The vibraphone, for whatever reason, isn’t the most appreciated instrument in jazz music – well, to passing jazz fans at least. So while there’s not bound to be too much discussion down at the local Irish pub about Milt Jackson’s abilities to distil bop in a succinct manner or Gary Burton’s attempts at fusion, there should be.

With all of that, even within the geek/freeq jazz communities, deference isn’t paid to too many vibes players beyond the likes of Bobby Hutcherson and his cohort. A lesser known, and almost as adventuresome player, Walt Dickerson, deserves the same sort of renown.

While Hutcherson bridged the gap between late ‘50s bop and some more experimental leaning jazz efforts, like Eric Dolphy’s Out to Lunch, there weren’t too many other line-ups that utilized vibes in a similar fashion. And perhaps for that very reason, Dickerson primarily led groups under his own name.

After heading out to the west coast from his home in Philly subsequent to joining the military, the vibes player wound up helming an ensemble that included an still unknown Andrew Hill. And in examining Hill’s later work – which just touched the cusp of experimentation, while maintaining enough palatable and traditional jazz stuffs – one can surmise Dickerson’s catalog.

The aforementioned Hutcherson didn’t get all free in his playing, but there was a good deal of out jazz prior to his fascination with funk. And Dickerson can be said to have followed a similar trajectory. His first recording as a leader, the 1961 This is Walter Dickerson isn’t at all as demanding of attention as his peers work in a similar mode. But in the album’s understated tone possesses enough forward thinking jazz stuffs as to render the disc a success.

This is… can’t be said to have separated itself from the bop that pretty much every player at the time was indebted – just take a listen to Dickerson’s solo on “Death and Taxes.” He’s able to move in and out of that modal chording to good effect. And while the setting might have lent itself to a pretty decent schizo solo, each player’s stuff remains rather staid. Even with such a traditional sounding tune, Dickerson and his small combo are able to turn in an engaging album.

Sporting a drummer that would go on to work with Cecil Taylor, this date has its moments of success. “Time,” the album’s lead off track, isn’t all discordance and non sequiturs, but the moments where Dickerson is willfully weird could have shocked an early ‘60s crowd. Beginning the album with its least representative track works to explain the allegiances that Dickerson had. He wasn’t ever bound to be a tremendous star, that’s just not how music works. So in lieu of exerting effort towards getting to some culturally lucrative space, Dickerson sought to engage his most creative tendencies – and when they weren’t at work, he didn’t either, as the vibesman was known to take breaks from music that amounted to decades. So even if This is… doesn’t sound like it’s to your liking, Dickerson demands the respect now that he didn’t necessarily get during his hey day.