Review Summary: Make a jazz noise here.
Barefoot Boy was the first and only record jazz guitarist Larry Coryell put out on the Flying Dutchman label, a label founded by Bob Thiele, best known for his time at Impulse! during its 60s heyday. Released in June 1971,
Barefoot Boy is often seen as Coryell’s greatest achievement, signifying his transition into electric realms that echoed Hendrix, Coltrane and Miles Davis rather than the more soulful stuff that was prominent following the passing of John Coltrane in July 1967. The Gabor Szabo-penned “Gypsy Queen” takes notes from Carlos Santana’s fusion-inspired compositions while Coryell’s licks almost conjure up the recently-deceased Hendrix from the dead; it’s uncanny how similar their playing is to one another at times, as further emphasized on “The Great Escape”, which relies more on an organic groove to lead Coryell and his band through the piece’s funk vocabulary, and catches the jazz funk fever that many musicians would catch during the first half of the decade – most notably Herbie Hancock, who would cash in quite nicely with stuff like
Head Hunters and
Thrust, while exchanging the aggression of material like
Sextant in return.
“Call to the Higher Consciousness,” in turn, borrows from the spirituality of both Alice and John Coltrane’s records, featuring very passionate playing by tenor/soprano saxophonist Steve Marcus, who really lets it rip at some moments, but also knowing when to fade into the background for his fellow bandmates’ own time in the sun. The song goes through several motifs and then some, each giving an individual member a chance to display their chops, most notably drummer Roy Haynes’ greatly isolated solo midway through the track; Coryell once again puts forth fiery soloing worthy of mention, while guest pianist Michael Mandel truly unites the band with his unusual solo that verges between off-key meandering and dissonant expression. On a record otherwise dominated by jazz fusion disguised as rock music, “Call to the Higher Consciousness” is the cut many jazzheads would go mad over. It has all the defining qualities that made that period of late 60s free jazz and early 70s spiritual jazz so enticing, while having the distinction of having a heavy emphasis on electric/acoustic interplay and far more restraint than more renowned artists could bear to impose on their works.
Barefoot Boy isn’t necessarily a lost gem of 70s jazz, not one bit, but it’s an album that is both Coryell’s magnum opus and yet another underrated work deserving of proper retrospection.
