The self-titled Paul Jeffrey album (Mainstream Records, 1974, catalog MRL 406) is a groovy, funky-leaning jazz session from tenor saxophonist Paul Jeffrey, who was better known for his big-band work (including stints with Thelonious Monk and Dizzy Gillespie) than for his relatively sparse leader dates. This one lands in the heart of Mainstream's early-'70s phase, when the label was leaning hard into soul-jazz, funk, and electric-tinged crossover sounds—think Bob Porter's production style with a big ensemble and a rhythm section that doesn't mind getting a little greasy. The lineup here is stacked with West Coast heavy hitters: Jeffrey on tenor sax, backed by players like Jay Migliori (baritone), Blue Mitchell (trumpet), and a rhythm section featuring folks who could swing or funk on command. Sonically, it's classic Mainstream: the bass can feel a tad rubbery and upfront (a frequent complaint about the label's engineering), but the horns cut through nicely, and Jeffrey's tone is warm and full without being overly aggressive. It's not revolutionary—more like a solid, enjoyable entry in the soul-jazz/funk-jazz bag of the era—but it grooves consistently and avoids the cheesier pitfalls that some contemporaries fell into. If you're into the likes of Rusty Bryant, Charles Earland's funkier sides, or even early-'70s Prestige dates, this fits right in. In a world where every other 1974 jazz album seemed obligated to include at least one wah-wah guitar solo, Paul Jeffrey keeps it relatively restrained—bless him for not turning this into "Funkocalypse Now." The result is listenable without requiring a PhD in fusion tolerance. Overall, a solid 7.5/10 (or 3.5 stars if you're feeling vinyl-traditionalist). Underrated in Jeffrey's small discography, definitely worth a spin if you dig that funky Mainstream vibe, but don't expect mind-bending innovation—just good, toe-tapping fun from a player who knew his way around a tenor. If it ever pops up in a reissue bin, snag it; the original vinyl has that nice early-'70s gatefold charm.

O'Donel Levy's Windows (Groove Merchant, 1976, GM-3313) is a late-period gem from the Baltimore-born guitarist who could make his axe sound like it was dipped in butter and then rolled through a funk factory. This was Levy's sixth (and final) album for Groove Merchant before the label faded, and it's a prime slice of mid-'70s jazz-funk that sits comfortably between George Benson's smoother fusion moves and the grittier, street-level grooves of folks like Grant Green or early Grover Washington Jr. The lineup features Levy's clean, melodic guitar front and center, backed by a tight crew including his brother Stafford Levy on drums (family business!), Gary Grainger on bass, and production/engineering that gives it that warm, analog punch (Tony Bongiovi at the boards—yes, that Bongiovi). Clocking in around 35 minutes across six tracks, it's concise and doesn't overstay its welcome. Track rundown: It's classic '70s jazz-funk: bold string arrangements add a cinematic, almost blaxploitation flair at points, the bass is fat and forward, and Levy's tone is warm and singing without ever dipping into fusion excess. Comparisons to Benson are inevitable (they toured together), but Levy has a bluesier, earthier edge—less polished yacht, more street-corner soul. In an era when every guitarist seemed contractually obligated to unleash a 12-minute solo odyssey about inner space, Levy keeps his solos concise and melodic. It's like he showed up to the fusion party, had one drink, played some gorgeous lines, and left before anyone started arguing about modes. Respect. Underrated even among Groove Merchant devotees, it's a great entry point to Levy's catalog if you dig that sweet spot where jazz meets funk without losing either soul. Spin it on a sunny afternoon with the windows open... appropriately enough.

