Comic Party Revolution Soundtrack CD - Import

The failure of record labels and jazz critics to recognize Frank Hewitt in his own lifetime points out - more so than with any artist in recent memory - systemic malignancy in the jazz business and the major jazz press. My act of putting out Frank Hewitt's recordings is a deliberate provocation, a challenge to this pathological legacy for the sake of artists now and in the future. In one part, it is an angry act, a response in part to specific injustices I witnessed during the years I knew Frank (which merit a more detailed exposition in a subsequent essay). But in the second part, it is an attempt to promote a dialectic, and ultimately, rehabilitation. Without a doubt, any writer who undertakes a review of these recordings is walking into a minefield.

In the six months since the release of Hewitt's debut, his recordings have received a tremendous response from listeners, and from quite a number of fiercely independent writers and radio presenters--enough to prima facie establish Hewitt's place in the history of the jazz piano. But this now serves as a further indictment of the major jazz press, which has been in most instances conspicuously silent or inattentive--as it was when he was alive. And in favor of what? Perhaps the pill is too bitter to swallow. Regardless, with all that's been written, and with the release of this second volume, the case of Frank Hewitt--his music, and the legacy that he represents--will be that much harder to ignore.

In this volume, we move to Hewitt's last studio session from April 10, 2002. This session features Frank with his preferred bassist, Ari Roland, and the great Louis Hayes on drums. As everyone knows, Lou is a sensitive cat with piquant rhythmic ideas and virtually unparalleled drive, and here he supplies a powerful energy source to the group.