Ben Waltzer: The Point
Calligram Records

Playing in NYC in the ‘90s with figures like Gerald Cleaver and Reid Anderson and refining his voice alongside fellow pianists Brad Mehldau and Ethan Iverson, Ben Waltzer made a strong name for himself in the city's jazz scene, and he retains that presence still by fronting bands at Smalls and Mezzrow. But after relocating to Chicago in 2014, he's now firmly part of its ever-fertile jazz community. Listening to the performances on The Point with three of Chicago's finest, saxophonist Geof Bradfield, bassist Clark Sommers, and drummer Dana Hall, one could be forgiven for thinking he'd been a life-long resident. Waltzer's sensibility seamlessly aligns with theirs throughout this rewarding set captured in front of an appreciative crowd at the city's Pro Musica Audio.

The quartet's led by Waltzer, but it's very much a group effort, something exemplified by a set-list that comprises two compositions apiece by the pianist, Bradfield, and Sommers; the sole non-original is Billy Strayhorn's "A Flower is a Lovesome Thing," noteworthy also for featuring Bradfield on bass clarinet. That Waltzer plays with authority and finesse doesn't surprise when his background's considered. Before The Point (titled after a well-known Chicago promontory), he issued a series of earlier albums on the Fresh Sounds label and is comfortable operating in any number of contexts and styles. He's as well-versed in the tradition as he is cognizant of what's happening now. The rapport the four share didn't materialize out of thin air but instead developed over two years of playing at Andy's Jazz Club, and the ease with which they connect is apparent throughout the set.

Bradfield's a terrific and versatile player whose talents were on abundant display on his recent Colossal Abundance release. However, in showcasing a twelve-member ensemble, he was but one of many soloists. The Point, by comparison, grants him ample space to stretch out and consequently affords us a greater opportunity to appreciate his abilities in that department. As the co-lead soloist, the same goes for Waltzer, obviously, who distinguishes the recording with assured playing, be it as soloist or accompanist. And, of course, Sommers and Hall again identify themselves as invaluable go-to partners on the Chicago circuit.

As solid as the performances are, the writing is as strong, so much so the opening pair, Bradfield's “Kintsugi" and Waltzer's title tune, feel like instant classics. The saxophonist imposes his robust tenor on the swinging opener, his agile horn evoking Coltrane in the fullness of its tone and the volume of ideas pouring from the saxophone. The pianist perpetuates the swinging vibe in his own soulful solo on the boppish cut, a feel amplified by the driving groove the bassist and drummer generate. “The Point” enters slowly, its resonant theme stated in unison by the front-liners and Bradfield imbuing the theme with warmth and drama. The ballad tempo finds Waltzer luxuriating in the moment and developing his solo statement ruminatively until Bradfield takes over to riff dynamically on the changes and facilitate the music's spiral ever upwards. One could imagine any number of jazz outfits taking up the tunes and incorporating them into their own set-lists. In the same league as “The Point” is Waltzer's other composition, “Layla's Dream,” this one dedicated to his young niece and executed as an eloquent waltz.

Sommers is no slouch in the writing department either, his “Skyward” an infectious exercise that calls forth the unit's funkier side. There's blues in the mix too, its presence never more felt than when Bradfield and Waltzer step into the spotlight. After a wailing contribution from the tenor man, the leader leans in, tentatively at first but voluble thereafter as he alternates between swinging blues episodes and abstract explorations. True to its title, Sommers' “No Map” is receptive to exploration, as shown by the slow-building journey the four undertake. After Hall initiates the trip with a toms-heavy pulse, Waltzer and Bradfield reinforce the explorative nature of the piece in their solos, the saxophonist's volcanic in its intensity. Strayhorn's "A Flower is a Lovesome Thing" is an always welcome addition, especially when its haunting themes are delivered by bass clarinet. With Hall brushing behind him, the leader digs deeply into the material, his affection for the piece obvious in the delicacy of his voicings and touch.

November 2024