Arthur Blythe Quartet: Live From Studio Rivbea, July 6, 1976

Saxophonist Arthur Blythe arrived in New York City in 1974 with a gorgeous tone and a fully formed conception. Having featured in the ensembles of pianist Horace Tapscott in his native LA, he first caught the ear in the Big Apple after his recruitment into the bands of drummer Chico Hamilton and pianist/composer Gil Evans. This gem from Sam Rivers' Studio Rivbea archive constitutes his debut as a leader, recorded some seven months before the previous contender for that title, The Grip (India Navigation, 1977).

While he later signed for CBS (now Sony) and released a string of albums notable for their driving rhythms, infectious heads and affinity for the tradition, on this date Blythe takes maximum advantage of the opportunity the loft scene offered to develop music unconstrained by the need to help club and bar owners sell booze. At the helm of an adventurous quartet comprising regular collaborators Steve Reid on drums and Muhammad Abdullah on congas, along with bassist Juini Booth, he tackles three numbers which remained mainstays of his repertoire for many years to come, alongside a medley of unidentified tunes.

Blythe takes the opening "Spirits In The Field" unaccompanied. His distinctive wide vibrato and blues cry are on full display, as he alternates between sanctified melody, blaring harmonics and piercing wails, intermittently separated by twisting and unpredictable runs. He continues solo into the medley before Booth doubles his line. Fresh from a sojourn in the McCoy Tyner band which waxed Enlightenment (Milestone, 1973) and Atlantis (Milestone, 1975), the bassist lends the vamps an indefatigable bounce. However, he also proves fearless in following Blythe off the beaten track, contributing an oblique counterpoint that amplifies the experimental dimension.

As Ed Hazell notes in the insightful liners, Blythe treats the material here as rhythmically and tonally mutable, aided by the facility of Reid and Abdullah to shift in and out of a meter which itself is variable. The lengthy "Miss Nancy" also serves as a vehicle for extended breaks by all. Reid's stuttered digressions suggest dub echo effects at times, while Abdullah adds an unadorned pulsation. He comes into his own, especially on the concluding procession of "Lower Nile," where Reid's tambourine apart, his congas are the sole accompaniment to the leader's incantatory alto.

Blythe, who died in 2017, never again sounded quite so untrammeled and free as he does here, captured in a time of flux before everything became codified.

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