When Blue Note Records finally released Just Coolin’ in July 2020, jazz fans discovered a time capsule containing something extraordinary: Lee Morgan at age 20, already playing with the confidence, technical mastery, and emotional depth of a seasoned veteran. The album had sat in the vault for 61 years, but Morgan’s brilliance on these recordings remains undimmed by time.

The album was recorded on March 8, 1959 in Rudy Van Gelder’s living room studio in Hackensack, New Jersey. The lineup featured drummer Art Blakey, trumpeter Lee Morgan, tenor saxophonist Hank Mobley, pianist Bobby Timmons, and bassist Jymie Merritt. Five weeks later, Blue Note founder Alfred Lion decided to record the band again at Birdland in New York City on April 15, 1959, capturing a live recording that included four of the six titles from the March studio session. The Birdland sessions superseded the studio date when Lion released the two-volume live album Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers At The Jazz Corner Of The World later that year. The studio version got shelved as redundant.

Three of the six tracks were written by Mobley: “Hipsippy Blues,” “M&M,” and “Just Coolin’.” The album also includes two previously unissued compositions: “Quick Trick” and “Jimerick.” This was a transitional lineup for the Messengers, coming right after the classic Moanin’ album with Benny Golson and just before Wayne Shorter joined the band.

By March 1959, Lee Morgan had already lived several lifetimes in jazz years. Born in Philadelphia on July 10, 1938, Morgan received his first trumpet as a thirteenth birthday gift from his sister Ernestine. His primary influence was the brilliant Clifford Brown, who gave the teenage Morgan a few lessons before Brown’s tragic death in a car accident in 1956. That same year, at just 18 years old, Morgan began recording for Blue Note Records.

Think about that for a moment. Most 18-year-olds are graduating high school or starting college. Morgan was already cutting albums for the most prestigious jazz label in the world, holding his own with established masters of the idiom. Within two years, he’d joined Dizzy Gillespie’s Big Band, where he remained for a year and a half until economic circumstances forced Gillespie to disband the unit in 1958.

When Morgan joined Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers in 1958 at age 20, he wasn’t a sideman learning the ropes. He was a featured soloist, a composer, and a creative force who would help shape one of the most important bands in jazz history.

Listening to Just Coolin’ today, several elements of Morgan’s playing stand out immediately. His tone was remarkably mature for someone so young. Where many young players sound thin or tentative, Morgan’s trumpet voice was already full, warm, and authoritative. He possessed what musicians call “command of the horn”—that ineffable quality where technique becomes so internalized that the instrument feels like an extension of the player’s body and mind.

His technical facility was stunning. Morgan could execute rapid-fire bebop lines with pristine clarity, navigate complex chord changes with ease, and shift from aggressive, hard-driving passages to tender, lyrical moments without missing a beat. On tracks throughout Just Coolin’, like “Close Your Eyes,” you hear him building solos with architectural precision, starting with a simple melodic idea and developing it through variations, intensifications, and surprising harmonic detours.

But technique alone doesn’t make greatness. What separated Morgan from other technically proficient players was his emotional intelligence and rhythmic sophistication. He understood that space was just as important as notes, that silence could create tension and release as powerfully as sound. His phrasing swung with an ease that belied its complexity. He could play behind the beat, ahead of it, or right in the pocket, always serving the music’s emotional needs rather than showing off.

Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers served as a graduate school for young jazz musicians, and Blakey himself was the ideal mentor for Morgan. Blakey understood that great jazz required both discipline and freedom, both tradition and innovation. He gave his young players room to stretch out, to take risks, to find their voices. But he also demanded excellence, pushed them to dig deeper, and created a rhythmic foundation so solid that musicians could build their most adventurous ideas upon it.

Morgan thrived in this environment. On Just Coolin’, you hear him responding to Blakey’s polyrhythmic complexity, engaging in musical conversation with Mobley’s tenor saxophone, and riding the groove that Timmons and Merritt laid down. This wasn’t a young player trying to prove himself. This was a mature artist contributing to a collective musical vision.

The transitional nature of this lineup makes the recording even more fascinating. Coming after the success of Moanin’with Benny Golson and before the more adventurous period with Wayne Shorter, this version of the Messengers captured a specific moment in the band’s evolution. Mobley, a charter member returning to the fold, brought his compositional skills and his warm, less aggressive tenor sound. The chemistry wasn’t as incendiary as some Messengers lineups, but it had its own appeal—a hip, streetwise swagger balanced with musical sophistication.

