Yusef Lateef: Alight Upon the Lake: Live at the Jazz Showcase

Some nights vanish into the ether, while others wait, patiently, until the world is ready to hear them. Such is the case with Alight Upon the Lake: Live at the Jazz Showcase. Resonance Records has released this adventurous 1975 recording as a limited-edition 180-gram 3-LP set and a 3-CD release, which feels less like an archival project than a living document. Yusef Lateef, ever the seeker, arrives here not merely as a saxophonist and flutist but as a guide through what he called autophysiopsychic music, a phrase that sounds academic until you hear it. Leading a stellar quartet with pianist Kenny Barron, bassist Bob Cunningham and drummer Albert Tootie Heath, he moves through sound the way a storyteller moves through memory, circling, probing and occasionally erupting.

The performance opens with Barron's "The Untitled," an apt title for a piece that resists containment. What begins as a ferocious statement soon unfolds into nearly 30 minutes of meditation. Barron's piano is both architectural and inviting, whether in solo mode or laying down a shifting harmonic terrain that Lateef navigates, his tone shifting from sandpaper grit to velvet warmth in a breath. Cunningham anchors the journey with a bass line that never settles into complacency. Heath keeps the pulse alive with a drummer's rare gift, propelling without intruding. The piece becomes a microcosm of Lateef's world, a blend of spiritual searching, blues feeling, and avant-leaning abstraction.

Lateef's "Mutually Exclusive" pivots sharply. Built on a John Coltrane-like harmonic chassis ("Giant Steps"), his playing darts and feints with athletic precision at warp speed. Barron matches the pace with a solo full of angles and velocity. Cunningham's work never lets up, and Heath blankets his kit, pushing the ensemble to cover every corner.

Then comes Roy Brooks "Eboness" and with it Lateef's bamboo flute enters like a different voice entirely, cooler and more sinuous. He threads melodies through a dark, simmering groove to convey some faraway lands. Barron picks up on the harmonic link with expressive flexibility and a soulful style. Cunningham joins in with a lengthy arco solo, drawing a dark, singing tone with both consequence and compassion. The effect is hypnotic, almost ritualistic.

"I Remember Webster" finds Lateef in a more reflective mood, paying tribute to tenor saxophone great Ben Webster His tone is husky, deeply human, and unhurried. Barron's accompaniment is restrained, while Cunningham's big sound offers a compelling counterpoint.

Returning to the transverse flute for "Opus 1&2," Lateef traces a fascinating arc from stark minimalism to something approaching a bluesy swagger. His command of the instrument is distinctive, filling the horn with resonance and subtlety. Barron's approach reflects Lateef's direction, moving from spare voicings to groove-laden stylings, while Cunningham and Heath subtly adjust the rhythmic feel without ever breaking the thread.

The band clearly relishes diving into Nat King Cole's classic "Straighten Up And Fly Right," performing it with a playful, almost mischievous swing. Lateef, back on tenor, toys with the melody, bending phrases, teasing the beat, and slipping in bluesy asides that acknowledge the brotherhood of the horn. Barron comps with a bright, springy touch and launches his solo with effervescence that shares a common musical ground. Cunningham walks with buoyant elasticity, and Heath adds crisp accents and rhythmic nudges that are respectful of the tune's lineage.

The set closes with "Yusef's Mood," as the band goes home with the blues, drawing the audience into a communal experience. Lateef's phrasing here is earthy and direct, his tenor speaking in plain terms after more abstract passages in the prior numbers. Barron's solo excursion is a masterclass in piano styles, from blues to boogie to stride to swing, all delivered with keyboard speed that matches Oscar Peterson. Cunningham and Heath lock into a deep pocket, stretching the groove to keep it alive until the performance's conclusion, which feels like a shared affirmation.

The album is not only a testament to the brilliance of the playing but also to the quartet's cohesion. Barron, Cunningham, and Heath do not merely accompany Lateef. They engage and challenge him, ultimately elevating the music into a collective whole.