Macho (1975)
Gabor Szabo

  1. Hungarian Rhapsody #2 (Franz Liszt)
  2. Time [a.k.a. Alicia] (Gabor Szabo)
  3. Transylvania Boogie (Bob James)
  4. Ziggidy Zag (Harvey Mason)
  5. Macho (Gabor Szabo)
  6. Poetry Man (Phoebe Snow)
  7. Evening in the Country (Gabor Szabo)
  8. Macho [alt take]

Note: “Evening in the Country” is based on “Este a szekelyeknel” (aka “Evening in Transylvania,” “Evening with the Szeklers” and “Evening in the Village”) from Belá Bartók’s orchestral suite Hungarian Pictures (also, Hungarian Sketches).

Gabor Szabo – guitar
Eric Gale – rhythm guitar
Bob James – keyboards
Ian Underwood – synthesizer
Louis Johnson, Scott Edwards – bass  
Harvey Mason – drums
George Bohannon – trombone
Tom Scott – tenor sax, lyricon
Ralph MacDonald, Idris Muhammad – percussion

Arranged by Bob James (1, 3, 6, 7), Gabor Szabo (2, 5, 8) and Harvey Mason (4)

Recorded April 3 to 8, 1975, in Burbank, California, with later overdubs in New York City

Produced by Bob James. Associate Producer: Morgan Ames
Engineered by Phil Schier, Joan DeCola. Assistant Engineer: Peter Chaiken
Liner notes by Gene Lees

1 to 6 issued on LP in 1975 as Salvation SAL-704 S1
1 to 8 issued on CD in 2003 as Epic 5128012

I.

By the time Gabor Szabo entered the studio in April 1975 to record Macho, it had been nearly 19 months since the jazz guitarist waxed his previous solo album, Rambler (1974). That was the longest span of time between records in the guitarist’s relatively brief solo career, which lasted from only 1965 to 1979.

But while Szabo may have seemed M.I.A. to record buyers, a lot was happening during this period for the guitarist. The California resident trekked back East in November 1973 to add a certain gravitas to alto saxophonist Paul Desmond’s splendid CTI record Skylark. While the entirety of that inspired collaboration did not appear on its initial release, later domestic CD issues filled in the picture beautifully.

In July of the following year, the Hungarian-born native returned – with his American wife and their young son – to his homeland. Szabo, like so many others that fled during the country’s Communist takeover in 1956, had recently received amnesty, making his return possible. Szabo’s homecoming was a well-publicized success: ironically, he was considered an American jazz great, with Hungarian roots.

Szabo played club dates with local musicians and was the subject of a Hungarian TV special – the first devoted to any jazz musician in that country – that featured a bravura performance with such Hungarian jazz luminaries as János Másik, Aladár Pege, Imre Köszegi and István Dely (briefly issued on CD many years later as Gabor Szabo In Budapest).

Upon his return to the States in late September, Szabo felt reinvigorated.

“Musically,” he told Melody Maker magazine, “the trip has renewed my awareness of my Hungarian Gypsy heritage. I want to merge elements of both my acoustic and electric styles with a return to my musical roots. My journey to Hungary has inspired me with new ideas about how to use my first musical influences — I feel that I’ve come full circle!” 1

The guitarist was initially inspired to form a new group, called the Perfect Circle, an octet mixing former associates like guitarist Jimmy Stewart and bassist Louis Kabok with newer Szabo bandmates, including tenor saxophonist Anthony Ortega. After several performances around the start of the new year, however, the concept proved untenable.

“It was one of those things,” keyboardist and Perfect Circle member Richard Thompson later told me, “that sounded like a good idea on paper and in practice, but it never really did crystalize the way he wanted it to.”

Meanwhile, Szabo may have sensed his star on the rise, in late 1974 and early 1975, when a young USC film student named Larry Bock began shooting a documentary film focusing on the guitarist. Bock captured Szabo in performance (in a variety of aggregates, including the only known performance of the Perfect Circle group), in rehearsals (with new associates like pianist George Cables and bassist Louis Johnson) and at home with his family.

The 30-minute student film, titled Rising, was completed a full two years later and never officially released. Larry Bock eventually went on to become a prominent editor in Hollywood, working on such films as Breakin’ (1984), Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985) and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989). He is still working as of this writing.