Reviews of Just Coolin’ note that while it may not reach the heights of Blakey’s most iconic albums, it’s still compelling music from legendary players in their prime, with Morgan and Timmons particularly on fire throughout. That “on fire” quality is what makes Morgan’s presence at age 20 so remarkable. He wasn’t just competent or promising. He was already operating at a level most musicians never reach in a lifetime.

Morgan would go on to even greater achievements. His 1963 composition “The Sidewinder” became a surprise crossover hit, bringing soul-jazz to a wider audience. He would record twenty five albums as a leader for Blue Note, contribute to countless sessions as a sideman, and help define the sound of 1960s jazz. Tragically, his life was cut short when he was shot and killed by his common-law wife at Slug’s saloon in 1972. He was only 33 years old.

But in March 1959, none of that future was written yet. There was just a 20-year-old kid from Philadelphia, standing in Rudy Van Gelder’s living room with his trumpet, creating music that would sit in a vault for six decades before finally revealing to the world just how great he already was. Just Coolin’ captures Lee Morgan at a moment when potential had already become achievement, when youth and mastery converged in a way that happens only once in a generation. Sixty-one years later, his trumpet still sings with that same fire, that same authority, that same ineffable magic that makes jazz matter.

Listen to eighteen-year-old Lee with Dizzy’s Big Band at Newport, 1957 “A Night In Tunisia”

Listen to Lee at twenty with Art Blakey, “Close Your Eyes”

Ben Webster’s ballad playing is instantly recognizable.

His tone is the foundation. It’s one of the most personal sounds in jazz: warm, breathy, almost vocal in quality. That breathy articulation comes from how he voiced notes through the horn, creating an intimate, almost vulnerable sound that draws you in.

He had an unusual approach to time. Webster would play behind the beat in a way that created tension and release. He’d let notes breathe, stretch phrases out, then suddenly inject a bit of urgency. This gave his ballads a conversational quality, as if he were telling you a story he didn’t want to rush through.

His vibrato was distinctive: wide, expressive, sometimes almost aggressive even on tender material. It added emotional depth and made every sustained note feel alive.

Webster also had this ability to move from tenderness to roughness within the same phrase. He could caress a melody, then suddenly inject a gruff, almost growling tone that suggested pain or longing underneath the beauty.

He treated melodies with deep respect but personalized them completely. You always knew the song, but you were hearing Ben Webster’s version of it, filtered through his life experience and emotional sensibility.

All of this added up to ballad playing that felt deeply human, romantic without being sentimental, tough but tender. Nobody else sounded quite that way.

One of Duke Ellington’s most beautiful ballads, and there are many, is “The Single Petal of a Rose.” Duke wrote in 1958, for the Queen of England.

He was in London, invited to meet Queen Elizabeth II. The meeting lasted only minutes, but the impression stayed with him. He said she carried a calm presence. Not power. Not royalty. Calm. A quiet strength that filled the space around her.

Ellington went back to his hotel that night and began sketching a melody. Slow. Graceful. A line that rose and fell like a breath held too long. He built the harmony the same way. Soft chords. Gentle movement.

Nothing rushed. Nothing forced.

Later that year, he assembled a private recording for her. He called it The Queen’s Suite. Only one pressing was made. A single gold record. Hand-delivered to Buckingham Palace. Ellington paid for it himself. He never released it while he was alive.

The music was a gift, not a product. At the center of the suite sat “The Single Petal of a Rose.” A quiet moment in a noisy century.

A portrait painted with almost no paint. Just piano, space, and intention.

The melody felt like a memory unfolding in slow motion. Each phrase hovered. Each chord settled like dust in a still room.

Ellington rarely explained his work, but he called this piece one of his favorites. It held a dignity he didn’t want to disturb. It was personal. Private. Almost fragile.

Years passed.

The piece circulated among musicians who heard Ellington play it on stage or backstage. One of those musicians was Ben Webster.

By the early 1960s, Webster lived in Europe. He carried two things with him everywhere: his tenor sax, and a sense of longing he never shook.

His ballad playing had always been tender, but now it held more weight. More breath. More history.

In 1963 he went into the studio to record See You at the Fair. He chose “The Single Petal of a Rose.” Not to imitate Ellington. To answer him.

Webster didn’t change the form. He changed the feeling. Where Ellington offered poise, Webster offered warmth. Where Ellington suggested restraint, Webster suggested confession.

The piano opened the piece with Ellington’s chords. Then Webster entered, and the room shifted. His sound was soft but full. Air and tone held together by emotion.

He stretched the melody. He bent notes Ellington kept straight. He lingered on phrases as if speaking to someone who wasn’t there anymore.

Hank Jones supported him with clear harmony. Bassist Richard Davis added a heartbeat that the solo piano version never had. Drummer Osie Johnson touched the cymbals like he was afraid to wake something sleeping.

