I started listening to jazz seriously in the late 60’s at a time when vinyl recordings were the only gateway into the world of recorded music. When the trip to the record store involved checking out scratchy   tracks in a dusty booth through distinctly low-fi speakers with the journey home engrossed in often densely written liner notes penned by a small circle of US and UK jazz critics (very rarely by the musicians themselves). The front covers showcased some of the great photographic images of jazz in the last century. The Blue Note label was particularly notable for Francis Wolf’s luxuriant black and white album cover photos- widely recognize now as some of the greatest jazz images of the 20th century.

My vinyl collection increased with each passing year following me around London from student rooms to rented flats to the various houses in which I have lived. We moved into our present and likely last house in 2015 and I had great plans for my vinyl collection in the attic. I invested in a loft hi-fi system and promised myself that I would spend many happy hours up there spinning discs covering recorded jazz from Charlie Parker onwards. Sadly, my trips up to the attic became rarer and rarer. I now listen to the vast majority through digital radio and streaming platforms on high quality headphones and mini speakers.

Unlike many of my friends, I’ve hung on to my 500 plus vinyl collection and have recently been revisiting it. To listen to Rudy van Gelder’s recordings at his Hackensack studio- the entire Blue Note catalogue was recorded there- envelops you in a sound world that is deeper and richer and somehow more authentic on weighty vinyl than on contemporary, weightless platforms. So, my new year’s resolution for 2024 will definitely be to spend more time up there.

Hopefully you will agree that my 3 hour play list, the first product of my renewed commitment to vinyl listening, has been worth the effort. While there is no over-arching theme to my playlist choices my eyes and ears were particularly drawn to albums that made a huge impression on me and which I have really enjoyed returning to in their entirety and musicians who are now either obscure or often forgotten the result of narcotics addiction and/or mental health issues but whose impacts and importance to jazz does endure.

I virtually wore out John Handy’s Live at Monterey and have found it compelling on returning to it. On Spanish Lady Handy’s violin-like tone, his trills and way-up-there altissimo notes setting the scene for the entry of the tune and the improvisations. While all his band members are now largely forgotten on that day, they stepped up to record one of the great live jazz recordings.

Elvin Jones’s Midnight Walk album, one of his first as a leader after departing John Coltrane is in one sense unremarkable. A great band of cutting edge New York modernists, probably the result of no more than three hours work in the studio. But the band included the great South African pianist Dollar Brand (since the 70’s known more widely as Abdullah Ibrahim). And they played his early composition Lycra Too with its strong township resonance. Arriving in Europe in the early 60’s Abdullah had a fortuitous meeting with Duke Ellington who encouraged him to sit in with his orchestra and supported his arrival in New York. As far as I know this was Abdullah’s first recording outside of apartheid era South Africa and his first steps towards a stellar international career.

At the other end of the scale, I want to highlight two sadly forgotten pianists; Hampton Hawes, probably the most fluent post-bop pianists on the west coast whose autobiography Raise Up Off Me tells his life in jazz story cut short by incarceration, racism and narcotics addiction.

And the supremely gifted and wonderfully named Phineas Newborn Jnr. who burst onto the jazz scene like a shooting star. In the late 50’s.  Newborn was technically peerless and built up a substantial reputation within New York jazz circles in the 1960’s. However, he struggled to cope with the pressures associated with the jazz life and dropped out of view altogether from his mid-30’s. His performance in the Roy Haynes trio album gives an indication both of his prowess and what-might-have-been.

Returning to the vaults also offers a chance for re-evaluation. I had always been somewhat dismissive of Billie Holliday’s Lady in Satin recording. It came very late in her career, and I found the string accompaniments to be so saccharine as to be off-putting. Listening now the juxtaposition between Billie’s achingly sad enunciation within this unusual musical setting really works and acts as a worthy epitaph to Lady Day.

To end on two positive notes. Both Roy Haynes at 95 and John Handy at 90 are still actively engaged on the jazz scene. Here’s a recent video of John Handy to prove it