In writing about any genre of music – especially those tied to theory and actually understanding what’s going on musically – there’s a tendency to get extraordinarily technical in one’s descriptions of a composition. There’s always room for explanations of time changes and chording. It occasionally makes for interesting readings, but for the most part, being able to reveal the historical or even the emotional value of a music comes off sounding a far sight better than someone explaining to you why it’s important to note that there’s no high hat on certain beats. That could wind up being interesting, but for the most part I find myself losing interest during those academic primers.

Luckily, though, I don’t know music and or its theory.

Max Roach did, though, have a good grasp of concepts tied to creating something different or at least music that moved beyond expectations. And by 1964 that’s a pretty tough thing to do.

There’d already been some freedom expressed via noise and dissonance. But of course Thelonius Monk was able to mesh all of the weirdo, skewed tendencies of that new thing with a sense of melody that while still off, to say the least, allowed folks to swing to it. It’d be the equivalent of having an interesting guitar player front a hardcore band. Kinda.

And while Monk was, is and forever shall be one of the most unique voices in jazz – or perhaps even American music – there was this other guy, simply referred to as the Legendary Hassan.

Hasaan Ibn Ali only recorded a single date during his career. And while his musical prowess may have taken him other places in a live setting, there’s no real indication of that. Regardless of that, Hassan’s recording with Roach and bassist Art Davis should be considered as alchemic as anything that Monk touched – that’s some bloody high praise indeed.

Composing each of the seven tracks Hassan hinted at what could have been. Each offering, though, arrives fully formed. And while the date was recorded live, it intimates the ability of this small group to understand, anticipate and react to whatever the other players are up to.

It’s funny that Roach is the date leader here seeing as Hassan contributed all of the material and easily outshines every other participant. Describing the music, though, feels hollow. And while it might be reductive to simply figure that this all sounds like Monk, it does.

“Almost Like Me” gets into some key twiddling as the rhythm section tries to hold it together while Hassan dives into a right handed solo that somehow retains a semblance of coherence yet still becomes a whir of dissonance and overtly confrontational ideas.

Free jazz might have been the equivalent of a thirteen year old in ’64, when this date was recorded – all posturing and preening, still trying to figure out what it was and how to get where it wanted. Hassan, in that scenario, was the older, self assured kid that read alotta books. Get hip.