II.

Macho is the 16th of 20 albums Gabor Szabo released during his lifetime and the third and final disc released by CTI Records.2 It’s a particularly strong outing in the guitarist’s catalog; a near-perfect time capsule of mid-seventies fusion jazz. But the disc’s success may well be due more to its novice producer than its featured player.

This record is one of the very rare CTI albums – to that point – neither produced by Creed Taylor (1929-2022) nor recorded at Rudy Van Gelder’s (1924-2016) New Jersey studio. Szabo, like labelmates Airto and Johnny Hammond, cut his final CTI outing on his own home turf in Southern California.

It’s unclear why Szabo did not head back East, as he had done for his previous CTI releases, Mizrab (1973) and Rambler (1974). But, for a variety of reasons, Taylor was in no position to head West to oversee Macho. Instead, he assigned the job to CTI staff arranger, Bob James (b. 1939), who had recently become a CTI recording artist himself with 1974’s One.

James, who had attended the Berklee School of Music at the same time Szabo was there, had also contributed keyboards and arrangements to Szabo’s previous CTI recordings.

“Creed Taylor had gotten so busy with running CTI,” Bob James told me in 1996, “that he sent me on the assignment. I was working very closely with Creed on albums for other artists, and it was a great opportunity to ‘test my wings.’ Because Los Angeles was Gabor’s home, it gave me an opportunity to work on the West Coast and experience the difference in the studio between there and New York”  

Macho turns out to the be very first production credited to James, an otherwise accomplished pianist, composer and arranger. Shortly thereafter, James would become the A&R director for, not CTI, but the mammoth Columbia Records, where he produced notable hits for Kenny Loggins, Paul Simon, Neil Diamond and Maynard Ferguson. This led to the formation of his own Columbia-distributed Tappan Zee label.

But James was not at all familiar with setting up a recording in the sprawling, yet tight-knit LA music community. He needed a little help. A hunch tells me that James (or Taylor) likely turned to Quincy Jones (1933-2024), James’s musical mentor, friend and, himself, a former CTI recording artist.

Jones, in the midst of recording his own Mellow Madness3 album at the time, likely suggested contacting the multi-talented Angelino Morgan Ames, a singer, songwriter, journalist and music contractor (and later arranger and conductor). Ames was best known in those days for her lyrics to the popular and memorable Dave Grusin-composed TV themes to “Maude” (1972-78) and “Baretta” (1975-78), a theme covered by Ron Carter on his own 1975 Kudu, a CTI subsidiary, album Anything Goes.

The well-connected Ames took on the task, contracting the studios and musicians for Macho. Ames booked the Burbank-based Kendun Recorders, founded in 1971 by Kent Duncan, over several days in early April 1975 – just days after Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart recorded the acid-blues track “200 Years Old” for their Bongo Fury album.

Veteran Phil Schier, who had recorded many of Quincy Jones’s records (as well as those by Captain Beefheart, Earl Klugh and Bill Withers), was brought in to engineer, along with Joan DeCola. The two would also record the group Seawind’s eponymous 1977 CTI debut.

Additional recording and remixing was done at L.A.’s Westlake Audio – likely brief overdubs and the addition of the horns. It’s a good bet, too, that there were uncredited overdubs back East as well.

Among the first musicians Ames likely drafted – probably at James’s request – was drummer Harvey Mason (b. 1947). Like Szabo and James, Mason was a one-time Berklee student, and already a session vet. Mason was best known at the time for helming the fierce groove on Herbie Hancock’s iconic “Chameleon.”

Mason had previously worked with Bob James on Grover Washington’s hit Mister Magic (1975) and Gerry Mulligan and Chet Baker’s Carnegie Hall Concert (1975), both CTI-related releases. Both Mason and James continued to work on each other’s records – as well as those by Maynard Ferguson and Hubert Laws – for years, before co-founding the pioneering the smooth-jazz supergroup Fourplay, an entity that reigned supreme for a full quarter of a century thereafter.

