No Separate Love by Roland Vazquez: A Wild Ride Through Jazz Fusion Chaos
Alright, let’s cut the crap. If you’re here for some cookie-cutter jazz review that strokes your ego while pretending to be "sophisticated," you're in the wrong place. No Separate Love is not background music for sipping overpriced coffee at a café where they judge your socks. This album punches you in the face with its raw energy and doesn’t apologize for it.
Released back in 1969 (yeah, I know, ancient history), this thing feels like a time capsule of what happens when musicians just go nuts. It’s got everything—Latin vibes, funky percussion, sax solos sharp enough to cut glass, and grooves so thick you could drown in them. The lineup? Insane. Anthony Jackson on bass? Check. Frank Malabe hammering congas? Double check. And Roland Vazquez himself holding down drums like he owns the damn kit. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Walt Fowler blowing trumpet notes that sound like they came straight from another dimension.
Let’s dive into two tracks that’ll stick to your brain like gum under a table:
First up, "Bailar, Tu Sabes?" Holy hell, this track slaps. From the first beat, it grabs you by the collar and yells, “MOVE!” Albert Wing’s tenor sax wails like a banshee high on espresso, while Steve Tavaglione adds layers of chaos with his own sax work. Then there’s Walt Fowler’s trumpet screaming over the top like it's auditioning for an action movie soundtrack. But the real MVP? Anthony Jackson’s bassline. That dude lays down grooves so deep you could build a house on ‘em. By the time the live version kicks in (@ the Baked Potato, no less), you’re either dancing or dead inside. Pick one.
Next, we’ve got "Turn Back the Dark." This one sneaks up on you. At first, it’s all moody and brooding, like walking through fog in a horror flick. But then BAM!—Steve Tavaglione’s sax comes in like a freight train off the rails, and suddenly you’re not sure whether to cry or headbang. The interplay between the horns and David Witham’s keys is bananas. It’s messy, unpredictable, and absolutely brilliant. Like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded—frustrating but kinda genius.
Now, here’s the kicker: listening to No Separate Love isn’t always easy. Some parts are jarring, others feel unfinished, and yeah, maybe it tries too hard sometimes. But isn’t that the point? Jazz isn’t supposed to be safe or predictable. It’s supposed to challenge you, push boundaries, make you uncomfortable. And this album does exactly that.
So, who cares if it’s from 1969? Who gives a rat’s ass about genres like Crossover Jazz or Post-Bop? Screw labels—they’re just words people use to box things in. What matters is how this record makes you feel: alive, confused, exhilarated, pissed off—all at once.
Final thought: If aliens ever invade Earth and ask us to explain human creativity, hand them a copy of No Separate Love. Either they’ll understand us completely…or they’ll nuke us out of sheer bewilderment. Either way, mission accomplished.
