Just Sayin’ and Playin’ CD Review
The New York City Jazz Record - John Pietaro
The loss of Larry Roland (who passed away Feb.25th of last year at the age of 73) continues to echo
through the NYC underground. The bassist/poet effortlessly threaded moving, revolutionary spoken
word around gorgeously open, wandering basslines, all the while maintaining driving swing and tempo.
With a grasp on music as strong as the real-life verse he was committed to, Roland fearlessly
explored, pondered and demanded as much from those onstage as everyone in the audience.
In a lengthy interview with this writer just a few years ago, Roland said that the bass came into his life
relatively late, the result of “fooling around” with the house bass in a café where he hosted a weekly
poetry night. Yeah, he got it right. And honest.
Of the instrument, he once wrote: “Mystical, magical launch pads / Of harmonic happenings / On the low end
of sound. / Inspiring pulse and heartbeat flow / And it knows where to go…”
Pianist Kiyoko Layne partnered with the bassist/poet on several powerful outings, including this final statement. Befittingly, the pieces here are drawn from the sumptuous collection he published in 2019, Just Sayin’: Selected Poems. Sadly, it was his first book, one he complained about as having been rushed and improperly edited.
But it remains powerful, especially in its dedications, as evidenced in several cuts on this set.
“We Will Miss You” speaks to his father’s life-lessons as strongly as the influence of Charlie Parker, and namechecks
many others within the ’50s and ’60s modern jazz and poetry scenes.
And there’s no small irony in Roland’s citing his own mortality:
“Hated to see you leave the room / See you when we get there.”
From the opening “The Blues”, Roland’s dark, rhythmic hold is clear, his bass (and drum overdubs!)
as percussive as melodic, Layne’s piano drenched in expansive blues.
The flexible, agitational, confessional poetry grasps the times so nakedly.
Listen for the harsh realism of “Whose Dope isThis?”, “Peace, Can We Handle It?” (goddamned prescient)
and “Thinking”, let alone the music’s history painted across “On Their Shoulders”.
Roland rarely stopped long enough to document his restless creativity,
so take this album as a vital historic document.
Even as his closing words remind us:
“But it’s never, it’s never-ever / Goodbye.”