This latest posthumous release by the good Professor was recorded, according to the liner notes, “in Europe in the 70s.” A little detective work has pinpointed the year as probably l978 (Fess toured Yerp with horns only twice, in l978 and l979); the sidemen are most likely Andy Kaslow and Len Price on saxes, Uganda Roberts on percussion, Ronald Johnson on guitar, and Earl Gordon on drums. The bass chair is still a mystery, though George Porter and Reggie Scanlan have been cited as possibilities.
Unfortunately, deciphering the sidemen proved more interesting than sampling the album itself. Like every other posthumous Fess release it suffers from familiarity; every tune here has been recorded better elsewhere, either on “Crawfish Fiesta” or “The Last Mardi Gras.” The recording quality for this kind of affair is better than average, and Fess does some fine vocalizing. But there’s nothing new here.
James Booker’s latest is another story. Recorded in Switzerland in l978, this CD is the “soundtrack” of a videotaped Montreux Jazz Festival performance, one that local audiences may have seen at one of Russell Rocke’s “Booker Nights” during Jazzfest. The Piano Prince is at the peak of his powers here, and there are at least three tunes not available on Booker’s other releases: a wonderful “I Saw Her Standing There,” an all-too-short “Penny Lane,” and a riveting take on “True,” a neglected ballad by the New Orleans clarinettist Louis Cottrell. There’s also a terrific solo performance of the Booker original “Pixie,” (first recorded on Booker’s debut LP, Junco Partner) and a very brief solo medley of “Pretty Baby” and “Winin’ Boy Blues.”
Things go downhill fast when James is joined by three bludgeoning sidemen. They run through five tunes Booker recorded better on other albums, plus two virgin recordings of two fairly forgettable originals, “The Grass Looks Greener” and “The Long Last Laugh.”
Booker zealots will definitely want this disc, and the average fan won’t be disappointed. Even with the inappropriate sidemen pounding away, Booker’s manic musicality shines through.
