‘You’re never too old to learn something new. Reed credits bebop with keeping him and his friends out of reform school because they were too busy listening to records to get into trouble. Finding fame as a writer, he returned to music circuitously, eventually taking the plunge at aged 60 to study jazz piano. Diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2006 he hastily assembled a quintet to fulfil a lifelong ambition of recording an album. He made the record (and recovered). Cash-strapped during COVID, he became a composer to generate funds money for his plays, enlisting his daughter Tennessee as narrator. 
‘These humble origins and a genuine love and natural talent for music are what underpins The Hands Of Grace.  Consisting of works written for Reed’s play The Slave Who Loved Caviar alongside new original compositions, it brings in close friends and family to accompany his casual, unvarnished playing style that’s so genuinely heartfelt it feels as if you could be sat alongside in their living room. The music carries a lived-in simplicity yet it also holds something ambiguous that draws it away from the predictable. Music papers rustle, a living room chair is dragged up to the keys whilst Reed’s wife Carla contributes violin and daughter Tennessee recites her poetry on standout How High The Moon.  This is a poignant family affair with no-one left out, ending on a touching tribute and voicemail from their late daughter Timothy.’

‘Classic Vinyl Edition.’

‘Classic Vinyl.’

Her debut as leader, a year after John’s death, with Pharoah Sanders, Jimmy Garrison, Ben Riley and Rashied Ali steeply conjuring an ecstatic blend of JC and Bud Powell, blues, gospel and free jazz, trained unflinchingly on Nature and Truth, witches and devils, the Mystical and the Divine.
Tremendous music — deeply rooted, rawly searching, still thrillingly uplifting.
‘Verve By Request.’

Kicking off with a definitive, thunderous, thrilling version of the title track; with Lee Morgan and Wayne Shorter.
‘Classic Vinyl’ series.

With Freddie Hubbard trumpet, Herbie Hancock piano, Ron Carter bass, Joe Chambers drums. 1965. Miles Smiles kind of thing.

‘Listeners expecting unrelenting blasts of ‘energy music’ might be surprised to find a cohesion atypical of free jazz: amidst the wild, impassioned solos, Howard weaves in Latin rhythms and fat-bottomed grooves. On the first side, Domiabra and Ole Negro sound as if they could have appeared on some of Blue Note’s proto-spiritual jazz, groove-heavy releases — evoking the likes of Horace Silver or Bobby Hutcherson — before ceding the floor to the horn players’ anarchic firepower. As John Corbett writes in the liner notes, ‘Two players stand out. Bassist Norris Jones — aka Sirone — is given ample room, largely unaccompanied; his corporal approach foreshadows later work with the Revolutionary Ensemble. But the secret weapon on The Black Ark is Arthur Doyle. Straight from basement rehearsal sessions with Milford Graves, whose ensemble he had joined and who remained a favorite of the drummer for decades, Doyle is a human flamethrower.’ Trumpeter Earl Cross’ guttural, vocal effects complement Doyle’s take-no-prisoners approach, while the estimable combination of Muhammad Ali (Rashied’s brother) on drums and Juma Sultan on congas adds an ever-shifting propulsion. The septet is rounded out by the enigmatic pianist Leslie Waldron, who anchors the group with imaginative accompaniment and occasional boppish flourishes. Every bit worthy of its reputation as an ‘out-jazz’ holy grail, The Black Ark only sounds better with age.’

‘Classic Vinyl.’

Ace hard bop from 1967, elegantly alternating bluesy with modal. Cedar Walton, Billy Higgins, and the excellent Sonny Red. The title track is extended, sultry and grooving; and there’s a version of the dancer Book’s Bossa.

With Pharoah Sanders, Henry Grimes and Ed Blackwell, in 1966.
‘Sanders’ mix of Coltrane’s yearning long notes, Ayler’s ghostly, fluttering wail, Coleman’s fast, bumpy phrasing and his own manic bagpipe screams certainly separates the faint-hearted from the stayers on the opening Awake Nu. But the conversation between Sanders and Cherry is light, lyrical and engaging on The Thing, and the saxophonist even gets into a stubborn, Sonny Rollins-like repeating Latin vamp on There Is the Bomb. An unflinchingly quirky classic’ (The Guardian).

On the wing with Paul Chambers, and — Miles’ idea — two Latin percussionists, Willie Bobo on drums and timbales, and Osvaldo ‘Chihuahua’ Martinez, conga and bongo.
‘Classic Vinyl Series.’

‘Classic Vinyl.’