Charlie Kohlhase Quintet: Dart Night

With the gig now a memory, it's ironic indeed that the CKQ's third release comes closest to what listeners heard live on those Tuesday nights -- one of the most distinctive small bands in jazz at their peak. It's a line-up of five strong personalities who form a solid unit, take chances, and still swing their butts off. They even have a sense of humor, an all-too-rare commodity in the self-serious jazz world.

Kohlhase composes and arranges with a historically informed pen. Like all innovators, he's a good listener and synthesizer; he sees history through the lens of self-knowledge and individuality. Lesser players cling to a historical model in the hope that it will impose on them the identity they lack; Kohlhase is strong enough to unify his sources from within. He cites pianist Andrew Hill as an inspiration on "Bossa Macabre," a 22-bar tune that deploys alto and drums as simultaneous soloists over a haunting melody played by the horns and bass. And band leader/composer Sun Ra inspired the exotic-absurd "Egyptian Processional." But these serve only as reference points for a personal vision. From the way Kohlhase makes the most of the wide spectrum of colors available to him in a band where all three horn players double, it's clear he's also learned something from Mingus and Ellington.

Like his writing, Kohlhase's solos extend the continuum of jazz history. His phrasing never leans on bop clichés -- the smooth momentum of Lee Konitz and the ethereal motivic variations of John Tchicai are more likely models. On the title track, his solo unfolds with a logic that enfolds his use of extended techniques -- overblowing, honks, and multiphonics -- into an overall musical plan. On "If I Could," trumpeter John Carlson likewise resorts to "new" techniques -- split notes, breath sounds, and growls -- without sacrificing lyricism. Saxophonist Matt Langley is the band's speed demon, but his voluble solos are not mere scale patterns. On "I Surely Would," he shapes his roiling outpourings into steep peaks and long undulating valleys. Matt Wilson and John Turner double-team the rhythm, with Turner more often than not anchoring the band with a straight-on precision that prods the band forward. The interactive Wilson can glove any idea and hurl it back at a soloist without losing the beat.

The band went into the studio to make this album immediately after a 1995 tour, and they're at their tightest as a unit. "The Brink" and "Deep Purple" mark some of the album's high points, with the band weaving complex, contrapuntal group improvisations without getting in one another's way. Even during individual solos, each player is listening and reacting to the others and contributing to a total statement in keeping with the spirit of the composition.

There's a melancholy streak in the writing here, yet it's not a unhappy album at all. Instead, the band deploy the optimism of swing and the armor of intelligence and humor against the heartache of such tunes as "Hard To Forget," a ballad "written at the wrong end of a love affair," and "The Brink," an unsettling piece written during the Gulf War. This richness and variety of form and feeling makes this their most satisfying album yet.

-- Ed Hazell

(The Charlie Kohlhase Quintet celebrates the release of Dart Night at the Regattabar this Wednesday, May 29.)