Reviewed By Robert Spencer

As What kind of label would have on its roster of artists names as diverse as Junior Wells and Magic Sam, Coleman Hawkins and Bud Powell, the Art Ensemble of Chicago and Sun Ra? Answer: a great one. Answer: Delmark, founded over 45 years ago by Bob Koester and as vibrant as ever today.

Koester started Delmark as a blues and jazz label, and with artists like Hawkins and Powell, quickly established it as one of the premier labels in the industry. Then in the mid-Sixties, Chuck Nessa and John Litweiler, among others, persuaded Koester that the New Thing was worth hearing - and recording. And Anthony Braxton, Roscoe Mitchell, Sun Ra and more moved in next to the Hoodoo Man. The rest, as they say, is history, and beautiful music from across the spectrum.

There's a 2-disc compilation, Delmark Records: 45 Years of Jazz and Blues, that gives a good cross-section of the tremendous range of the label: from Norrie Cox & His New Orleans Stompers and George Lewis' New Orleans Jazz Band, giving you the heart of Dixieland, to r&b jazzers like Arnett Cobb, to bluesmen Floyd McDaniel & The Blues Swingers, Little Sammy Davis, and Robert Nighthawk, and on outward: Sun Ra and the NRG Ensemble. This collection offers a taste, but there are a few other discs that are absolutely essential for anyone who loves great jazz, blues, and improvised music: indeed, you could get it all from Delmark, and not even bother with any other label. Here are a few - just a few - of the best (presented here in chronological order):

Rainbow Mist, Coleman Hawkins (Delmark 459, 1944)

Hawkins, Dizzy Gillespie, Ben Webster, and other giants midwifing the birth of bebop. Hawkins' big tone is sinuous and serpentine on "Rainbow Mist," and "Woody'n You" glimmers with bebop promise and a killer nine-piece horn section. The bop is even fiercer on "Salt Peanuts," which features Hawkins and Webster going head-to-head while the unjustly forgotten Charlie Shavers practically steals the show with a high-spirited solo. "Porgy" is sweetened by Hy White's guitar but the two tenors remain at front and center. This disc is loaded with beautiful music and is even more fascinating read backward: between Hawkins and Webster, a great deal of the tenor saxophone styles that arose later, right down to our own day, are magnificently foreshadowed.

Sun Song, Sun Ra (Delmark 411, 1957)

The back cover of this one says that it's Sun Ra's first album, released in 1957. Whatever may be the truth of that claim vis-à-vis the Saturn reissues on Evidence, Sun Song is a terrific example of the chunky, beguiling big band sound of Ra's early ensembles. Any mainstream big-band enthusiast would love this disc, but the real glory of it is in the details: Ra's surprisingly "outside" comping here and there (cf. "Call for All Demons"), which buttresses the claim he later made that the Sixties outcats were ripping him off, and the forward-looking horns of John Gilmore (tenor) and Pat Patrick (baritone), both longtime denizens of the "Ra jail" - one of the freest, most beautiful, most joyful places in the world, judging from this disc.

Black Forrest, Jimmy Forrest (Delmark 427, 1959)

Jimmy Forrest! That's right, Jimmy Forrest! Look man, you've heard all about John Coltrane, you can recite the Fifties' discography of Sonny Rollins, you even know Wayne Shorter and Sonny Stitt and Hank Mobley and all the rest of them. But have you even heard of Jimmy Forrest? Have you even heard the man's name? After you get up, drive to your local record store, and buy this disc (which you should do, immediately), you will see that Jimmy Forrest was a tenor man among the best of them. He had a bright, agile tone, and took a back seat to no one when it came to both standards ("You Go to My Head, "Those Foolish Things," etc.) and originals (check out the superswinging title tune). Jimmy Forrest. A forgotten prince of bop.

