Album Review - Footprints by Pat Martino

Pat Martino’s Footprints LP is more than a tribute—it is a spiritual dialogue between past and present, a meditation on influence, identity, and the inexorable pull of artistic lineage. Conceived as a reverent nod to Wes Montgomery, it transcends mere homage, becoming a luminous statement of Martino’s own evolution, a chronicle of self-discovery inscribed in six-string poetry.

The writing surrounding this album, much like the music itself, is infused with a rare sophistication, articulating the nuanced dilemma of an artist negotiating the dual forces of inspiration and self-actualization. Influence, here, is neither a specter to be exorcised nor a weight to be shouldered—it is a current to be navigated with grace. Martino does not seek to replicate Montgomery’s voice but rather to engage in a conversation with it, absorbing and distilling, until what remains is something wholly his own.

The listening experience is immersive, a labyrinth of sound where every phrase is sculpted with intent. An EP, by its very nature, demands economy of expression, and Footprints thrives within these constraints. Each note is precise yet expansive, a distilled manifestation of Martino’s musical philosophy. The interplay with Richard Davis, Billy Higgins, and Bobby Rose is exquisite—an alchemy of restraint and abandon, where the spaces between the notes carry as much weight as the notes themselves.

To listen is to derive meaning on multiple levels. Superficially, it is an exhibition of virtuosity, but beneath the dazzling technique lies something far more profound: a masterful exercise in artistic integrity. Martino’s touch is at once incisive and tender, revealing a deep reverence for the language of jazz while simultaneously rewriting its syntax. He exists not in the shadow of Montgomery but in his own radiant light, his playing suffused with both intellect and intuition.

The purity of Martino’s musical thought is evident throughout, his study of the guitar manifesting as an almost ascetic pursuit of sound. His concept of "rotational division principles" suggests an approach unbound by convention, a quest for fluidity that embraces both structure and spontaneity. His music is a prism, refracting influences into something utterly singular.

The musicianship on Footprints is staggering. Richard Davis’s bass playing is a lesson in eloquence, his lines imbued with a rich, architectural solidity. Billy Higgins’ drumming is revelatory, his cymbals whispering secrets as his snare work punctuates with effortless grace. Bobby Rose, the unassuming heartbeat of the session, provides a harmonic lattice upon which Martino’s lines unfurl like calligraphy in motion.

Even the imperfections—the faint scratch of the vinyl, the gentle hiss of analog warmth—become part of the experience, enhancing rather than detracting. The record breathes, its mix pristine yet organic, a testament to the timelessness of Martino’s vision. Footprints is not just an album; it is an invocation, a testament to jazz’s eternal dance between tradition and transcendence.

LP Notes

First off, the music on this record, an extraordinary testimony to communication, was conceive by Pat Mar tino as a personal tribute to, a "visit with, the memory of Wes Montgomery. I suppose that anybody hip enough to even think of buying this record knows all about Wes and that there is, therefore, no reason even to note that he was the most dynamic figure on jazz guitar since Charlie Christian.

This album, though, is anything but a musical obituary: it is a serenely swinging date that comments on the friendship between one giant gone and another who is carving his name in increasingly bolder and more indelible colors. It has something to say about that sacred SMZ of Influence on which every artist must look back with bittersweet ambivalence. Above all, it is about the continuing odyssey of Pat Martino. One of the saddest ironies of 1968 was that only a few months after the mixing was completed on Pat's first re-cordings, Wes suffered a fatal heart attack. Despite a twenty year disparity in age, the two guitarists had developed a Strong musical bond in the mid-'60s. Whenever they were working in the same town they would get together at one or the other's hotel and play. Work. Jam, learn, teach, experiment, dig each other. Some of the things they used to play are on this record. The only one that Montgomery ever recorded is Road Song, which he wrote, but then this is not a 'greatest hits' collection. It's a personal tribute. Influence is a problem all artists have to contend with in various degrees. In trying to create your own art, you become self-conscious about what you've picked up from your predecessors.

