Jim Hall
Where Would I Be? (Original Jazz Classics 649)

Milestone Records was one of the only labels putting out "real jazz" in the 70s, and this Jim Hall album is a good representation of the Milestone approach.

Now part of the Original Jazz Classics line, these are records by artists who weren't as self-consciously commercial as a lot of jazz artists were getting after fusion took off, so the Milestone albums preserved on OJC are really directed at the jazz connoisseur rather than the casual fan.

Jim Hall's Where Would I Be? probably didn't sell more than five hundred copies when it was released in 1971 (purely my conjecture), but it's nice that OJC prevented it from falling through the cracks entirely.

Although of all the CDs in the crowded jazz bins at most good record stores, I can't really advocate Where Would I Be? as being something that would ever stand out a great deal. Fans of jazz guitar will enjoy it, but it's somewhat of a slight album on all levels, enjoyable in the moment but not really resonating too much after it's over.

The cover is pure 1971: a picture of waves gently crashing into rocks, over which the artist and title text is superimposed in what can only be described as a high-school health textbook font. ("Your Growing Body," or "Life and Health," or something.)

For me this continues to be the most appealing part of the album, one of those things where you get the impression that the producers thought they were making a mainstream LP cover, but it's just "off" enough that it perfectly reflects the confused world of jazz traditionalism in the age of fusion.

This was the era when CTI was inaugurating what would later come to be called "smooth jazz," and when artists like Leon Thomas and Gil Scott-Heron were redefining what a great jazz record was.

Herbie Hancock and Miles Davis were each off on a separate excursion into fusion (merging jazz with rock and funk), so what was to become of artists like Jim Hall, or Sonny Rollins, or Joe Henderson? These were not guys who could easily adapt to the trends. So they just kept on their own, less well-lit paths, playing jazz how they heard it, having a good time, trying to get paid.

Where Would I Be? isn't traditional meaning conservative or reactionary, but rather meaning, continuing along the trajectory laid out by the 60s players before fusion. Hall, a supremely subtle guitarist with a clear and singing tone, is accompanied by Benny Aronov on piano (electric on two cuts), Malcolm Cecil on bass, and Airto Moreira on drums and percussion.

We should add Airto to our list of musical cyborgs for the sheer number of albums he played on in the 70s alone. He provides a noticeable but not defining Brazilian influence here, most up-front on the opening cut, "Simple Samba." On many of the cuts he lays back and lets Hall's guitar do the talking.

Most of the cuts are smooth and mellow, showcasing Hall's understated technique to good effect. The standouts are the title track and a cover of "Baubles, Bangles and Beads" (coincidentally the name of Susannah Hoffs' new chain of shopping mall trinket stores). "Careful" is sort of like a Vince Guaraldi tune transcribed for guitar, which slowly morphs into the "Taxi" theme with the addition of electric piano.

"Minotaur" is the oddest track on here, an eight-minute workout that wouldn't be out of place on a Woody Shaw album, and is quite a departure from the rest of the tracks, which are fairly soft and melodic. Not out of place, though.

"I Should Care" is a Hall solo performance, quite good. "Vera Cruz" reminds me of some long dance sequences from "The Love Boat" that may or may not have existed in reality. A nice sambafied tune driven by the piano rather than the guitar. The closer is "Goodbye, My Love," a late-night ballad that gives the disc a sophisticated send-off.

By no means an essential jazz guitar album, or even the best Jim Hall album, or even in the top ten percent of early 70s jazz efforts, Where Would I Be? is nevertheless a satisfying excursion into the realm before Breezin', post-Wes Montgomery, pre-George Benson's superstardom. It's an underrated era in jazz history, and goes against the argument that "real" jazz ended with Bitches Brew.

"Where would you be" without this album? Nowhere different, but not every album needs to change the world.

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Review by Knuckleball