Louis Stewart & Brian Dunning: Alone Together

Re-releases and archival recordings are so abundant these days that it is easy to take for granted the work involved in dusting down and polishing up old recordings. Thanks to the tireless efforts of Dermot Rogers—the man at the helm of the revived Livia Records—Irish guitarist Louis Stewart's discography is being lovingly restored and reissued. Hats off also to Seán Mac Erlaine, whose mixing and mastering for Livia has bestowed pristine sound on half a dozen Stewart releases since 2022. Rogers and Mac Erlaine have pulled another rabbit out of the hat with Alone Together, a 1979 live recording of Stewart and flautist Brian Dunning first launched on CD in 1999, and long since out of print.

Recorded over three lunchtime concerts in Dublin's Peacock Theatre in August '79, these cuts capture Stewart and Dunning in fine form, underlining Stewart's remarkable comping skills and making the case for Dunning as a jazz flautists to rank with the best. At this time, Stewart was already internationally renowned as the house guitarist at Ronnie Scott's, and for his collaborations with Benny Goodman, JJ Johnson and George Shearing. Dunning was still something of a local sensation, greater recognition only coming with a move to the USA in the early '80s and the formation of the Irish trad-cum-ambient band Nightnoise and the genre-elusive Puck Fair, with its mixture of Celtic folk, pop and jazz.

No such genre-blurring here; this is a session as straight-ahead as they come. The Mac Gordon/Harry Warren standard "There Will Never Be Another You" sets the template, with Dunning embracing the lead melody while Stewart comps. Solos are taken turnabout, with Dunning eventually steering the duo back to the head. Stewart's solos are unaccompanied, and perhaps for this reason, brief by comparison. Stewart certainly gives Dunning his due, stoking the duo's rhythmic engine while the flautist takes one fabulous solo after another; the flautist's mesmerizing descants on Chick Corea's "Windows" and on the Howard Dietz/Arthur Schwartz standard "Alone Together" are steered and tethered by Stewart as though coolly pulling the strings of a dashing kite.

Dunning's classical training shines through in his wrinkle-free articulation and warm vibrato, but guttural mischief à la Rahsaan Roland Kirk rears its head on a spikey version of Joe Henderson's "Inner Urge" and again in the fiery denouement of Antonio Carlos Jobim's "Triste." On the latter, an earlier solo by the flautist may well be the pick of the bunch.

As for Stewart, well, unlike the stunning lead virtuosity displayed in encounters with Jim Hall (see review) and Martin Taylor, (see review) he instead dazzles with his rhythmic agility. Solos are brief, pointillistic even, but it is his fleet movement between chordal progressions, flashing ornamentation and rhythmic chugging that catches the ear. This highwire balancing act—part accompanist, part leader—is a feature of Stewart's playing throughout and is experienced to terrific effect on the aforementioned Jobim piece.

Only "Definitely Doctored" is purely improvised, though greater thrills surface in the unison and lead lines of Charlie Parker's "Donna Lee." No less captivating, though for different reasons, is the brilliantly orchestrated ending to Corea's "Windows." Two previously unreleased studio tracks recorded around the same time are a bonus; the standard "Some Day My Prince Will Come" and Wes Montgomery's "West Coast Blues" serve up wonderful contrapuntal interplay, and splendid solos—especially from Dunning.

A ten-page booklet conforms to Livia Records' usual high presentation standards, with photos, album reviews from back in the day and an essay as entertaining as it is insightful from Ellen Cranitch—RTE Broadcaster and a dab hand at the flute herself. Cranitch recounts the time that world-famous flautist James Galway phoned the Dunning household looking for Brian. His mother answered and enquired of Galway, "Is it lessons you're after?" As this vibrant live recording illustrates, as far as jazz chops go, Mr. Galway could have done a lot worse.

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