Jim Hall - 1988 - These Rooms

Jim Hall 

1988 

These Rooms

01. With A Song In My Heart            8:22

02. Cross Court                            5:11

03. Something Tells Me    5:10

04. Bimini        9:19

05. All Too Soon        4:00

06. These Room    11:25

07. Darn That Dream    4:03

08. My Funny Valentine    6:22

09. Where Or Whe        5:49

10. From Now On    7:04

Bass – Steve LaSpina (tracks: 1, 2, 4, 6 to 10)

Drums – Joey Baron (tracks: 1, 2, 4, 6, 8 to 10)

Flugelhorn – Tom Harrell (tracks: 1 to 4, 9, 10)

Guitar – Jim Hall

Trumpet – Tom Harrell (tras: 6)

Recorded at Sorcerer Sound, New York City on February 9-10, 1988

Jim Hall’s These Rooms, released in 1988 by Denon Records, is a quietly radiant gem in the guitarist’s extensive discography, showcasing his signature blend of lyricism, restraint, and conversational interplay. Recorded with a stellar quartet—featuring trumpeter/flugelhornist Tom Harrell, bassist Steve LaSpina, and drummer Joey Baron—this album captures Hall at a mature peak, balancing tradition and modernity with a warmth that feels like a fireside chat among old friends. This long-form analysis will dissect the album’s musical structure, historical context, and artistic significance, offering a critical review of its place in Hall’s oeuvre. A concise biography of Hall follows, grounding the music in his remarkable life. Written with scholarly depth yet accessible prose, the piece includes a touch of wit—because even Hall’s elegant jazz deserves a playful nod now and then.

By 1988, Jim Hall was a jazz guitar legend, his career spanning over three decades with collaborations alongside giants like Bill Evans, Sonny Rollins, and Art Farmer. Known for his understated virtuosity and harmonic sophistication, Hall had long been a musician’s musician, revered for making every note count. The late 1980s found him in a reflective phase, exploring intimate settings that highlighted his compositional voice and ensemble sensitivity. These Rooms, recorded on February 9–10, 1988, at Sorcerer Sound in New York City, reflects this ethos, produced by Akira Taguchi for the Japanese label Denon, which gave Hall creative freedom to craft a personal statement.

The choice of personnel was inspired. Tom Harrell, a trumpeter and flugelhornist of immense lyricism and emotional depth, brought a complementary voice to Hall’s guitar, their interplay evoking the conversational magic of Hall’s earlier duos with Evans or Ron Carter. Steve LaSpina, a bassist with a melodic touch, provided a steady yet flexible foundation, while Joey Baron, a drummer known for his textural versatility, added rhythmic color without overpowering the group’s delicacy. Together, they created an album that feels both timeless and forward-looking, a snapshot of four musicians listening as intently as they play—like a dinner party where everyone’s too polite to interrupt but too clever to stay silent.

Track-by-Track Analysis

These Rooms comprises ten tracks: four standards (“With a Song in My Heart,” “All Too Soon,” “Darn That Dream,” “My Funny Valentine,” “Where or When”), four Hall originals (“Cross Court,” “Something Tells Me,” “Bimini,” “These Rooms”), and one by Harrell (“From Now On”). The mix of familiar tunes and new compositions allows the quartet to stretch across moods—wistful, playful, introspective—while maintaining a cohesive sound. At just over an hour, the album is a masterclass in pacing, never overstaying its welcome.

“With a Song in My Heart”

The album opens with a waltzing take on Rodgers and Hart’s “With a Song in My Heart,” reimagined at a brisk 8:22. Hall’s guitar states the melody with crystalline clarity, his clean tone and single-note lines dancing over LaSpina’s walking bass and Baron’s shimmering cymbals. Harrell’s flugelhorn enters, its warm, buttery sound weaving around Hall’s phrases like a partner in a graceful duet. The arrangement modulates midway, a sly Hall touch that keeps things fresh—think of it as a musical plot twist. Hall’s solo is a study in economy, each note placed with surgical precision, while Harrell’s improvisation builds to a quiet intensity, his lines soaring yet controlled. Baron’s understated swing keeps the waltz buoyant, and LaSpina’s brief solo grounds the track with melodic warmth. It’s a joyful opener, like a sunny morning where everyone’s in a good mood but nobody’s showing off.

