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Lew Tabackin Under rated!


Jazztropic

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More than a few of my favorite jazz experiences/memories are of seeing the Akiyoshi-Tabackin Big Band over the last 25 years. I'm pleased to hear that they are just as beautiful people as they are musicians. Mr. T is far from underrated to me!

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I like Tabackin, too. I seem to recall Larry Kart being less impressed with him in his book, though. I'll dig it out (unless Larry cares to elaborate).

You're right, but I don't recall that I went into much detail. My main problem is that while I love vintage Sonny Rollins and in principle have to admit the possibility of there being good-to-excellent Rollins-influenced tenormen, when guys start to come up with some of Rollins's very specific/personal chortles, burps, and guffaws (as I think Tabackin does; in fact, LT not only imitates but also often exaggerates them), I run from the room with my hair on fire. Now it would be possible, of course, though difficult, to do what I think LT does as a sort of further humorous/ironic commentary on Rollins's own fairly extreme (and again quite personal) tendencies in that direction. But what I hear from LT and some other Rollins-drenched guys from his and later generations sounds to me like puppetry -- not that it's easy to do, but I feel like I'm listening to someone snatch away another unique man's living breath. I'd say BTW that this is not true, or not true to the same degree or in the same way, of most Trane disciples of however many generations -- while problems certainly lie in wait for them, the problem of speaking so directly in another man's voice is not high among them because I think Trane's "cry" was to some considerable degree generic (I mean that positively, as though Trane's voice were both personal and also inherently that of many or even a multitude, a la the bare-breasted woman at the barricades in Delacroix's famous painting; the same might be said of Young or Hawkins [though for somewhat different reasons in both cases, but Rollins' voice, when it gets emotionally specific in the way I have in mind. is not at all generic IMO]). An example of a Rollins-drenched guy who usually doesn't give me that "stealing the living breath" feeling would be Ralph LaLama. Among younger players, an interesting case is Grant Stewart -- who has considerable melodic and rhythmic gifts but can at times get too close for my tastes to specific Rollins-esque emotive figures; and now that I've stumbled aross that phrase, "emotive figures," perhaps that's the gist of what I have in mind. Rollins came up with and handled such figures in a way that I think was both new to jazz and unique to himself, in that these emotive figures not only were highly (almost luridly) emotive but also were quite self-consciously/knowingly (and usually humorously/ironically) so, such that the play between those figures and the rest of his musical-emotional vocabulary was a key part of his language. Can't think of many Rollins-influenced guys who have much a clue there. Actually, Archie Shepp probably did for a hot minute. And Ed Wilkerson Jr. does.

Edited by Larry Kart
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Just by coincidence, I have just been listening to a couple of Lalama Cd's - "Momentum" and "You Know What I Mean" both on Criss Cross. I think he's a very good and often exciting player, though I have never been and still am not, particulary taken by his "tone" which I find somehat thin. Certainly his tone does have some personality, and when you listen to the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra you never have any doubt whether it's Ralph or Rich Perry soloing. And Ralph can really build a solo, somewhat like Rollins does, though he pushes the beat a lot harder. If Rollins sometimes plays behind the beat to the extent of almost losing the rhythm section, Lalama sometimes goes in the opposite direction. Neither are straight down the middle players, that's for sure. I guess every player has their strengths, and certainly Ralph is a very strong improvisor, but FWIW I find both Tabakin's and Stewart's tenor sounds more attractive than Lalama's.

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I like Tabackin, too. I seem to recall Larry Kart being less impressed with him in his book, though. I'll dig it out (unless Larry cares to elaborate).

