Sidemen sing the blues and Red Garland is one of them. Performing alongside some of the most important innovators in jazz history afforded the pianist the ability to hear and witness some of the most important musical shifts in the history of American music, but it still didn’t make him a star. Surely, he got to lead a number of dates – and even incorporated some of those better known associates into the proceedings – but he never become supremely famous. And by the time that the mid ‘60s rolled around, Garland headed back to his native Texas for a few years in semi-retirement. That life obviously didn’t suite him and as the ‘70s dawned he headed back into the studio.

Regardless of Garland’s inability to stay away from music, the early schooling that he received playing alongside Charlie Parker, Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young and eventually Miles Davis served him well over time. But it would be with that last player that Garland would attain his greatest exposure. While working with Davis and his quintessential group, Garland picked up enough ju-ju as to wrangle a few high profile players to head into the studio to record a 1957 record that had a bit of everything.

Saxophonist John Coltrane and trumpeter Donald Byrd accompanied Garland on Soul Junction, which could be figured, alongside a slew of other discs, to prefigure what folks would later call soul jazz. It’s basically a blues based, swing, but with enough bop tendencies to make it all exciting and unexpected. It’s not that Soul Junction turned in any confusing turns, but there’s enough thoughtful soloing for the disc and its players to be considered top tier music workers.

Comprising five tracks Soul Junction begins strong, flows in the middle and ends well. If there’s a flaw inherent in the album, it’s just that the lead off, title track is so incredibly listenable, that fans might want to just hear the beginning of the disc over and over again.

What “Soul Junction” is known for, apart from just being good music, is Garland’s endless and endlessly pleasing solo that takes up a tremendous portion of the fifteen minute track. But if listeners didn’t make it past this first offering, Byrd’s solo on the Dizzy Gillespie penned “Woody'n You” would be missed. And really, that would be an unmitigated shame.

Of course, the fact that Coltrane, just a few years prior to him flying off the handle, is the other melodic voice and soloist here is of note. It might be a stretch to say that the sax player is at the pinnacle of his abilities considering a number of his own dates from the ‘50s are on par with this disc. His soloing on “I've Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good),” though, might match anything even from Lush Life released just three years on.

There really can’t be enough effusive praise heaped on this disc from Garland. It just evokes a relaxing time. And really, sometimes that’s all that’s needed.