Chabrol Noir

Ran Blake

In the 54 years since he began making albums, Blake has recorded less-challenging programs. But if you haven’t yet investigated his “third stream” pianism, this tribute to Pierre Jansen’s music for the films of Claude Chabrol will do for a start. Accompanied by little more than Ricky Ford’s anguished saxophone on six (of the 17) cuts, Blake patiently creates ominous moods and allows them to accumulate. That each song therefore sounds a little more mysterious than the one before it is neither an accident nor an illusion.

It’s Hard

The Bad Plus

That first-generation beboppers and cool jazzers often made inspired, spontaneous art out of the pop songs of their time doesn’t mean that Ethan Iverson, Reid Anderson, and David King—who apparently grew up listening to Crowded House, Johnny Cash, and Barry Manilow—can do the same. That they also grew up to Prince and Peter Gabriel (whose music had livelier pulses) helps. That they also grew up to Ornette Coleman and Miles Davis helps more. But they sounded more inspired and spontaneous when they were transmogrifying Stravinsky.

Some Other Time: The Lost Session From The Black Forest

Bill Evans

Having languished in a vault since they were recorded on June 20, 1968, these 21 performances have benefited publicitywise from their arcane nature and from the fact that 14 of them capture the only studio recordings made by Evans (piano), Eddie Gomez (bass), and Jack DeJohnette (drums). It’s the recordings’ music, however, that has critics shortlisting it for best-of-2016 honors. Fresh from their Montreux Jazz Festival triumph, Evans, Gomez, and DeJohnette bore down. And the lyrical intimacy that they achieved still sounds fresh today.

You Don’t Know Me

Neal McCoy

By the title, McCoy means that if you think he’s only a country singer, you’re wrong—he can also deploy his oh-so-smooth bari-tenor voice in the service of reclaiming the Great American Songbook from those rough-voiced crooners-come-lately Rod Stewart and Bob Dylan. There’s not much interpretation going on. McCoy just pretty much meets the sentiments halfway. But borne aloft by the elegantly swinging stylings of the Steve Tyrell–produced big-band orchestra, he gets where he’s going with enviable ease.

Encore

The freewheeling Texas collective Snarky Puppy released its first album of 2016, Family Dinner Volume Two (GroundUP/Universal) in February, three days before its 2015 album (Sylva) received the 2016 Grammy for “Best Contemporary Instrumental Album.” It released its second 2016 album, Culcha Vulcha, three months and 17 days later. Although they issue from the same ensemble, the projects could hardly be less similar.

Family Dinner exudes one-take spontaneity at every turn and features vocalists on every song (Salif Keita, Susana Baca, and David Crosby most prominent among them). More “world music” than jazz, its omnivorous cultural vulturishness serves more as an end in itself than as a means. Culcha Vulcha, on the other hand, soars like a fusion-jazz rocket, flaunting a mastery not only of the group’s many instruments but also of the studio technology necessary to meld them and the entertaining noises that they make into a thrillingly aerodynamic whole. —A.O.