Review Summary: Hank Mobley and a top-shelf band offer up the superb Soul Station. Though it may not be innovative, Soul Station is never derivative, and it will satisfy listeners who are in search of tasty, exemplary hard bop.
On the list of jazz innovators, Hank Mobley is nowhere to be found.
Musical innovation is a funny thing, though. Quite often, those at the leading edge of exploration can be seen as so far off the beaten path that they've left their audience far behind. Besides, how much innovation is too much from one album to the next? The rewards for such innovation are extremely elusive: universal acclaim from critics, an adoring legion of fans, or musical immortality in the eyes of both. Despite the scarcity of such bounty, there are some who will seek it no matter what the cost.
Hank Mobley will never be remembered as such an innovator - or as
an innovator,
period - but if innovation is one of your overall discriminators of what good music is, you're going to miss out on the joy of the 1960 classic, Hank Mobley's
Soul Station.
This band showed up to get down. Right from note one, Hank's band gifts us with an album full of well-crafted, unforgettable hard bop. Their take on Irving Berlin's classic "Remember" starts us out with a breezy, steady-rolling performance where Hank gives us a simple, understated riff and then proceeds to get to work. Pianist Wynton Kelly and bassist Paul Chambers get to solo at the halfway mark, showing us that though Hank's name is first on this album, this is a group effort. The propulsive, steady Art Blakey gets his chance to shine close to the end of "This I Dig Of You": he gets a full-on drum solo without interruption instead of this "two measures of riffs followed by two measures of soloing" garbage.
Final track "If I Should Lose You" closes things out much in the same way that "Remember" opens it. As with the opener, Hank, Wynton, Paul, and Art show us their strength en finale, but instead of muscle and brute force, we're treated to skill and finesse. It's a swingin' good time and an excellent way to bookend
Soul Station.
Groove and constant motion are key elements of
Soul Station. It is a propulsive album which never stalls, and once a song's momentum is established with the opening notes, it maintains that velocity. The songs are never out of control, but they are relaxed and loose. As with old soul/R&B records, the players are locked into each other in an obvious, in-the-pocket rhythm, no matter what the tempo. There are no time changes mid-song, and no awkward transitions; however, this does not mean that the songs are boring because the writing and performances are so damn good. The fact that it was recorded in a single, one-day session in February of 1960 probably adds to the limber, spontaneous feel of the album, as material which takes too long to get put down on tape loses that spark or feeling so often found on first or even second takes.
Starting with a brisk, swinging samba, "Split Feelin's" turns into an uptempo, swingin' jam that always lifts me up with its exuberant spirit. It's ending fade always takes me by surprise, but this lack of a proper climax just leaves me wanting more. It was an excellent artistic choice.
The title track is where the money's at, though. "Soul Station" is nine minutes and eight seconds of bluesy, soulful bliss. This is where the band shines: Blakey, Chambers, and Kelly offer heavy-duty support that is strong and yet breathes. Wynton's comping is brilliant, and he's so in the pocket here with Blakey and Chambers that I would offer this up as a performance masterclass if I were a professor. Mobley struts his stuff, starting with the song's memorable riff and continuing on to some of the most lyrical soloing that he's ever offered to us. His playing is smooth, soulful, and satisfying: it hits the spot every time I listen to this cut, but I always want more. Kelly and Chambers are rewarded for their support with a share of the spotlight midway through the piece, each of them turning in tasty solos that are low key but rich in musical savviness. This album is all about team play, and this track is where they scored the most points.
Again, I say: on the list of jazz innovators, Hank Mobley is nowhere to be found. That's fine, though, because on
Soul Station, Hank Mobley gave us a well-crafted, feel-good album that is not only accessible but is also highly satisfying. What it lacks in innovation, it makes up in sheer musicality.
Soul Station is a jazz treasure, and you'll be that much richer having this resonant, playful album in your portfolio.
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Art Blakey - drums
Paul Chambers - upright bass
Wynton Kelly - piano
Hank Mobley - tenor saxophone
Recorded at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, on Feb 7th, 1960
Produced by Alfred Lion and mixed by Rudy Van Gelder for Blue Note Records
Cover photo by Francis Wolff; cover design by Reid Miles
