Jimmy Smith was a fierce motherfucker. Here he's perfectly matched by Lalo Schifrin's orchestration, all nonstop spikes and yikes. It's a great combination: surging, roiling, strafing orchestration in combat mode, with the muscle-bound champ wrestling the huge dragon-like B3 to the floor in the center of the soundstage.
It's a knife brawl in musical form. In case I'm not being clear: this is not relaxation jazz.
Home-digitized, from a well-loved record. Apologies for fuzz and/or crackle.
