Lorne Lofsky: This Song Is New
Modica Music

“I just plug my guitar into an amp, try to get a decent sound, and then, you know, sail away” (quote taken from James Hale's liner notes for This Song Is New). Such humility is characteristic of Toronto-based jazz guitarist Lorne Lofsky, who's long been one of this country's musical treasures. The Canadian jazz ambassador's career took off when Oscar Peterson produced his debut album, It Could Happen To You, in 1980. Thereafter, Lofsky toured with renowned Canadian players such as saxophonist Pat LaBarbera and guitarist Ed Bickert and performed as a member of the Oscar Peterson Quartet in the mid-‘90s. Lofsky's performed with many another legend besides, with names such as Chet Baker, Dizzy Gillespie, Benny Carter, and Dave Holland a sampling of those with whom he's played.

Consistent with that self-effacing bent, This Song Is New is Lofksy's first recording as a leader in over two decades; furthermore, it's one that came about somewhat by accident. As he concentrates on playing more than composing, writing occurs sporadically. Sometimes, however, tunes emerge, and when they do, the guitarist convenes long-time collaborators for a run-through. So when tenor saxist Kirk MacDonald, bassist Kieran Overs, and drummer Barry Romberg joined Lofsky at Roberto Occhipinti's Modica Music Studio on a December day in 2019 for a casual run-through of five originals and covers of Miles Davis's “Seven Steps” (aka “Seven Steps to Heaven”) and Benny Golson's “Stablemates,” the guitarist had no intention of releasing the recording commercially—until he heard the playback.

Lofsky's a virtuoso in full command of his instrument, but as a player he eschews flash for understated artistry. He also prefers a simple setup and in that spirit has used the same instrument and amp for more than three decades. No outboard effects, pedals, or other add-ons are involved, Lofsky instead favouring unadulterated expression. Rather than dominating, the guitarist's one of four equals. MacDonald's an effective front-line partner who can be voluble when the material calls for it and velvety otherwise, and Overs and Romberg flesh out the bottom end with polish and verve like the seasoned pros they are. The rapport between them is easy to explain. They've played together for years, and once the music starts chemistry does too. With most of the tracks single takes, there's a freshness and immediacy to the performances that speaks to the players' comfort level.

The ears perk up instantly when Lofsky recasts the feel of “Seven Steps” from its familiar presentation. The tune's still recognizable, of course, but a twist in the metre gives it a fresh new look. Couple MacDonald's smooth tone with effortless swing and the leader's tasteful compings, and you've got a delicious opener. Gliding like the coolest of breezes, “Seven Steps” is the sound of four vets elevating each other. Thankfully the recording suffers no diminishment in quality when the originals take over. Whereas languorous introspection draws the listener into “The Time Being” and “This Song Is New,” “Live from the Apollo” finds the quartet operating in a lively, boppish mode. Lofsky drew from Coltrane's “Giant Steps” for the piece, but the connection's hardly noticeable when alternate changes and other twist-ups were incorporated. Concluding the album is an inspired Bossa nova-tinged take on “Stablemates” that distances itself from the post-bop treatments by Miles, Golson himself, and others. Lofsky's propensity for wordplay in seen in “This Song Is New” (no correlation to “The Song is You” beyond the title) and “Evans From Lennie,” which simultaneously references Bill Evans, Lennie Tristano, and Lee Konitz in its deft reimagining of “Pennies From Heaven.”

There's a relaxed and natural feel to the playing that makes listening to it all the more satisfying, and hearing Lofsky and MacDonald extemporizing comfortably with assured support from Overs and Romberg is certainly not a bad way to spend forty minutes. Does This Song Is New break new ground? Of course not—that was never Lofsky's intent. Instead, it's the sound of old friends communicating as they do best and allowing others the treat of eavesdropping on the conversation.

May 2021