At the end of the seventh album on this list (no spoilers), the voice of poet and philosopher Thomas Stanley rises over a crash of drums and saxophone, offering a darkly optimistic view of the state of jazz. “In the end, perhaps it’s good that the people have abandoned jazz, replaced it with musical products better suited to the designs of capitalism,” he muses. “Now jazz is leaping up like Lazarus, if we allow it to, to rediscover itself as a living music.”
Jazz is rising again, to be sure – but not always where we expect it to, and certainly not in any predictable form. Some of the artists below wouldn’t call the music they make jazz at all. Perhaps we don’t need to either. Let’s just call these albums what they are, each in their own way: breakthroughs, bold experiments and – despite all that surrounds us – reasons for hope.
1. Cécile McLorin Salvant, “Ghost Song
Best known as a brilliant interpreter of twentieth-century songs, Cécile McLorin Salvant has never made an album as rich in original melodies, or as stylistically adventurous, as this one. Her voice soars above an Andrew Lloyd Webber-level pipe organ one moment, and settles warmly into a combo featuring banjo, flute and percussion the next.
2. Immanuel Wilkins, “The 7th Hand”
With his quartet, Wilkins shows that sloping rhythms, extended harmony and acoustic instruments – the “blend of idea, tone and imagination” that, for Ralph Ellison, defined jazz over 50 years ago – can still speak to listeners in the present.
Fred Moten, Brandon López and Gerald Cleaver, ‘Moten/López/Cleaver’.
It’s a shame that hearing the voice of poet and theorist Fred Moten on record is such a rare pleasure. On “Moten/López/Cleaver”, his debut album, accompanied by Gerald Cleaver’s silent, rolling drums and Brandon López’s ink-black bass, Moten seeks nothing less than a comprehensive interrogation of how black knowledge systems have been stripped and cast aside, yet regenerated.
3. Fred Moten, Brandon López and Gerald Cleaver, “Medium/López/Cleaver”
It’s a shame that hearing the voice of poet and theorist Fred Moten on record is such a rare pleasure. On “Moten/López/Cleaver”, his debut album, accompanied by Gerald Cleaver’s silent, rolling drums and Brandon López’s ink-black bass, Moten seeks nothing less than a comprehensive interrogation of how black knowledge systems have been stripped and cast aside, and yet regenerated.
4. Anteloper, “Pink Dolphins”
The world of creative music has yet to recover from the passing of Jaimie Branch, the groundbreaking trumpeter who died in August at the age of 39. “Pink Dolphins” is the second album from Anteloper, her electroacoustic duo with drummer Jason Nazary, and it shows what Branch was all about: a pure sound, the salt of the earth, with a generous spirit.
5. David Virelles, “Nuna
Whether delving into the dark recesses of dissonance at the lower end of the keyboard or integrating a courtly dance rhythm into an otherwise sparse improvisation, pianist David Virelles pays attention to detail at every level. He clearly listens to his peers: Matt Mitchell, Jason Moran, Kris Davis. He draws on modernism and its malcontents: Morton Feldman, Olivier Messaien, Thelonious Monk. He draws heavily on Cuban folk traditions: Changüi, Abakuá, danzón. And on “Nuna”, his first solo piano album, he spreads all this out over 88 keys.
6. Samara Joy, “Linger Awhile”
“Linger Awhile” is a rite of passage: a big-brand debut album by the book, where you see what you can do. Fortunately, Samara Joy’s harmonic ideas are sufficiently fascinating and her voice so infectious that it doesn’t feel like an exercise. On “Nostalgia”, try not to smile as you hear the lyrics she wrote to the melody of Fats Navarro’s 1947 trumpet solo, while shaking your head at his request.
Best known as a brilliant interpreter of twentieth-century songs, Cécile McLorin Salvant has never made an album as rich in original melodies, nor as stylistically adventurous, as this one. Her voice soars over an Andrew Lloyd Webber-level pipe organ one moment, and settles warmly into a combo featuring banjo, flute and percussion the next.
8. Moor Mother, “Jazz Codes
With “Jazz Codes”, poet and electronic artist Camae Ayewa declares her love for the lineage of jazz, and voices some concerns. On “Woody Shaw”, set to the hypnotic vocals of Melanie Charles, Ayewa laments the confinement of this music within white institutions; on “Barely Woke”, she turns her attention to culture in general: “If only we could wake up with a little more urgency/State of emergency/But I barely feel awake”.
9. Angelica Sanchez Trio, “Sparkle Beings
Avant-garde pianist Angelica Sanchez leads a star-studded new trio here, with bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Billy Hart, letting the melodies explode in her hand and locking in – tightly but not too tightly – with Hart’s drums.
10. Makaya McCraven, “In These Times”
Chicago-based drummer and producer Makaya McCraven spent years recording, assembling and fleshing out the tracks that appear on “In These Times”. Blending plucked harp, elastic guitar, serpentine bass lines, brass, drums and more, he has created an enveloping sonic image not far removed from a classic David Axelrod production or a 1970s Curtis Mayfield album without the vocal track.
11. Samora Pinderhughes, “Grief”
Part of a larger multimedia work, the original songs on “Grief” are drawn from over 100 interviews that pianist, singer and activist Samora Pinderhughes conducted with people whose lives have been affected by the criminal justice system. Blending gospel harmonies, quivering post-hip-hop instrumentals and wounded ballads, the music shudders with indignation and vision.