Musical reunions can be problematic.  When initial inspiration has run its course, exercises in nostalgia often follow, and where relations are frayed, feigned affinity is audible.  Neither circumstance prevailed when David Liebman, Richie Beirach, Ron McClure and Billy Hart assembled as Quest for the first time in 15 years.  Not only did the uncommon collective focus that set the band apart in its heyday survive, it gave every sign of continuing to thrive.

            The impetus behind Quest predates the formation of the group, beginning nearly four decades ago when Liebman and Beirach met and discovered shared musical values.  After establishing their public credentials separately, the pair banded together in Lookout Farm between 1973 and ’76.  An even more extended collective effort began a few years later and grew from duo performances to a rhythm section that included bassist George Mraz and drummer Al Foster. This quartet recorded the first Quest album in 1981; then inevitable touring commitments with other bands brought different rhythm sections into the mix.  By 1984, Ron McClure and Billy Hart were aboard, contributing a responsiveness and compositional probity that were ideally suited to the creative vernacular the saxophonist and pianist had developed.  From that point until the members chose to pursue diverse individual projects in 1991, Quest displayed an eloquence and sense of adventure that placed it among the leading groups of the era.

            The present performances, from two stops on its 2005 European tour, find the band revisiting and extending longstanding concepts with the added conviction of four wiser, and if anything bolder explorers.

            Despite its depth of compositional talent, Quest always maintained a generous, inquisitive relationship with standards. “Round Midnight” and “Lonely Woman,” two titles at the core of the modern canon, are equally fundamental to the history of the players.  Liebman and Beirach have performed Monk’s most celebrated opus as long as they’ve known each other, and recorded the first of what are now three duo interpretations in 1973.  While the melodic/harmonic edifice of “Midnight” inhibits some improvisers, it has always inspired this pair, and they manage to simultaneously carry their discussion forward here while affirming the magnificence of Monk’s original vision.  Ornette Coleman’s ballad was part of the first Quest album, with Liebman heard on alto flute and the responses of the rhythm section conveying a measured menace.  Here, Liebman’s wooden flute adds a more fundamental caste, reinforcing the enveloping aura McClure establishes in his opening statement.  Beirach still works inside the piano, but with new shadings in his commentary, while Hart has found a flow that confirms the band’s passage from the ceremonial tone of the 1981 version to a feeling more akin to meditation.

            The music of John Coltrane has long been central to the aesthetic of all four musicians.  “Dark Eyes” and “Ogunde,” each new to the Quest repertoire, remind us that they have absorbed the entire expansive gamut that was Coltrane’s stylistic continuum.  Both compositions feature Liebman on tenor saxophone, an instrument he had set aside during Quest’s previous existence but has returned to in more recent years with the same second-nature assurance that marks the present reunion.  Where “Dark Eyes” has previously lent itself to various manners of swinging, it is here set at a meter that Liebman and Beirach dubbed “the wake up six” in their loft days, when they would start each day by emulating Elvin Jones’ magical “three” feeling.  “Ogunde” is not just post-Elvin Coltrane, but also among Coltrane’s final recorded compositions.  Beirach’s opening solo captures the boundless lyricism that signaled further developments in the composer’s original studio version, while Hart’s combustible interlude directs Liebman and the band into areas explored in the performance Coltrane taped at the Olatunji Cultural Center seven weeks later.

            Liebman’s “WTC” and Beirach’s “Steel Prayers,” heard here in medley, represent two responses to the September 11 tragedy composed (and initially recorded) within months of the event.  They make an instructive pair, with Liebman’s melody more abrupt and combustible; yet the implosive anguish at the conclusion of his duet recording with Marc Copland on Bookends (hatOLOGY 2-587) has been tempered in the present coda.  This response is in keeping with the more fragile tenderness of “Steel Prayers,” which Beirach introduces around six minutes into the performance.  The subsequent unfolding of this beautiful theme finds McClure and Hart offering support of absolute sympathy and precision.

            “Redemption,” the most kinetic and emotionally comprehensive of the performances, is a Hart original that has become something of a jazz standard.  There are two previous live recordings by Quest as well as subsequent interpretations by the composer leading his own septet and as part of a Beirach trio.  While the composition pays homage to the grooves Coltrane’s classic quartet struck on the likes of “Miles’ Mode” and “Resolution,” the members of Quest have found their own elasticity within the time flow and a personal brace of colors within the open harmonic choices, and the buoyancy of the percussion interlude confirms Hart’s essential contribution to the group sound.  As Liebman spirals to the conclusion of his soprano solo with the others reflecting the same glorious abandon, Quest sounds as vividly engaged as ever, redeeming both the high standard of its initial work and a listener’s faith in the staying power of these most reliable old friends.                                        

- Bob Blumenthal

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