Surely, Charles Mingus albums aren't missing in the home of any jazz enthusiast; it's less likely that they have precisely this "Reincarnation Of A Lovebird," but not because it's an uninteresting work. On the contrary, it marks Mingus's only studio session between 1965 and 1972. Reading his biography, it was certainly a challenging period for him economically and creatively stagnant (and psychologically depressive) after losing a unique talent like Eric Dolphy.

Here we are faced with Mingus in the "middle ground" between the essential works of the '50s and early '60s and the last scratches a few years later, the period of "Changes One & Two." This reissue by Prestige Records of two former French albums from 1970 shows us that even during this time of reconsideration and apparent retreat, there is inherently something good in Mingus's music and his role as a compelling and unifying band leader.

In the absence of new compositions (perhaps only "Love Is A Dangerous Necessity," which, however, is somewhat rushed at the end, as if the score were still incomplete), the musical material consists of revisiting classics from his repertoire like "Peggy's Blue Skylight"; the title track "Reincarnation Of A Lovebird;" and the identity-defining "Pithecantropus Erectus" as well as the Parkerian "Blue Bird" and a crooning standard like "I Left My Heart In San Francisco," which I've linked here alongside. The result is dazzling and varied music, full of sudden accelerations and contrasting sounds that suddenly calm down only to chase each other again. A sonic kaleidoscope that winks at free jazz but doesn't forget tradition; at times a collective improvisation whose reins, however, remain firmly in Mingus's hands like the strings of his instrument: let "Peggy's Blue Skylight" serve as an example, where all soloists have ample room to express themselves and then return to the main theme's melody while the bass's pulse never lets go and dots the i's of every discourse.

Among the musicians, I would like to highlight the valuable work for the rhythm section—besides the leader, of course—by Jaki Byard on piano (with Mingus since the times of "The Saint And The Sinner Lady") and the loyal Danny Richmond on drums. Then there are the three winds: Charlie McPherson on alto (certainly not Dolphy); Bobby Jones on tenor, and Eddie Preston on trumpet, who, in the alternation of solo parts with ensemble ones, throw Mingus's music back to Ellington's orchestral lessons.

In short, it's a musically excellent and modern album, complete with comprehensive graphics regarding technical information on the original recordings (Paris, November 1970 for the two LPs "America Records 6109 & 6110" circulated up to that point only in France) completed by an interesting introductory note as well as by two splendid photos of Mingus on the cover. A specially priced two-record set to which I am particularly attached for being among my first jazz purchases capable of moving me even today.

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