There are few albums I can recall hearing for the first time as clearly as Oliver Nelson’s Blues and the Abstract Truth. It was three and a half decades after the album was recorded in 1961 and I was a high schooler immersing myself in the Impulse, Riverside, CTI, and Blue Note label releases that defined the post-bop jazz era of the 1960s.
Although Nelson himself was new to me, I had been sold on the LP thanks to his impressive list of sidemen: Eric Dolphy and his fiery alto sax and flute, the thoughtful style of pianist Bill Evans, the feverish unpredicability of Freddie Hubbard’s trumpet, the impeccable Roy Haynes on drums, and the nuanced approach of John Coltrane’s ever-present sidekick, Mr. P.C., bassist Paul Chambers. In the early ’60s you could generally judge a jazz record the same way you could a sports team–by the members of its starting lineup. These guys were all-stars, that much I knew. Surely Nelson couldn’t be far behind.