Webster turned Ellington’s private moment into a shared one. The music became less about royalty and more about remembrance. Less about grace and more about longing.

Two men. Two versions. Both telling the truth in different languages.

When you listen to the original, you enter Ellington’s quiet room. When you listen to Webster, you hear someone opening the window.

The same melody. Two lives behind it. One piece of music that refuses to age.

“The Single Petal of a Rose” remains one of the purest examples of what Ellington called “tone parallels”—stories told through sound instead of words.

Ellington wrote it for a queen. Webster played it for the world.

And each version reminds you how music holds memory long after people are gone.

Duke’s version

Ben’s version

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Since beginning my career as a jazz writer in 1977, I've interviewed countless musicians. Over the years, some interviews evolved beyond mere Q&A, turning into profound explorations of spirituality, politics, jazz history, and the artist's journey to maintain individuality. These were not ordinary interviews, but deep conversations with highly intellectual artists that continued long after the initial meeting for a jazz publication. My first such profound connection was with Sonny Rollins, followed by Wayne Shorter, and ultimately, Archie Shepp.

Archie Shepp, known to me since the 60s through his association with John Coltrane, was someone I met in the early 70s. He struck me as a man of fiery passion and brilliance, unafraid to express his convictions. Beyond his musical talents, he was an active writer, contributing plays and articles. In the 60s, his outspoken nature and avant-garde jazz style sometimes found resistance in certain circles, but Archie never confined himself to cultural boundaries. Despite his strong views, he was surprisingly warm and open-hearted.

This posting is a tribute to a man I will always hold in very regard, both as a musician and as a free thinker not afraid to speak his truth.

Archie Shepp was a key figure in the free jazz movement of the 1960s. This genre pushed the boundaries of traditional jazz, emphasizing improvisation, new forms of expression, and often dissonant harmonies. Shepp's work in this area is notable for its emotional depth and technical innovation.

Shepp's music often served as a platform for social and political activism, particularly in the context of the civil rights movement and the broader struggle for racial equality in the United States. His compositions frequently addressed themes of African American history and culture, and he used his music as a form of protest against racial injustice.

Archie was known for blending different musical styles, including traditional jazz, African rhythms, and avant-garde elements. This fusion created a unique sound that was both revolutionary and deeply rooted in Black musical traditions.

Beyond his performances and recordings, Shepp was also influential as an educator, teaching music and sharing his rich experiences with younger generations, thus ensuring the continuation and evolution of jazz traditions.

Archie Shepp's importance lies in his innovative musical contributions, his role in advancing free jazz, his commitment to social and political issues through his music, and his influence on subsequent generations of musicians.

A few years back, the esteemed author, DJ, producer, and NEA Jazz Master Willard Jenkins, along with myself, had the pleasure of hosting Archie Shepp for a Google chat. During this engaging session, we delved into a variety of subjects. Presented here are nine video clips from our conversation, encompassing a wide spectrum of themes. Archie, known for his forthright views, didn't shy away from expressing his thoughts. Yet, he always articulated his opinions in a courteous and eloquent way.

How John Coltrane Helped Me

Albert Ayler Changed My Music

Brother Lateef

Marian Anderson, Paul Robeson and Me

The Importance of Sidney Bechet

Playing Piano and Being A Lawyer

What Was the Avant Garde Jazz of the 60s

Jazz and Activism - What Happened?

Why Young African Americans Don’t Play Jazz

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The Michael Brecker Podcast

I produced a Michael Brecker podcast series a few years ago, with twenty nine episodes featuring his friends and colleagues discussing Mike the man, and the musician.

Michael Brecker was a highly influential American jazz saxophonist and composer, renowned for his technical sophistication, his pioneering work with the EWI (Electronic Wind Instrument), and his versatility in different musical genres.

Mike possessed exceptional technical abilities on the tenor saxophone, and his command of the instrument influenced countless musicians. His facility with complex chord changes and advanced concepts in improvisation set new standards for jazz saxophonists.

He was known for his innovative approach to playing, which incorporated elements of funk, rock, and rhythm and blues into traditional jazz frameworks. This fusion of styles helped to define a new direction for jazz music in the late 20th century.

Along with his brother, trumpeter Randy Brecker, he formed The Brecker Brothers band. The group became a leading band in the jazz fusion movement, blending jazz with rock, funk, and R&B.

He was a significant figure for aspiring jazz musicians. His work is studied in music schools worldwide, and many saxophonists cite Brecker as a key influence on their approach to the instrument.

Michael Brecker left an indelible mark on jazz and modern music, and his legacy continues through the many recordings he made and the musicians he inspired.

