Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis and Shirley Scott: Cookin’ with Jaws and the Queen: The Legendary Prestige Cookbook Albums

In a sign that the art of the box set continues to evolve, and that history never runs in a straight line, a lavishly produced box set of tenor giant Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis and organist Shirley Scott is being released not only on CD but on high grade vinyl LPs and downloads as well.

Compare that to Bing Crosby's 1954 set, which came out on seventeen 45s in an actual box with a locking clasp and key.

The advent of the CD some three decades later allowed labels to re-sell the same music to the same fans who had already purchased it on LP, with the promise of no pops or scratches. The lower manufacturing costs of CDs compared to LPs led to a proliferation of compilations. And now high-end digital audio downloads remove the risk of a compact disc getting scratched, and almost eliminate manufacturing costs completely.

Yet there remain those who swear vinyl possesses the highest tonal range of any format (just do not tell the old reel to reel audiophiles, or you will be in for a long argument), and so more and more compilations are also being released on vinyl once again.

While this collection is being issued to mark Davis' 100th birthday, what makes the set most interesting is that it makes available four LPs Davis and Scott issued together from 1958 to 1963—all recorded by the same lineup over three different sessions in 1958 by the legendary Rudy Van Gelder at his original Hackensack, N.J., studio. Their release was then staggered through 1963, presumably to maximize sales.

This is hardly a comprehensive compendium of Davis and Scott's recordings together, though. They had already been recording together for three years—ever since Scott joined Davis's combo. And they would continue to work together for a few more years after these 1958 sessions.

If Scott gets short shrift in the billing and cover art, that is because she was a member of Davis's band, not co-leader. And flautist and fellow tenor player Jerome Richardson receives even shorter shrift, as does the rhythm section of bassist George Duvivier and drummer Arthur Edgehill.

Scott's sound on the Hammond B3 is, as on everything she did, powerful yet restrained. Her sound is like that of a tidal wave out at sea before it approaches shore and starts to grow. There's a sense of tremendous unseen forces waiting to be unleashed.

Stylistically, she hearkens to a previous generation of organists who played the Wurlitzer—there's more than a touch of Count Basie's relaxed restraint to her chordal comping behind Davis and Richardson's leads (and check out her opening salvo on "High Fry," she has that Hammond sounding almost like a Wurlitzer!).

But even when Scott is out front, she rarely lets completely loose. It is as if she is confident enough to give us just a taste of what she's capable of, to always leave the listener utterly impressed yet still wanting more.

"But Beautiful," the third track from the first album, "The Eddie 'Lockjaw' Davis Cookbook," features Scott opening with a short but ominous fugue, like something out of an old black-and-white horror flick. Then Davis takes over the lead in the lower register of his horn—deep, resonant, languid runs, underpinned by Scott's soft comping behind him. Richardson then solos on flute for several measures with, again, Scott framing it on the Hammond.

Only then does Scott get her own chance out front—and her extended riff on the theme is still underpinned by her own accompaniment. While her right hand is embellishing, extending, extrapolating the melody, her left hand is still laying out harmonic chords and the rhythm.

It is breathtaking stuff, and shows Davis's own supreme self-confidence in that he was apparently unthreatened by the brilliance of his side musicians.

After Scott's high-wire solo, Davis and Richardson close it out on a dual lead before Scott joins in and the three of them bring it home.

And that is just one track.

On the above-mentioned "High Fry," from the fourth album in this collection, "Smokin,'" Scott's opening is propulsively swinging as she blocks out the theme on chords for a measure before Davis and Richardson take a dual-horn lead for several bars leading into Davis's extended solo. Scott sits out a few measures before she again begins countering Davis's improvisation with quick asides.

While these are, as the liner notes and publicity materials attest, some of the earliest soul jazz recordings, Davis and the band somehow manage to bridge the worlds of percolating soul jazz with the subtle sophistication of a top-notch supper club. Much of that is due to Scott's ability to create a sense of elegance with the rhythm section for the two horn players to dance above.

"My Old Flame," from the third LP in the set, is a gorgeous bit of late-night romantic jazz. Davis's warm tenor plays off against Scott's gentle comping organ, while Duvivier's ambling bass lines keep everything relaxed.

Almost two dozen tracks, recorded in three sessions, and not a dog in the bunch. This is the aural record of a jazz combo at the peak of its creativity and artistry—everything they touched got spun into gold.

So, yes, this is a pioneering bit of what came to be called soul jazz, with hints of R&B throughout. But it is not typical soul jazz. It is perhaps closer to what Milt Jackson was doing with the Modern Jazz Quartet: Smart, sophisticated music drawing on a variety of threads, distilling it all into something original and organic.

In other words, magic.

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