There are some players who easily figure into jazz’s development, but remain known only to musicians and folks a bit too nerdy and find themselves digging through books on the genre and scrolling through web pages. It’s hard to understand why some folks are relegated to this particular sphere of renown, but that’s how it goes. Walter Bishop, Jr. is one of those players.

Born to Walter Bishop, Sr., a prominent songwriter in Harlem who rubbed elbows with some of the city’s biggest names in jazz, the younger pianist was imbued with an uncanny musicality. Having jazz all around him probably didn’t hurt Bishop’s chances at breaking into music. He eventually found himself recording with Charlie Parker on Swedish Schnapps – not a bad way to front-load a career with impressive milestones. And as if that weren’t enough, Bishop worked with Miles Davis a few years on as well. That, however, wasn’t before the trumpeter began lauding Bishop for his interesting use of space.

In listening to Davis play, it’s readily apparent that the time between notes is intended to be as emotive as the notes themselves. Bishop has been credited with lending Davis that particular tactic. The thing is, though, that a few of Bishops recordings don’t find him functioning in that manner. That’s the case with 1961’s Speak Low, at least.

As only Bishops second entry into his catalog as a date leader (his first effort was recorded the same year), it’s not a shock that the pianist wasn’t fully formed at the time of the Black Lion Records' release.

What’s interesting, though, is that Bishop’s keyboard is a great deal chattier than on other efforts. Even with that, listeners can figure out where those spaces crop up. The first two efforts on Speak Low are up tempo, bluesy numbers disallowing Bishop from coming off as all laid back. “Sometimes I'm Happy” hints at the approach Bishop would take up, but those moments quickly give way to fast comping and blues-based soloing.

Backing Bishop here, which might account for some of the music coming off as it did, is Jimmy Garrison on bass, whose probably most associated with John Coltrane’s groups. “Blues In The Closet,” that second effort, even finds him catching a bowed solo – kind of an oddity for the time.

Either way, “Green Dolphin Street” grants Bishop some latitude in playing around with those pauses. The track still comes off as a bop tune, which isn’t all bad, but just not something that well informed listeners would instantly associate with the pianist. Surprisingly, the title track cops both the same tempo and sounds as if it’s even in the same key. Whatever the reason for that, conjecture says it’s just a young player sussing out his instrument’s possibilities.

There a few reasons to keep this disc in one’s collection – Garrison’s performance being one, Bishop’s being another. But the fact that the recording sounds detached from the remained of Bishop’s catalog might be enticing enough for some. It’s not a bad date, but not up to snuff with some of the Bishop's other work.