Walter Smith III is a fine tenor saxophonist from Houston, Texas—a legendary place to get your start playing that legendary horn. This year marks his 20th anniversary recording as a leader—he also keeps great company, having played in Ambrose Akinmusere‘s band and recorded with folks like Eric Harland, Kendrick Scott, Terence Blanchard, and many others. The band he co-leads with guitarist Matthew Stevens, In Common, is an exceptional contemporary jazz ensemble.
However, it can be tough to stand out in a world of superbly trained and creative jazz saxophonists who tend to share many of the same influences, which is why the new Twio, Vol. 2 is such a treat. It is an example of a player exposing himself and sounding soulful, skillful, and unique through the voice of his band.
Smith’s first Twio album came out in 2018, setting the stage for both albums: standards played by saxophone, bass, and drums in the mold of the famous Sonny Rollins album A Night at the Village Vanguard. The first date featured drummer Eric Harland and bassist Harish Raghaven, with guest bassist Christian McBride and a second horn on a few tracks from saxophonist Joshua Redman.
The new Twio, Vol. 2 features Kendrick Scott and Joe Sanders on drums and bass, and this time the guests are bassist Ron Carter and tenor saxophonist Branford Marsalis. In short: heavy company. The new session is the better of the two, which is saying something. Recorded with exceptional presence and clarity, the band is right there, and you hear every shade of each stroke of a drum stick, each shading of a note from the bass, each quaver of breath from the saxophones. That’s a wonderful thing, helping us really understand who Smith is as a horn player.
The primary sound of Twio, Vol. 2 is traditional in a certain style: strolling bass, swinging drums, conversational horn. The opening, a mid-tempo take on the standard “My Ideal”, lopes and sounds like a hip easy chair. Walter Smith III settles into it casually, phrasing the melody with sections that are languorously behind the beat, then catching up in a flurry only to leave a nice rest hanging in the air. Sanders is beautifully recorded and chooses his notes with creative care. The leader sounds utterly free, not just roaming across the harmonic changes but slowly bending notes and finding moments where the trio coincides in a rhythmic game.
“I Should Care”, with Carter on bass, is a bit faster and gives the Maestro the first solo on bass, but it has the same virtue: lived in swing that is not complacent because the musicians are listening to each other attentively. Smith’s solo is not flashy, but it is an unpretentious, non-obvious conversation with Ron Carter. He takes interesting melodic turns that come from the bassist’s cool harmonic choices, and he uses his tone as much as note choice to create interest. When Carter makes the suggestion, Scott accepts, and the band swing in double-time. You want to jump for casual joy.
Thelonious Monk‘s memorable tune, “Light Blue”, is played as a ballad with a set tempo, marking an exception to the album’s mostly comfy presentation. Sanders and Scott never lock into a groove but color and comment on Smith’s line for the full three minutes. It’s not avant-garde playing, as Smith states Monk’s melody with soulful fidelity and improvises (per the famous Monk dictate) using the tune’s theme. It is a slightly unsettled classic take.
The tracks I can’t get out of my head are Smith’s duet with Ron Carter on Duke Ellington‘s “Isfahan” and the trio’s reading of the Carla Bley classic, “Lawns”. The Smith/Carter is ideally balanced, with Smith’s statement of the written melody always making plenty of room for Carter’s equally majestic countermelody in the lower register.
The listening is palpable. Carter will slide his finger down a string, and Walter Smith III will bend a note in sympathy; Smith will repeat a note rhythmically, and Carter will answer; a pause will hang in the air between them, to be filled with simultaneous lines of contrary motion. Carter, of course, sounds like the man he has long been, with his humming tone and quirky intervals, and Smith distinguishes himself as an individual: a bit more classical in tone than, say, Joe Henderson or Sonny Rollins, but gentler and warmer than Ben Wendel or Chris Potter.
In “Lawns”, Sanders and Scott play a slow funk, but with the bass purposefully withholding “the one”. The short theme flows seamlessly into improvised choruses that seem inevitable and fated. That is the kind of jazz that should deserve the moniker “smooth”, but soulful and organic too.
Another stand-out performance is the Smith/Sanders/Scott trio taking on Carla Bley‘s modern classic, “Lawns”. The tune is simple but heart-tugging, and Smith states it first in his lower register, then an octave higher, adding melodic and rhythmic variations that are casual and subtle. His third pass reinvents the melody without abandoning its outline, leaving space for Sanders to provide play around the edges.
The two tracks with Branford Marsalis are both thrilling but harder to discuss. “Swingin’ at the Haven” was written by Marsalis’ father, Ellis, and the harmonized tenors sound amazing on the head, and each solo is a torrent of creative ideas. All of my listening tells me that Marsalis plays the first solo and Walter Smith III the second. The first quotes a famous standard and then repeats certain phrases in a very Branford manner, while the second solo includes a flow of staccato runs that, oh, wait, could that be Branford instead? Am I sure that I know which is which? Does it matter?
In “Casual-Lee”, I hear the solos in the same order, with the tone of the horns being the giveaway: Branford plays with a cleaner tone and some delicious strain in the upper register of the first solo, while Smith’s more lived-in sound on the second solo must be coming from the guy who made “Lawns” sound so rich in the soil. However, compared to, say, Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane playing “Tenor Madness”, where the solos are immediately and unquestionably distinguishable, these modern plays are more alike.
That isn’t a terrible trait, as both Marsalis and Smith have absorbed so many of the same great players across a century of jazz history. Still, this is the issue that some traditional jazz fans will raise with modern players trained in jazz schools: superb, but possibly more generic.
However, listen to “Escapade”, the Kenny Dorham composition from Joe Henderson’s 1964 Blue Note album, Our Thing. Smith, Sanders, and Scott play it with panache and comfort, in continual conversation. This album comes after the groundbreaking work of Rollins and Coltrane, and Smith’s personality as a tenor saxophonist may not be as historically exceptional.
A trio like Walter Smith III’s is exceptional for its commitment to playing as a unit. Their jazz language as a whole can’t help but impress.