If you're the kind of fan who likes his music in little boxes—jazz in one, funk in another, hip-hop rhythms stashed somewhere else—"Double Booked" (Blue Note) by Robert Glasper and “Urbanus" by Stefon Harris and his band Blackout may not be for you.
For Mr. Glasper, age 32, and Mr. Harris, 36, jazz isn't defined by an arcane set of rules. Nor is it defined solely by its past. To them, the question of whether jazz is dead, dying or thriving in some alternate form is mostly irrelevant. They write, arrange and play music that reflects varied influences and life experiences. As musicians, they are driven to communicate at an emotional level. Categories and history lessons are for someone else to ponder.
“I don't listen to much old music," Mr. Harris told me. “I listen to the music of my peers. I know Charlie Parker, but if he didn't move me, I wouldn't listen to him."
“People think jazz is something that happened in 1964," Mr. Glasper said. “But, you know, not everybody gets 'Take the A Train.' They'd rather go to an Usher concert than listen to 'Stella by Starlight.'"
Should you think for a moment that they've arrived at their opinions through a lack of understanding of the jazz tradition or insufficient talent to tackle the canon, consider that Mr. Glasper, a pianist, attended the New School for Jazz and Creative Music in New York and Mr. Harris, a vibraphonist, has a master's degree from the Manhattan School of Music. Mr. Glasper has played with Terence Blanchard and Charles Tolliver, and Mr. Harris worked with Kenny Barron, Kurt Elling and Joshua Redman, among others. The new Glasper album includes songs by Thelonious Monk and Herbie Hancock. On the brilliant “Urbanus," Mr. Harris and Blackout interpret the Gershwins (via Miles Davis), Buster Williams and Jackie McLean.
I called both men last week to discuss their albums, but the conversations soon turned to the state of jazz.
“Don't get me started," Mr. Glasper said with a laugh. On “Double Booked," he plays five songs with his trio and six with a funkified combo he calls the Robert Glasper Experiment. But if you think funk is consigned only to the later unit, consider the trio's “Downtime," which kicks off with a drum pattern by Chris Dave that Clyde Stubblefield—samples of whose work with James Brown are a staple of hip-hop—would have been proud to whip up. Mr. Glasper's electric Fender Rhodes sits at the warm center of many of the trio pieces.
For Mr. Glasper, age 32, and Mr. Harris, 36, jazz isn't defined by an arcane set of rules. Nor is it defined solely by its past. To them, the question of whether jazz is dead, dying or thriving in some alternate form is mostly irrelevant. They write, arrange and play music that reflects varied influences and life experiences. As musicians, they are driven to communicate at an emotional level. Categories and history lessons are for someone else to ponder.
“I don't listen to much old music," Mr. Harris told me. “I listen to the music of my peers. I know Charlie Parker, but if he didn't move me, I wouldn't listen to him."
“People think jazz is something that happened in 1964," Mr. Glasper said. “But, you know, not everybody gets 'Take the A Train.' They'd rather go to an Usher concert than listen to 'Stella by Starlight.'"
Should you think for a moment that they've arrived at their opinions through a lack of understanding of the jazz tradition or insufficient talent to tackle the canon, consider that Mr. Glasper, a pianist, attended the New School for Jazz and Creative Music in New York and Mr. Harris, a vibraphonist, has a master's degree from the Manhattan School of Music. Mr. Glasper has played with Terence Blanchard and Charles Tolliver, and Mr. Harris worked with Kenny Barron, Kurt Elling and Joshua Redman, among others. The new Glasper album includes songs by Thelonious Monk and Herbie Hancock. On the brilliant “Urbanus," Mr. Harris and Blackout interpret the Gershwins (via Miles Davis), Buster Williams and Jackie McLean.
I called both men last week to discuss their albums, but the conversations soon turned to the state of jazz.
“Don't get me started," Mr. Glasper said with a laugh. On “Double Booked," he plays five songs with his trio and six with a funkified combo he calls the Robert Glasper Experiment. But if you think funk is consigned only to the later unit, consider the trio's “Downtime," which kicks off with a drum pattern by Chris Dave that Clyde Stubblefield—samples of whose work with James Brown are a staple of hip-hop—would have been proud to whip up. Mr. Glasper's electric Fender Rhodes sits at the warm center of many of the trio pieces.