You're right, but I don't recall that I went into much detail. My main problem is that while I love vintage Sonny Rollins and in principle have to admit the possibility of there being good-to-excellent Rollins-influenced tenormen, when guys start to come up with some of Rollins's very specific/personal chortles, burps, and guffaws (as I think Tabackin does; in fact, LT not only imitates but also often exaggerates them), I run from the room with my hair on fire. Now it would be possible, of course, though difficult, to do what I think LT does as a sort of further humorous/ironic commentary on Rollins's own fairly extreme (and again quite personal) tendencies in that direction. But what I hear from LT and some other Rollins-drenched guys from his and later generations sounds to me like puppetry -- not that it's easy to do, but I feel like I'm listening to someone snatch away another unique man's living breath. I'd say BTW that this is not true, or not true to the same degree or in the same way, of most Trane disciples of however many generations -- while problems certainly lie in wait for them, the problem of speaking so directly in another man's voice is not high among them because I think Trane's "cry" was to some considerable degree generic (I mean that positively, as though Trane's voice were both personal and also inherently that of many or even a multitude, a la the bare-breasted woman at the barricades in Delacroix's famous painting; the same might be said of Young or Hawkins [though for somewhat different reasons in both cases, but Rollins' voice, when it gets emotionally specific in the way I have in mind. is not at all generic IMO]). An example of a Rollins-drenched guy who usually doesn't give me that "stealing the living breath" feeling would be Ralph LaLama. Among younger players, an interesting case is Grant Stewart -- who has considerable melodic and rhythmic gifts but can at times get too close for my tastes to specific Rollins-esque emotive figures; and now that I've stumbled aross that phrase, "emotive figures," perhaps that's the gist of what I have in mind. Rollins came up with and handled such figures in a way that I think was both new to jazz and unique to himself, in that these emotive figures not only were highly (almost luridly) emotive but also were quite self-consciously/knowingly (and usually humorously/ironically) so, such that the play between those figures and the rest of his musical-emotional vocabulary was a key part of his language. Can't think of many Rollins-influenced guys who have much a clue there. Actually, Archie Shepp probably did for a hot minute. And Ed Wilkerson Jr. does.

while i thoroughly enjoyed your comments and certainly agree with some of them, i would humbly suggest that perhaps you need to listen to more of lew or perhaps more recent lew.

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I like Tabackin, too. I seem to recall Larry Kart being less impressed with him in his book, though. I'll dig it out (unless Larry cares to elaborate).

You're right, but I don't recall that I went into much detail. My main problem is that while I love vintage Sonny Rollins and in principle have to admit the possibility of there being good-to-excellent Rollins-influenced tenormen, when guys start to come up with some of Rollins's very specific/personal chortles, burps, and guffaws (as I think Tabackin does; in fact, LT not only imitates but also often exaggerates them), I run from the room with my hair on fire. Now it would be possible, of course, though difficult, to do what I think LT does as a sort of further humorous/ironic commentary on Rollins's own fairly extreme (and again quite personal) tendencies in that direction. But what I hear from LT and some other Rollins-drenched guys from his and later generations sounds to me like puppetry -- not that it's easy to do, but I feel like I'm listening to someone snatch away another unique man's living breath. I'd say BTW that this is not true, or not true to the same degree or in the same way, of most Trane disciples of however many generations -- while problems certainly lie in wait for them, the problem of speaking so directly in another man's voice is not high among them because I think Trane's "cry" was to some considerable degree generic (I mean that positively, as though Trane's voice were both personal and also inherently that of many or even a multitude, a la the bare-breasted woman at the barricades in Delacroix's famous painting; the same might be said of Young or Hawkins [though for somewhat different reasons in both cases, but Rollins' voice, when it gets emotionally specific in the way I have in mind. is not at all generic IMO]). An example of a Rollins-drenched guy who usually doesn't give me that "stealing the living breath" feeling would be Ralph LaLama. Among younger players, an interesting case is Grant Stewart -- who has considerable melodic and rhythmic gifts but can at times get too close for my tastes to specific Rollins-esque emotive figures; and now that I've stumbled aross that phrase, "emotive figures," perhaps that's the gist of what I have in mind. Rollins came up with and handled such figures in a way that I think was both new to jazz and unique to himself, in that these emotive figures not only were highly (almost luridly) emotive but also were quite self-consciously/knowingly (and usually humorously/ironically) so, such that the play between those figures and the rest of his musical-emotional vocabulary was a key part of his language. Can't think of many Rollins-influenced guys who have much a clue there. Actually, Archie Shepp probably did for a hot minute. And Ed Wilkerson Jr. does.

while i thoroughly enjoyed your comments and certainly agree with some of them, i would humbly suggest that perhaps you need to listen to more of lew or perhaps more recent lew.

