In the standard history-of-jazz retelling, Max Roach disappears in 1957. He shows up in the 1940s, when he was present at the creation of bebop, and, along with Kenny Clarke and Art Blakey, reinvented jazz drumming for a new generation. He shows up again in the mid-1950s, when he is leading a hard-bop quintet with Sonny Rollins and Clifford Brown that helps define the genre. Beyond that, he fades against the luminaries of Ornette Coleman, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and others. Max Roach seemingly ceases to be a titan of jazz, slipping into historical obscurity.
In reality, while operating under the massive shadows cast by Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and others during the 1960s, Max Roach produced some wonderful jazz in the early part of the decade worth revisiting. Though he would later recede from the jazz community,* his work early in the decade displayed an artist whose social activism reinvigorated his art following the tragic death of Clifford Brown in 1956. Roach thrust himself into the burgeoning civil rights movement during the late 1950s, raising money for various civil rights organizations, taking part in protests and sit-ins, and using his position as a professional musician to promote the cause in the media. His activism first seeped into his music with 1958's
Deeds, Not Words
, though one could argue that his founding of Debut Records with Charles Mingus in the early-1950s was also part of his activist streak, considering the socioeconomic environment in which musicians operated.
Roach's activism flourished as the 1960s began. In 1960, Roach helped organize a rebel counter-festival at the Newport Jazz Festival, hoping to promote younger up-and-coming musicians while protesting the low pay of the (usually black) artists who could not garner top billing. Later that year, Roach recorded
We Insist! Max Roach's Freedom Now Suite
, a multi-part work which chronicled the history of African Americans from slavery to 1960. The next year, Roach would record
Percussion Bitter Sweet
, with a veritable all-star lineup including trumpeter Booker Little, saxophonist Eric Dolphy, vocalist (and wife) Abbey Lincoln, and pianist Mal Waldron, among others. The album features fresh rhythms, incorporating Afro-Cuban 6/8 beats at times, and captivating performances, but it was also a statement of Roach's cultural politics. Roach acknowledges jazz as rooted in African rhythms and folkways, and presents music that is informed by and informing of African cultures and societies.
The album opens with "Garvey's Ghost," early-20th century black nationalist
Marcus Garvey. After a haunting opening melody, Little gives a searing, melodic solo. Little plays around the harmony, weaving in and out of pitch in a solo evocative of a strong orator, rising in energy as his speech builds momentum. Clifford Jordan follows with a wide-ranging solo, and Roach then gives a playful and exploratory drum solo over a conga and cowbell accompaniment. The song closes with the restatement of the melody. Written by Roach, "Garvey's Ghost" uses Lincoln's voice in a chorale with the winds, lending added power to the melody. It is a wonderful example of inter-genre fusion, sounding at home in Africa and America, but possible only in the context of jazz.
"Tender Warrior" reminds us how special Booker Little and Eric Dolphy, and gives the listener pass to wonder how jazz would have been different had both of them not died too young. Little carries the tunes main melody on his flute, showing captivating control over the instrument and letting his voice sound through it. Mal Waldron gives an imaginative solo, followed by Little, who toes the line between harmony and dissonance better than any of his peers could at the time, providing a bridge between hard bop and the avant-garde. Besides that, his sound is wonderful, combining the urgency of Clifford Brown with the vocal quality and warmth of Miles Davis. Dolphy goes on flights of fury on a bass clarinet, followed by an even more furious drum solo by Roach. However, being Max, even when playing furiously he exhibits amazing control over the kit, not making any extraneous sound to dull his lines.
Perhaps the irony of Max Roach is that he made some of the best socially-conscious jazz ever, but did so at a time when highly artistic jazz was
en vogue. This is not to say that the two are mutually inclusive, or that they are in direct opposition. Rather, Roach reached one of his peaks during the early 1960's when he recorded
Percussion Bittersweet and
Freedom Now Suite. However great those albums were, the public and jazz press at large were more interested in (or repulsed by, and then mobilized against) the zeitgeist created by Coleman and pushed further by Coltrane, Albert Ayler, et al. Thus, Roach is under-appreciated in memory, and a fertile period of work for him is not as well-remembered as his earlier peaks or the simultaneous peaks of his peers. Such is jazz, a diverse music that has become nearly impossible to completely keep up with.
and 
, so why repeat what's already been written? Here is the list, in chronological order...
and 
(1954). Come for the early incarnation of the Jazz Messengers, stay for the Clifford Brown. Brownie tore it up on this night in 1954, and his solos on Confirmation, Once in a While, and A Night In Tunisia are among the best he ever put on record. Not the most obscure choice to lead off the list, but it was also one of the first albums I ever bought, so I threw it in.
(1961). Dolphy with Booker Little, Mal Waldron, Richard Davis, and Ed Blackwell, need I say more? More than any other album on this list, I revisit this recording again and again, and each time I am amazed at the unfulfilled potential of Dolphy and Little. Who knows what heights they may have scaled had they not died too young? 
is also available.
and 
(1972). Perhaps if someone had given a copy of these albums to Ken Burns, he would not have alleged that jazz "went away for awhile" during the 1970s.
(1994). Jarrett's trio with Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette have a ton of live recordings out there, but this one is my favorite, taken from a three-night stand at New York's Blue Note in 1994. Bonus quote from Amazon reviewer 
