by Norman Weinstein

A great place to begin appreciating Roach's drumming gifts is with "Koko" on the reissued The Max Roach 4 Plays Charlie Parker (Mercury). "Koko" was the bop centerpiece on the 1945 session Roach appeared with Parker on; you can find it on The Charlie Parker Story (Savoy). There's a 20-second drum solo on that Parker recording that's quintessential Roach: snazzy ride-cymbal splashes, fiery snare-drum rolls, surprising bass accents. As handsomely constructed as that solo was, prepare to be electrified by the drumming on The Max Roach 4's "Koko." In a solo seven times longer than the 1945 version, Roach plays in front of and behind the beat, stops and starts the pulse unexpectedly, and plays melodic variations that counterpoint the quick changes voiced by saxophonist George Coleman (who performs on three of the tunes here; the rest are handled by Hank Mobley) and trumpeter Kenny Dorham. And Roach sounds like an impassioned bandleader, provoking his group to play the hardest of hard bop. When this winning Parker tribute album was originally released, around 1957, the idea of a drummer as towering leader was still a bit outré, with only Art Blakey performing in a like format.

More of Roach's brilliance as a drummer and bandleader can be found on Clifford Brown and Max Roach Alone Together: The Mercury Years (Verve). This two-disc set covering the '50s is a rather strange concept. One disc focuses on trumpeter Brown, with three-quarters of the selections also featuring Roach. The disc showcasing Roach has no Brown but features trumpeters Kenny Dorham, Booker Little, and Tommy Turrentine. Neither disc offers the best retrospective of either artist's work, either together or in other combinations. But on no other disc can you hear Roach's first work with a percussion band, the Boston Percussion Ensemble, a foreshadowing of M'Boom, his percussion band of the past two decades. And the music on Alone Together is consistently first-rate bop. It's just that the original Roach albums these selections were culled from had a conceptual unity that made the music that much more striking. But if you can't afford the original Roach albums, go for this set.

Neither of these reissues offers insight into two crucial dimensions of Roach's talent: his composing skills and, in particular, his craft in creating original protest music. You won't find evidence of these skills on his Mercury sessions, when hard bop was the order of the day. But listen to We Insist! Freedom Now Suite (Candid) and Percussion Bitter Sweet (Impulse!), both from the early '60s. These are landmark releases, and surely the most furious anti-racism recordings in jazz history. Both are "concept" albums, epic stories tracing the revolt against racism in Africa, the Caribbean, and the US. Central to both is the interplay between Roach and his wife at the time, vocalist Abbey Lincoln, whose screams of anguish at injustice are unforgettable.

On Sweet Freedom - Now What? (hatArt), avant-garde trumpeter, saxophonist, and composer Joe McPhee has joined with bassist Lisle Ellis and pianist Paul Plimley in creating free variations on these two Roach masterpieces. With a broad vibrato hinting at his stylistic indebtedness to Albert Ayler, McPhee echoes the barely containable rage at injustice and cry for freedom heard in Roach's drumming and Lincoln's vocals. And while maintaining roots in Roach's memorable melodies, McPhee, Ellis, and Plimley strike out for new musical turf. Think about the daunting task of doing a tribute album to the greatest living jazz drummer without using a drummer! McPhee and band succeed because they recognize that Roach is that rare drummer who is also a superior tunesmith. And much as Roach's solos hint at the presence of winds, bass, and piano, this drummerless trio creates the illusion of a drummer present. In a jazz industry littered with generic "tribute" albums, this is a crowning example of originality and idealism.