James Brandon Lewis Quartet with Aruán Ortiz, Brad Jones and Chad Taylor: Abstraction Is Deliverance

John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins and David S. Ware cast long shadows over Abstraction Is Deliverance, the fifth release from the James Brandon Lewis Quartet. These tenor saxophone titans have influenced Lewis since his breakout major-label debut Divine Travels (Okeh, 2014). Yet while their legacy is acknowledged, it never overshadows the bold, present-tense expression of Lewis's own voice. He does not merely walk in their footsteps—he charts new terrain using the foundation they helped lay.

Lewis is a rare saxophonist whose breadth of vision matches his technical brilliance. His artistry is unbound by genre or convention: he has collaborated with the high-voltage instrumental rock trio The Messthetics, co-led the experimental poetry ensemble Heroes Are Gang Leaders, channeled groove-heavy energy through his James Brandon Lewis Trio, and explored ECM-like spaciousness on Giovanni Guidi's New Day (ECM, 2024). He brings social consciousness into sharp focus with his Red Lily Quintet and his duo projects with drummer Chad Taylor reveal a raw, intimate chemistry.

But it is this quartet—with Aruán Ortiz on piano, Brad Jones on bass, and Chad Taylor on drums—that most directly reflects the Trane-Rollins-Ware lineage. From that genealogy, Lewis constructs his own edifice—modern, reflective and deeply rooted in jazz's spiritual and improvisational essence. The opening track, "Ware," pays homage to David S. Ware with a sound both commanding and reverent, its broad-shouldered tone tempered by an almost ceremonial grace.

The mood simmers into "Per 7," a slow-burning blues anchored by Taylor's subtle tick-tick-tick cymbal pulse and Jones' steadfast bass. It is minimalist in construction, but rich in atmosphere and intent. The chant-like repetitions of "Even the Sparrow" reveal a devotional core—a kind of sonic prayer whose quiet intensity feels both timeless and urgent.

Ortiz emerges as the ideal foil for Lewis, much like McCoy Tyner was to Coltrane or Matthew Shipp to Ware. His playing blends classical poise with rhythmic urgency, evoking the cinematic minimalism of Nicholas Britell's Succession score while maintaining a distinct jazz language. His touch gives Lewis a launchpad, and the saxophonist responds with solos that are searching yet structured, spiritual yet grounded. Tracks like "Polaris" extend this chamber-jazz aesthetic. The quartet locks into a restrained but expressive dialogue—an exercise in precision and feeling. Lewis's improvisations lean outward, but never lose coherence. He is a player who stretches form without abandoning it, building arcs that resolve with emotional clarity.

"Mr. Crick" finds Lewis at his most Rollins-esque—not in imitation, but in approach. Rollins had the gift of transforming a Broadway tune into a personal statement. Lewis does the same here, except the tune is his own. Its melodic construction and rhythmic elasticity echo the sound and spirit of a long-lost 1960s jazz classic, though its execution is unmistakably contemporary. With Abstraction Is Deliverance, James Brandon Lewis honors his musical ancestry not through mimicry but through mastery. His quartet does not replicate the past—it radiates from it, illuminating new directions with conviction, intellect and soul.