Freddy Hubbard

By the time Red Clay entered the listening room, something has already changed. Winter has deepened, the system has been adjusted and readjusted, and the ear is no longer anchored to hard bop as a stable home base. This record doesn’t arrive politely. It doesn’t even quite begin. It bursts in, as if Rudy Van Gelder hit “record” a moment too early and decided to keep what happened next. The opening crash might suggest …

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