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Joe Lovano is known for his exceptional skills as a saxophonist. He plays tenor saxophone but is also proficient on soprano. His command of the saxophone, including his tone, technique, and improvisational abilities, has earned widespread recognition and respect among fellow musicians and jazz enthusiasts.

Lovano's versatility as a musician sets him apart. He has explored various styles and genres within the jazz spectrum, including bebop, post-bop, cool and free jazz. Joe’s ability to adapt and innovate has given birth to a diverse body of work, making him a dynamic and influential figure in the jazz world.

Joe is not only an outstanding performer but also a prolific composer. His compositions often blend traditional jazz elements with modern and avant-garde influences, showcasing his innovative approach to music.

Lovano has collaborated with a wide range of legends including the likes of McCoy Tyner, Hank Jones, and John Scofield. His ability to work effectively with different musicians and adapt to various musical contexts has further solidified his prominence.

Joe has not only made significant contributions as a performer and composer but also as an educator and bandleader. He has mentored and inspired numerous aspiring jazz musicians through teaching and leading his own ensembles. His leadership in the jazz community has helped preserve and advance the genre.

A few words about Joe Lovano, the man. I worked with Joe for a number of years, producing his website, and a some wonderful videos. Joe comes from a very loving Italian family and their closeness informed his relationships with musicians and everyone he encounters. He is a very respectful, generous fellow who always acknowleges his elders as well encourages young musicians. Joe was one of the first people to spotlight Esperanza Spaulding in his group when she was just coming out of Berklee. Around the time we were working together, he was also collaborating with Hank Jones who by then, was in his 90s. Family and friends matter greatly to Joe, along with his music. Joe’s the kind of guy nobody ever speaks about in a negative way. He is compassionate, caring and very focused on breaking new ground.

Joe Lovano's importance in jazz can be attributed to his exceptional musicianship, versatility, innovative compositions, collaborations, leadership, and contributions to jazz education. His work has had a lasting impact on the genre, making him a respected and influential figure in the history of jazz.

Who is Joe Lovano?

Joe Lovano 2010

Esperanza Spaulding on the Road with Joe

Joe Lovano Nonet Live in Paris - Hot House

Hank Jones and Joe Lovano

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Wayne Shorter is widely considered one of the most important and influential jazz musicians and composers of the 20th and early 21st centuries.

I was very lucky to spend quality time with Wayne on several occasions. He was always encouraging and humble in the way that only people confident in their intrinsic value can be. He always had this warm wit and relaxed courage shining in his way of being and speaking.

He was born on August 25, 1933, in Newark, New Jersey, and his career spans decades of innovation and collaboration with other jazz legends.

Wayne Shorter was an exceptional saxophonist who was highly skilled in both tenor and soprano saxophone. His technical mastery is often cited as groundbreaking, and it has been inspirational to many younger musicians.

Mr. Shorter was an innovator in various styles of jazz including hard bop, post-bop, fusion, and avant-garde jazz. He was known for his ability to cross genres and for his adventurous approach to composition and improvisation.

Wayne was a key member of some of the most iconic groups in jazz history. He was a part of Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, where he came into prominence. He then joined the second great quintet of Miles Davis, a group that also included Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, and Tony Williams, and was crucial in pushing the boundaries of acoustic jazz. Later, he co-founded the fusion band Weather Report with Joe Zawinul.

Mr. Shorter is also highly regarded for his compositions, many of which have become jazz standards. Songs like "Footprints," "Speak No Evil," and "Infant Eyes" are considered classics of the jazz repertoire.

Even into the 21st century, Shorter remained active and relevant. He has received numerous awards, including multiple Grammy Awards, and has been a mentor to younger generations of musicians. His modern recordings have been well received, demonstrating an artistic vitality that has spanned decades.

Wayne Shorter's work is studied in music school’s around the world, not just for its technical virtuosity but also for its depth and emotive power. His approach to improvisation and composition has shaped educational curricula and inspired countless musicians to explore the boundaries of jazz and other musical genres.

Wayne Shorter’s impact on jazz and modern music is broad and deep, affecting not just the musicians who have played with him but also the broader understanding and appreciation of jazz as an art form.

The recently released Wayne Shorter four part documentary, Zero Gravity, is one of the best Jazz films I’ve ever seen. It’s on Amazon Prime. Here’s the trailer.

Memory of Enchantment: Wayne Shorter and Herbie Hancock

Wayne’s heavenly encounter with Milton Nascimento.

Wayne came to prominence with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers.

Wayne Shorter’s Final Gig and an excerpt from what I call his First Symphony