It’s probably not to heavy or theoretically deep to being this write up by saying that Charles Brackeen’s playing here has a good deal to do with the Ornette Coleman ensembles from the late fifties.

A decade on, finding most of Coleman’s band – Ed Blackwell on drums and Charlie Haden on bass - contributing to Brackeen’s 1968 album Rhythm X should make the set enjoyable to a huge swath of the jazz music listening audience.

Coleman’s bands had some power to remain rooted in some semblance of tradition while still flying off into completely uncharted territory, improvising collectively, improvising alone, doing whatever the music, at that moment demanded. And for all of those reasons, Coleman’s catalog and influence still resounds today, fifty years after its being recorded.

In 1968, though, there were a tremendous number of people working in this mode. Developing the vibrant loft scene – thanks to Sam Rivers – there was an avenue of expression for performers to get the juju out in the best way possible. Brackeen made an appearance on Wildflowers, the resultant collection of albums from those jams at Rivers’ loft. Just as engaging, though, is this date.

With such a strong rhythm section and Don Cherry throwing down some trebly cornet workouts, the Rhythm X is pretty much all highlights. The solo Cherry takes during the first track, the title track, is attention grabbing. But the next offering, “Hour Glass” finds the cornetist and Brackeen going in on simultaneous improvs. To the unitiated, the resultant playing might sound like the aural equivalent of a cartoon cat fight with one player exerting his prowess only to draw back after hearing a complimentary line and then batting at each other for a bit.

What made Coleman’s playing – and here Brackeen’s performance – so engaging was that it didn’t have that overarching seriousness that Coltrane possessed and seemingly forced into some of his work. Brackeen’s is still a serious music, but it’s a music that reflects the various ups and downs that anyone might experience of the course of a day. It’s not all congratulatory jamming. Not that there’re too many repetitive melodic motifs, but the sheer ability of this ensemble to work up these extended tracks – which should be assumed greatly improvised even if there are some figures that have undoubtedly been played elsewhere previously – is enough to raise Brackeen from unknown to a figure that demands respect for being an intermediary between eras as well as a talented improviser.