This latest set offers more of what's already available in abundance: Pass by his lonesome in the studio circa summer of '75, trusty hollow-body slung over shoulder, his mind primed to the task of doing what he did best. The disc's title dispenses with vagaries and skips right to the transparent. Pass was a virtuoso, a label I feel more than comfortable ascribing despite my somewhat checkered past with its usage. Over a three-quarter of an hour stretch he spins improvistory fantasias on a septet of chamois-polished standards, the solitary original blues thrown into the mix in two takes. True it's nothing too removed from the usual press of the Pass mold, but like his arguable pianistic counterpart Art Tatum, Pass could make the same old tunes shine under the close scrutiny of brilliant new hues and colors.
Derek Taylor [allaboutjazz.com]
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