Yam Yam

Yam Yam

Mark Turner and his cohort had to know they were involved in something special when they made Yam Yam in late 1994. A virtuoso tenor saxophonist with strong post-bop credentials and a fresh outlook gained from deep study of overlooked forebears like Warne Marsh, Turner came to his debut session with a book of evocative original pieces and a fiendishly difficult arrangement of John Coltrane’s “Moment’s Notice.” Guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel brought in “Cubism,” a signature piece he’d later record on The Enemies of Energy. Pianist Brad Mehldau weighed in with the obscure “Subtle Tragedy,” its intricate unison passages capturing the chemistry between Turner and Rosenwinkel—one of the most striking and original front lines in jazz during the ’90s and early ’00s. Bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Jorge Rossy, the core of the Mehldau-led trio that would go on to major success with Warner Bros., provided a ton of rhythm-section savvy for the Yam Yam quintet—a supergroup for the ages. (Turner signed with Warner Bros. as well, making influential albums including the classic Dharma Days.) There’s a sense of fresh and unexpected harmonic motion in Turner’s playing and writing, remarkable from the outset in the not at all generic-sounding “Tune Number One.” His tenor phrasing is elegant, tonally beautiful, yet animated by the embrace of risk, the reach beyond technical limits. He overdubs his tenor on “Zürich” for a thicker harmonic texture, giving little hint of the radical reworking of the chamber-like piece that would surface on Dharma Days. “Blues” is precisely that, taken at midtempo, exploratory yet rooted in tradition, suggesting new stirrings in the jazz mainstream. There are also two takes of the lyrical modern waltz “Yam Yam,” as well as the profound ballad “Isolation,” with guitar but no piano.

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