Often, when I'm listening to contemporary jazz records, I think of something Art Blakey said:

And when we're on the stand and we see that there are people in the audience who aren't patting their feet and who aren't nodding their heads to our music, we know we're doing something wrong.

Unfortunately, the reason it keeps coming back to me is that I hear less and less of that approach in those records.

It often feels as if, on those records, the importance of the creator and their needs has far surpassed that of the recipient, the audience. (Basically, us.)

Now, I don’t want to make A Revolving Alliance responsible for everything that frustrates me about contemporary jazz.

But it does embody a lot of it.

Listening to A Revolving Alliance makes me feel that the genius artist is there for themselves. We are merely allowed to observe, and perhaps admire, their work.

And that's exactly what I hear here. Three people in the room. Playing beautifully, there is absolutely no doubt about that. Just not doing it exactly together.

Now, don't get me wrong, A Revolving Alliance has some moments. Two Dragons is a nice post-bop jam where the musicians finally seem to listen to one another and create something worth engaging with.

But the meanderings of other tracks just put me off. And it's not because the music is inherently bad, or because these people don't know how to play it.

No, it's because there is nothing in it for me, the listener.