Hadley And Gluanne Ricerace

Hadley Caliman recorded a few albums in the 1970s, then didn't record as a leader for several decades until after retiring from his teaching job, then came a series of CDs issued by Origin, of which this is the third. This reunion with fellow tenor saxophonist Pete Christlieb marks their first opportunity to play together since the mid-'60s, aside from one brief meeting in the 40-plus-year stretch leading up to this record date. Many two-tenor sax sessions end up being battles, but the two veterans are old friends who aren't trying to top one another and instead focus on inspiring each other's playing. The potent rhythm section includes pianist Bill Anschell, bassist Chuck Deardorf, and drummer John Bishop, all seasoned players who provide excellent support throughout the date. There's plenty of fire in the rousing workout of "Love for Sale." The very deliberate setting of "I Thought About You" features some of Caliman's most powerful solo work, while the two tenor men have a ball in the loping treatment of Freddie Hubbard's timeless jazz waltz "Up Jumped Spring." The bulk of the CD features strong original compositions. Caliman contributed the vibrant "Comencia," blending a slight Afro-Cuban flavor in a brisk bop vehicle, as well as the hypnotic "Gala," which proves to be the most dramatic performance of the session.

I am not an automatic fan of composer-led recordings, even when the composer is as great a conductor as Leonard Bernstein. However, after living with this newcomer for a while, I have to confess that it doesn’t quite match that classic version, even though it does a few things even better. On the plus side, there’s Kent Nagano’s swift and perky direction of some of the music-theater numbers, such as “God Said”, “World Without End”, and in general all of the music in and around the Gloria. But this can be a two-edged sword: The mechanized Credo has less impact than it could; a very quick tempo at the opening of the Agnus Dei prevents the chorus from ever sounding really angry and demanding; and the calamitous Dona Nobis Pacem simply lacks the bluesy sleaze that Bernstein himself wrings out of it. A slower tempo also would have allowed the music’s many layers to register with greater clarity.