerson Trinidad, a funkified groove and four Stevie Wonder-style horns make Roberta Flack’s 1974 r&b hit “Feel Like Makin’ Love” feel like a bonus track, as it closes DiCarlo’s ambitious first album with a feel-good final statement.

If you like your jazz with a heaping helping of swirling, wondrous rhythm, Samba de Maracatu by the legendary Joe Chambers will fill you up.

Be it on drums, percussion or mallets, Chambers has been one of the great sidemen in jazz history, providing the beat for everyone from Freddie Hubbard, Bobby Hutcherson and Sam Rivers to Wayne Shorter, Joe Henderson and Chet Baker … just to scratch the surface. He’s also had a diverse and incredible career as a leader.

Now, at the tender age of 78, Chambers makes his Blue Note Records debut as a leader, even though he played on some of the most important recordings in the label’s history. Even so, Samba de Maracatu is miraculous in its ability to be both timely and timeless, worldly, yet intimate. Chambers is joined here by Brad Merritt on piano and Steve Haines on bass, two North Carolinians who groove and complement the maestro’s aesthetic.

For his part, Chambers serves as a one-man percussion machine, overdubbing himself on drums, vibes and percussion to turn this trio into a small, pulsating orchestra. The album’s title cut offers a nod to Afro-Brazilian rhythms rooted in the Candomblé religion of Brazil’s Pernambuco province. It features Merritt and Chambers running parallel lines on piano and vibes in front of a deep-running groove. On Horace Silver’s “Ecaroh,” Chambers leads in with solo vibraphone, wringing, and ringing, every ounce of shimmer and reverb from each note before diving into the tune’s intricate twists and turns.

The recording also features two great vocal spots. First, New Orleans chanteuse Stephanie Jordan delivers a gripping rendition of “Never Let Me Go.” It’s a dreamlike moment of music noir. Second, and more surprisingly, Chambers does a mashup of Nas’ hip-hop classic “N.Y. State of Mind” with Chambers’ own “Mind Rain.” MC Parrain drops the rhymes on this one, and it works as another layer of intricate percussion in Chambers’ multilayer universe.

The nine-tune set concludes with a reworking of Wayne Shorter’s “Rio,” and just like the rest of the album, this river just flows.

To get a deeper dive into Chambers and this project, check out his interview with Blue Note President Don Was on First Look.

Two of the jazz world’s leading baritone saxophonists, Ronnie Cuber and Gary Smulyan, meet here for the first time to tear it up together—bebop-style—on the “big pipe.” Cuber, 79, and Smulyan, 64, are among the more accomplished soloists on bari, an instrument celebrated for its tonal beauty but notorious for its unwieldy heft. They play gorgeous-sounding vintage horns: That’s Cuber on his low-A Selmer in the left channel, and Smulyan on his low-B-flat Conn mixed to the right. And they let nothing get in their way during this animated April 2019 blowing session. These baritone masters make a sport of navigating the fast-moving changes, zigzagging lines and skippy syncopations that define the genre. With the ace support of pianist Gary Versace, bassist Jay Anderson and drummer Jason Tiemann, they rip their way through eight bebop/hard-bop covers and two Cuber originals on this joyfully greasy blowing summit. They come out of the gate strong on the opening tune, Horace Silver’s uptempo swinger “Blowing The Blues Away,” with Versace getting in on the improv action after solos by each baritonist. Swing ends up being the thing on Red Prysock’s “That’s The Groovy Thing,” the saxes laying down bare-bones blues figures in greasy octave-unison; Versace lays way back in a manner that shows that he gets it, too. Silver’s “Nica’s Dream” is a more sophisticated arrangement, the two saxophonists dovetailing and harmonizing on the head before jumping boldly into their solos. Dig how Tiemann uses syncopated rim-sticking and stand-clicking to drastically change texture during Versace’s solo. Cuber is under-miked at the top of Richard Rogers’ “Lover” but comes roaring into his solo like a hurricane; meanwhile Smulyan improvises through long sequences of clearly stated ideas and Versace really turns up the speed; then the saxes trade eights with Tiemann, setting him up for his own tasty solo spot. Versace introduces Thelonious Monk’s “Well You Needn’t” in a perfectly quirky manner before the harmonized saxophones take charge and state the theme. Silver’s “The Preacher” is a medium-up swinger that bestows a down-home blessing on the listener. Tough Baritones buzzes with one-take excitement. The guys simply go for it, indulging their affinity for classic Pepper Adams-style bari sax bebop.

As I’ve said before in this column, I’m a sucker for solo piano recordings, and Alan Pasqua’s Day Dream hits home. Pasqua, a collaborator with a broad swath of pop and jazz royalty—from Tony Williams, Bob Dylan and John Fogerty to Allan Holdsworth, Carlos Santana and Michael Bublé—recorded this highly personal collection of his favorite tunes during COVID-19 lockdown. He released it on his own Gretabelle Music last November, but the set is just now getting out to the public. It’s the kind of DIY delay that the pandemic has wrought throughout the music world.

