Confession time: much as I try to maintain an air of aloof sophistication in all things I do, I have a particular fondness for anything that can be remotely described as "prog." Prog rock is my particular go-to, but I'm not picky—I take to any sprawling, overwrought, quasi-intellectual composition like a feline to catnip. So when I saw this week's album was 36 minutes spread across only three tracks (the longest being over 17 minutes!) I was immediately intrigued. Could this be… progressive jazz?

Listen to the first minute of the album and judge for yourself:

I love this intro. The first 45 seconds say "we're not afraid to get a bit weird with this one," but then the main theme kicks in to assure you this won't be self-indulgent experimentation for the sake of it; we're here to groove. Perhaps that's a fair description of Freddie Hubbard overall: though he played on some of the albums that defined free jazz,¹ he was never a true convert himself. He was a member of The Jazz Messengers (not the first we've seen), and after the heyday of hard bop, he experimented with a variety of styles—the fusion/funk stylings of Straight Life come from the most critically successful period of his career. Embarrassingly, I had never even heard of Hubbard before—a notable oversight if you trust the Los Angeles Times, which described him as "widely regarded as the most gifted jazz trumpeter of the post-bebop ‘60s and ‘70s" in their obituary of him.

But as usual, I've gotten so caught up in the artist that I've neglected the music. As you already sampled above, "Straight Life" strides along with a self-assured energy throughout. The bulk of the aforementioned 17-minute exposition is a revolving door of solos: tenor saxophone, trumpet, electric piano, guitar, and drums each get their… well, not quite 15 minutes in the spotlight, but pretty close. It’s an embarrassment of riches—one which comes as no surprise once you check the lineup. The immediate standouts to me are Hancock on the keys and Benson on the six-string, both in top form here. (The internet tells me the rest of the ensemble are just as highly regarded; we simply hadn't had the pleasure of encountering them before this album.) "Mr. Clean" keeps roughly the same solo structure, but adds a double-helping of funk—this is something to which you could strut down the street. By contrast, "Here's That Rainy Day" is much slower and more contemplative; Hubbard takes centre stage on the melody, backed by a subdued accompaniment.

So after all's said and done, is this truly prog jazz? Ivory-tower academics will blather on about atonality and dissonance; they'll gladly waste an evening contrasting third stream and jazz fusion; but in doing so, they obscure the simple truth. Dispense with these frivolities and join me in embracing the dharma of prog:

I like it, therefore it is prog.

It is prog, therefore I like it.

Favourite track: Mr. Clean²