Keyboardist Herbie Hancock's remarkable career took a surprising turn with this funk album--one of the first jazz albums to be certified gold. Hancock's already-storied career had included an extended tenure with Miles Davis as a member of both the classic quintet of the '60s and the trumpeter's groundbreaking electric dates. As a leader, the pianist had followed a similar course, cutting both outstanding acoustic dates (Maiden Voyage, Empyrean Isles) and experimental electric sessions (Sextant, Crossings).
Head Hunters, however, was something different: a stripped-down date featuring reedman Bennie Maupin as the only horn player, and a funk-oriented rhythm section made up of Paul Jackson, Harvey Mason, and Bill Summers. Hancock traded in his sophisticated piano performances and complex compositions for simple melodies, slow-burn funk grooves, and light electric keyboard splashes. The results, particularly on the tracks "Chameleon" and "Watermelon Man," had a profound impact on other musicians, although critics charged Hancock with playing to the galleries. But the album has stood the test of time--something neither the wealth of Hancock's imitators nor his own subsequent albums in this vein have been able to do. --Fred Goodman
On paper, River sounds like a match made in several versions of heaven. Legendary pianist Herbie Hancock re-imagines Joni Mitchell with his hand-picked, star-studded band--including saxophonist Wayne Shorter--in tow. Luminary guests lend vocals to a song apiece: Norah Jones ("Court and Spark"), Tina Turner ("Edith and the Kingpin"), Corinne Bailey Rae ("River"), Luciana Souza ("Amelia"), Leonard Cohen (with an unsettlingly sanguine version of "The Jungle Line"), even Mitchell herself ("Tea Leaf Prophecy"). In the event, though, a few fundamental elements go awry. Hancock plays with almost saccharine understatement throughout, and even Shorter's seminal "Nefertiti" and Duke Ellington's "Solitude" fall into the album's presiding, somnolent surface, though to a lesser degree does the instrumental version of Mitchell's "Sweet Bird." But girding, and in some measure, saving, the proceedings, the lyrics here testify to a subtler wisdom guiding Hancock's set list. The mix includes a continuum from intrepid classics to dusty, fans-only fare, but a distinct reverence for Joni Mitchell the Poet threads them together, and, in the end, this album works best as a sleepy window into one fan's giddy and particular love affair with his source material. Fans of Hancock win out. --Jason Kirk
Possibilities, by jazz piano/keyboard legend Herbie Hancock, with songs by Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon, and Leon Russell, is a multigenerational masterpiece. Rock's "it boy" John Mayer leads off the CD with the spare, bouncy opener, "Stitched Up." Brit-born soul girl Joss Stone and bluesman Jonny Lang get down on the gutbucket "When Love Comes to Town." Christina Aguilera's excellent vocals illuminate "A Song for You." Not to be outdone, Annie Lennox delivers an operatic take on Holly Cole's "Hush, Hush, Hush," while Sting's "Sister Moon" swings with stealthy syncopations. Santana and the Beninese singer Angelique Kidjo provide the world flavor on "Safiotou," and the dreamy "Gelo No Montana," with ex-Phish guitarist Trey Anastasio, is the lone instrumental. Hancock's tight solos and intelligent orchestral synths radiate all of the tracks. Like Frank Sinatra's Duets and Ray Charles's Genius Loves Company, Possibilities introduces Hancock to a new and awestruck generation. --Eugene Holley, Jr.
In the mid-'60s, a distinctive postbop style evolved among the younger musicians associated with Blue Note, a new synthesis that managed to blend the cool spaciousness of Miles Davis's modal period, some of the fire of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, and touches of the avant-garde's group interaction. Maiden Voyage is a masterpiece of the school, with Hancock's enduring compositions like "Maiden Voyage" and "Dolphin Dance" mingling creative tension and calm repose with strong melodies and airy, suspended harmonies that give form to his evocative sea imagery. Trumpeter Freddie Hubbard was at a creative peak, stretching his extraordinary technique to the limits in search of a Coltrane-like fluency on the heated "Eye of the Storm," while the underrated tenor saxophonist George Coleman adds a developed lyricism to the session. --Stuart Broomer
