Nicholas Payton, Into The Blue
There are as many types of jazz as citizenry wHO listen to it. This reader solo is partial tone to a classic post bop seance from the Malarkey Messengers, full of flack and ambition; the extreme noise of a European improviser like Dick Brotzmann or even Diane Reeves, whose latest album is a strong mainstream record with sufficiency innovation, science and musical news to be a stimulating listen. Which brings us, with regret, to this freshly album by cornetist Nicholas Payton. He has a long and distinguished history as a side mankind and a drawing card on the current US jazz scene. It's regrettably the type of jazz that leaves one frigidity.
It’s a dull, unambitious plod through a big cumulation of jazz clichés. Drucilla and Chinatown sound wish substandard takes on Kind Of Blue-period Miles Davies. The rest of the album is dominated by the sickly electric car piano of Kevin Hays and the irritating, crass percussion of Book of Daniel Sadownick. There's no interrogative sentence that Payton is a competent musician merely his playing has a more or less woozy tonicity. His compositions deficiency originality and trust on over familiar themes and styles. On the vaguely funky Triptych both Peyton and Hays solo on for an timelessness without once turning an pilot set phrase. You may end up cheering at the speakers ''for God’s rice beer, have an idea!''.
Simply by the jurisprudence of averages Payton must have made better records than this.