O'Donel Levy's Time Has Changed (LRC Records, 1977, LRC-9319; also tied to Groove Merchant/Lester Radio vibes) is the guitarist's slick late-'70s pivot into smoother, more produced jazz-funk territory—think the era when disco was creeping into every corner and even jazz cats were told to add a little gloss. This was Levy's final major statement before stepping back, and it's got that big-studio sheen: strings, punchy rhythms, occasional vocals, and O'Donel's always-melodic guitar holding the center like a cool uncle at the family reunion who still knows how to dance. The core band includes Levy on guitar (of course), with Stafford Levy (his brother) likely involved in the drum chair somewhere in the family network, plus pros like Jimmy Maelen on percussion, George Young on flute/saxes, Aleta Green adding vocal touches, and engineering that aims for radio-friendly polish. Bigger production than Levy's earlier Groove Merchant rawness, with a touch more fusion gloss and disco-adjacent beats, but Levy's tone stays warm, bluesy, and never overly slick. It's smoother than Windows but still has that earthy Baltimore soul underneath. Comparisons to George Benson's commercial turn or early Pat Metheny come up, but Levy keeps a funkier, less yachty edge. By 1977, "sophisticated disco" was basically code for "we added strings and a click track so the kids will buy it." Levy delivers without fully selling out—it's like he showed up to the disco in a tuxedo jacket over his usual jeans, played a few tasteful solos, then politely excused himself before the mirror ball dropped. It's his most polished album, sometimes criticized for being too slick compared to his grittier earlier work, but if you dig that transitional jazz-funk-disco sweet spot (think Benson's Breezin' era with a bit more street). Play it loud on a summer night; time may have changed, but good grooves haven't.

Wendell Harrison and Phil Ranelin's A Message From The Tribe is the spiritual jazz cornerstone from Detroit's Tribe collective—co-founders Harrison (tenor sax, clarinet, vibes) and Ranelin (trombone) teaming up for what was essentially the label's launch statement. This "Complete Edition" gathers the original split-LP material (Harrison's side, Ranelin's side), plus extended/full takes, alternate mixes, and bonus tracks pulled from the multitrack masters—often remixed/remastered under the artists' supervision in recent years for that crisp, deep-groove clarity. True Detroit underground: conscious, modal, Afro-centric spiritual jazz with heavy percussion, righteous horns, and a revolutionary undercurrent that nods to the Black Power era without preaching. The core lineup features Tribe heavyweights like Charles Moore (trumpet/flugelhorn), Marcus Belgrave (trumpet), Harold McKinney or others on keys/percussion, and a rhythm section that locks in like family. Around 40-50+ minutes depending on the edition, but the expanded versions add depth without filler. remixed from original tapes (shoutout Bernie Grundman cuts on some vinyl), the bass is thunderous, horns have bite, and the spiritual percussion (congas, bells) floats in the mix without mud. It's rawer than mainstream fusion of the era—less electric gloss, more acoustic fire and message. Think Strata-East or early Black Jazz, but with Detroit's gritty soul. In the '70s, while everyone else was chasing disco or fusion fireworks, Tribe dropped this like a manifesto whispered in a basement cipher—deep, committed, and zero interest in crossing over to the Top 40. It's the jazz equivalent of showing up to the party with a pamphlet instead of a disco ball. And somehow, it grooves harder for it. One of the greatest Tribe releases, now fully realized in these complete editions—underrated no more, thanks to Now-Again and reissue waves. If you're into Pharoah Sanders' spiritual side, Doug Carn, or the Motor City's jazz underground, this is holy grail stuff.

1976 jazz fusion gem from the mysteriously short-lived band Mixed Bag on the legendary Tribe label out of Detroit. This was their debut... and spoiler alert: also their finale. One and done, like a musical mic drop that nobody quite caught. Picture this: It's the mid-70s, the air is thick with post-bop ambition and Herbie Hancock-style electric dreams. Eddie Russ (the keyboard wizard who also produced) rounds up a crew of lesser-known but seriously talented players, and they cook up six tracks of funky, soulful, Latin-tinged fusion that somehow manages to sound both dated-in-the-best-way and timelessly groovy. Standouts? "La Margarita" kicks things off like a cocktail party that got way too funky — 8 minutes of percolating percussion, buttery keys, and horns that strut like they own the block. It's the kind of opener that makes you wonder why this band didn't conquer the world (or at least Detroit's better lounges). "I Wish" brings the dreamy side — smooth as melted chocolate, with solos that float like they're on vacation. Then there's "Ziaus" and "Shark", which lean harder into that righteous soul-jazz pocket. Imagine if Weather Report chilled out, invited some Motown vibes, and forgot to take themselves too seriously. The whole thing is a perfect "mixed bag" — some upbeat Latin flavors, some mellow post-bop ballads, a dash of funk. Not revolutionary, but deliciously competent and warm. Collectors and jazz fusion crate-diggers lost their minds when it got a nice reissue treatment around 2021 (shoutout to those limited pressings that look gorgeous and sound crisp). This album is the musical equivalent of showing up to a potluck with an incredible dish... and then never coming back to another one. "Hey guys, we nailed it on take one—peace out forever!" The band name is hilariously on-the-nose: it's literally a mixed bag of styles, and they only bothered to drop one bag before vanishing into obscurity. Respect the commitment to the bit, I guess. If you're into 70s jazz fusion that's more about vibe than virtuosic fireworks, hunt this down. It's obscure enough to make you feel cool when you play it, but good enough that your friends won't mock you (much). Solid 4/5 stars — loses a point only because they teased us with greatness and then ghosted like a bad Tinder date.

