Joe Henderson: "Black Is The Color"

What can I even say about Joe Henderson?  Dude’s an underrated genius, no question, and he’ll never get the full props he deserves for his truly singular take on music.  Matter of fact, Joe Henderson is who I point to when cats tell me they can’t get into the sound of a saxophone, and I’m like, “listen to Joe!!!  He’ll change that shit for you real quick!”  He changes perspectives because he understands all outlooks are subject to change and reevaluation, including his own, a characteristic perhaps most obvious in his experimental ’70’s period, “Black Is The Color” being a prime example of this stage in Henderson’s evolution.  While the old-school bop fans will cry outrage at the fusion-funk and synthesizers at play here, you can’t deny this stuff, as it represents accurately Henderson’s fearless ethic and need for proactive improvisatory motion.  Beyond that, many of the sidemen on this session are innovators in their own right, including Jack DeJohnette, Ron Carter, Dave Holland, Ralph MacDonald, George Cables and Airto Moreira, among others.  The group here burns relentlessly through each piece, beginning with the dark and expansive “Terra Firma,” an aggressive slathering of synth, sax and groove, funky in the loosest sense, with DeJohnette doing his usual rhythmic acrobatics above/below/inside/around the backbeat.  This pulsing introduction gives way to a more streamlined hard bop sound in “Vis-A-Vis,” yet the listener is re-introduced to Henderson’s abstract funkiness with the side 2 opener “Foregone Conclusion,” an avant-groove stomper that stampedes across the speakers.  The pacing of the LP remains exquisite, and just as “Foregone Conclusion” threatens to burst apart, the respite of “Black Is The Color (Of My True Love’s Mind)” arrives, with Henderson’s multi-tracked solos glittering blissfully above George Cables’ pensive piano musings.  No prisoners are taken, however, when the band follows with “Current Events,” a post-Coltrane freak-out initially comprised of sinister synth and bass undertones, eventually succumbing to a full-on free jazz SKRONK, as Lester Bangs would say.  Through this knotty, dangerous territory, Henderson never loses his lyricism or haunting tone, serving as a reminder to any doubters that this man was “just beyond,” a step outside the realm of mere mortals.  Go on and blow your horn, Joe.