Mary Lou Williams - A Grand Night for Swinging

HighNote 7180

Pianist Mary Lou Williams prided herself in the assertion that she played jazz of all eras. Jaki Byard plied a similar time-traveling approach, but Williams had an edge in that she was actually alive to witness the emergence of most of the source seeds. The two also differed in how they translated the lineage to performance. Byard was prone to rampant eclecticism and mercurial leaps in technique, his solo sorties often following stream-of-conscious trajectories that sometimes sacrificed coherence in pursuit of spontaneity. By comparison, Williams was often more measured and convention-minded in her improvisations, pausing to read from each stylistic page before flipping to the next, while keeping creative momentum intact.

This concert set recorded in Buffalo, New York during the winter of ’76 visits her in a gregarious mood. Sound quality is praiseworthy with some slight tape hiss audible, but hardly intrusive. Bassist Ronnie Boykins and drummer Roy Haynes may seem like left field sideman choices on paper, particularly the former with his long tenure under the avant-oriented aegis of the Sun Ra. But that duty actually works in Boykins’ favor considering Ra’s celebratory attitude toward older jazz forms. Oddly enough, it turns out that he was Williams’ regular bassist at the time. Both men work well together, responding to Williams’ regular forays back to stride and swing forms and pushing back with vernaculars of more recent vintage. “Baby Man”, a blues borrowed from saxophonist John Stubblefield’s songbook, even finds the three dipping into freeish territory.

Two rollicking versions of the Billy Taylor-scripted title tune bracket the set. Haynes hits hard with brushes on the first and sticks on the second, swinging the beat alongside Boykins’ striding bass line in support of Williams’ staccato investigations of the theme. “I Can’t Get Started” and “My Funny Valentine” scale back speed for detail, the first awash in rhapsodic rolls while the second limns a melancholic conversation between the two ends of the keyboard. Williams deploys jaunty block chords and barrelhouse flourishes on “Bag’s Blues” and “St. Louis Blues”, jovially goading Haynes on the former piece to the point that he falters slightly in their closing volley of exchanges. It’s those minor mistakes made in the service of upping the energy ante that make the date so replete with risk and vibrancy. Besides, the percussion-centric reading of “Caravan” redeems any of the drummer’s lost pride and accomplishes the near impossible of presenting a fresh spin on the mothball-scented tune. Williams’ audible declaration of “Greatest Drummer in the World” doesn’t hurt Haynes’ ego either.

High Note’s last Williams archival release found the pianist stopping just past the bop marker. Thanks in large part to the proclivities of her sidemen, she pushes past that boundary here, validating her vaunted claim of inclusiveness and delivering an exemplary program of music in the process.

~ Derek Taylor