The other day, apropos of nothing, Diane and I clicked play on 1968: The Year That Changed America, a four-part CNN documentary that chronicles a truly tumultuous year in the American experience. For those folks who don’t know history, which is too many, that March—following a less-than-stellar performance in the New Hampshire primary—Present Lyndon B. Johnson announced that he would not seek re-election. In April, shots rang out in the Memphis sky, taking the life of Martin Luther King Jr.; and that June, after winning the California primary and as sure a bet as ever to ascend to the presidency, Bobby Kennedy—who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it—was slain. What ifs have lingered ever since the deaths of both men, with questions of what could have been swirling through the collective subconscious with every monumental event in the decades since.
In that alternate timeline, I’d like to think, many of my favorites would top the charts—including Jawwaad Taylor’s compelling Myth & Logic. Jazzman Taylor, co-founder of the Young Mothers, has shaped a sonic sculpture that’s part jazz, hip-hop, and R&B. It’s taut yet trippy, with brass and bass, percussive grace, and vocals that rise from the speakers as if from the soul. Witness “War Strategies,” a single released in September that contains a cirrus-like cloud cascade from soul singer Kam Franklin. As with the album as a whole, it blends impressionism, realism and Cubism into an intoxicating whole. It’s a profound sound collage.
In the press release, Jawwaad explains how he began work on the album in 2000, when he—like many of us—was overwhelmed by the pandemic. “My reaction was to go inward, and I had what I can only describe as a moment of clarity and spiritual growth. I hope that it’s felt and heard in some way on this album. Myth & Logic is about resiliency—against all odds. My intent was to take us on a journey through fear, failure, acceptance, and joy for the sake of protecting and preserving all that you love.” He also shares that there’s more at play than the isolation that accented the Covid Age: His battle with sickle cell anemia. “Music and art have always been a physical and mental anchor, helping me navigate through life and providing a reprieve from chronic, excruciating pain. As the days come and go, I lean deeper and deeper into music and art to escape, explore, and create.”
“Experimental jazz” is such a weird label to stamp onto a work, though it’s one many of us—including me—throw around for expediency’s sake. In truth, it’s an evocative sound with many moving parts, the kind of thing that guarantees you never hear it the same way twice. “Tiny & B,” for instance, is retro jazz topped by an old-school rap at first listen, but the second or 10th time through finds you focusing on its more modern elements. “Morrish Dance” mines a similar jazzy vein, but with a sturdy guitar (courtesy of Peder Overvik Stuberg) in lieu of a razor-sharp axe. The horn-led “Cowardice” echoes the challenging jazz-pop of decades ago, but updates the form with an incisive rap.
In a figurative sense, Myth & Logic is a mixed-media installation—a sound sculpture that features both sonic and tactile elements. In a more literal sense, it’s a collection of earthy jazz poetry that blends its early/mid-1970s roots with modern hip-hop. It’s a tangible experience accented by the most illusive of intangibles, soul. Highly recommended.