Veteran studio bassist Scott Edwards (c. 1948-2022) was also brought in. Edwards propelled a number of hits from the period, including “You Are the Sunshine of My Life,” “Sara Smile,” “Theme from S.W.A.T.,” “Rich Girl,” and “I Will Survive,” among others. But the bassist only survived the first day’s recording.

Szabo, likely sensing a lack of rapport with the bassist, probably suggested bringing in the 19-year-old electric bass phenom Louis Johnson (1955-2015). At the time, Johnson was working on and off with the guitarist (he’s briefly featured in Rising). But he and brother George were on the cusp of being “discovered” by Quincy Jones.

Bob James told me that working with Louis Johnson was one of the highlights of the project for him: “[Johnson] was one of a handful of electric bassists who set the standard for the intricate bass lines which have become so much a part of contemporary jazz.” 

Shortly thereafter, Johnson shot to fame as half of The Brothers Johnson (“Tomorrow,” “I’ll Be Good to You,” “Strawberry Letter 23,” “Stomp”). He also drove the bass lines on huge hits of the day by Jeffrey Osborne, George Benson, Herb Alpert, Michael McDonald and, most notably, Michael Jackson (“Billie Jean” – among many others).

James and Johnson would reunite the following month for Grover Washington, Jr.’s Feels So Good (1975) as well as on the eponymous recording by singer Karen Carpenter (1950-83), recorded in 1980, but not issued until 1996.

Other musicians recruited for Macho include the unusual addition of a second keyboard player, former Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention keyboard player Ian Underwood (b. 1939); 21-year-old trumpeter and veteran CTI studio player Jon Faddis (b. 1953); reed player Tom Scott (b. 1948), who was coming in to his own as leader of the L.A. Express and was also featured on a pair of Impulse records Gabor Szabo waxed in 1967; and trombonist George Bohannon (1937-2024), who was part of the Chico Hamilton Quintet for several years in the early sixties when Szabo was a featured soloist.

The sessions also featured busy studio percussionist Bobbye Hall (b. 1950), who goes completely uncredited here for some reason. Her parts seem to have been overdubbed by the credited percussionists Ralph MacDonald and Idris Muhammad. Guitarist Eric Gale (1938-94) also adds minimal, barely perceptible rhythm guitar here and there.

III.

I have previously said that Macho is probably the last great record guitarist Gabor Szabo made during his all-too-brief fifteen-year solo career. Two decades on, I still stand by this. But the album’s success is due much more to the program and the production – not to mention a superb rhythm section – than what Szabo himself brings to the record.

On Macho, the guitarist too often comes across as bored, distracted or altogether disinterested in the proceedings. At some points, notably on “Poetry Man,” he seems downright cranky and irritable. A casual listening of the record won’t necessarily reveal Szabo’s apathy (or even antipathy); his signature gift for melody and invention are, as ever, appealing and on full display here. On this particular occasion, however, Szabo’s head and heart seem to be somewhere else.

Perhaps that’s why too many of the album’s songs merely fade out: they make their point (or they don’t) and Szabo and company just don’t seem to know how – or care – to bring it to a satisfying conclusion.

The program hues closely to the typical CTI formula of the period, with a jazzed-up classic and a contemporaneous pop-hit cover mixing with band originals. While the sound is typical of mid-seventies fusion, this is clearly not the CTI sound of a Rudy Van Gelder recording.

What we get here is the cleaner, tighter and slicker California-cool sound then emerging in pop music and the crossover jazz of players like Quincy Jones, Herbie Hancock, Lee Ritenour and Tom Scott, among others.

Macho opens with the surprisingly rare jazz take of Hungarian pianist and composer Franz Liszt’s (1811-86) “Hungarian Rhapsody #2.” The piece is one of 19 such rhapsodies Liszt wrote based on Hungarian folk themes, although the familiar opening to this particular Hungarian Rhapsody – and the part of the melody featured in Szabo’s version – is based on a Romanian theme Liszt first heard played by Austrian pianist Heinrich Ehrlich.

“Hungarian Rhapsody #2” was originally written for solo piano in 1847 and later re-scored in a proto-jazz manner for orchestra. It was later immortalized in the delightful Friz Freleng animated short “Rhapsody Rabbit” (1946) as well as the Academy Award-winning animated Tom & Jerry short “The Cat Concerto” (1947).

