Herbie Hancock's V.S.O.P. project with his former bandmates from the Miles Davis Quintet – Ron Carter, Wayne Shorter, Tony Williams – and trumpeter Freddie Hubbard was a band that almost single-handedly tried to re-establish acoustic jazz in the United States. And though they made three recordings, all of which were favorably reviewed and heralded by true jazz fans, none of them sold very well, and the band could find few gigs in the United States. The 1978 tour of major cities was thought to be a triumph at the time, but the unit could find few gigs afterward, and so its various members all went back to their other projects. In 1979, they got the opportunity to tour Japan and jumped at the chance. Sony, Hancock's Japanese label, recorded the two evenings, and the first, which took place during a furious rainstorm, was broadcast live on national television! Live Under the Sky marks the first time that this album has been available in the United States in any form.

Saxophonist Houston Person and bassist Ron Carter have a duo partnership that goes back at least as far as their two 1990 recordings, Something in Common and Now's the Time! Since those albums, the legendary artists have released several more duo collaborations, each one a thoughtful and minimalist production showcasing their masterful command of jazz standards, blues, and bop. The duo's 2016 effort, the aptly titled Chemistry, is no exception and once again finds Person and Carter communing over a well-curated set of jazz standards. As on their previous albums, Chemistry is a deceptively simple conceit; just two jazz journeymen playing conversational duets on well-known jazz songs.

To state the truth, Williams' second effort for Blue Note, Spring (Blue Note, 1965), often overshadows Life Time in part due to its accessibility and firm roots in structured post-bop. That's not to say that Life Time lacks musical vision, in fact, the album itself is an overlooked classic that boasts a sense of adventure and space that's absent on Spring. The music on Life Time is always moving, surveying every facet of each composition, extracting colors, emotions, and vibrations; it's unfettered from the claws of tradition and, when played from start to end, galvanizes the listener's imagination.

Guitarist Greg Skaff assembles a masterful trio with bassist Ron Carter and drummer Albert "Tootie" Health, two NEA Jazz Masters for this rewarding set. Well-known for his work with soul jazz legends and with groups based around the Hammond B-3 organ, this date is surprisingly Skaff's first recording in the past 30+ years leading a guitar trio alone without piano or organ. It's also special set for the legendary reunion of Carter and Heath who worked together with history making results in the early 60s on landmark recordings by pianist Bobby Timmons and by guitarist Wes Montgomery. But, they have collaborated only once since. Skaff takes full advantage of this moment delivering an album all three are immensely proud of.

Despite a frequent change of supporting players, pianist Hank Jones always produces rewarding sessions when he leads the Great Jazz Trio in a studio date. On the 1978 Great Jazz Trio Direct From L.A. disc made for the Japanese label East Wind, premier sidemen Ron Carter and Tony Williams are on hand. Right away Jones signals that he is in a playful mood, using Tchaikovsky's "Arabian Dance" (from The Nutcracker) to introduce and close a cooking rendition of "A Night in Tunisia." The treatment of "'Round About Midnight" is more straightforward, though Jones' style adds an elegant touch. His off-kilter introduction to the well-traveled "Satin Doll" keeps the song fresh. He transforms "My Funny Valentine" into a brisk loping waltz, with Carter and Williams providing imaginative support. If there's a bone to pick with this well-recorded CD, it is the miserly length of just 29 minutes.

Neither extravagantly experimental nor conservative, The Golden Striker presents a befittingly mature, somewhat brooding collection of tunes. Working within a guitar trio format with pianist Mulgrew Miller and guitarist Russell Malone, Carter offers nine tracks which include four of his own compositions, as well as one each by his band-mates. In order to emulate a "club" atmosphere, Carter, Miller and Malone recorded with little rehearsal, and with two exceptions layed down each tune on first takes. Executed with a refined attention to detail, the album as a whole presents solid musicianship and the blending of three well-matched yet distinct voices. Malone’s guitar sings soft, astute lines that play gracefully against Carter’s resonate, warm bass and Miller’s often almost classically melodic approach. With the unfortunate exception of missteps, "The Golden Striker" and "A Quick Sketch," all the album’s selections offer subtle readings of quite difficult arrangements.

