Jazz is a genre that has no problem leaning on compositions from past times, other players and even other genres. In fact, it’s in this pastiche of influence that has resulted in some of the most amazing heights of the genre. Coltrane reworking what was ostensibly a song from popular music’s catalog or Miles imagining standards as his own playground to unloose his laid back style are hallmarks of the genre. And by the time the sixties were in full swing, rock and roll, blues and soul music were as important to jazz music as it was to radio stations.

With the work of guitarists like Grant Green and the organ theatrics of Brother Jack McDuff, the line between jazz and dance music had become blurred recalling times during the thirties and forties that found the genre at the top of every chart.

Folks figured Melvin Sparks as a disciple of the aforementioned Green. And while the two share an interest in single note runs, the playing of this younger man wasn’t ever subsumed by jazz. By contrast, a huge portion of Green’s work was turned in with the genre tropes firmly in had. Of course, he would eventually eschew some of the stuffy thoughts associated with the music – unlike most of Jimmy Smith’s catalog. So maybe there’s a passing affinity from one guitarist to the other. But Sparks, who first sat in with B.B. King when he was just barely a teenager, came from a drastically different place musically.

Coming up through the ranks of R&B bands, something akin to Ornette Coleman’s background, but yielding drastically different results, Sparks developed a melodic style that perhaps should be considered an extension of vocal performers instead of instrumentalists. Over the first two albums of Sparks’ career, the overwhelming number of cultural appropriations as covers points to the fact.

Sparks!, the guitarist’s first album, released in 1970, doesn’t include a single original composition from the date leader, but does open with Sly and the Family Stone’s “Thank You,” where the guitar supplants the vocal line. The entirety of the album, save for a few organ and sax solos provided by and Leon Spencer and Houston Person, respectively

The album’s closing track, contributed by the band’s organist, provides listeners with a guitar solo sporting the most moxie found here. It’s laid atop a solid groove pilfered from then current dance tunes, but doesn’t disappoint.

Sparks’ following album, Spark Plug actually includes a few tunes penned by the guitarist with the title track being strong enough to have served as soundtrack music for any emerging cinema geared towards black audiences.

The remainder of the seventies saw Sparks issue working as a date leader and under a wealth of other players’ auspices. For whatever reason, he never attained the same sort of renown Green did – or George Benson. But that last guy was schilling just to do so. Sparks never went down that road even as his earliest discs are going to be a far sight more rewarding than any issued during the nineties and later.