Bob James offers up a superbly economical arrangement of the tune, but there is no evidence that Gabor Szabo had any particular affinity for the piece. “I knew this piece well,” James later told me. “When I mentioned the idea of adapting it, Gabor liked it, so I plunged in. Doing jazz interpretations of classical themes was something that Creed Taylor was always pushing for, so I knew he’d be into the concept.”

Here, Louis Johnson lays down a supremely funky bass line and synthesizers do much of the work. Szabo eventually comes in for the melody statement that yields to a well-crafted, though unremarkable solo. The synthesizer solo, presumably Ian Underwood’s, is a bit odd and a tad abrasive: it gives the song a strangely Indian flavor, tuned as the instrument is, to sound very much like the oboe-like shehnai.

“Time,” one of only two Szabo originals here, was first captured in the Gabor Szabo documentary Rising, in a trio version with Louis Johnson on bass and George Cables on Fender Rhodes. Here, the song is introduced with the very same “chiming” effect that kicked off Bob James’s breakbeat classic “Nautilus” (1974).

Several years later, when Szabo re-recorded “Time” as “Alicia,” he would do away with this commanding introductory effect by using a tag that sounds as though it riffed off George Benson’s “Affirmation.”

The track is one of Szabo’s stronger late-period compositions and this performance is pitch-perfect. Here, James takes a superb solo on Fender Rhodes (driven along mightily by Johnson and Mason’s backbeat) that beautifully yields to a strong Szabo solo. “Time”‘s compelling outro finds James and Szabo effectively sparring, while Ian Underwood adds eerie synth washes subtly in the background.

Bob James’s effective funk number “Transylvania Boogie” is propelled by the sinewy combination of clavinet (probably helmed by James, who doesn’t solo here) in concert with the tight-knit groove laid down by Johnson along with Mason’s fancy stick work. Szabo’s initial appearance here, likely filtered through a sequencer, gives the song an otherworldly vibe that is complemented (or compounded?) by Ian Underwood’s spooky synthesizer groans.

These “monster mash” touches are likely a nod to the spooky Dracula (or Vlad the Impaler) allusions associated with Transylvania, once a part of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire until after World War I, when the region became part of the newly-formed Romania.

“I wanted to blend in a few aspects of Gabor’s European heritage and influence,” James told me in 1996. “But this was a little tongue-in-cheek. Still, it’s interesting to listen back to the difference in the funk grooves we were playing at that time compared to today.”

Szabo takes an economical, though, effective solo, followed by a spirited turn by Tom Scott on the lyricon, an electric wind instrument the multi-talented reed player often played in those days, notably on Steely Dan’s “Peg” (1977) and Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” (1982). The song fades with Szabo and Scott trading fours.

Ian Underwood had notably featured on a very different “Transylvania Boogie” in 1970, when he helmed the organ on Frank Zappa’s shredder of that title on Chunga’s Revenge.

IV.

Harvey Mason’s funky “Ziggidy Zag” kicks off the original record’s second side in high style. The serpentine, Headhunters-like groove is more riff than melody, something that likely appealed to the guitarist. Here, Szabo mans the rhythm guitar, seamlessly locking in with Johnson and Mason to set the insinuating groove.

What makes the otherwise unmemorable “Ziggidy Zag” one of Macho‘s high points is the masterful solos taken by Szabo on guitar and James on Fender Rhodes. Indeed, Szabo sounds more engaged here than anywhere else on the record. It’s the sort of electric sorcery previously stirred up by the guitarist and keyboard player on the CTI recordings of “Mizrab” and “Thirteen” (1972) and Paul Desmond’s “Romance de Amor” (1973).

A spidery, yet subtle, solo on clavinet – probably played by Underwood – takes the song out, seemingly calling for a concluding trading of fours between Szabo and James…that never comes.

“Macho” evolved as a favored motif that Szabo developed with Charles Lloyd on “El Toro,” a song from the 1962 Chico Hamilton album Passin’ Thru. Szabo would later record variations of the theme under different titles, including the title track to Bacchanal (1968), “Harvest” from Charles Lloyd’s Waves (1972) and “24 Carat” from Szabo’s Belsta River (1978).

