Live At Good Day Club by Junior Mance Trio: A Jazz Gem from 1990 Japan
Alright, let’s talk about Live At Good Day Club by the Junior Mance Trio. This jazz album came outta nowhere in 1990, straight from Japan under the All Art label. It's not your typical studio-polished record—it’s raw, alive, and dripping with soul. You can almost smell the smoky air of that club while listening to it.
First off, props to Junior Mance on piano—he’s got this effortless swing that just pulls you in like a magnet. Then there’s Martin Rivera holding down the basslines so smooth they feel like melted butter, and Rudy Lawless keeping time on drums with enough groove to make your feet tap without even realizing it. The whole thing was directed by Takao Ishizuka, produced by Kenji Arai, and recorded by Kimio Oikawa, who clearly knew how to capture lightning in a bottle.
Now, onto the tracks. There are six tunes here, but I gotta single out two for being unforgettable. First up is "Small Fry." Man, this one hits different. It starts with Junior teasing the keys, laying down these playful chords like he’s telling a story only he knows. By the time Martin jumps in with his walking bassline, you’re hooked. It’s not flashy or overdone—it’s just pure vibe. Like sitting on a park bench watching life go by, except way cooler because, ya know, jazz.
Then there’s "Summertime," which is obviously a classic, but Junior Mance makes it his own. He doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel; instead, he lets the melody breathe. His fingers glide across the keys like silk, giving the tune this warm, nostalgic glow. Rudy’s brushwork on the drums adds this subtle texture, like waves lapping at the shore. Honestly, if summer had a soundtrack, this version would be it.
What sticks with me most about this album isn’t just the music itself—it’s the feeling. Listening to it feels like eavesdropping on a private moment between friends. These guys weren’t trying to impress anyone; they were just doing what they loved, and somehow that sincerity shines through every note.
Here’s the kicker though—this album came out in Japan in 1990, yet it sounds timeless. Like, could’ve been made yesterday or fifty years ago. Maybe that’s why it slipped under the radar for so long. Or maybe it’s just waiting for the right ears to find it. Either way, Live At Good Day Club deserves more love than it gets. So do yourself a favor: grab a copy (if you can find one), pour yourself something strong, and hit play. Your soul will thank you later.
