Ahmad Jamal ’73 (1973)

The South Korean BIGPINK label has rescued scores of forgotten ultra-cult titles from obscurity, like guitarist Gabor Szabo’s little-known 1970 album Magical Connection, among many, many others. Now, they have turned their attention to a real gem – and one I have championed for years – Ahmad Jamal’s dazzling all-electric classic Ahmad Jamal ’73.

By 1973, Ahmad Jamal (1930-2023) had already dabbled with mixing electric piano in to his otherwise acoustic group. But for his first album with the 20th Century Records label, he went all in on the electricity. Or, as a trade ad at the time boldly declared: “Ahmad Jamal Trips Out.” He also took a deep dive into the R&B and funk of the day as well.

Jamal recorded prolifically for 20th Century, serving up five studio recordings and two “compilations” of singles, outtakes and previously unreleased recordings between 1973 and 1980 as well as a “best of” package spanning the 20th Century years issued in 1981. These recordings remain among the very best of Ahmad Jamal’s career, summing up much of his recorded output during the 1970s and, sadly, all of these albums, have been out of print for many years.

But Ahmad Jamal ’73 is the only all-electric record in Jamal’s capacious and wonderful discography. Explaining the Fender Rhodes’s appeal, Jamal would later say:

I started when I was recording Sonny Stitt in New York¹. I was using Herbie Hancock in the rhythm section and Herbie suggested that we bring in a Fender Rhodes for one of the sessions. He asked me whether I liked the electric piano and I told him no, because I’d had one in my home for two years and I hadn’t looked at it. The company was trying to get me to endorse it, but I never touched it. So the next day I got a Fender Rhodes for Herbie, and he asked me to sit down and try it. I thought it was the closest thing to the acoustic feeling, so I’ve been using the Rhodes piano ever since.²

There is reason to believe, however, that Ahmad Jamal changed his mind about the Fender Rhodes…as well as the music he made during this period. During his lifetime, Jamal seems to have successfully prevented Ahmad Jamal ’73 – and all of his 20th Century recordings – from ever seeing the light of day again.

A full half century later, and a mere 18 months after the pianist’s passing, Ahmad Jamal ’73 makes its first-ever CD appearance, thanks to BIGPINK.

The program and the presentation is exactly the same as the 1973 release – although the back cover’s text has been removed for lack of readability. And the highlights sparkle even more in the digital format: “The World is a Ghetto,” “Children of the Night” (which is noticeably cut off here during the song’s fadeout), “Superstition” and the album’s superlative moment, the incredible “Free at Last.”

Remarkably, the CD contains an uncredited set of liner notes – a role this writer would very much liked to have filled. But they’re uncredited for a very good reason. Like the co-writer of the 2023 South Park episode “Deep Learning,” the liner notes to the CD release of Ahmad Jamal ’73 were written by ChatGPT, of all things.

The first giveaway is the overwhelming, over-the-top admiration for the recording. Second, is the final paragraph that begins with “In summary,” and ends with superlatives very few albums deserve. What else? Well, of course, all of the mistakes. And there are quite a few. Jazz critic ChatGPT writes that:

1. The “lineup for ‘Ahmad Jamal ’73’ includes Jamil Nasser on bass, Frank Gant on drums, and Ray Crawford on guitar.” Nasser and Gant are certainly possible, but only Ahmad Jamal and Richard Evans are credited on the record and in all of the discographies. But Ray Crawford is definitely not present here.
2. “Another notable track is ‘Manhattan Reflections’…” Ohh-kay. That track does not appear here. The superb “Manhattan Reflections” first appeared on the pianist’s album Tranquility (1968). Later versions would appear on Freeflight (1971), Big Byrd (1997) and After Fajr (2005). But not here.
3. “The album closes with ‘The World is a Ghetto…” More accurately, how about “The album opens with ‘The World is a Ghetto…”?
4. “Critically, the album received praise for its innovation and Jamal’s artistry.” Great! Sure. Who? Where? Oh, you don’t have anything, because it never received such praise. Indeed, Ahmad Jamal ’73 has barely been acknowledged at all. “While the premise isn’t horrifying,” wrote allmusic.com‘s Jason Elias years later, “overblown horn, string, and vocal productions weigh the effort down… but it is a few tracks away from being a necessity.” Not exactly praise.

But I have long loved Ahmad Jamal ’73. It is one of the great Fender Rhodes records of the day, standing tall among such beauties as Herbie Hancock’s Thrust (1974), the nominal Paul Bley outing Jaco (1975), Oscar Peterson’s little-known Night Child (1979) and anything back then by Bob James or Rob Franken.

