The career of Freddie Robinson (who changed his name to Abu Talib towards the end of the '70s) is defined through his inability to pick a genre and stick to it. Initially coming to prominence with blues players like Howlin' Wolf and Little Walter, Robinson worked as much with jazzbos. Putting in time with Gene Harris, Quincy Jones and Blue Mitchell pushed Robinson towards embracing a funkier approach to music. And because of this, his albums have a sort of sprawling inconsistency to them that at times could make a listener forget what disc was just tossed on. There isn't any assurance that the entirety of an album makes sense, but each of Robinson's discs can be figured to have at least a bit of funk to it.

Counting Monk Higgins as his collaborator on keys as well as the arranger of his band, Robinson found a musical partner who had as wide a range of interests as himself. And while the broad array of sounds that these two sought to incorporate into their music is admirable, it doesn't work all the way through the '68 disc Coming Atlantis. The production here, although predating Donald Byrd's 1972 Black Byrd disc, sounds like the Mizell Brothers handling things behind the boards. They're not, but should this disc be thought to be an early attempt at incorporating lush strings and productions into jazz?

The answer to that doesn't even matter. Robinson, who was only granted the opportunity to lead three separate dates for the Pacific Jazz and Enterprise imprints, didn't impact the direction of the genre at all. Some producers in hip hop, though, have endeavored to sample the guitarists' work. But not an overwhelming amount, even if some DAISY Age luminaries are amongst the ranks.

The thirty minutes of music on The Coming Atlantis does have its moments and album closer, "Monkin' Around," deftly incorporates each band member into the tracks equation, making room even for a bit of vibraphone atop of the piano solos provided by Higgins. But even before that, some funky moments shine through for Robinson. The title track, replete with some ghostly back up singers, reaches epic sound track proportions amidst the strings and funky back drop that the drumming provides. One thing, certainly, can be said for Robinson; he knows how to allow for other players to get a solo in. Spending so much time backing big names probably instilled a bit of humility in the guitarist and on more than a few songs here, his acumen for working with other's comes through pretty clearly.

While the instrumentation and playing on this disc makes it more than palatable, there are a great many other efforts from the era that might be more satisfying to hunt down. The guitar on "(I'm a) Fool for You," though doesn't have too many peers, even if the rest of the track devolves into a gospel tinged work out in mediocrity. So, while Robinson will most likely be recalled more for his supporting roles, his slim catalog does have its merits, even if it's tempered by missteps.