I agree with Valerie B. I have listened to a ton of Rollins and quite a bit of Tabackin, both live and on album--and I am a bit mystified by Larry Kart's comments. Since it is Larry Kart, with all of the great respect that he deserves, I am going to go back and listen carefully to my Tabackin on tenor albums in conjunction with a select group of my mountain of Rollins albums. However, it has never struck me before that Tabackin was a mere Rollins copier. I always thought that Tabackin had his own style.

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... it has never struck me before that Tabackin was a mere Rollins copier. I always thought that Tabackin had his own style.

I'm not saying that LT is a Rollins copier or that he's not readily recognizable as himself. Rather, my point is that LT incorporates into his own work (or used to incorporate -- I left the room some years ago, there's only so much time) a fair number of Rollins' most personal "emotive figures" -- those chortles, burps, guffaws etc. that every fan of vintage Rollins is familiar with. Further, as I tried to explain, those figures seem to me to be so personal to Rollins, especially in terms of the humorous/ironic role they played in his musical language as a whole, that their decorative use by other players just creeps me out, especially when it serves (as it almost always does) as a sign of how "heated" and "emotional" they are or are supposed to be at that point in their solo. So when you get all lathered up to the point where you are semi-overcome, you're moved to speak in/"borrow" Sonny's voice? Something about that ain't right IMO.

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I have to go listen to Lew's albums again. I can remember Lew emitting low burp like sounds in his tenor solos during concerts, but I must confess that I never linked them to Sonny Rollins. I thought that they were just weird sound choices by Lew, and not my favorite moments in his solos, by far. Maybe it all just flew right past me, which is possible. Maybe they were such poor Rollins imitations that they weren't obvious to me. As I said, some listening is in order on this point.

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Also, not to dig my toe in the ground, but the only cachet I think I should have or that I want to have is if what I'm saying seems interesting and makes sense. If it doesn't, there's no badge that will make it so.

To me, your badge is that so much of what you have written over the years has been interesting and has made sense, and you have a lot of experience with many artists which many of us lack.

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I hear this entire issue rather differently than Larry. Perhaps it is in part because the number of players who had a strong Coltrane influence seemed to number in the hundreds or maybe even thousands. For a while I got very tired of hearing countless tenor players doing their Trane thing. It was hard to get a sense of much, if any, individuality from many of them. It almost seemed as if they had been produced by a cookie cutter method and the goal was to make them all as much alike as possible. Of course, as time went on some players did emerge from the group and did begin to develop a bit of individuality.

I have made this point before, and there are those who clearly disagree, but I believe the Coltrane influence had a negative influence on many players. My best example is Harold Land. Land's playing with Clifford Brown, with the Curtis Counce Group, and on his own albums on Contemporary showed his own individual sound and phrasing. I considered it wonderful tenor work. Once the Trane influence hit him, Land no longer sounded the same. He lost that special Harold Land style, and became just one more tenor man who was overwhelmed by Coltrane.The recordings Land made with Bobby Hutcherson for Blue Note and a few other labels are examples of what I mean. Younger listeners who came to jazz via Coltrane or later will likely hear things differently. But I was listening to Harold Land before the huge Trane influence spread across the jazz horizon. Land is just one of many established players who, to my ears, lost a part of their individuality as a result of the impact Coltrane made on the jazz scene. Don't misunderstand, I love and respect a significant portion of John Coltrane's music. My concern was not with Coltrane's music, but rather with the way his music , in some ways, became a force throughout the jazz world.

With Rollins, the number of people who seem strongly influenced by him( in the sense that they sound a bit like him at times) is rather small. The players who I find to be very influenced by Sonny are Tabackin and Grant Stewart. Some of Steve Grossman's recordings also fall into that category. As an aside, I didn't at all care for Grossman's playing when he was one of the Trane disciples, but once he moved into a Rollins approach I found his playing highly enjoyable. Ralph Lalama strikes me as less directly influenced by Rollins compared to the others i just named. Ralph to my ears shows influence from Dexter, Rollins, and a smaller amount from Trane. Early Frank Foster on the Prestige sessions also has a bit of Rollins influence in his playing. In later years a Trane influence became evident in Foster's tenor work.

