As the title implies, drummer Sawyer and trumpeter Mayfield are two young men in their twenties who possess clear artistic vision. For this high pressure live recording date at a renowned New York jazz club, they wisely hired two exceptional sidemen, pianist Jacky Terrason and bassist Rodney Whitaker, and chose mostly classic material which would allow their talents to shine bright. Then they got up on the bandstand and, with a remarkable lack of self-consciousness, played their hearts out. The resulting music lacks the pristine, technical flawlessness found on most jazz records these days, but there is a raw vitality, harkening back to early, roughly hewn bop sessions, which makes it considerably worthwhile.
The centerpiece is a long rendition of “Night In Tunisia,” with an intro and cadenza that features Mayfield playing a duo with Sawyer on congas (rather than his regular drum kit). Mayfield often calls this song on gigs with Los Hombres Calientes (with whom Sawyer occasionally sits in when Jason Marsalis is unavailable), mainly because it provides an excellent showcase for his spicy, restless trumpet style. One moment he’s playing soft and sweet and the next he’s hard and edgy, blowing a succession of fast, choppy runs, punctuated by sudden, wide-open blasts of hot, wet sound, then he’ll switch to a choked, muted staccato which gradually slows down until he’s squeezing out each note one by one for maximum tension. Many of these devices are also used by New Orleans trumpeters from the previous generation like Wynton Marsalis and Terence Blanchard, but Mayfield sacrifices some of their fluidity and tonal purity in favor of a hungry expressiveness.
Either on congas or a full kit, Sawyer’s playing possesses similar fire. His solo on “Four” is animated and dense, and on “Sticks & Hats,” he brings down the house with an extraordinarily syncopated solo using only his hi-hat and sticks. Terrason is also in particularly good form, especially during his moody, searching solos on “Sandu,” “Con Alma” and the ballad “Stella by Starlight.”
The album’s surprising highlight comes at the end. After six standard compositions, the band dives into “Shell,” a “free” tune that seems to lack chord changes or any established melody besides a short riff which resurfaces in various guises. Fortunately, there is constant tempo, so Sawyer’s drums and Whitaker’s propulsive bass retain momentum as Mayfield and Terrason free associate ideas amidst atonal phrasings. It’s like gravity has suddenly been turned off, but rather than floating apart, the music seems to fall into shape, like water filling an elaborately shaped jug. The song is unpredictable and exciting, and foreshadows more adventurous things to come from Sawyer and Mayfield.