“Cross Court”

Hall’s original “Cross Court” follows, a 5:11 uptempo piece with an angular melody that feels like a friendly tennis volley—hence the title, perhaps. The guitar and flugelhorn trade the theme, their interplay tight yet relaxed, supported by Baron’s crisp snare work and LaSpina’s pulsing bass. Hall’s solo leans into rhythmic surprises, his phrases darting across bar lines with a bebop nod but a cooler vibe, like Charlie Christian on a coffee break. Harrell’s trumpet (a rare switch from flugelhorn) is bright and assertive, his lines weaving through the changes with a storyteller’s flair. The track’s structure encourages ensemble passages, with written motifs that give way to improvisation, showcasing Hall’s knack for blending composition and spontaneity. It’s a sprightly tune that keeps you guessing, like a conversation that’s equal parts witty and wise.

“Something Tells Me”

Another Hall original, “Something Tells Me” (5:10), slows the pace with a tender, ballad-like feel. Hall’s guitar opens with a delicate melody, his chordal voicings rich yet uncluttered, evoking a moonlit stroll. Harrell’s flugelhorn mirrors this mood, his tone soft and introspective, each phrase a gentle sigh. LaSpina’s bass sings beneath, his lines melodic enough to steal focus, while Baron’s brushes whisper, adding texture without breaking the spell. Hall’s solo is a highlight, his single notes and double-stops creating a dialogue within himself—think of it as musical introspection with a smile. Harrell’s improvisation stays close to the melody, his restraint amplifying the emotion. The track’s brevity enhances its impact, like a short story that lingers long after the last page.

“Bimini”

“Bimini” (9:19), the album’s longest track, is a Hall original inspired by the Bahamian island, its relaxed groove conjuring a Caribbean breeze. The melody, shared by guitar and flugelhorn, sways over a medium-tempo swing, with LaSpina’s bass locking into Baron’s loose, funky beat—imagine a hammock swaying, but with a drummer keeping time. Hall’s solo stretches out, his lines lyrical yet adventurous, dipping into chromatic corners before returning home. Harrell’s flugelhorn solo is a standout, his phrases building from whispers to a near-shout, yet always melodic. The track’s extended form allows for deep interplay, with Baron tossing in rhythmic curveballs that the others catch effortlessly. It’s a vacation in sound, warm and inviting, though you might wish for a cocktail to complete the vibe.

“All Too Soon”

The Ellington standard “All Too Soon” (4:00) is a concise, elegant nod to tradition. Hall’s guitar takes the lead, his tone slightly darker, with a bluesy edge that honors the tune’s roots. Harrell’s flugelhorn follows, his lines smooth and soulful, evoking Art Farmer’s warmth. LaSpina’s walking bass keeps things swinging, while Baron’s light touch on snare and cymbals adds just enough lift. Hall’s solo is compact, blending single notes with chordal stabs, like a painter using both brush and palette knife. Harrell’s brief solo stays close to the melody, his phrasing a masterclass in saying more with less. The track’s brevity feels intentional, a respectful bow to Ellington that doesn’t overstay—think of it as a quick visit to a classic you love.

“These Rooms”

The title track, another Hall original at 11:25, is the album’s centerpiece, a sprawling exploration of mood and texture. The melody, introduced by guitar and trumpet, is wistful yet open-ended, like a question left unanswered. Baron’s drumming is spacious, his cymbals and toms creating a canvas for Hall and Harrell to paint. Hall’s solo ventures into abstract territory, his lines fragmented yet purposeful, while Harrell’s trumpet (again, a switch) responds with long, arching phrases that soar over the rhythm section. LaSpina’s bass solo is a quiet revelation, his notes singing with clarity. The track’s length allows for moments of tension and release, with ensemble passages that feel composed yet free. It’s a journey through emotional rooms—some bright, some shadowy—that invites you to wander without a map.

“Darn That Dream”

The standard “Darn That Dream” (4:03) offers a moment of lush melancholy. Hall’s guitar states the melody with a soft, chordal approach, his voicings evoking Bill Evans’s harmonic depth. Harrell’s flugelhorn joins, its tone tender and vulnerable, like a late-night confession. LaSpina’s bass hums gently, and Baron’s brushes are barely there, letting the melody breathe. Hall’s solo is introspective, his notes floating over the changes with a dreamer’s ease, while Harrell’s improvisation adds a touch of yearning. The track’s brevity keeps it poignant, a fleeting glimpse of beauty—like a dream you wish you could hold onto a bit longer.