It is, of course a personal preference, but I find the players such as Tabackin, Grant Stewart and Steve Grossman to be among my favorite living tenor men. That early period Rollins style is one that grabs me deeply. Each of them brings their own personal essence to the music. I have heard Lew Tabackin live a few times recently and while the Rollins influence is definitely there, Lew also has a lot of Coleman Hawkins in his style, and even gets into a "free jazz' thing at times. Watching Lew Tabackin play is a special treat in itself. He gets extremely physical when he plays. Lew moves around constantly and his feet are never still for more than a brief second or two. Tabackin's entire physical and mental self seem to be strongly engaged when he is playing, and this seems to be very authentic, and by no means some sort of act for the audience.

Edited by Peter Friedman
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Interesting comments, Peter. I know exactly what you mean (I think) about Harold Land because I went through the same experience -- digging Land at the time when he was with Clifford and Max days, feeling that he had reached a peak of maturity and individuality with his recordings for Contemporary as a leader and sideman, then hearing how Trane broke over him like a huge wave, leaving him less individual and less satisfying than he had been before, though the arguable inevitability of what was going on here -- i.e. there was, I believe, nothing vogue-ish in Land's Trane fascination; something in Trane really spoke to him -- always made me want to hear later Land too, even though I preferred him in his "Harold In The Land of Jazz" and "The Fox" period.

About Rollins, though, my point still is -- and different people will hear and feel this differently -- that certain key aspects of Rollins' style are so damn personal (in part because in the drama of Rollin's solos, they're the most direct tokens of emotion; in part because Rollins often handles those tokens in a unique, humorous-ironic manner) that IMO they sound less than genuine and even rather creepy when they're coming out of other people's horns.

To explain further, here from my book are the liner notes I wrote (slightly modified at the very end) for the 1972 reissue of "Worktime":

Most jazz fans, myself included, tend to view the process of jazz creation in a dramatic, even romantic light. If the artistic product is turbulent, passionate, noble, etc., we feel that the circumstances surrounding its creation must have been similar in tone. As one has more contact with musicians, though, one discovers that it is rarely that simple--musical events that to the listener seem immensely dramatic may have been created in a casual, “let’s get the job done” manner. I mention this as a mild corrective, for if ever there was a recording that deserved the term “dramatic,” Worktime is it.

The situation was this: Sonny Rollins, who by 1954 had established himself as the best young tenorman in jazz, moved to Chicago for most of 1955 and “wood-shedded” (that apt jazz term for artistic self-examination). He emerged to join the Clifford Brown/Max Roach Quintet, and when he recorded Worktime on December 2, 1955, it was his first appearance on record since October 1954, when recorded as a sideman with Thelonious Monk.

“Worktime” was a dramatic and startling event, then and now, because it revealed that during his sabbatical Rollins had made a quantum jump in every area of musical procedure. He was no longer “the best young tenorman” but a major innovator whose achievements would have implications for the future course of jazz that have not yet been exhausted, either by himself or by all those he has influenced. Most obviously, there was an increase in rhythmic assurance and sonoric variety on Rollins’s part. But these and other seemingly technical gains were all in the service of a shift in sensibility, a unique attitude toward his material that had only been hinted at in his previous work.

I imagine that everyone who admires Rollins’s music has commented on its humorous quality, though there seems to be agreement that “humorous,” by itself, is not an adequate description. David Himmelstein has added the information that it is “the humor of inwit, of self-consciousness or, as Sonny once aptly put it, the consciousness of a generation nourished on ‘Lux -- you know, the Radio Theatre,’ ” and Max Harrison has given us the terms “sardonic” and “civilized irony.” But the best guide I have found to the sensibility that emerges on Worktime is a remarkable article by Terry Martin titled “Coleman Hawkins and Jazz Romanticism” that appeared in he October 1963 issue of Jazz Monthly. In commenting on Hawkins’s version of “Until the Real Thing Comes Along” (which can be heard on the album Soul ) Martin says that “the whole is a finely shaped drama. Dramatic structure may in fact point to the core of Hawkins’s art. He handles his materials with the ease and cunning of a great dramatist, and as with great drama the meaning may not correspond exactly with what the characters are made to say. It is the personae and the relations generated between them that contain the essence of the achievement.”