The names of Johann Sebastian Bach, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Sergei Rachmaninoff do not necessarily conjure images and sounds of jazz in one's mind, that is until one has listened to recordings by the Classical Jazz Quartet. Although these musicians utilize the same instruments as the Modern Jazz Quartet, they are in no way clones or copycats of that groundbreaking group. They have very much their own sound and style. This is not surprising given the huge talent of the musicians involved; all four are virtuosos on their respective instruments. The themes, although composed in a different time and place, become excellent vehicles for complex, sometimes, bluesy, often swinging and always fresh improvisations in the hands of these musicians.

This album captured the event that more or less shouted the existence of the CTI label - previously little-known outside of musician circles - to the world. Along with veterans such as Stanley Turrentine and Hank Crawford, the album showcased the playing of Billy Cobham - about to emerge from the Mahavishnu Orchestra in a big way (stealing most of that band's energy and excitement with him when he left) - and comparatively new talents such as George Benson. Not all of the music has aged well - "Blues West" was definitely of its time, though it's still a great showcase for Benson's guitar and Freddie Hubbard's trumpet and, perhaps a little less enduringly so, Hubert Laws' flute. But "Fire and Rain" (a great jazz take on James Taylor's song), "Red Clay," and "Sugar" need no justification for a return visit four decades after the fact, with solos and explorations that will always stand the test of time.

Nefertiti, the fourth album by Miles Davis' second classic quintet, continues the forward motion of Sorcerer, as the group settles into a low-key, exploratory groove, offering music with recognizable themes – but themes that were deliberately dissonant, slightly unsettling even as they burrowed their way into the consciousness. In a sense, this is mood music, since, like on much of Sorcerer, the individual parts mesh in unpredictable ways, creating evocative, floating soundscapes. This music anticipates the free-fall, impressionistic work of In a Silent Way, yet it remains rooted in hard bop, particularly when the tempo is a bit sprightly, as on "Hand Jive." Yet even when the instrumentalists and soloists are placed in the foreground – such as Miles' extended opening solo on "Madness" or Hancock's long solo toward the end of the piece – this never feels like showcases for virtuosity, the way some showboating hard bop can, though each player shines.

Sometimes written off as an also-ran to her more famous husband, Alice Coltrane's work of the late '60s and early '70s shows that she was a strong composer and performer in her own right, with a unique ability to impregnate her music with spirituality and gentleness without losing its edges or depth. Ptah, The El Daoud is a truly great album, and listeners who surrender themselves to it emerge on the other side of its 46 minutes transformed. From the purifying catharsis of the first moments of the title track to the last moments of "Mantra," with its disjointed piano dance and passionate ribbons of tenor cast out into the universe, the album resonates with beauty, clarity, and emotion. Coltrane's piano solo on "Turiya and Ramakrishna" is a lush, melancholy, soothing blues, punctuated only by hushed bells and the sandy whisper of Ben Riley's drums and later exchanged for an equally emotive solo by bassist Ron Carter.

In an odd bit of programming, Columbia placed the ballads from Miles Davis' February 12, 1964, concert on My Funny Valentine and the uptempo romps on this LP. Davis, probably a bit bored by some of his repertoire and energized by the teenage Tony Williams' drumming, performed many of his standards at an increasingly faster pace as time went on. These versions of "So What," "Walkin'," "Four," "Joshua," "Seven Steps to Heaven," and even "There Is No Greater Love" are remarkably rapid, with the themes quickly thrown out before Davis, George Coleman, and Herbie Hancock take their solos. Highly recommended and rather exciting music, it's one of the last times Davis would be documented playing a full set of standards.