“My Funny Valentine”

Rodgers and Hart’s “My Funny Valentine” (6:22) is a quartet showcase, its familiar melody reimagined with fresh nuance. Hall’s guitar opens with a spare, single-note line, gradually adding chords that shimmer like candlelight. Harrell’s flugelhorn takes the theme, his phrasing delicate yet assertive, bending notes with subtle emotion. LaSpina’s bassline walks with a relaxed swing, and Baron’s drumming is a masterclass in restraint, his cymbals whispering support. Hall’s solo explores the tune’s harmonic corners, his lines lyrical yet surprising, while Harrell’s solo builds to a quiet climax, his tone pure poetry. The arrangement’s sensitivity makes this a standout, like a love letter rewritten with new words but the same heart.

“Where or When”

Another Rodgers and Hart classic, “Where or When” (5:49), keeps the reflective mood but adds a touch of swing. Hall’s guitar leads with a bright, melodic line, his tone crisp and inviting. Harrell’s flugelhorn responds, his phrases weaving around Hall’s like a dance partner. LaSpina’s bass drives the pulse, while Baron’s light snare work keeps things buoyant. Hall’s solo is playful, tossing in unexpected accents, while Harrell’s improvisation is warm and linear, staying close to the melody’s spirit. The track’s medium tempo feels like a stroll through familiar streets, comforting yet full of small surprises—like finding a new café in your old neighborhood.

“From Now On”

Closing with Harrell’s “From Now On” (7:04), the album ends on a hopeful note. The melody, introduced by flugelhorn, is optimistic and open, with Hall’s guitar adding harmonic color. Baron’s drumming is more assertive here, his syncopated accents pushing the groove, while LaSpina’s bass anchors the tune’s forward motion. Harrell’s solo is expansive, his lines reaching for the sky, while Hall’s improvisation is understated, his chords and single notes supporting rather than leading. The track’s ensemble feel is its strength, a collective farewell that feels like a promise to meet again. It’s a fitting closer, like a group hug after a great night—nobody wants to leave, but it’s time.

Musical and Technical Innovations

These Rooms is a testament to Hall’s philosophy of less-is-more, his guitar a model of clarity and intention. His tone—clean, warm, slightly rounded—is achieved with minimal gear (likely his D’Aquisto archtop and a small amp), proving virtuosity lies in the player, not the tools. Hall’s solos blend single-note lines with chordal textures, drawing from bebop, cool jazz, and even classical influences, yet always feel conversational, like he’s chatting rather than lecturing. His originals—“Cross Court,” “Something Tells Me,” “Bimini,” “These Rooms”—showcase his compositional growth, their structures open enough for improvisation but tight enough to guide the band.

Harrell’s flugelhorn and trumpet are perfect foils, his tone lush yet precise, capable of lyricism and fire. His interplay with Hall recalls the guitarist’s duos with horn players like Art Farmer, but Harrell’s voice is distinct, adding emotional weight to every track. LaSpina’s bass is melodic yet supportive, his solos (notably on “These Rooms”) revealing a storyteller’s touch. Baron’s drumming is a revelation—subtle, textural, and unpredictable, he plays like a painter adding splashes of color, never overpowering the canvas.

The chordless quartet format, while not new (Hall had explored it with Jimmy Giuffre and others), feels fresh here, the absence of a piano creating space for guitar and horn to breathe. Van Gelder’s engineering (though not credited, the studio’s signature clarity suggests his influence) captures every nuance, from Hall’s string bends to Baron’s cymbal whispers. One critique might be the album’s uniformity of mood—most tracks hover in a reflective, mid-tempo zone, which could feel subdued for listeners craving more fire. Yet this consistency is also its charm, a deliberate choice to explore subtlety over flash, like a novel that unfolds quietly but stays with you.

