At a time when it seems shouting is the only way to be heard, vocalist Dawn Richard and multi-instrumentalist Spencer Zahn have made a resounding statement to the contrary. Their new album, Quiet In A World Full Of Noise, is exactly that: calm, clear, declarative music in the most beautifully understated way possible. Floating on a bed of restrained strings, synth washes and minimalist pianism, Richard’s voice and Zahn’s piano feel like a midnight confessional telling two separate stories together at the same time. The effect is at once calming, thought-provoking, thrilling. The music was born out of hurt, as Richard and Zahn express in background materials for the recording. Richard’s father suffered mini strokes after being diagnosed with cancer last year; her cousin back in her hometown of New Orleans was shot dead. Zahn experienced the breakup of a relationship and went to the piano, writing “stream-of-consciousness pieces,” then putting them away for six months before sending them to Richard. Those from-the-heart piano compositions met Richard’s autobiographical lyrics to become the basis of Quiet. Every song here leaves the listener wanting more, like “Traditions,” an homage to family wrapped in a sentimental ballad. “My momma cover the mirror when it rains/She’ll lay that brick in front of the door just in case/You call it superstitions, I call it traditions/You call it lucky, I call it blessings,” she sings in her rich, soulful alto. Richard makes you feel her stories with skillful, impressionistic lyrics while Zahn drops in perfectly sparse piano accents. Life In Numbers counts down love, loss, pain and resilience in almost cinematic spoken-word and musical narrative. But for all of its seemingly stripped-down simplicity, Quiet has intense musicality that brings one back for multiple listenings. When the Budapest Film Orchestra guests on “Moments Of Stillness” into “The Dancer,” the album becomes a complex amalgamation of classical, jazz, blues, soul and Americana. This is an album that defies categorization, and that’s just fine. It’s a truly beautiful listening experience: a plaintive, truthful, wonderful piece of musical storytelling.

The byline alone is enough to make guitar nerds drool. American Jim Hall (1930–2013) is on anybody’s shortlist of all-time great jazz guitarists; Louis Stewart (1944–2016) is considered not only Ireland’s greatest but also one of the three or four most important Irish jazz musicians, period. Imagine, then, the audience’s thrill for this Dec. 26, 1982, duo summit at a Dublin cricket club.

The thrill was well met. Let’s acknowledge first that this is Hall’s show more than Stewart’s — why not? He was the international star and guest here. It begins with “Stella By Starlight,” his favorite opener, and goes on to feature Hall three times in solo tunes. All are incredible, though the trophy goes to his reimagining of “My Funny Valentine” as an English folk strummer. Hall’s other two tracks are an unusually tender “All The Things You Are” and an astonishingly dark “In A Sentimental Mood.”

What really stands out on The Dublin Concert, though, is how well Stewart maintains his prowess and distinction in the face of this celebrated virtuoso. After Hall solos on the first half of “Stella By Starlight,” for example, he falls back into accompaniment as happily and modestly as Stewart had for him, and the Irishman’s twangier, bluesier single-note lines announce themselves with joy and not a little swagger. They share breezy, mutually respectful exchanges on “How Deep Is The Open,” and sensitively undergird each other on the ballad “But Beautiful.”

But on “St. Thomas,” after the American gives up a peppy but fairly light improv, Stewart lets loose with an energized monster of a solo. It’s not an upstaging; Hall encourages it and prods Stewart all the way. It’s just another zesty reminder that individuality, not virtuosity, is what’s really at stake in jazz — and both of these players have it in equal measure.

Back in 2002, pianist/composer Andrew Hill’s large-ensemble album A Beautiful Day was a revelation, a landmark live recording from Birdland NYC that unveiled a brilliant and under-documented aspect of the hard-bop stalwart’s vast artistic vision. Now, a remixed and remastered version coming from Palmetto Records serves as an illumination of sorts, revealing finer musical details, expanding the sonic dimensions of the recording and providing additional material from that historic concert by the “Andrew Hill Sextet Plus 10” that wasn’t included on the original release. Indeed, the clarity-enhancing work done by producer Matt Balitsaris to create A Beautiful Day, Revisited heroically deepens the listening experience and further exposes the spirit of spontaneity and mutual trust that prevailed over the course of the group’s three-night engagement at the storied jazz club at a time when Big Apple artists and audiences were only just beginning to recover from the shock of 9/11. Available as two LPs/CDs, Revisited brings us a second, 16-minute performance of the title track (from the first night of the Birdland stint) that gives a sense of how different the intentionally under-rehearsed music could be from one night to the next. It also extends the band’s theme “11/8” from its one-minute running time on the original album to more than six minutes, during which Hill (1931–2007) introduces every member of the band, an impressive lineup to say the least. In addition to Hill’s piano, we hear from master improvisers of the day like tenor saxophonist Greg Tardy, multi-reedist Marty Ehrlich and trumpeter Ron Horton (all members of Hill’s working sextet at the time), as well as esteemed virtuosos such as John Savage on flute and alto, tuba player Jose Davila, tenor saxophonist Aaron Stewart, baritone saxophonist J.D. Parron, trombonist Charley Gordon and trumpeters Dave Ballou and Bruce Staelens. Other horn section players contributing to the dense and punchy ensemble passages include trumpeter Laurie Frink and trombonists Mike Fahn and Joe Fielder. From start to finish, Hill’s regular rhythm section anchors Scott Colley (bass) and Nasheet Waits (drums) sustain the music’s unstoppable flow — which sometimes manifests as a detectable groove but more often emerges in waves of momentum that will resonate with listeners familiar with the free-jazz end of the jazz spectrum. But A Beautiful Day, Revisited is far from a chaotic affair; indeed, its beauty stems from Hill’s exquisite compositional touch, his gorgeous melodies, his distinctly nontraditional ensemble passages (conducted by Horton in the role of music director) and his mandate for transformative interpretation.