Here is a slightly modified review of the record from my 2010 post Ahmad Jamal Trips Out: The 20th Century Recordings, an unsuccessful bid to woo somebody somewhere³ to reissue these records:

Reuniting in Chicago with another former Argo/Cadet mainstay, Richard Evans (the two produced 1962’s  Macanudo  together), Ahmad Jamal uses his 1973 debut on the suspiciously un-jazzy 20th Century label to go fully electric.

Long an expensive collector’s item and DJ favorite, the electrified Ahmad Jamal ‘73 contains many superb moments worth sampling – and many have done just that. The well-chosen, well-covered pop tunes take up side one and include War’s “The World Is A Ghetto” (the album’s single release), The Jones Girls’ “Children of the Night” and Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition.”

Side two features the nicely grooving “Sustah, Sustah,” a soulful piece of near spiritual jazz, probably written by Evans under the moniker Ra Twani Za Yemeni. Throughout, Jamal entrances and amazes as a very credibly individualistic electric pianist.

Unlike other periodic forays on the electrical instrument, Jamal sticks to Fender Rhodes throughout every song on the album. Evans sprinkles in hints of horns, sparks of strings and the occasional voices, but always in a complementary style that never hinders, overwhelms or outshines the keyboardist or his unnamed rhythm section.

The album’s centerpiece is undoubtedly “Peace at Last,” one of the finest pieces of 70s funk ever heard and the funkiest thing Ahmad Jamal has ever done. The piece was composed by the little-known Chicago-based musician Charles Colbert (b. 1939), who also co-wrote the fine Blaxploitation funk of “Keep on Trucking,” the 1973 45-only B-side to Jamal’s 45 of “M*A*S*H Theme.”

It is unknown whether Colbert, who was the bassist in the earliest formation of Rufus, but left music around this time to go into the ministry, participated as a musician on Jamal’s album. “Peace at Last,” though, is an extraordinary piece and Jamal invests in it all of the magic he possesses on the Fender Rhodes.

To this, I would now add that I’m not a big fan of the syrupy “Trilby,” a song written by Orlando Murden (1925-94), best known as the co-writer of “For Once in My Life.” Jamal seems to noodle here more than elsewhere on the record – or at any other point in his career – unsure himself of what to make of the tune.

Incidentally, “Trilby” as well as “The World is a Ghetto” are also covered by James Moody on his 1973 Evans-arranged album Sax & Flute Man.

For an altogether different take on Ahmad Jamal ’73, consider Neil Tesser’s contemporaneous two-star DownBeat⁴ review:

In a word, disappointing. Ahmad’s piano expeditions have always been wandering, but here they’re directionless, empty runs backed by Evans’ uninspiring arrangements (they must be, because Ahmad’s playing is anything but inspired). The old magic is present only on a pretty reading of Soul Girl; but Ghetto. Children and Trilby are simply not the raw material of which great jazz performances are usually made, and this album is the rule that proves the rule. The tracks tend to sort of fester until they end, and the vocals … well, sometimes silence is golden. On several tunes, Evans has included voices singing fragments of the lyric way in the background, less for the words’ content than for the Muzak-y milieu they provide; and when voices, violins and piano join in on unison lines, there’s so much sugar you’ll beg the FDA to bring back cyclamates.

For those who don’t remember, a cyclamate is an artificial sweetener once thought to cause cancer. The FDA did, indeed, ban it in the United States in 1970, and it remains illegal to this day, although it is still used in sweeteners like Sweet ‘n Low in Canada, Europe and other countries.

Ahmad Jamal ’73 is neither as “Muzak-y” nor as cancer-causing as Tesser might have you believe. But while its period trappings – the wakka-wakka guitar, funky bass, soul-band horn section, the silky strings – are present, they’re not as in-your-face as the DownBeat writer suggests. This is Ahmad Jamal’s show and he makes the most of it.

Here’s hoping BIGPINK continues putting out the pianist’s 20th Century recordings. If anyone is listening, the next one I’d go to is the superb One (1978), with that ethereal title track which became a staple of Jamal’s repertoire for years.

Endnotes:

1. The album Jamal refers to is the 1970 record When Sonny Blows Blue. ↩︎
2. DownBeat, March 1981, p. 15. ↩︎
3. The 20th Century recordings are owned today by Universal Music. ↩︎
4. DownBeat, October 25, 1973, p. 26. ↩︎