In 1988, jazz was a diverse landscape. Fusion was waning, neo-traditionalists like Wynton Marsalis were reviving hard bop, and free jazz lingered on the fringes. Hall, ever the outlier, sidestepped trends, focusing on intimate, acoustic settings that prioritized interplay over spectacle. These Rooms reflects this ethos, its mix of standards and originals bridging cool jazz’s elegance with post-bop’s freedom. Released on Denon, a Japanese label, the album initially flew under the radar in the U.S., its subtle cover art and limited promotion making it a cult favorite rather than a blockbuster. Yet critics like Ken Dryden at AllMusic hailed it as “one of the overlooked treasures in the considerable discography of Jim Hall,” awarding it 4.5 stars for its “delight from start to finish.”

The collaboration with Harrell was particularly significant. Harrell, then emerging as a leader, brought a modern sensibility that pushed Hall to new places, their interplay a model of mutual respect. The album’s emphasis on originals—half the tracks are Hall’s or Harrell’s—marked a shift from Hall’s standards-heavy past, aligning with a broader 1980s trend toward composer-led jazz. Its influence can be heard in later guitar-horn pairings, from Pat Metheny’s work with Michael Brecker to modern groups like the Kurt Rosenwinkel Quartet, all of whom owe a debt to Hall’s conversational style.

Culturally, These Rooms resonates as a quiet rebellion against the era’s excesses—think big hair and synths—and a reaffirmation of jazz as a listening art. Its introspective tone suited a late-1980s audience seeking authenticity amid commercial noise, much like ECM’s output but with a warmer, more traditional core. The album’s rarity (out of print for years, fetching high prices online) only adds to its mystique, a hidden room in Hall’s discography that fans treasure once they find it.

These Rooms is a triumph of nuance, a record that rewards close listening with layers of beauty and intellect. Hall’s guitar is the guiding light, its clarity and warmth a reminder that virtuosity needn’t shout. Harrell’s flugelhorn and trumpet add emotional depth, LaSpina’s bass grounds the music with melodic grace, and Baron’s drums sprinkle magic without stealing focus. The repertoire—standards and originals in equal measure—feels like a curated playlist from a master, each track a window into Hall’s soul. The quartet’s interplay is telepathic, every phrase a response, every silence a statement.

If there’s a quibble, it’s the album’s understated vibe—those seeking high-energy bop or avant-garde edge might find it too polite, like a dinner guest who’s charming but never raises their voice. Yet this restraint is its genius, creating a space where every note matters. It’s not music for multitasking; it’s a call to sit, listen, and let the world fade away. Compared to Hall’s classics like Concierto or Undercurrent, These Rooms is less iconic but no less vital, a late-career gem that proves growth never stops.

In short, These Rooms is like a perfectly brewed cup of tea—simple, comforting, but with flavors that unfold the longer you savor it. For Hall fans, it’s essential; for newcomers, it’s a gentle invitation to discover a master. Find a copy, dim the lights, and step into these rooms—you’ll want to stay awhile.

A Short Biography of Jim Hall

James Stanley Hall (December 4, 1930 – December 10, 2013) was an American jazz guitarist, composer, and arranger whose six-decade career left an indelible mark on the genre. Born in Buffalo, New York, and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, Hall began playing guitar at age ten, inspired by his musical family and a life-changing encounter with Charlie Christian’s solos on a Benny Goodman record. He studied music theory at the Cleveland Institute of Music and classical guitar in Los Angeles, blending formal training with a love for saxophonists like Coleman Hawkins and Lester Young, whose melodic flow shaped his guitar voice.

Hall’s professional rise began in the 1950s with Chico Hamilton’s quintet and Jimmy Giuffre’s trio, where his subtle, harmonically rich style stood out in the cool jazz scene. The 1960s saw him collaborate with giants—Bill Evans (Undercurrent), Sonny Rollins (The Bridge), Paul Desmond—cementing his reputation as a sideman who elevated every session. As a leader, albums like Concierto (1975) and Jim Hall Live! showcased his lyrical compositions and ensemble focus. The 1980s and beyond, including These Rooms, highlighted his growth as a composer and mentor, influencing guitarists like Pat Metheny, John Scofield, and Bill Frisell.

Honored with awards like the Danish Jazzpar Prize (1998) and a New York Jazz Critics Award (1997), Hall remained active until his death in 2013 at 83, always prioritizing music over flash. He was the guy who’d rather let his guitar do the talking than hog the mic—lucky for us, it spoke volumes.