Bouncing with Bud, Bud Powell (Delmark 406, 1962)

Here is pianist Bud Powell in all his tragic grandeur and glory, showing that no matter what he had gone through, he could still make a piano ring, sing, fly, soar. This 1962 session has Bud tipping his hat to fellow bop pianist Thelonious Monk, as he roars through Monk's "Rifftide," (also known as "Hackensack"), "Straight, No Chaser," and "52nd Street Theme." Bud attacks them and the other tracks on this disc with a fluency and bounce that belies the tragedy of his quotidian existence, and lifts the listener out of his own. Bassist Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen, not a legend yet, and drummer William Schiopffe, manage to keep up, but it is Bud's show, and a great one.

Hoodoo Man Blues, Junior Wells (Delmark 612, 1965)

A blues shouter like Junior Wells, especially backed as he is here by master blues guitarist Buddy Guy, makes rock-and-rollers like the Rolling Stones look like pikers. Even at Mick Jagger's bluesiest, he can't match the raw emotional power and grit of Wells' vocals, which grab you out of your seat and get you moving, not with the techno emptiness of modern dance music, but with the awesome strength of genuine feeling. Wells' harmonica just adds to the mix, and shows that this is where guys ranging from Jagger to Bob Dylan went to school. And no disciple is better than his teacher.

Sound, Roscoe Mitchell Sextet (Delmark 408, 1966)

The Roscoe Mitchell Sextet evolved into the Art Ensemble of Chicago, which even after 30+ years of glorious history has rarely, if ever, topped the wallop of this disc. "Ornette" sounds like Ornette's "Focus on Sanity" turned up around ten degrees, and featuring outrageous pyrotechnics from trumpeter Lester Bowie. The two takes of "Sound," which are the centerpiece of this disc, are less frenetic and more undulating, featuring outstanding solos from Mitchell, Bowie, trombonist/cellist (that's right!) Lester Lashly, and tenorman Maurice McIntyre. Bassist Malachi Favors is especially fleet and melodic. A fascinating exploration of the possibilities of the New Music, with an abundance of beauty throughout.

West Side Soul, Magic Sam Blues Band (Delmark 615, 1967).

Magic Sam is another bluesman who never got his due for playing rock and roll better than any rock and roller ever did. On this disc you can get a glimpse of the origin of groups like the Coasters, the Drifters, and the soul groups of the Sixties and the Seventies. Magic has a sweet voice, not nearly as rough and electric as Junior Wells', but able to soar into a beautiful space. Mighty Joe Young is on hand here with his guitar, and invests this music with considerable dynamic range and force. Give this to the next Heavy Metal (or even Lite Rock) freak you run into, and show them how it's really done.

Together Alone, Joseph Jarman and Anthony Braxton (Delamark 428, 1971)

Aside from one brief outburst of fury ("Morning (including Circles)"), this is a disc of shimmering reflective restraint, beautifully unfolding several through-composed compositions by both men. On Jarman's "Together Alone" suite, Braxton plays piano for one of the only times on disc until the advent of his mid-Nineties piano quartets. The two play a tremendous range of instruments, however, and complement each other wonderfully both during unison sections and in stretches of angular, unusual, and quite affecting harmony. Although both men went on to amass quite extensive discographies (Jarman mostly with the Art Ensemble of Chicago), this disc has a special place in the work of both, as their only recorded meeting and as a disc of exquisite and fragile loveliness.

Live, Art Ensemble of Chicago (Delmark 432, 1972)

The Art Ensemble captured live at the University of Chicago on January 15, 1972. They start out in an explosive mood (instrumentally and vocally), perhaps to herald their return from Europe, and to make sure that everyone in the vicinity of the University had direct knowledge that they were back! But in the course of this sprawling 76-minute concert, the legendary quintet spins a variety of spells, and moves through an astounding range of musical spaces. The drama and romanticism of every Art Ensemble production comes through loud and clear, as well as their mastery of the generic effluvia (as well as most of the instruments) of jazz. A bravura performance.