Hamiet Bluiett’s heartfelt tribute to the Nat King Cole Trio—by far the most original I’ve ever heard. Bluiett describes his inspiration: “I wanted to focus on Nat as a pianist, not as a vocalist. He was a formidable pianist, ‘anointed’ as they say in the church.

He could get to your soul like no other.” Hamiet’s joined here by contrabass giant Keter Betts blending warmly with Rodney Jones’ sweet acoustic guitar—or with Ed Cherry’s bluesy electric guitar. A perfect intro to Bluiett’s stunning, huge baritone sound.

The breathtaking balladry on “These Foolish Things” and “Sweet Lorraine” is leavened by foot-patting swingers like “Walkin’ My Baby Home” or “Gee Baby Ain’t I Good To You”. This is one of my two or three best-sounding studio recordings. A Fi SuperDisc. (#04832)

Hamiet Bluiett, bari sax/contrabass clarinet 
Keter Betts, bass 
Rodney Jones, aqcoustic guitar/synthesizer 
Ed Cherry, electric guitar* 
Gali Sanchez, percussion ** 
Myrrh, narration **

TRACK LISTING:

REVIEWS:

Positive Feedback:
reviewed by Rick Gardner

I think this is my favorite of the new issues from Mapleshade. Obviously, it is an homage to the Nat King Cole Trio. Tasty it is too. ...The disc is a pure joy from beginning to end. Sax, bass and guitar, intimately recorded. Great sax sound; meaty, big and bouncy, as it were. Sure there is comfort in the old songs, but there is also fresh life infused by this talented group. Nicely done..

CMJ:
reviewed by James Lien

You've got to hand it to Hamiet Bluiett for undertaking a jazz tribute to Nat King Cole without even inviting a piano player. Nevertheless, rather remarkably, the venerable Bluiett ends up offering a heartfelt tribute to Cole's trio, with his robust baritone sax taking the place of the entire 88 keys of the piano. The CD is superb overall, but one cut of particular and immediate note is the version of Route 66, reinterpreted as a cross-country journey set as a jazz poem. (Dig how when they get out west, the percussionist comes in with Indian tom-tom beats, or how Hamiet's sax impersonates car horns to represent the freeway). It's remarkable: The kind of unexpected cut that can make a good jazz show into a truly great one, and one of the main reasons whyMakin' Whoopee is a real keeper.

December 22, 1997

Fi Magazine:
reviewed by Steve Futterman

A skilled virtuoso who revels in outrageously flatulent tones, a balladeer of grace and poetic means whose uptempo flights court incoherence, an exacting formalist with a no less unruly musical temperament, a master of the cavernous tonalities of the baritone saxophone who routinely extracts piercing high-end notes more suited to the soprano saxophone, an avant-gardist with the heart of a traditionalist, Hamiet Bluiett has built a career fraught with contradiction.

Though Bluiett first drew serious attention working with Charles Mingus during the 1970s, he is probably best known for supplying the earthy tones that have rooted the World Saxophone Quartet over the past two decades. Recording prolifically with that trailblazing group, as well as maintaining a high profile as a solo artist, Bluiett has certainly earned his marks as the most acclaimed living baritone saxophonist in jazz. It's a notoriously demanding instrument that attracts few figures from any realm of jazz, traditionalist or free, let alone those who sip deeply from both streams.

Live at the Village Vanguard: Ballads and Blues [Soul Note] and Makin' Whoopee [Mapleshade] catch Bluiett wrapped in traditionalist garb, which in his case shouldn't be confused with formal wear. Both recordings feature well-crafted arrangements, intriguing selection of songs, and plenty of exceptional improvising. Yet both are also crammed with the leader's trademark eccentricities, stylistic quirks that trip you up and jostle your attention just when things are getting a mite too comfortable.

Makin' Whoopee, a tribute to Nat King Cole, may not rattle the rafters like the Vanguard recording, but it's no mellow make-out record, either. Flanked only by bassist Keeter Betts and guitarist Ed Cherry on most tracks, Bluiett gets to flaunt his mighty tone and walloping delivery. More apparent here than on Ballads and Blues, though, is Bluiett's assaultive sense of humor. It turns out our man is a card-carrying post-modernist, every ready to pop the illusionistic balloon of a romantic ballad with a bowel-clearing discharge of a note sure to break anybody's mood. In other words, Bluiett can forget about that invitation to join Natalie Cole on Unforgettable 2. Not that Bluiett's fooling around. It's just that virtuosity without levity is a no-win proposition for him.

There's gorgeous saxophone playing throughout Whoopee, but it's all charged with a knowing wink of the eye that reminds you that a living, breathing, rambunctious personality is behind the horn, making singular interpretive decisions that may not fit — or just plain dash — your tried and true notions. Reverence has its place, but for Bluiett, what's important is saying your piece.

February 1998