Sometimes you become enveloped in goggle-eyed paranoia fencing off what you think is influence or, worse, imitation, in order to create something that is new, original, yours. I know a writer whose admiration for Faulkner is matched only by his fear of reading him because every time he does he finds the Faulkner influence creeping into his own work. For Pat, learning is a continuous part of the process of music but so is remaining true to oneself. When he was younger, he became enamoured of the music of guitarists like Christian and Johnny Smith to such an extent that he wanted to emulate them. But he wasn't getting into his OWN music and that is what it is all about; that is the ultimate difference between important musicians and liner-note writers-the ability to cross the border from idolizing daddy to becoming a daddy your-self. While it was obvious from his first real album as a leader, Strings., recorded when he was only 23, that Pat had an original and personal approach to jazz guitar, suppressing influences has often been a conscious factor in the evolution of his music. One of the things different about, and working for, the sublime music on this date is that that suppression was not in play. There was no at- tempt here to sound like Wes; on the contrary, Pat is no less his own man here than on any of his other records. In fact, I think this LP is a perfect evocation of his music, and an unmatched example of the affinity of Bobby Rose for it, and of the empathy of Richard Davis and Billy Hig-gins. It's just that here the influences were allowed to be brought out rather than guarded against. And while no one is going to confuse the two guitarists in a blindfold test, if a carefully built riff or a particularly mellow sounding octave puts you in mind of Wes, it isn't necessarily your imagination.

When you can regard the influence of someone else in your own art with equanimity, you have evolved a profound step in your own self-regard The steps by which Pat Martino has evolved as a musician of uncommon perspicuity and dexterity have been documented before. Briefly then, he was born 28 years ago in Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love and a few dozen major jazz-men including the first major guitarist, Eddie Lang. Among the local guitarists he listened to, Dennis Sandole had the strongest influence. Sandole, who played with many of the best big bands in the '40s and who, as a composer, is best known for Modern Music from Philadelphia, gave Pat a direction to follow composition-ally as well as instrumentally. Having played only four years, he went on the road at age 15 with R&B bands like Red Holloway's, Willis Jackson's and later Brother Jack McDuff's. During a stint with Lloyd Price, he was encouraged by Jimmy Heath and soon began to take stock of his real abilities.

After a while, you get tired of reshuffling yourself through the ineluctible changes of organ bands. He had pretty much exhausted the rock and the R&B thing and other notions were beckoning, blandished somewhat by his considerable store of technical virtuosity. So it was back to Philly for some more study, studio work, composing. A brief gig with John Handy provided a change of pace and then there were several recordings as a side man; Red Holloway even recorded some of his originals. In late 1967, Don Schlitten, who has produced an unnerving amount of the best records of the past decade, set the wheels in motion for the Strings! record. Within a year, a downbeat review placed him in the rarified atmosphere of Kenny Burrell and Jim Hall. A new and important talent had announced himself, and he clearly wasn't about to make the same record over and over again. An interest in the Koran and the tone colors of Eastern music led to experiments in marrying jazz to the modalities of Indian instruments and the incorporation of poly-rhythms. He continues to grow. He describes the apex to which his art is striving as Globalism; a unity of all music, a bridge between the various possibilities of music that disregards and defies labels but retains a singular individuality nonetheless. 'Rotational division principles' is another phrase Pat uses to describe where he is going.

Music, he believes, should be able to go into any and all directions with the only major control being the taste and sensibility of the musi-cian. Globalistic art would, like a prism, be open to all the mutifarious possibilities and, God knows, the possibilities of music, even at this late date, haven't begun to be ex• hausted. It should be a music able to go in any direction, both divisional in aspect and rotational in aspect, allowing the various members of a band maximum individual freedom while still disregarding chaos and non-music. Communication is everything. Pat still lives in Philly with his stunning wife, Jeri, and continues to study although, naturally, he is now a teacher too. He is concentrating on furthering the possibilities of the guitar, purifying his music so that it becomes only a nerve ending away from himself, and composing. As even a peripheral listen to his work quickly reveals, he is very interested in the sound of the guitar and, extending that aspect, he is experimenting with the idea of writing for several guitars, an intriguing prospect that one hopes will bear recorded fruit in the near future. If it hasn't already been sufficiently implied, please note that one of the most attractive aspects of Pat's relationship to the music business is his unmitigated refusal to compromise what he believes in. Obviously, in a music that is so clearly contingent on group interaction, it is essential to work with empathetic and able artists. Richard Davis and Billy Higgins need no introduction to the jazz audience. They are incomparable masters of their instruments and versatile beyond category. Richard is certainly the most highly regarded bassist in jazz since Ray Brown opted for the studios. His burnished, stentorian tone and rhythmic suppleness is in ample evidence here. With all his renowned virtuosity, he understands the power of simplicity.

