Have you ever had a conversation in which someone attempted to make you feel mentally inferior? I would imagine that the answer to that is yes. It's an all too common occurrence and moreover, an unpleasant one.

In passing conversation, on the topic of music, I, at one point, made mention of the vibraphone to a young woman. We batted back and forth some pseudo intellectual jazz banter, finally settling on Lionel Hampton or some such other enormous personage. But as we continued our conversation, she attempted to make it plainly clear that between the two of us, I possessed the slimmer mental acumen on the subject. But as the conversation wore on, it became clear that she had no real musical knowledge - everything I heard was a vague reconstruction of some other phrase she had at one time or another overheard.

The one regurgitated fact that I took along with me as I parted ways with this pretend enlightened music geek was the fact that it was common place to use four mallets while playing vibes. I internalized this, for whatever reason, took it as fact, never repeated it in conversation, but continued to believe that it was true.

Stumbling through the endless back log of recorded music, it's hard to not locate an individual that has affected music, but not been given the credit that he or she deserves. That happens to be the case with Gary Burton. And unless you've attended Berklee in the last forty years, you probably don't know that name. But Burton, apparently, is the reason that folks plying those vibes use not just two, but four mallets.

Inspired as much by the cool tone of Gil Evans as anyone else, Burton attempted to replicate the pianists' style on his own instrument. He got what he wanted, but no real recognition. He turned to a career in academia, but continued recording and touring with the likes of Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett sporadically. And despite what one may think of those two players, at his peak Burton may have surpassed both of them.

Gaining a modicum of notoriety during the latter portion of the '60s, Burton was given enough leeway to record as he pleased for Atlantic and other imprints. Growing up during the time when rock really began to stretch out and figure what it was capable of, Burton sought to incorporate those ideas into his own music. Pairing with Larry Corryell initially as well as John Scofield and Pat Metheny subsequently, Burton basically played in a laid back, groovy rock group able to move back and forth between his jazz based solos and the electrified guitar riffs of these aforementioned stalwarts.

Differing opinions exist as to what recording actually best explicates the height of Burton's musical outlook. But the 1969 Good Vibes, despite the horrendous title, is as good a place to begin as any other. There's even an Otis Redding cover. And when you figure in Bernard 'Pretty' Purdie as the drummer here, there's no way that listeners could be let down.