Much of this also applies to Rollins, though his kind of drama differs in form and content from Hawkins’s. A comparison between “Until the Real Thing Comes Along” and “There Are Such Things” from Worktime may show what the differences are. As Martin points out, one of Hawkins’s methods is to make an initial statement that is romantic in character and then juxtapose it with “highly emotive rhythmic figures” that eventually lead back to the original mood. It is as though he were saying, “Yes, romance does exist, but I want to show you the tough reality that lies underneath.” Structurally, Hawkins’s drama is double in effect but single in method--i.e., allowing for foreshadowing devices, he presents one personae at a time--while with Rollins the method as well as the final effect is double ( at the least). No statement is allowed to rest unqualified by him for more than a few measures, and often the very tone quality and accentuation with which a phrase is presented is felt as an ironic commentary upon it.

The implications of such an approach are numerous. For one, even though Rollins can retain and heighten the pattern of linear motivic evolution that was hailed enthusiastically by Gunther Schuller as “thematic improvising,” the effect of constant renewal produced by his simultaneous or near-simultaneous expression of multiple points of view is, I believe, the more radical and lasting development, for it enables the soloist to achieve an emotional complexity that before was largely the province of such orchestral masters as Duke Ellington, whose every band member is potentially a musical/dramatic character. Also, it opens the door to a new view of the jazz past, for the improviser can now range beyond the apparent boundaries of style and make use of any musical material that his taste for drama can assimilate.

Rollins’s frequent use of such unlikely vehicles as “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” “Sonny Boy,” “In a Chapel in the Moonlight,” “Wagon Wheels,” and “If You Were the Only Girl in the World” can be seen in this light--for while one wouldn’t swear that none of these pieces (and there are many more like them) appeals to Rollins on essentially musical grounds, it’s a safe bet that he is drawn to them because he likes to evoke, toy with, and comment upon their inherent strains of corniness, prettiness, and sentimentality . And by bringing orchestral/dramatic resources into the range of the individual soloist, Rollins may have given to jazz just the tool it needs to survive the apparent exhaustion of the emotional resources open to the improviser whose relationship to his material is one to one, which is what I think can be heard in the later work of John Coltrane.

The finest tracks on Worktime, for me, are “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” “Raincheck,” and “There Are Such Things.” Notice, in particular, the utterly unexpected insertion of the verse of “Show Business” (where Rollins is accompanied only by Morrow’s strong bass line) right after the theme statement. What results is quintessentially Rollins-esque, a compulsively swinging, serio-comic tour de force that at once embraces and bemusedly holds at arms’ length the flag-waving fact of Ethel Merman’s existence.

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I dunno man, Tabackin's definitely one of those "good players" afaic, guys who have mastered the instrument(s) (& Tabackin's flute playing is worthy of examination on its own terms, some very interesting, personal stuff going on there) who I just don't feel the need to invest too deeply in. But cracking on him for the Rollins "affectations", geez, that seems a little harsh. Seems to me that if you're going to be influenced by Rollins, then that's part & parcel of the deal. I've never found Tabackin's use of those elements in any way creepy, because he's always had other things in the mix as well (mostly the whole Byas-esque thing), so there was a level of dimensionality going on. And yes, he has continued to mature/refine his basic style over the years.

Grossman, otoh for example, can really creep me out sometimes by being so literally Sonny-esque, kinda like Harry Allen/Stan Getz on that BFT thing from a while back. And Grant Stewart has mostly just bored me because...it's not different enough to matter, and it's not literal enough to be creepy.

But Tabackin, hey I give props to the cat. He can play, and play well. And really, check out his flute work.

And relative to the whole Land/Grossman thing, has anybody heard the recently released side they recorded together a few years ago? It's really, really wierd - Grossman is totally like '56 Sonny, and Harold is all late-period Harold, and the sense of hearing a younger guy play, and I mean really play. an older style like it's BRAND SPANKIN' NEW alonside an older guy who was there and did it when it actually was is sorta discombobbulatin' and/or :rfr:rfr:rfr

But again - if you want to hear Tabackin at his most personal/intimate/original/whatever, check him out on flute. That's where you can feel the love for Toshiko, and how much more personal/intimate/original/whatever can you get than that?

