Don’t Deport Him Yet

You know this sax guy Yosvany Terry? Alto sound dry and cool, stylistic approach multifarious, rhythms knocking around like four alley cats in a cage. (If Ornette had been born 30-some years ago in Cuba . . .) He comes out of Santeria and chekere; he’s played with Steve Coleman and Dave Douglas as well as Eddie Palmieri; he’s schooled and tooled. Can’t help but think, after hearing his new Metamorphosis, that Terry (a.k.a. Yosvany Terry Cabrera) is on his way to a stellar jazz career, which means he’ll make as much money as a file clerk but without the insurance plan. His musicians are Osmany Paredes (piano), bro Yunior Terry (bass) and Justin Brown (drums). I’ve got a feeling they’re gonna get some shit moving around here.

Yosvany Terry plays the Jazz Bakery, Wed.-Sat., May 17-20.

Want Some Reviews?With That?

When Ran Blake strikes a piano note, he’s like a diamond cutter with a chisel. The stroke is decisive, the effect precise. Listen to him put a number of such strokes together, and you begin to understand things that can’t be put into words; he pierces the veil, and all you have to do is look through. On his new All That Is Tied (Tompkins Square), a companionless Blake revisits compositions from his whole career, commemorating his first solo album on ESP back in 1965. Better than beauty, it’s truth.

Don’t duck a gnarly new label, Veneto West. Founded by edgily fusionistical producer-mixer-guitarist Ronan Chris Murphy, it’s a showcase for electric axmen with a wild streak, as exemplified in the introductory sampler, Destroying Silence. Anthony Curtis gets raw, groovy and scary. Willie Oteri takes a train through India and a walk on the Miles side. Murphy’s Lives of the Saints hammers rusty nails into Eno ambiance. Jay Terrien cycles from loop to stomp and back. Hypnoise is a moody party where the Cure, Television and Isis buy one another cocktails. And all of it is good. Huh. (

Long-running Santa Barbara eclecto-jazz weirdoes Headless Household have simmered all their exotic flavors into a very palatable goulash called Blur Joan (Household Ink). Joe Woodard,Dick Dunlap and Tom Lackner really orchestrated this one, and with the help of brilliant friends (Dave Binney,Jim Connolly,Julie Christensen et al.), swing and waltz and reggae and sound effects unite — natural, warm and full of protein.

I just knew old Rob Zombie fans were gonna hate his Educated Horses (Geffen) for the exact reasons I like it: the attention to detail, the sharp musicianship, the stadium-simple hookwork, the levels of dimension beyond the usual horror-carnival cartoonery, and even a new subtlety in R.Z.’s vox. The worst thing about it isn’t even bad: Horses sounds too much like Marilyn Manson, no surprise, since former Manson guitar maestro John Five is all over it like a rubber suit. Way livelier than M.M.’s Fiveless, Twiggyless last alb, anyway.

Buy ’em all. Instead of gas.?

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