The appealing Latin-oriented motif is an extended single-chord vamp that builds to a dramatic toreador-like flourish. Naturally, Szabo is comfortable in this mode and offers a pleasant, yet familiar set of tropes. In its only appearance on the record, an acoustic piano offers support, but the keyboard solo comes on the Fender Rhodes (both, presumably, played by James).

Following the song’s big build up, spots are given to the drummer and percussion, with a brief bass workout. Szabo returns to spar with the piano – and himself, in overdubs – before the song fades at around the nine-minute mark.

Closing out the original album is a cover of the lyrical, yet oddly-sequenced “Poetry Man.” The original song was a hit for Phoebe Snow in 1975 and this version remains – to this day – one of the only jazz covers of it. Indeed, the day Szabo and company recorded the song, “Poetry Man” was at number seven on the Billboard charts (it would eventually peak at number five).

The original features Snow herself on guitar and a solo from jazz great tenor saxophonist Zoot Sims, not to mention Bob James on “organ,” though it was likely an ARP synthesizer, and Ralph MacDonald on percussion. Likewise, both James and MacDonald appeared on Roberta Flack’s 1973 hit “Feel Like Makin’ Love”, before reprising an instrumental version on Bob James’s solo debut, One.

Here, “Poetry Man” has an initial languidity that recalls the warmth and airiness of Herbie Hancock’s fusion classic “Butterfly” (1974) – all of which is likely due to Johnson’s subtle and sensitive touches. Szabo sensitively caresses the main melody with an affection that suggests he was on board or all in with the cover. Until he wasn’t.

When Szabo eases into his solo, it all starts to fall apart.

The guitarist gets off to a lazy start, as though he doesn’t know what to do or where to go. Then he just gets sloppy. Szabo strikes some noticeably discordant notes, a nod, perhaps, to the feedback he employed earlier in his career. It’s a jarring anomaly in an otherwise pretty performance and works to break the spell of the song altogether.

The song fades – perhaps on purpose – before James, or anyone else, can take a solo, or the leader does more damage, There is neither evidence of an alternate take of “Poetry Man” nor any indication that they tried to re-record the solo. I can’t imagine Bob James – or Creed Taylor – being satisfied with this. It’s precisely the sort of thing that Creed Taylor rarely, if ever, would allow to see the light of day at CTI.

And yet, for better or worse, “Poetry Man” closes out Macho and Gabor Szabo’s all-too brief foray at CTI Records.

V.

The record’s single-sleeve cover featured a photograph detailing a gleaming Harley Davidson motorcycle engine, a likely nod to Kenneth Anger’s 1963 film Scorpio Rising and the second Szabo record cover, after Simpatico (1966 – with Gary McFarland), inaccurately associating the guitarist with motorcycles (sports cars were his thing).

The Macho cover photo is the work of commercial studio photographer John Paul “Bud” (or “Buddy”) Endress, in his one and only CTI-related cover. Endress was known at the time for print ads for food and high-end cars – which could have marked his appeal to Szabo – as well as famed print ads for Friskies cat food and Eastern airlines.

By 1975, Endress had also done several album covers, including the debut recording release of frequent Bob James associates and friends, The Brecker Bros., an album which also features the work of Harvey Mason and Ralph MacDonald.

In 1977, Endress became the principal photographer for most of the discs issued by James’s own Tappan Zee label, photographing such “detail” shots as a Buffalo nickel (Bob James’s Heads), a football (Bob James’s Touchdown), a fried egg (!) (Wilbert Longmire’s Sunny Side Up), a lit cigarette (Mark Colby’s Serpentine Fire) and a hot dog (!) (Bob James’s H) and others.

Endress also photographed the covers for the Bob James-Earl Klugh sets Two of a Kind (1982 – cards) and Cool (1992 – cucumbers), as well as the iconic covers for Frank Mills’s Music Box Dancer (1979) and Phillip Glass’s Glassworks (1982).

The Macho album’s design is courtesy of Richard Mantel, who worked with Endress at Atlantic Records on several releases, notably an early Daryl Hall and John Oates release (Whole Oates). Mantel also designed the CTI releases of Ron Carter’s Anything Goes, Grover Washington, Jr.’s Mister Magic and Don Sebesky’s The Rape of El Morro.

