MUSIC REVIEW BY Mike Gates, UK Vibe
5 STARS
Delivering exactly what its title promises, Barry Greene's Giants is a deeply felt, expertly executed homage to the lineage of jazz guitar, delivered by a musician fully capable of standing alongside the figures he honours. It's an album that makes me feel nostalgic while, at the same time, rewarding me as a modern, living, breathing statement that bridges eras with intelligence and soul.
Greene has long been respected not only as a performer but as an educator, shaping generations of players through his work at institutions like the University of North Florida. His reputation as a "musician's musician" is reinforced here. Every phrase feels considered, every chorus rooted in a profound understanding of the tradition. That lineage is confidently front and centre, with touchstones including Pat Martino, Grant Green, Wes Montgomery and Russell Malone, all of whom loom large over the modern jazz guitar vocabulary.
The album's structure is one of its great strengths. Greene moves fluidly between formats, from the greasy swing of the organ trio tracks to the more harmonically expansive quintet recordings. On tracks like "Backtrack" and "El Hombre", Pat Bianchi's Hammond B3 alongside drummer Ulysses Owen Jr. channels the raw, church-infused energy of players like Dr Lonnie Smith. These tracks groove hard, with Greene digging into a bluesy, percussive attack that feels both classic and immediate.
By contrast, the quintet material opens up a richer palette. Pianist David Kikoski and vibraphonist Steve Nelson add harmonic depth and colour, particularly on Pat Metheny's "Question and Answer" and Sam Jones' "Unit 7." Here, Greene's playing becomes more expansive. His lines stretch, his chordal work blooms, and his sense of space becomes just as important as his virtuosity. Bassist Marco Panascia anchors these performances with warmth and precision.
The repertoire itself is telling. Covers like "Green Street", SOS, and "Jingles" aren't treated as museum pieces but as springboards for reinterpretation. Greene honours their spirit while subtly reframing them through his own harmonic lens. His reading of "My One and Only Love" is particularly striking - stripped down, lyrical, and revealing a sensitivity that balances the album's more fiery moments.
Greene's ability to synthesise influences without ever being overshadowed by them really adds to the album's compelling nature. Throughout this masterful recording, I can hear echoes of Martino's precision, Montgomery's warmth, and Grant Green's directness, but the voice is unmistakably his own. It's this balance of the old-school styles, mixed effortlessly with a discerningly modern sound that defines Giants.
The album's production is crisp and immediate, capturing both the intimacy of small-group jazz and the dynamic interplay between musicians. If anything, Giants somehow feels like a passing of the torch, proving that the music's heritage is in safe and exciting hands. It's a masterclass in jazz guitar: authoritative, soulful, and essentially, deeply musical.
Delivering exactly what its title promises, Barry Greene's Giants is a deeply felt, expertly executed homage to the lineage of jazz guitar, delivered by a musician fully capable of standing alongside the figures he honours. It's an album that makes me feel nostalgic while, at the same time, rewarding me as a modern, living, breathing statement that bridges eras with intelligence and soul.
Greene has long been respected not only as a performer but as an educator, shaping generations of players through his work at institutions like the University of North Florida. His reputation as a "musician's musician" is reinforced here. Every phrase feels considered, every chorus rooted in a profound understanding of the tradition. That lineage is confidently front and centre, with touchstones including Pat Martino, Grant Green, Wes Montgomery and Russell Malone, all of whom loom large over the modern jazz guitar vocabulary.
The album's structure is one of its great strengths. Greene moves fluidly between formats, from the greasy swing of the organ trio tracks to the more harmonically expansive quintet recordings. On tracks like "Backtrack" and "El Hombre", Pat Bianchi's Hammond B3 alongside drummer Ulysses Owen Jr. channels the raw, church-infused energy of players like Dr Lonnie Smith. These tracks groove hard, with Greene digging into a bluesy, percussive attack that feels both classic and immediate.
By contrast, the quintet material opens up a richer palette. Pianist David Kikoski and vibraphonist Steve Nelson add harmonic depth and colour, particularly on Pat Metheny's "Question and Answer" and Sam Jones' "Unit 7." Here, Greene's playing becomes more expansive. His lines stretch, his chordal work blooms, and his sense of space becomes just as important as his virtuosity. Bassist Marco Panascia anchors these performances with warmth and precision.
The repertoire itself is telling. Covers like "Green Street", SOS, and "Jingles" aren't treated as museum pieces but as springboards for reinterpretation. Greene honours their spirit while subtly reframing them through his own harmonic lens. His reading of "My One and Only Love" is particularly striking - stripped down, lyrical, and revealing a sensitivity that balances the album's more fiery moments.
Greene's ability to synthesise influences without ever being overshadowed by them really adds to the album's compelling nature. Throughout this masterful recording, I can hear echoes of Martino's precision, Montgomery's warmth, and Grant Green's directness, but the voice is unmistakably his own. It's this balance of the old-school styles, mixed effortlessly with a discerningly modern sound that defines Giants.
The album's production is crisp and immediate, capturing both the intimacy of small-group jazz and the dynamic interplay between musicians. If anything, Giants somehow feels like a passing of the torch, proving that the music's heritage is in safe and exciting hands. It's a masterclass in jazz guitar: authoritative, soulful, and essentially, deeply musical.