Out of the Afternoon is something of a hidden gem that I stumbled upon and can't recommend enough to fans of that 'driving' hard bop sound.

There's an astonishing amount of energy here stemming from Roy Haynes' quick and heavy drumming. Roland Kirk really out does himself on this record on the tenor sax (and occasional flute) with lots of forceful playing to the point of overblowing at times. Tommy Flanagan takes a few nice solos but he is frequently outshone by Kirk's intensity and drive. Haynes takes a few interesting and fun solo romps but this show was stolen by Kirk.

"Fly Me To The Moon" and "If I Should Lose You" are highlights; play this album when you need an energy boost or early on in a large get together.

This album sits in an unfortunate genre crossover. Many jazz fanatics will find this album to be trifling and even disappointing when compared to the legendary work Herbie Hancock did in the 60's and earlier 70's. On the other hand, many pop and soul fans will shy away from the meandering songs that often exceed eight minutes in length. But, to those who love both genres, this album has aged surprisingly well (especially surprising considering the extravagent suit on the front has its own credits in the liner notes).

Here, Hancock makes extensive use of a vocoder through which he sings the entire album. The result is not one of cold, robotic shrillness but rather a warm, pleasant fuzziness. Hancock's vocals freely wander through the mix and understandably blend in with the other instruments. Don't approach this album expecting technical mastery or dance floor filling beats. Find a free afternoon where you can sit in the ~sunlight~ and give this record an honest shot. It's very rewarding if you give it a chance.

This record is a lot of fun; it's extremely listenable for the first few plays and its undeniably catchy at many times. However, after the first few euphoric listens, the shimmer wears away and the record starts to fall flat. Lansana's Priestess is the star track undoubtedly and is ultimately the only essential song on the album.

Street Lady is pretty easily described as jazz disco and Lansana's Priestess is a great example of the two opposed genres melding together into something fresh and exciting. The guitar is funky and crisp, the flute and synthesizer are pastoral and Donald Byrd does a fair bit of improvisation. However, the record as a whole is a bit mind numbing and an unfortunate harbinger of bloodless over produced jazz pop of the later 70's. Don't mistake this for harsh criticism, it is meant only to be honest. As a background or party album, it's tremendous. But it's not an album that warrants repeated intensive listening.

Play this album for your friends or while working out. It's got a lot of pep and won't drag anyone's mood down.

Girl from Ipanema often defines this record for many due to the song's outrageous popularity; however, the seven other songs on this record aren't just filler to try and sell a single as an LP. This album is an excellent blend of jazz and pop.

To me, this is Getz's pinnacle. There are no other recordings where Getz is as sincere, sweet or warm. Joao Gilberto backs Getz wonderfully and takes the spotlight on many occasions, singing even at times. Both sides of the record start with a jazz/pop song featuring Astrud Gilberto whose enthralling voice irresistibly draws one into warm summer nights past.

There's nothing technically ground breaking or particularly imaginative about this album but if that's your qualm, you're missing the point. It's one of the most inviting and captivating records ever made. Put this on anywhere, anytime and drift away.

This is one of a tetralogy of albums Miles Davis recorded over the course of two days in 1956 to fulfill a contractual obligation with Prestige. Although this would appear to be a recipe for four lukewarm albums of tedious tune churning, these four records (Relaxin, Steamin, Workin and Cookin) are truly tremendous. These two sessions are early career highlights for both Red Garland and John Coltrane who truly shine on each of these records. Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones also provide an excellent rhythm section here.

Cookin' bridges the gap between cool and hard bop organically. The album opens with Garland's gentle intro to 'My Funny Valentine' and the quintet plays a beautiful and refreshing rendition of a played out classic. Blues by Five follows in a similar fashion; maintaining a gentle, intricate mood throughout the first side. On side two, Airegin offers a rare and exciting moment in Davis' career when he returns to his bebop roots and plays a fast and dense solo very much unlike his signature cool stylings. The playing is tremendous though, and a true testament to Davis' taste and technique. This solo will also foreshadow Davis' future experimentation in the following decades. The album closes with a long, meandering track much like side one. Cookin' is necessary in the collections of any Davis, Trane or Garland fans.