It’s hard to believe that drummer/composer Dafnis Prieto is celebrating 25 years of being in the United States. In his early days, he was a hot-shot gun for hire bringing his propulsive beats to the work of Michel Camilo, Chucho and Bebo Valdés, Henry Threadgil, Steve Coleman, Eddie Palmieri and many others. But over the years, he has also become a gifted composer and bandleader. With all that promise and a work ethic to match, he received the prestigious MacArthur Foundation Fellowship, an award that gave him the freedom to pursue his grand ambitions, including starting his own Dafnison Music label — where he has released eight stellar projects including his big band recording Back To The Sunset, for which he earned a Grammy for Best Latin Jazz Album in 2019. But Prieto thinks about music in many settings. With his latest, 3 Sides Of The Coin, the Cuban-born drummer brings back his Sí o Sí Quartet (meaning Yes or Yes) for a sizzling set of complex compositions that will get you thinking as well as up and dancing. Everything on this recording sounds easy until you stop to focus on what each member of this terrific band is playing. Along with Prieto on drums, Peter Apfelbaum plays saxophones, Martin Bejerano is on piano and Ricky Rodriguez lights up the electric bass. All are top-flight musicians and artists with the necessary skills and chemistry to navigate the tricky rhythms and layers cooked up by Prieto. Let’s start with “Conga Ingenua,” translated as Naive Conga. It’s a tip of the hat to the music Prieto grew up with, but with many wonderful twists and turns. Prieto establishes the groove with a march that takes on slightly ominous tones as the melody kicks in with Bejerano’s piano. But then the piece lights up, with this tight-knit ensemble delivering a truly inspiring chase through an 8-minute, 24-second adventure of dramatic changes in tempo, dynamics and feel. Apfelbaum’s work on soprano here is divine; Bejerano is so tasteful, so fluid; and Rodriguez locks in and fills with grace, power and creativity. All the while, here and throughout this album, Prieto expertly drives the group from behind the drum kit. The tune “Two Sides Of The Coin” splits between two themes (but going back to the title, the third side of this coin is perception) and slides in as a driving wall of sound. “Naive,” with its lovely bass solo intro, brings a little quiet majesty to the proceedings. “Humanoid” and “Funky Humanoid” muck around with robotic, and thoroughly grooving, themes. But the title of the album’s final tune might be its most autobiographic. That tune, “The Happiest Boy In Town,” serves as an homage to a photo of Charlie Parker smiling. That smile shines throughout this tune and the entire program. Prieto and company bring the joy, just as Dafnis has brought smiles to audiences in this country and around the world since he arrived in the States 25 years ago. Check out the November 2024 issue of DownBeat for more about Dafnis Prieto and his music. DB

Listening to Luther Allison play piano is like watching Simone Biles do floor exercises. He turns effortless, physics-defying technical wizardry into evocative, involving art and never fails to stick the landing. Sure enough, I Owe It All To You — his leader debut, after years supporting trombonist Michael Dease, drummer Ulysses Owens Jr. and vocalist Samara Joy — is a portrait of a straightahead pianist who seems to have no weak points in his arsenal.

Fronting a trio with bassist Boris Kozlov and drummer Zach Adleman, Allison begins by dispatching the twin pillars of the tradition: the hard-driving swinger and the exquisite ballad. The former, the title track, finds the North Carolinian brandishing a percussive thrust and a deep, peculiarly Southern gospel aesthetic. Then the waltzing “Until I See You Again” performs a complete turnabout, with delicate, fine-honed piano phrases that lock in with the subtle pizzicato and brush strokes.

If that wasn’t enough, Allison moves on from these originals to another back-to-back hat trick, contemporary pop and classic standard covers. Stevie Wonder’s “Knocks Me Off My Feet” and Rodgers & Hart’s “I Didn’t Know What Time It Was” both afford him opportunities to enmesh the hard and soft sides of his personality. He also swings both tunes with vigor (though differently, adding sweetness to the first and cocksure swagger to the second).

The list of can-dos only grows from there. Creative melodies shaped by ingenious harmonies? Check (Allison’s “The Things We Used To Say”). Improvs with a precise blend of resourcefulness and taste? Check (his solos on Harold Mabern’s “There But For The Grace Of” and Mulgrew Miller’s “New York”). Empathic communication with the band? Check (everything about “Lu’s Blues,” which also shows Allison’s blues chops). A Latin groover is the only missing puzzle piece, but, hey — he’s gotta save something for next time.