Water And Blood: The Billy Higgins Improvisations – A Wild Ride Through Jazz’s Outer Limits
Let me tell you something right off the bat—John Rapson’s Water And Blood: The Billy Higgins Improvisations isn’t your typical jazz album. Released in 2001 on Nine Winds Records, this sucker dives headfirst into avant-garde jazz and free improvisation with a lineup so stacked it feels like an all-star game for experimental musicians. You’ve got legends like Billy Higgins on drums (RIP to one of the greats) and Bobby Bradford blowing his trumpet like he’s channeling some kind of cosmic force. It’s messy, unpredictable, and at times downright baffling—but that’s exactly why I can’t stop listening.
The first track that really stuck with me is “Dodging The Torrent.” Man, this one hits hard. From the opening seconds, it’s clear no one here is playing it safe. Roberto Miranda’s bass lines are deep and groovy, but they also feel like they’re about to fall apart—and maybe that’s the point. Then there’s Vinny Golia switching between saxophone, bass clarinet, and flute like he’s showing off just how much range he’s got. But what makes this track unforgettable is Billy Higgins’ drumming. He doesn’t just keep time; he dances around it, throwing out these little rhythmic jabs that catch you off guard. Listening to “Dodging The Torrent” feels like trying to walk through a crowded room where everyone’s moving in different directions—it’s chaotic, sure, but somehow beautiful too.
Then there’s “Waking In A Strange Bed,” which might be my favorite cut on the record. This tune starts slow, almost hesitant, like the band is feeling each other out before diving in. Wayne Peet’s organ adds this eerie, dreamlike texture while John Rapson’s trombone sneaks in with these long, mournful notes that sound like regret or longing—or both. By the time Bob Paredes comes in on alto sax, things have shifted into something more urgent, more raw. There’s a moment near the end when everything drops out except for Higgins’ cymbals and a faint echo of percussion—it’s haunting as hell, man. Like waking up from a weird dream and not knowing where you are.
What gets me about this album is how alive it feels. Every note sounds like it could’ve gone another way, every silence seems deliberate yet fleeting. These guys aren’t following a script—they’re creating something new in real-time, and you can hear it. It’s imperfect, yes, but isn’t that what makes it human?
And let’s talk about Billy Higgins for a sec. His presence looms over this whole project, even though he passed away shortly after recording. Hearing him play here feels like catching lightning in a bottle—one last chance to witness a master at work. Without him, this album wouldn’t have the same heartbeat.
So yeah, Water And Blood isn’t gonna be everyone’s cup of tea. If you’re looking for smooth, polished jazz, you’ll probably bounce quick. But if you’re willing to lean into the chaos, to embrace the unexpected, then this album will reward you big time. Honestly, listening to it feels less like hearing music and more like eavesdropping on a conversation between old friends who don’t always agree but still love hanging out together.
Oh, and here’s a random thought to leave you with: If jazz were a person, albums like this would be its wild younger sibling—the one who shows up uninvited to family gatherings, says whatever’s on their mind, and somehow steals the show anyway.