Mantel would go on to design the covers of many Blue Note CD compilations in the eighties and nineties and the distinctive black-and-white box sets issued by Michael Cuscuna and Charlie Lourie’s great Mosaic Records.

VI.

Macho was released October 1975 to moderate success. “As a master of the guitar,” wrote Billboard, “there are few that can rival the simplicity and beauty of Szabo’s playing. On this recording, he is at his best…”4

Unsurprisingly, the storied jazz journal DownBeat was unimpressed: “In large part, the failure of Macho lies in its attempt to extract a few remaining drops of excitement from an already overexploited musical style. Jazz/funk may have proven mass appeal, but the music has become too safe, too contrived. Ultimately, it becomes too boring.”5

The record yielded no single releases and likewise received little radio airplay. The album eventually reached number 24 on Billboard‘s Jazz LPs chart, at the same time as Herbie Hancock’s Man-Child – also with Louis Johnson and Harvey Mason – was number one.

Macho was first issued on CD in Japan in 1996 as part of King Records’ “Jazz Budget Line” series. Further Japanese CD releases include a paper-sleeve version on PJL in 2003 and as part of both the “CTI Supreme Collection” series issued in 2013 and the “CTI Alltime Collection” series (which also includes reissues of Szabo’s Mizrab and Rambler) issued in March 2025.

When European Sony issued Macho on CD in 2003, two previously-unreleased tracks were added to the program for the first time. One of those tracks, “Macho (alt.),” is not really an alternative recording as much as an extension of the album’s original title track – revealing some interesting piano work by Bob James on the outro. The other track, though, is a genuine revelation.

“Evening in the Country,” though credited to Szabo, is based on Hungarian composer Belá Bartók’s “Este a székelyeknél” (a.k.a. “Evening in Transylvania,” or “Evening with the Szeklers” and “Evening in the Village”). Originally written for solo piano, the brief piece alternates and contrasts slow and fast sections. Szabo limits himself here to the first of the two “fast” sections, but taken out of context, the piece actually feels slow.

Szabo himself brought “Evening in the Country” to the Macho sessions, following his 1974 trip to Hungary and a desire to merge his Hungarian folk heritage with contemporary American jazz. The song was recorded on the first day of the sessions, along with a still-unissued alternate version of Time,” in a quartet with Bob James on Fender Rhodes, Harvey Mason on drums and an uncredited Scott Edwards on bass.

While “Evening in the Country,” serves up some of Szabo’s finest, most entrancing playing on the whole disc, the song itself is kind of a dud. The “arrangement,” such as it is, focuses only on the original’s haunting refrain, without embellishment or punch of any kind. Even the simple “melody-solo-melody” structure, which oddly lacks the sort of intro or outro benefitting “Macho,” denies Szabo’s prowess for musically telling a compelling story.

This “Evening” lacks the folk flavor Bartok imbued it with and all of the drama and excitement James and Szabo previously brought to their 1972 recording of “Thirteen,” itself based on a piece by Hungarian composer Zoltán Kodály. Mason’s curiously monotonous time-keeping here gives this “Evening” all the unfortunate quality of a death march.

Only Szabo seems invested here, somehow gleaning inspiration from his quartet’s seeming lack of enthusiasm. Little wonder why producer James, or Creed Taylor himself, left “Evening in the Country” off the original LP. Szabo biographer Károly Libisch has mused that “Evening in the Country” might have gone unreleased due to copyright issues.6 Maybe, in the end, it was just too dull.

After Macho, Gabor Szabo and CTI parted ways. It’s not clear who walked away first, but it might well have been a mutual agreement. None of Szabo’s CTI records sold particularly well and the label was facing a myriad of legal, financial and even artistic challenges at the time (many of the label’s moneymakers were leaving or had left by this point).

Forest Hamilton (1945-2000), Szabo ‘s manager at the time and son of Chico Hamilton (1921-2013), landed the guitarist a contract with Mercury Records. There, Szabo recorded two artistic and commercial duds, Nightflight (1976) and Faces (1977) – records that nevertheless have their fair share of fans and supporters.

