Cool old hands

On his first release for Verve, pianist Hancock tackles soft-rock hits by Stevie Wonder, Sade, and Peter Gabriel, a couple of quaint oldies by Lennon and McCartney and Simon and Garfunkel, and marginally more hard-edged stuff by Prince and Kurt Cobain -- and he transforms them into acoustic jazz. When the concept works, the album features some of Hancock's best jazz of recent years.

This kind of pop-into-jazz alchemy was standard practice in jazz until rock began to dominate popular culture 40 years ago. Throughout his career, Hancock has been one of the few of his generation who could maintain ties to the increasingly distant worlds of jazz and pop, from 1962's "Watermelon Man" through his 1983 Top 10 hit "Rock-It." Modern rock and pop generally don't hold much harmonic interest for jazz players, but great improvisation doesn't require great changes (think of Hancock's own "Maiden Voyage"), and Hancock can swing a good melody no matter where it comes from.

Even the most unforgiving of Hancock's jilted jazz fans will admire the album's opening track, Don Henley's "New York Minute." Hancock begins with a compact, lyrical initial idea, plays with it, pauses for some stepping-stone chords, moves into a tension-building sequence of short blocky riffs that mix it up with increasingly dark chords, then resolves the conflict with a long snaky line that bursts into affirmative trills. His control of time hasn't deserted him either. On "Scarborough Fair," he suspends lines in half-time against bass and drums, then burrows down deep in the pocket, sometimes within a single phrase.

Some tracks do plod. His version of Prince's "Thieves in the Temple" doesn't improve on the original. And the John Scofield-Hancock duet on Cobain's "All Apologies" is awkward. These misfires aside, Hancock's piano playing can still surprise and delight you with its finesse and grace, even if it's lost the shock of the new.

Hancock's bandmates must share credit for the album's best moments. Drummer Jack DeJohnette and bassist Dave Holland play with confidence and empathy, as if these versions of the tunes were indeed standard. Guitarist Scofield is uncharacteristically subdued, but saxophonist Michael Brecker is muscular and confident, breathing fire as he trades with Hancock on "Love Is Stronger Than Pride."

Sonny Rollins has a reputation for disliking the recording studio that's as great as his reputation for making silk-purse solos out of sow's-ears tunes like "I'm an Old Cowhand." So it should come as no revelation that Sonny Rollins Plus 3 is an uneven disc. What is surprising is that one of his most inspired solos should come on the singularly uninspiring "Mona Lisa." He plays the poor tune with such force he nearly blows it apart, then builds an intricately linked series of variations on fragments of the tune; no matter how far he bends and warps the melody, he always circles back to it. Then he uses another insignificant ditty, "Cabin in the Sky," for some elaborate breath-defying lines. He pushes phrases well past the point you expect them to end, adding something to make them wind up somewhere unexpected. "B.J." is a bit of bluesy optimism masterfully constructed out of ever more expansive variations and convoluted lines that seem to fold back onto themselves. The tenor titan's discomfort in the studio is apparent during his prolonged sequence of exchanges with drummer Al Foster on "What a Difference a Day Makes," and a couple of tunes coast by more on the power of his tone than the power of his ideas.

The trio of pianist Tommy Flanagan, bassist Bob Cranshaw, and Foster back Rollins on five tracks, and pianist Stephen Scott, Cranshaw, and Jack DeJohnette are on two; both groups serve as background for the main attraction. The album's title alludes not only to the bands but also to Rollins's early masterpiece with Max Roach and Clifford Brown, Sonny Rollins + 4. The new album doesn't measure up to the earlier one, but it is among the best of Rollins's recent albums.

Whereas Hancock's release may stir up old controversies over the definition of jazz, mention Sonny Rollins and everyone drops his cudgel. The Village Voice recently dubbed him the world's greatest living jazz musician, and not a dissenting voice was raised. Whatever jazz might be, Herbie Hancock is looking for it. Whatever jazz is, Sonny Rollins plays it.

Sonny Rollins appears at the Charles River Hotel Ballroom this Saturday, April 6. Call 876-7777 for tickets and information.