Listen, for example, to the way he accompanies the third and fourth choruses of Pat's improvisation on The Visit. For the first 8 bars of each, heplays only one note creating a modal drone effect that, because of the rhythmic placements, heightens the excitement of the group effort. Billy Higgins used to be associated with the avant garde because of his brilliant and revolutionary work with Ornette Coleman. It is quite clear, however, that he is at home in any kind of thoughtful music. He has developed a distinct and beautiful sound on the cymbal as well as a highly effective spare style: witness his snare work on How Insen- Bobby Rose, in Pat's words, IS the music. He has worked closely with Pat for several years and his deft, exquisite accompaniments show it. His contribution to this date cannot be overstated; he sets much of the rhythmic and harmonic feeling on each number as well as providing a buoyant current that enriches the lead guitar's lines. Guitar duets are not new in jazz.

Almost half a century ago, Eddie Lang recorded a series of duos with Lonnie Johnson. Django frequently improvised over the thumping of other guitars and one of my favorite moments in jazz is on the recordings from the 1938 "Spirituals to Swing" concert, when Charlie Christian stretched out over the vibrant chords of Freddie Greene. The empathy between Martino and Rose is of that caliber. The Visit, the one Martino original on the date, is a kind of bebop barcarolle. Written in 1965, it has an irresistably infectious melody that reminds one of simpler, swinging times. Played in 6/8 time, it is essentially a 16 bar blues form with an unusually lovely release at the 8th bar. Bobby Rose provides the benign, but crisp, waves on which Pat coasts for six marvelously supple improvised choruses. Michel Legrand's What Are You Doing The Rest Of Your Life? is the text for a balladic masterpiece. Higgins' cymbals whisper like autumn leaves and Davis provides dis. creet strength, but the conversation is really between the two guitarists. The tempo is slow, almost suspended, but the feeling is whistful rather than somber. It is an extraordinary lesson in ballad playing and one of Pat's finest achievements on record. The best known aspect of Wes Montgomery's playing was his octave style. Pat uses octaves liberally throughout the date, beginning with the title tune. On Road Song, he pulls out all the steps and creates a memorable musical portrait of Wes with uncanny accuracy. His solo begins with incredibly fleet lines and closes with an octave chorus that is characterized by the same kind of excitement with which Montgomery first turned everybody's heads over a decade ago. Footprints is a superb blues by Wayne Shorter, composed when he was with Miles. The blues form has proven to be as pliable in content as it is classic in form, and every decade refreshens it with new attitudes and ap-proaches. Written with a vamp that is laid down by the bass, it provides the perfect opportunity for an exciting Martino solo wherein splintered lines whirl in-here and out-there like dervishes.

There is a striking bass solo and a splendid example of the Davis bow at the end. Antonio Carlos Jobim's How Insensitive is given an appropriately scintillating treatment spiced by Pat's subtle ability with the tremolo. Dig the extremely lyrical opening of his first chorus and the way it carefully builds in inten sity and speed. The quartet is a model of crystal unity and Finally, the Dietz-Schwartz standard, Alone Together, is taken at a brisk medium-up tempo. Pat takes a tremendously moving solo with a climax of 32nd notes that recalls Coltrane's 'sheets of sounds.' He follows it with an impeccable chorus of octaves that is a sagacious and sub-Pat Martino is a consummate master of jazz guitar as this LP-his most consistently rewarding one in my opinion -proves unrefutably. He is, unfortunately, one of the few young artists around whose every record reveals new as-pects, new growth. One hopes that his audience will grow proportionately.