That said, this batch of chestnuts is worth the wait. Pasqua demonstrates amazing touch and technique on the 10 tunes recorded for this document. His medley of “In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning/Smile” offers a wistful shiver to a bygone era. And, when he solos on the tune, oh, my, the chops are tasteful and transcendent. He also takes a far-away glance with a rendition of “Old Cape Cod” that pulls the heartstrings just right.

And that’s the beauty of this entire album. There’s a calming melancholy when Pasqua plays “Polka Dots And Moonbeams,” “Prelude To A Kiss” or “When I Grow Too Old To Dream,” the set’s closing track. It’s just the kind of mood that’s needed right now, a vaccine, if you will, from a long, hard pandemic. So, put down the phone, turn off the TV, sit down with your favorite beverage and relax into the beauty of Pasqua’s Day Dream.

Jane Monheit is a potent antidote to a certain brand of jazz snobbery. At every major jazz festival, there are fans who will begrudgingly (or cheerfully) witness a set by Cécile McLorin Salvant or Gregory Porter, but if pressed, they would assert that they don’t consider vocalists to be in the same league as instrumentalists. (Was Ella Fitzgerald as good a musician as Count Basie? Debate that over a Zoom chat sometime.)

When the luminous Monheit arrived on the scene 20 years ago with her debut, Never Never Land, she won over fans via renditions of standards such as “My Foolish Heart,” “I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good)” and Jobim’s “Dindi.”

On her latest album, Come What May, Monheit continues to dazzle, delivering a program chockfull of standards, such as “Lush Life,” “Let’s Face The Music And Dance” and Jobim’s “Samba Do Aviгo.”

Monheit’s version of Frank Loesser’s “I Believe In You” is delicately spiced with segments of scatting that elevate the tune—just a pinch of salt that works wonderfully. Throughout the program, it should be clear to any snobbish naysayer that her instrument is equal to that of her band’s, which includes guitarist Miles Okazaki, bassist David Robaire, pianist Michael Kanan, drummer Rick Montalbano and percussionist Kevin Winard.

In the opening section of “My Funny Valentine,” while floating atop Kanan’s lines, Monheit’s breath control and exquisite elongation of vowel sounds are so intoxicating that some listeners won’t even pause to ponder the arcane lyrics: “Thy vacant brow, and thy tousled hair/ Conceal thy good intent/ Thou noble, upright, truthful, sincere/ And slightly dopey gent.”

The inclusion of “Let’s Take A Walk Around The Block” (penned by Harold Arlen, Ira Gershwin and E.Y. Harburg) seems suited to our pandemic era in a particularly bittersweet way. Similarly, an elegant reading of “The Nearness Of You” might resonate on multiple levels for lovers who still share a spark, despite being stuck in a small apartment for the past 11 months. On the latter tune, the combination of Monheit’s emotive, wordless flights and Wayne Haun’s lush orchestral arrangement is positively intoxicating.

Monheit’s album-release show at Feinstein’s at Vitello’s will be livestreamed on March 12. Catching this virtual gig might not be as fun as hearing her vocals reverberate around a jazz club or a festival crowd, but that will come, hopefully soon.

If John Coltrane can’t be all things to all people, then no musician can.

While the saxophonist always will be lauded for standing at the vanguard of change within jazz, his love of the music’s inner workings, history and the players who came before him serve as a ballast to that idea. And during the late ’50s and early ’60s, Trane vacillated between new and old ideas.

Lush Life, a five-cut album drawn from two disparate sessions in 1957 and 1958, trucks in classic songbook fare, with the original “Trane’s Slow Blues” sitting at its center. The lead-off track, Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke’s “Like Someone In Love,” arrives as sentimental as its title might indicate. And Craft’s limited-edition reissue offers it all with refined production and new liners from Ashley Kahn, housed in a sturdy, linen-swathed case.

But the title track of this 1961 album, which Trane would again record with Johnny Hartman in 1963, punctuates the bandleader’s ability to transcend time and place. It’s also a tune with a sly title that contrasts with what we might initially think it intends. By the end of this Billy Strayhorn classic, lyrically, we find out that love’s just “mush” and the song’s narrator is going to “rot” at a crummy bar somewhere, drinking to forget.

There’s not a happy take of the tune; Ella, Strayhorn and Hartman all turn in necessarily blue versions. Here, though, Coltrane—lushly assisted by a dexterous Red Garland at the keyboard—displays an ability to synthesize the tune’s lyrical content while still personalizing its message.

A 25-year-old Donald Byrd comes in a bit hot for his spotlight, but recovers quickly and helps push the tempo up a bit, granting Trane a new platform to re-enter. The pair end on a descending harmony line, giving the song its dour denouement, but one that seems significantly less dire than Strayhorn might have intended.

A more extravagant recombination of new and old came just two years later, when Trane’s My Favorite Things took a composition from a hit musical and rejiggered its purpose. On Lush Life, though, the saxophonist seems more occupied with wringing the emotional meaning from a classic, and does so gracefully and profoundly.