After multiple fits and starts, the guitarist recorded only two more records – neither of which were issued in the U.S: Belsta River (1978), issued in Sweden, and Femme Fatale (1981), recorded in the U.S. but only issued in Hungary. The guitarist fell ill later that year and died on February 26, 1982, in a Hungarian hospital. He was buried in Budapest. 

VII.

Macho ranks high among Gabor Szabo’s most enjoyable albums. It is, by no means, the artistic triumph of, say, Dreams (1968), or as original, unique and attention-getting as Spellbinder (1966) and Jazz Raga (1967). But much like the Swedish records, Small World (1972) and Belsta River, this record brings together a compelling group of collaborators that work out a nice batch of tunes, allowing Szabo to do what he does best.

But as Bob James suggested above, Macho is very much of its time.

Depending on your point of view, this is either a good thing or a bad one. For this listener, it’s great. Macho succeeds, mostly because of James’s investment in it: he builds a terrific foundation for Gabor Szabo to, as another great guitarist put it, “shut up ‘n play yer guitar.” There is a deference to commerciality, but no compromise to artistry.

Bob James, like Gary McFarland and guitarist Jimmy Stewart before him, was an ideal foil, musical partner and, if you will, co-leader, for Gabor Szabo. He provided the appealing topical structure Szabo required, while adding the compelling musical contrast that gave rise to some of Szabo’s most spellbinding tapestries.

Szabo may have preferred recording with George Cables,7 the pianist/composer he was gigging with at the time. But, as on Mizrab and Skylark before, James does well by the guitarist here; and, in this case, as much as a producer as a collaborator. What’s more, Macho‘s rhythm section with James, Louis Johnson and Harvey Mason can hardly be bettered.

Szabo would never again sound this tight or at home with his musical partners on record. Indeed, the guitarist fares much better here than he would on his next two studio records on Mercury, both overly-produced efforts with incompatibly commercially-oriented producers.

Heard outside the confines of what was then the pervasive form of jazz – call it “seventies fusion” or “jazz funk” – Macho now seems like one of the era’s better outings. A generation later, jazz-funk would make its comeback, with groups like Greyboy, Galactic and Medeski Martin and Wood and guitarists like John Scofield, Bobby Broom, Dan Wilson, Paul Bollenback and Will Bernard all staking their claim.

Maybe Macho has finally come into its own: “Macho is right,” writes Allmusic’s Thom Jurek. “This 1975 album is one of the headiest in the Hungarian-born guitarist Gabor Szabo’s entire catalog. This is a tough, streetwise, commercial jazz album that has plenty to offer to anyone with an open mind. In the pocket, groove-soaked, and flawlessly executed.”

Hear, hear!

Endnotes:

  1. Melody Maker, November 23, 1974, p. 20. ↩︎
  2. Unlike Mizrab and Rambler, Szabo’s previous CTI discs, Macho was initially issued on the CTI subsidiary label, Salvation Records. Producer Creed Taylor devised Salvation in 1972 as a gospel-music subsidiary. But after only one release for the label that year, Taylor briefly repurposed the Salvation label in 1974 for CTI records, like Macho, not produced by Creed Taylor. Salvation reverted to its original gospel intent for releases in 1982 and 1996. ↩︎
  3. Mellow Madness also employs such Macho musicians as George Bohannon, Louis Johnson, Ian Underwood and Ralph MacDonald as well as engineers Phil Schier and Joan DeCola. James and Szabo’s fellow CTI recording artist Hubert Laws also makes a brief guest appearance on Mellow Madness. ↩︎
  4. Billboard, October 11, 1975, p. 77. ↩︎
  5. DownBeat, December 18, 1975, p. 26. ↩︎
  6. Libisch, Károly , Feketére Festve: The Bio-Discography of Guitarist Gábor Szabó (Budapest, Kariton, 2020), p. 314. ↩︎
  7. While at CTI, trumpeter Freddie Hubbard often objected to producer Creed Taylor’s proclivity for all-star recordings rather than allowing the leader to record with his own group. Taylor eventually relented, letting Hubbard record his final CTI outing, Keep Your Soul Together (1973) with his own group, featuring George Cables on keyboards. ↩︎

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