Rich Perry - East of the Sun and West of Second Avenue

Steeplechase 31558

Not so long ago the question of influences was a common supposition in jazz. Record sleeve scribes weren’t the least bit shy about asking their subjects who had shaped their sounds and how. Ira Gitler was (in)famous for it, grilling Paul Chambers on his affinity for Oscar Pettiford or pressing Philly “Joe” Jones on his debt to Kenny “Klook” Clarke. These days influence doesn’t carry the same cachet. Players seem more reticent about admitting the presence of elders’ fingerprints in their own personal art. Perhaps it has something to do with the music’s long history of precedence, or maybe with the near constant drive to carve out a niche.

Regular Steeplechase liner librettist Mark Gardner doesn’t cross-examine him on the subject, but something tells me saxophonist Rich Perry wouldn’t have much compunction about coming clean in the face of such questioning. His sound and style are steeped in the past, but with a method of phrasing highly cognizant of postbop vicissitudes. The closest proximity my ears can come up with are of tail end Prestige Trane tempered with the relaxed pneumatic diction of late period Pres. There’s also something of Warne Marsh’s punctilious way of voicing a melodic line. Perry’s periscope lenses these roots lucidly and without the least bit of timidity.

Perry’s a representative of what I’m coming to call the Steeplechase school of quiet fecundity. Nine albums as a leader over the last decade with a steady one-a-year schedule except for a brief hiatus between 98’ and 99’. Add another eighteen or so sessions as a sideman to this number and the proof that Perry’s been an in-demand man for much of his career becomes plainly visible. Posts prior to his mutually-beneficial sojourn at the label included tenures brief and lengthy with the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis big band, Jack McDuff, Tom Harrell and Machito. The diversity of these past employers pegs him again as a man comfortable in many stylistic suits.

His tenth outing for the Danish label looks pretty unassuming on the surface. Old compadres Harold Danko and Jeff Hirshfield handle keys and trap kit respectively with the youthful John Hebert, most recently of Andrew Hill’s ensemble, assuming the bass chair. There’s also the usual Steeplechase focus on a cherry picked cache of classic standards rendered in crystalline studio sound. These are all but petty particulars to a set of music that from the start welcomes with a laidback focus on arch melody and interplay.

Perry limits all of the nine pieces in the six to seven minute range, just enough space and uniformity for pithy solo and ensemble statements without turning longwinded. His lush voicing on his old mentor Thad Jones’ “Yours and Mine” fits like a satin headrest cushioning the cranium in a cottony stream of notes. The group works a similar magic with “The Touch of Your Lips.” Harold Arlen’s “My Shining Hour” advances at an accelerated tempo, Perry engaging Hirshfield in a mercurial string of exchanges before the Danko assumes the lead in a flurry of elegant chords.

Danko plays a bit too pretty some of the time, his prodigious blemish-free technique overshadowing his more spontaneous impulses, but Perry seems spot on for practically the entire program. Hebert and Hirshfield hang back, filling in the cracks but leaving the spotlight largely to the ivories and sax. The occasional solo from each, as during the bassist’s supple demulcent improvisation on Mal Waldron’s “Soul Eyes” are unexpected pleasures. At the very least this disc has planted the abiding desire to revisit his past output squarely between my ears. With several dozen Perry discs in the racks there’s certainly plenty to choose from.

~ Derek Taylor