Taylor's break from the steady, metrical pulse that, prior to his first mature works in the early Sixties, swung constant through jazz history (even in the music of fellow explorers Charles Mingus, John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman) is probably his greatest contribution to the evolving black music sensibility. Abandoning regular rhythm for more kinetic and spontaneous energy, however, has produced a form too demanding (and often exhausting) for the casual listener. These albums verify that, well into his third professional decade, Taylor remains a creative demon.

Indent, a 1973 Antioch solo-piano concert, is a good place to become acquainted with Taylor's rhythmic terrain. A terse phrase rolls around itself like several marbles on a plate, leaping intervals and forming bold, ever-shifting note groupings. Single lines scurry into the bass clef, pause to ruminate, then lengthen and tumble into a loose, "timeless" sprawl. The cry within the music, rather than references to specific tempo or harmony, provides an unmistakable link with blues tradition, and the contrasting moments of contemplation display the romantic remnant within the wail.

Although the solo-piano format has won Taylor increased recognition in recent years, especially via the 1974 Montreux recording, Silent Tongues, his ultimate setting remains the Unit, where Taylor the orchestrator can blend instrumental colors, and Taylor the rhythmic exorcist can hurl players around in overlapping waves. Dark to Themselves was recorded at a Yugoslavian festival last year with a quintet consisting of old cohort Jimmy Lyons on alto sax and three new associates (Raphé Malik, trumpet; David Ware, tenor sax; Marc Edwards, drums). Everyone sounds thoroughly comfortable, and the ensembles—whether unisons, jabbing "soundings" or controlled collective improvisations—are stated with direct precision. Malik's solo finds trumpet, piano and percussion surging forward with assurance, and Ware begins by working his way with emotional logic toward pure sound. But the tenor solo goes on too long, as does Lyons, who adds a lyrical dimension with his darting consonant lines (still clearly out of Charlie Parker) but remains a melodically limited thinker.

Even given these lapses, Dark to Themselves is an invaluable high intensity experience. Shame, though, on the producers for dubbing applause in at the end of side one so that what is obviously a single continuous performance unsuccessfully masquerades as two. (RS 249)

BOB BLUMENTHAL