On March 8, 1959, Art Blakey and his then current lineup of the Jazz Messengers traveled to Hackensack, NJ for a session in Rudy Van Gelder’s storied living room. The results are found on Just Coolin’, the latest newly uncovered archival jazz gem, this one coming out courtesy of the label responsible for its very existence, Blue Note Records. Featuring Blakey on drums, with trumpeter Lee Morgan, tenor saxophonist Hank Mobley, pianist Bobby Timmons, and bassist Jymie Merritt, the short-lived lineup exemplifies an erudite but potent strain of hard bop that few have equaled since. It’s out now on vinyl, compact disc, and digital as part of Blue Note’s Blakey centennial celebration.
Prior to this record, Art Blakey cut what is probably his most famous studio album, originally titled Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, but soon to be known as Moanin’. The lineup for that record, the same as this one except for Benny Golson on tenor sax, was also short-lived, although two live albums, both captured in Paris, 1958 – Paris Olympia (Fontana, 1958) and Art Blakey et les Jazz-Messengers au club St. Germain (French RCA, 1959), historically magnify the brevity of that particular group’s existence.
Until now, documentation of Mobley’s ’59 entrance was limited to the two live volumes of At the Jazz Corner of the World, which were recorded at Birdland in NYC in April of that year, though it’s important to not get them confused with the two subsequent volumes titled Meet You at the Jazz Corner of the World, also recorded at Birdland in 1960, with Wayne Shorter as Mobley’s replacement.
If all the above leads one to suppose that Just Coolin’ is an inessential item, well whoa there, partner. Not only does this LP bring long belated studio documentation to a killer quintet, making it a must for serious jazz fans, but the execution is at such a high level across the six selections that the record will serve wonderfully for anybody looking for an introduction to the Messengers’ substantial thing.
So, why’d Just Coolin’ end up unreleased? Well, the short answer is that the At the Jazz Corner of the World recordings, made five weeks later and featuring four of these six pieces, were more satisfying to Blue Note’s Alfred Lion in the moment. Obviously, once Mobley left, the emphasis shifted to getting wax into stores with the Shorter lineup.
I’m unable to speculate as to why this album is just surfacing now, rather than say, two or three decades previous, but Blakey’s birth 100 years ago last October makes 2020 an auspicious time for its emergence. Opener “Hipsippy Blues,” one of three Mobley compositions here, sets matters into motion with an unperturbed mid-tempo bebop groove, sophisticated yet sharp, with the horns briefly stating the theme prior to the saxophonist’s assured solo.
The preponderance of Mobley tunes is likely related to his newcomer status, though in fact he was returning to service with Blakey. Indeed, Mobley was a charter member of the group, heard on both volumes of At the Cafe Bohemia (Blue Note, 1956) and The Jazz Messengers (Columbia, 1956). But more importantly, the saxophonist’s pieces are sturdy work, with all three heard on At the Jazz Corner of the World.
Morgan also gets a spot to shine in “Hipsippy Blues,” though his solo, first out of the gate in the standard “Close Your Eyes,” is a highlight, and unsurprisingly so, as he was an unimpeachable player during this era (and beyond). Mobley solos next and then gives way to Timmons in exquisite form, followed by a very short cadenza from Merritt, with the horns in counterpoint, and finally the restating of the head.
Blakey choosing to lead through impeccable, expressive timekeeping is but one of the Jazz Messengers’ consistently rewarding qualities. In the energetic sprint that is “Jimerick” (notably, a piece of unknown authorship and one of two previously unissued compositions on the record), Blakey finally gets around to dishing a solo of his own. It’s as delightful as expected.
The key to success on the Jazz Messengers’ best recordings, both studio and live, is the navigation of a stylistic model (as said, hard bop) while avoiding the formulaic, though historically, Blakey took some shots for alleged conservativism. That perspective isn’t mine however, though I will confess to largely losing the discographical thread after the Messengers’ mid-’60s LPs for Limelight.
Just Coolin’ derives from the heart of the band’s classic run, even if by ’59, the modus operandi has been thoroughly established. This means that beyond the LPs very existence, the biggest surprise is the discovery of the Timmons’ tune “Quick Trick.” The cut finds the pianist sounding splendid, but the writing is up to the standard of the guy responsible for “Moanin’.”
Mobley’s other two offerings, “M&M” and the closing title track, seal the deal. Altogether, Just Coolin’ is a tidy expression of the masterful comingling of form and content that serves as the legacy of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