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I dunno man, Tabackin's definitely one of those "good players" afaic, guys who have mastered the instrument(s) (& Tabackin's flute playing is worthy of examination on its own terms, some very interesting, personal stuff going on there) who I just don't feel the need to invest too deeply in. But cracking on him for the Rollins "affectations", geez, that seems a little harsh. Seems to me that if you're going to be influenced by Rollins, then that's part & parcel of the deal. I've never found Tabackin's use of those elements in any way creepy, because he's always had other things in the mix as well (mostly the whole Byas-esque thing), so there was a level of dimensionality going on. And yes, he has continued to mature/refine his basic style over the years.

Grossman, otoh for example, can really creep me out sometimes by being so literally Sonny-esque, kinda like Harry Allen/Stan Getz on that BFT thing from a while back. And Grant Stewart has mostly just bored me because...it's not different enough to matter, and it's not literal enough to be creepy.

But Tabackin, hey I give props to the cat. He can play, and play well. And really, check out his flute work.

And relative to the whole Land/Grossman thing, has anybody heard the recently released side they recorded together a few years ago? It's really, really wierd - Grossman is totally like '56 Sonny, and Harold is all late-period Harold, and the sense of hearing a younger guy play, and I mean really play. an older style like it's BRAND SPANKIN' NEW alonside an older guy who was there and did it when it actually was is sorta discombobbulatin' and/or :rfr:rfr:rfr

But again - if you want to hear Tabackin at his most personal/intimate/original/whatever, check him out on flute. That's where you can feel the love for Toshiko, and how much more personal/intimate/original/whatever can you get than that?

OK -- I'm going on what I've heard from LT many years ago, around the time of his album with Warne and the stuff with Toshiko's orchestra of that vintage. That was my reaction at the time to a fair amount of the LT I heard then; and it was sufficiently strong to make me not want to go there anymore. I'll take your word that LT's grown over the years. What in particular of his later work would you recommend?

Your Land/Grossman experience is a wonderful example of the hall of mirrors that people of our vintage(s) can find ourselves in -- not to mention the halls through which the players themselves were moving. A somewhat forgotten figure in this general stylistic realm was Sal Nistico, who got ----ed up in the usual ways and went off to Europe, dying much too young in 1991. Sal remained Sal always (Rollins going back toward Ammons a bit were his roots, I think), and he got deeper and better over time. There's a fine, really soulful 1988 album of him with an Italian rhythm section, "Empty Room" (Red).

Speaking of LT and Toshiko, a perhaps odd little story. I heard the band in a club in Chicago in the early to mid-1980s and didn't much care for her writing. To me it sounded kind of "off"-busy, if you know what I mean -- as though she were just laying "blowing"-type lines on top of each other without that much of a sense of how things were going to work out in orchestral terms (vertically in particular). That problem, if indeed it is/was one, was highlighted when the band played a chart that Frank Wess had written for them. Yes, his style and goals were somehat different from Toshiko's, but it was remarkable to hear, cheek to jowl, how well his writing worked in both the linear and vertical dimensions versus (IMO) Toshiko's at times cluttered awkwardness in the latter realm. So I wrote about that in a review and a few days later got a letter from none other that Bill Russo, who had been in the audience that night, saying that he'd long felt that way about Toshiko's writing and was glad that somebody had finally said it. Of course, Russo was or could be an edgy, cranky, highly opinionated guy, but it struck me as interesting that he would feel that way.

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I enjoy all of Lew's Concord CD's from the late 80's through the mid 90's. Without looking, I believe they are:

Desert Lady

I'll Be Seeing You

What a Little Moonlight Can Do

Tenority

The first three each have a couple of flute tracks, while the last one is obviously"all tenor" ( or mostly - I don't think it has a flute track). It also has the most variety in group formats (ie, trio and a couple of quartets).

I personally don't think you'll notice a whole lot of difference from Lew's earlier recordings, though I think his style may have become a little "smoother" in a way, and not quite so dependant on the typical Roliins-esque exaggerations and mannerisms you have mentioned.

FWIW, I am a big fan of Lew Tabakin's playing.

I once read a review of Toshiko's big band writing which said that though she was a masterful writer for reeds, she never had the same sense of sureness and skill with the brass. I believe that's right, and one of her last big band CD's called, I think, "Hiroshima - Up From the Abyss" is a confirmation of that observation.

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