Notable CDs

This recently rereleased 1970 club recording proves that Cannonball Adderley and his nine-man “quintet” beat D’Angelo to the black-messiah concept. But, as none of Adderley’s song introductions mention the concept let alone unpack it, what it means is apparently not the point. What is: a momentum that even Mike Deasy’s vocal turn can’t impede. Forty-four years on, it’s still thrilling to hear what was then new psychedelic-fusion ground being broken by the 16-minute title cut and the 15-minute “Dr. Honoris Causa.”

Singing the Blues

Freddy Cole is good enough to make you believe that, even at 83, he could attract the kind of woman who could stand being put into place by “Meet Me at No Special Place (and I’ll Be There at No Particular Time)”—a song also recorded by Freddy’s brother Nat. Freddy does it better. Granted, he has an advantage, having cultivated four decades’ worth of wisdom to which Nat, who died at 45, did not have access. It’s Freddy’s taking advantage of that advantage that makes the difference.

The Invention of Animals

Bedeviled by Lyme’s disease, the 62-year-old John Lurie can no longer play the saxophone. So these out-of-print studio recordings and live cuts might well be his last will and testament. And, given his oeuvre’s obscurity, they might also be where many listeners meet him for the first time. What will impress them includes but is by no means limited to his ability to render melody arbitrary without sacrificing any of his instrument’s unique capacity to illuminate the inner and outer limits of primal sophistication.

Lift Up!

Anchored by the exuberantly and precisely syncopated tuba of their founder Sean Murphy, these Memphians whip up a joyful noise worthy of their group name and their debut album’s roof-raising title. Murphy insists that the New Orleans rhythms driving the music are only part of the equation, but they’re a big part—even when one or more Mighty Soul puts down his horn to burst into vocal song, the Crescent City looms. As for “Love Button,” it finally gives the Bar-Kays’ “Soul Finger” something to push.

Spotlight

Thelonious Monk’s two-disc, 47-song ’Round Midnight: The Complete Blue Note Singles (1947-1952) (CMG) and John Coltrane’s two-disc, five-song Offering: Live at Temple University (Resonance) offer jazz aficionados valuable opportunities to study and to savor the development of both musical giants—the former by compiling relatively loose versions of compositions that the pianist Monk would tighten and sharpen up a decade later (“Well You Needn’t,” “Ruby, My Dear,” “Epistrophy,” “Off Minor”), the latter by presenting ecstatic (and extended) late versions of songs that the saxophonist Coltrane had previously sought to perfect in the studio.

Insofar as Monk was a genius, even his early work, whether superseded or not, stands on its own. And, frankly, superseded some of it (maybe even much of it) wasn’t. As for Coltrane, comparing where “Naima,” “Crescent,” and “My Favorite Things” began with where they ended up—yearning and shrieking—is to take a long, strange trip indeed. But it’s worth it.