jammun
Coltrane's Ballads gets little respect, being often regarded as something to satisfy the suits at Impulse. Yes, it's no A Love Supreme or Giant Steps.
The crew is however along for the ride, with particularly Tyner shining, delivering shimmering ripples across our minds, and Garrison and Jones providing almost nonexistent though essential bottom end. It's remarkable, really, how such innocuous stuff can sidle up to us, like a cat, and provide a certain warmth.
I came to know the album for its affinity for providing solace on a Sunday morning, after one too many pitchers or one too many gin & tonics on a Saturday night, awakening on a Sunday morning with sand on the tongue and hammering in the head. The cure was invariably many mimosas and a solid dose of Ballads.
As said, it's no A Love Supreme, nor even a Giant Step, but it's pure smooth jazz, even before there was such a thing. It curls up next to us, like said cat, and relaxes and caresses. If you have not already done so, throw out your Kenny G albums, immediately, and listen to the real thing.