Watch What You’re Doing—especially if you’re a jazz fan and fail to pick up this new release by groove master Herlin Riley, the 42-year-old New Orleanian drummer who has propelled Wynton Marsalis’ music since 1988, and who previously played in Ahmad Jamal’s renowned trio. Riley’s long overdue debut as a leader features invigorating original compositions, a top notch band in peak form and, of course, a healthy dose of gourmet groove.
Deep roots flavor everything Riley plays (he learned the traditional New Orleans parade beat from his grandfather, Frank Lastie, who once played with a pre-teen Louis Armstrong in 1913), but this record highlights new expressions and traditional elements given a fresh spin, enhanced by Riley’s modern perspective.
The title cut, for example, opens with Riley’s take on Smokey Johnson’s signature intro to “It Ain’t My Fault,” then segues to a supple second-line suggesting Vernell Fournier’s “Poinciana Beat,” with Victor Goines wailing a Dew Drop-esque melody on baritone sax. Then the song shifts into modern swing with a bass solo by Rodney Whitaker and pulsing, intricate piano work by Farid Barron. This captivating journey—from street parade to classic New Orleans R&B to cutting edge Village Vanguard sophistication and back again—is what makes this record as a whole such a thrill ride.
All of the compositions are Riley originals, except for “John Lewis,” a ballad designed by Whitaker to feature his haunting arco bass. Remarkably, Riley’s tunes, such as “New York Walk” (which gets hot during the mid-form tempo change), “Soscalalah Blues” (which sounds like Art Blakey by way of Treme) and “Sunshine In My Pocket” (an almost serene exploration with a tango-like bass line), possess not only irrepressible grooves but intoxicating melodies. Often, the melody is stated through an amusing call and response between trombonist Wycliffe Gordon, who masterfully uses the Harmon mute to create diverse evocative expressions, and Goines, who plays baritone, tenor, soprano sax and clarinet on the record. Their polyphonic, conversational improvisations suggest the exuberance of the classic New Orleans-style ensemble, while employing a thoroughly modern vocabulary.
“Blood Groove,” the albums’ closer, is a fast-paced elaboration on a rhythmic figure Riley used on Wynton Marsalis’ Blood on the Fields. It starts minimally, with just bass drum and cymbal, then Riley builds upward on his kit, adding layers of percussive syncopation in a dialogue with Whitaker’s bass as the other players state the melody. Riley’s explosive mid-song solo, like the other drum solos on this record, is a marvelous display of taste and skill. He does in a minute what other drummers do in five, evoking a wide range of textures and timbres, embellishing the groove and melody in a narrative fashion (“telling a story” with the solo), playing fast and dense but with relaxed poise, and never loses touch with the danceable spirit of his music. Like all truly masterful drummers, he is someone who can quicken your pulse without quickening the tempo.
