Clifford Jordan Quartet: Night of the Mark VII

Clifford Jordan's Night of the Mark VII, recorded live in Paris in 1975, is a remarkable document, a reminder of the simple pleasure of listening. It captures four musicians who know precisely who they are, yet remain open to whatever the moment brings. There is no unnecessary display or performative grandstanding. The players enjoy being together, and the audience is fortunate and discerning enough to be there.

Jordan was playing his new Selmer Mark 7 tenor saxophone for the first time on record, and the change seems to have opened a few doors. His sound has an expansive quality, with greater breath and resonance, while retaining the muscular warmth that has always been his trademark. With pianist Cedar Walton, bassist Sam Jones and drummer Billy Higgins beside him, he has the ideal musical companions. The 300-plus listeners in the Paris audience recognize something special almost immediately.

Bill Lee's "John Coltrane" gets things underway with a wonderfully unhurried bass line, as Jordan builds a theme around three haunting refrains. As the ideas unfold gradually, he moves in and out of the melody with a naturalness that makes the whole performance feel effortless. Everything eventually returns to the opening theme, after which the voices take over, offering a fitting tribute to Coltrane. Jordan then returns, playing in his own voice as he takes the number out.

"Highest Mountain" is a Jordan composition that reflects his musical thought process. Jordan delivers unusual double 23-bar passages that might read like an academic exercise on paper, yet the performance is anything but stiff. Walton is particularly engaging, his solo bubbling with ideas before the quartet launches into a spirited shout chorus. Throughout the number, Higgins reminds us that drumming was never simply about timekeeping. He could make a rhythm dance, stumble, turn a corner, and somehow land exactly where he needed to be. The theme then returns, followed by a series of Amens, giving the piece a satisfying sense of arrival.

Thelonious Monk's "Blue Monk" is a delight from beginning to end. The four musicians settle into the familiar B-flat blues as if it were a conversation among old friends. Jordan's preachy solo has a marvellous way of turning a familiar phrase into something just a little different from what you might expect. Walton uses the whole keyboard, starting with a few very bluesy phrases that bring out the sly humour and business that make Monk's music so enduring. Jones and Higgins are completely at home here, swinging with ease, as Jones takes the last word and the number trails away.

After the easygoing pleasures of "Blue Monk," the remaining tracks take on a slightly different character. The musicians seem increasingly comfortable with one another, allowing the music to settle into a steady groove. Two members of the quartet wrote these compositions, sharpening that sense of musical familiarity.

The first is Walton's "Midnight Waltz," a lovely example of his writing, with an elegant melody and nothing precious about it. Jordan and Walton open the tune with intricate unison playing that segues into an appealing, exploratory solo by Jones, marked by a beautifully relaxed pulse. Jordan takes up the theme without urgency, and his horn does not feel compelled to go in any particular direction. Walton's contribution takes a few unexpected liberties, stretching the harmony and making the performance feel freshly discovered rather than merely played.

Jones' "One For Amos" brings the album to a satisfying close. A brief piano introduction sets the scene before Jones and Jordan state the theme. Jones then takes a fine solo, and from there the musical conversation passes naturally to Jordan, Walton and Higgins. What is particularly satisfying is the generosity of the playing. Everyone has something to say, yet no one feels compelled to have the last word, creating a wonderful sense of give and take.

Time Traveler Recordings has done this music a considerable service. The 180-gram vinyl, hand-numbered sleeve, original Hank Diamond Smith liner notes, additional writings, and rare period photographs make this more than a routine reissue. It is a welcome return to a very special evening, reminding us that the greatest jazz is not just played but shared.