McCoy Tyner
Fly With The Wind

In the life of every famous jazz musician, there eventually comes (and one isn’t quite sure whether to wish for it or delay this moment as long as possible) the fateful "with strings" album. It's a recognition, as it means that their record label considers them marketable enough to entice a wider audience than just the die-hard jazz club fans, and at the same time it's a deadly trap, as they risk anchoring their image to that of a luxury entertainer, who delivers delicate arpeggios over a soft and caressing string background like a baby’s bottom.

It’s also true, however, that albums of this sort are the best sellers in the discography of every jazz musician, and even the purest of artists have monthly deadlines and bills to pay...
That said, I have the impression that this kind of doubts and conscience troubles did not afflict the granite McCoy Tyner for more than a few seconds when, in 1976, he released "Fly With The Wind", made with a small ensemble of strings and winds.

After listening to this album, the impression is that the legendary pianist of the Coltrane quartet thought, "To hell with the softness, now I'll show you how to use a string orchestra." Mind you, the result is very pleasant, at times thrilling, but you could say anything except that Tyner wanted to package a courteous and reassuring product, meant to set the soundtrack for a languid romantic encounter or a lazy brunch of trendy professionals.  
And so, starting from the title track, it kicks off at a thousand, astride this powerful steed, with the orchestra more amplifying rather than softening the pianist forays of our star. Tyner's torrential solos seem to be in constant competition, up to the last note, with the polyrhythmic propulsion of an unstoppable Billy Cobham. The flutist Hubert Laws (a true co-star with the leader) fills the air with fluttering notes, never sounding trivial or cloying. "Salvadore de Samba" will saturate your room with energy, making it impossible to sit comfortably in any position on your chair... A moment to catch your breath with "Beyond the Sun" and then back to low-altitude flying, among the valleys and peaks of a music that is simple and yet intricate at the same time, living indeed on epidermal suggestions, but remaining firmly in the hands of a very wise writing and a rigorous clarity, dictated by a man who can without fear be called a piece of Jazz history.

Overwhelming, immensely entertaining.
And to hell with the softness.