Charles Mingus was another one of those "big names" from the jazz world that I recognized, but had never actually listened to until this week. Tijuana Moods sounds quite different than anything else we've heard so far; I'd describe it as more assertive and even a bit combative at times (though smooth elsewhere; e.g., on "Flamingo"). This certainly isn't "easy listening;" compared to the other albums it feels less eager to please the listener and more experimental—maybe it's fair to call it a concept album? As you might've guessed, the album was inspired by Mingus' time in Tijuana; throughout the album, even my ignorant ears can clearly discern the Latin beats and motifs getting the blood pumping as the jazz takes off.

But the track that's stuck with me the most isn't even from the original release of the album. "A Colloquial Dream (Scenes in the City)" was only added on some later CD releases: it's nearly 11 minutes long and merges jazz with spoken-word poetry; it features a down-on-his luck narrator recounting his love for jazz and his struggles living in Harlem. At first, I didn't like it, and I wasn't convinced it was likeable by anyone—a fun novelty, sure, but is this still even music? But after listening to the album all week long, propinquity did its thing, and that narrator now lives rent-free in my head (a good development for him given his situation with the landlady). This isn't the kind of song you can blast at the gym or put on your party playlist, but if you're in a ruminative mood—possibly with a dram of whisky in hand—there's a real depth of soul here.

Now catch this… DIG!

Favourite track: A Colloquial Dream (Scenes in the City)