Tom Caraher: Ninety Degrees

For his debut as leader, Irish saxophonist Tom Caraher has roped in some of the country's finest jazz musicians to bring his music to life. The album clocks in around the length of an old vinyl, which, for some tastes is ideal in terms of attention span—it is easy to overegg it these days, with digital compression sometimes guilty of enabling 70-minute slog-fests. No such charge of overindulgence can be levelled at Caraher's quintet, whose soloing feels lean and to the point. The electro-acoustic aesthetic on five Caraher originals and a reworking of a Beatles classic draws a neat line from '70s jazz-fusion to its modern heirs.

From the contrafact of Wayne Shorter's "Yes or No" that engendered the feisty funk of opener "Maybe" to the Weather Report-inspired ballad of the title track, the spirit of Shorter, Joe Zawinul and the behemoth of all '70s jazz- fusion bands looms large. The latter composition evokes the emotional tenor of Zawinul's "A Remark You Made"—with caressing solos from electric bassist Barry Donohue, trombonist Paul Dunlea and Caraher. The former, despite its borrowings, sounds more personal; it bears Caraher's stamp of contemporary double-time rhythms—courtesy of Donohue and drummer Shane O'Donovan— and upbeat horns.

One of the album's strengths is Caraher's ability to mold past influences to his artistic vision. "Call The Cops!" may be loosely inspired by the melody of "Caravan"—the Juan Tizol tune immortalized by Duke Ellington's orchestra—but the lithe funk grooves and snaking tenor saxophone owe more to Chris Potter's Underground. Darragh O'Kelly's Fender Rhodes riffing is central to the vibe on this head-bobber. There is something of Bob James' deft touch in the keyboard player's comping throughout the set, but on the occasions when he stretches out, notably on "Racecourse Waltz," the language is post-bop: probing, yet elegantly measured.

The one genuine cover version sees the quintet deliver a rhythmically snappy—nay, mischievously off-kilter—take of The Beatles' "Michelle." Ramping the original 4/4 time up to 7/8—like something Charlie Parker might have done had he lived another decade— Caraher underlines jazz's seemingly endless ability to mint new coin from old gold. The slow-grooving "Then, Again" features lilting solos from Dunlea and Caraher. It has the feel of lazy summer evenings shared with friends and closes an engaging album on a warm, uplifting note.

There is more than enough evidence on this platter of Caraher's talents as a fine melodicist and purveyor of intricate, feel-good grooves. It raises the hope of further offerings from the Berklee graduate—hopefully in the not-too-distant future.