Walter Bishop, Jr.: "Coral Keys"

This is one of the prettiest LP’s I’ve heard, but not pretty in the flowery, sickly-sweet sense.  This is pretty in the same way that a foggy morning is pretty, or a desert is pretty—pretty but complicated.  Bishop plays these organic, flowing lines on the piano that feel as though they descend in and out of each other infinitely, while other notables like Idris Muhammad and Harold Vick add their own rhythm and flavor.  The tag “spiritual jazz” is often thrown around in describing music of this kind, but unlike other meaningless labels, it does make sense in such a context.  The players definitely appear to be looking for some intangible break-through to a higher power in their searching, exploratory solos, though exactly what higher power they are attempting to communicate with is unclear.  In the early ‘70’s, jazz and funk artists were incorporating a great deal of pan-theistic elements into their creativity, and so the lines often seemed blurred between such wildly differing forces as ancient African gods, Christian trinities, Hindu and/or Buddhist meditations.  This approach is startling, in that it appeals to more personal, individualistic feelings of spirituality rather than specific, denominational worship.  This heartfelt spirituality, along with an emphasis on unity, melodic mantras and progressive thinking, is evident throughout the “Coral Keys” album, so much so that it achieves its goal of transcending religion, musical styles and preconceived notions.  Not often does one stumble across something this beautiful.