Seamus Blake: The Electrifying Seamus Blake Plays The Music Of Eddie Harris EH!

Some musicians seem incapable of standing still, their curiosity drawing them towards unexplored corners of the music world. Seamus Blake may well be one of them. A formidable tenor saxophonist rooted in the post-bop tradition, Blake has spent much of his career quietly erasing stylistic borders. On The Electrifying Seamus Blake Plays The Music Of Eddie Harris EH!, he finds the perfect muse in Harris, another restless spirit who refused to recognize the fences others built around jazz.

To realize this vibrant salute, Blake surrounds himself with an ensemble perfectly suited to Harris' eclectic vision. Tim Lefebvre's electric bass drives a muscular groove, making him a much sought-after player. Corey Fonville on drums brings remarkable rhythmic elasticity, and Sam Yahel on keyboards provides everything from soulful warmth to psychedelic colouration. Guest vocalist Dawn Pemberton appears on three selections, while the vocal group on the seventh track brings together Blake, Lefebvre, Fonville, Yahel, Pemberton and  Scott Morin in a spirited celebration of community.

The opening "Compared to What" (Eugene McDaniels) from Harris' successful collaboration with Les McCann arrives with a fresh arrangement and Pemberton's commanding vocal. She sings with conviction and urgency, as Blake threads around her with probing rather than decorative commentary. "Listen Here" wastes no time establishing the band's chemistry. Bluesy at its core and deeply funky in execution, it captures Harris' gift for accessibility. Lefebvre and Fonville form an irresistible pocket, while Yahel's keyboarding colours the margins with sly textures.

"Mean Greens" reminds us that Harris possessed a highly individual melodic imagination. Its angular theme is full of unexpected intervallic twists. Yahel on B-3 and Blake on both tenor and EWI navigate this complexity with effortless fluency.

The album's most ambitious undertaking may be the "EH Medley," which stitches together "Get On Up and Dance," "It's Time to Do What You Want," "Get On Down," "Freedom Jazz Dance," and "I Need Some Money." On paper, it seems risky. In practice, it is exhilarating. Pemberton returns, along with Blake and company, who transform these disparate '70s funk tracks into a coherent mash-up that celebrates Harris' irresistible groove.

As the ensemble presents the various Harris compositions, it should be remembered that he was often ahead of his time, part innovator, part entertainer, and part provocateur. He embraced electronics, funk, soul, and social commentary long before such combinations were fashionable. Blake and the band approach this material not as a historical artifact but as a fellow adventurer.

The closing "Illusionary Dreams" serves as the album's emotional centre. This seldom-heard soul ballad, enhanced with additional lyrics and a closing refrain by Blake, unfolds with tenderness and restraint. The group's vocal support, including Pemberton and guest Scott Morin is glowing. In the arrangement, Blake resists grand gestures, allowing the melody's quiet dignity to speak for itself.

As a tribute album, it is quite likely that Harris would have approved. Not because Blake played the music exactly as written, but because he would have understood the underlying lesson to keep moving forward.