Billy Cobham's Time Machine at Blue Note Jazz Club

Science has yet to crack the space-time continuum. Music, however, can manage to do the trick. Billy Cobham, proving that point during his six-night stand at New York's Blue Note, transported listeners to another era. The octogenarian drumming icon used this platform as an opportunity to revisit and update the sounds of the '70s (and beyond), and the results were explosive. Leading a stacked band featuring tenor saxophonist Brandon Wilkins, trumpeter Randy Brecker, trombonist Marshall Gilkes, keyboardist Oz Ezzeldin and bassist Will Lee, he was all in, delivering hard-hitting, undiluted fusion.

Cobham's stick-driven salvos drove the proceedings, and his lock with Lee—a man who gleefully served as father time, harmonic and rhythmic pivot, and musical super glue—was a joy to behold. Ezzeldin, a wiz capable of both glazing and blazing, meshed beautifully with his rhythm partners. And the three-horn front line, both as a single entity and through its component personalities, was remarkably powerful. The pre-show buzz from the capacity crowd at the first set on Friday, March 21, 2025 was warranted and, in fact, proved prescient.

Cobham favorites from Spectrum (Atlantic, 1973) played an important part in the program(s) throughout the week. The title track, "Stratus," "Red Baron," and "Le Lis" all had their place. And "To the Women in My Life," with a mystical Ezzeldin intro, Gilkes' soulful slide work and Wilkins' piquant soprano, proved notable. Looking past that beloved album, there was plenty more to say and play in this specific set. "Moon Germs," from Total Eclipse (Atlantic, 1974), featured some top-shelf Brecker, effects-coated lines and all. "Bombay Chill" demonstrated peak responsiveness throughout the band and some primo Cobham soloing. And "Tinseltown" was pure glitz and groove.

With a loud and proud aesthetic brilliantly in place, this sextet brought the audience back in time and blended past with present. For those lucky enough to be there to hear it person, it was an experience not soon to be forgotten. And for those who couldn't make it, seeing might just have to be believing. This writer was lucky enough to have a camera on hand to capture some of the magic in motion. So here's a sampling of those images (Note: I extend my apologies to Ezzeldin, who, due to his music stand, was completely obscured from my position directly in front of the drum kit. After the initial publication of this article, the keyboardist reached out and shared images—one from photographer Dino Perucci, one from his own documenting equipment—that capture him at work with Cobham's band. Per his request and my respect for it, they've been included in this gallery).