It’s arguable whether an essential record like Belonging (ECM, 1974) by the great pianist Keith Jarrett truly needs a full reinterpretation, but saxophonist Branford Marsalis takes on the challenge without straying far from the original themes and feel. If anyone is equipped to explore Jarrett’s legacy, it’s certainly Marsalis, joined here by his stellar working quartet—pianist Joey Calderazzo, bassist Eric Revis, and drummer Justin Faulkner. This sharply focused quartet brings ample vision and improvisatory flair to every track, making for a bold yet rewarding venture. In a record that carries undeniable risk, Marsalis and his band ultimately pull off a gutsy triumph.

Rosenwinkel's compositions emphasize a language that is his own, inimitable and unique. The arrangements by Carlos Azevedo and Pedro Guedes are shaped around this singular voice, respecting its essence, giving it body and enjoying the vast sound palette provided by the big band, but without stripping it of its identity. It's a delicate balance finally reflected in this edition of “Our Secret World Live At CARA”.

If you like R&B performed to near perfection and extremely tight playing; buy this CD out, as this is undoubtedly the Stuff.

On his debut Peacock (and all trio) shows still very first, but already significant signs of musical style he will become famous for. Excellent example of creative modern jazz of early 70s, comparing with Peacock later more matured works music here is less chamber, less polished and more lively.

The album is very well recorded, with sensational sound quality. I haven't had the opportunity to compare it with a regular CD, but Japanese recordings always provide greater sound depth.

Isao Suzuki's Blow Up is virtuosity and class all rolled up into one. A great combination of upbeat blues and mellow grooves!

It is an excellent jazz record, made at a time when jazz as it was known in the 1950's and 1960's was a memory. And that it sounds current today is a testament in itself to its quality.

The trio sounds better than ever, simply magical!! Wonderful music recorded in outstanding quality!!

Years from now, this trio will still be held in great esteem as one of the greatest piano trios ever to perform. That was well established on the first two Trilogy projects. Trilogy 3 is just further proof.

If your Japanese jazz collection is lacking a little, you might want to pick up Orang-Utan. It is a session of thoughtful, explorative free jazz that leans at times into fusion flavours.

Girl Talk is an essential listen for jazz enthusiasts, celebrated for its groundbreaking sound engineering and the profound artistry of the Tsuyoshi Yamamoto Trio.

Stan Getz at his best. This live album is a classic. And having it on SACD is a big plus. Great sound for these classic songs.

There's nothing quite like hearing a group of master musicians (and friends) getting together and just having a good blow. Steve Gadd really gets up for this.

A stunning presentation of one of the most beloved acoustic albums of the 21st century. The UHQCD format is a perfect match for Norah Jones intimate vocal style.

You really cant go wrong with Blowup, Misty, and Midnight Sugar. Tsuyoshi Yamamoto and Isao Suzuki are always worth listening to, but these sessions are amazing 1970's Japanese Jazz artefacts. The SACD and Vinyl are the best way to listen to this, although if you only have CD there is nothing wrong with that version either. The warm analogue feel of the SACD layer is amazing. Who said SACD is dead?