Sextet, the 1987 release from pianist, composer, and arranger Carla Bley, is a trip to a galaxy slightly south of smooth jazz, on a harmony-fueled fusion rocket! Where many jazz records of the same year were digging in on acoustic jazz combos, Bley leans into an electric chamber ensemble. Bley’s attention to folk-like melodies, Pink Floyd influenced rock, and arrangements that sound straight out of Satie’s playbook, set this record perfectly in the groove of a typical ECM-style release. There are bursts of energy, like Latin-infused “The Girl Who Cried Champagne”, but the overall vibe remains relaxed. Bley’s organ solos, along with solos from guitarist Hiram Bullock, are highlights of the record soaring over a rhythm section that knows its role and relishes in it. Special mention must be made of the producers' bold embrace of gated reverb and emphasis on the overall “synthesized” sound. I mean, its 1987. This album sounds like neon.
Composer Gavin Bryars said it best about Bley, “Each album, of course, contains a diverse set of pieces, but each album too contains at least one masterpiece.” So goes Sextet. The haunting beauty of “Lawns” is a testament to this, with its deliberate tempo held together by the delicate threads of drummer Victor Lewis and bassist Steve Swallow. Larry Willis’s piano solo absolutely destroys me. This tune is perfect. “Lawns” feels like the movie moment where the two main characters, destined to end up together, finally lock eyes across a crowded room.
Sextet is a gift from a true creative goddess of our time. Fans of Bley’s larger ensembles and opuses might not have found this release particularly exciting in 1987, but as the work of most geniuses suggests; it has stood the test of time. For best results, listen to Sextet in your finest leisure suit with the windows wide open and the volume cranked.