Fusion can either be some of the most exciting music ever tossed onto a turntable (ie Miles, half of Mahvishnu Orchestra’s output) or the most God awful, ludicrous nonsense issued on a proper album (the other half of Mahvishnu Orchestra’s output). Either way, it’s usually well composed and at least temporarily intriguing, even if it’s kinda like catching a glimpse of a car wreck.

Hal Galper’s 1972 album, the Guerilla Band, is of that first category. But before the pianist and keyboard player issued that work, Galper found himself in the company of Chet Baker during some of his mid sixties’ fair. Baker, who shouldn’t be confused with the greats on trumpet, probably served as something of restrictive band leader of a player with so many ideas to express.

By the early seventies, though, Galper had earned a chance to lead groups for the Mainstream imprint, one of the more erratic, but open minded jazz related labels of the time. When the Guerilla Band had been released, most of Miles’ highest quality fusion work had been released – there was more to come obviously. But a good deal of that stuff factors greatly into Galper’s conception of the genre.

There’re bits of spacey passages serving as introductions and interludes. But for the most part tempos here a quick and solos come and go almost before listeners are able to get a handle on what’s going on.

By contrast to some of the other fusion work being issued concurrently, there’s still a traditional jazz center to most of the work here. Some of that has to do with Charles Alias’ drumming, which actually was able to move from busy funk work outs to Art Blakey styled bombast in just a few bars. It doesn’t always fit, but coupled with Galper’s occasional forays into staid comping – even if it was rendered on an electric piano – everything worked to good effect.

Perhaps because of their stated purpose being so clear, the pair of shorter compositions that sit in the middle of this disc (“Black Night” and “Welcome to My Dream”) are the most satisfying offerings. The funkier stuff isn’t bad, to say the least, but it’s a relief to hear a band so adroitly move from one thing to the next with little affectation.

The biggest question mark hanging over this disc is its title. Is that vaguely – and accidentally – racist? Who cares when the jams are this good.