Freedom, here, isn’t some big idea—it’s family, memory, and a bass sound that stays with you long after the record ends.
Holthouse Music
Corcoran Holt – bass; Stacy Dillard – saxophones; Josh Evans – trumpet; Benito Gonzalez – piano/Fender Rhodes; Kweku Sumbry – drums/djembe; Special guests Lewis Nash – drums; Sharp Radway – narrator on “To My Dear Ones”
A few minutes into Freedom of Art, you can feel what’s driving it. This is music shaped by family, by change, by the push to grow into yourself. It feels like you’ve stepped into Corcoran Holt’s living room with stories already in motion. Throughout the album, family voices surface—speaking about life, growing up, loving one another—woven into the music itself. And the bass holds it all together.
The album opens with his mother’s voice. On “Theme for Ma,” a taped phone message—optimistic, full of warmth—floats over bowed bass. The low notes roll straight through you, and when the piano joins, the sound deepens, the right hand climbing as if lifting the piece skyward. It’s just over two minutes, but it leaves a mark.
Gonzalez’s Fender Rhodes carries that glossy, late-’70s CTI-style shimmer—warm, electric, just a little silky around the edges—on “Breathe in Peace.” Over Holt’s steady walking line, sax and trumpet jab in short bursts, trading quick ideas instead of stretching out. The drums stay crisp, sticks and cymbals light. When the energy eases, Holt brings it down smoothly, the final notes settling while the groove still hums.
Momentum builds on “Transition Blues.” A steady churn drives it forward, horns locked in unison while Holt’s bass threads underneath. The piano keeps its phrases lean as the drums rise in the mix, adding lift. When the solos break loose, bright runs flash up top and ringing lows answer back. The horns snap together again, the drums surge, and it cuts off clean.
The mood turns reflective on “Hello.” A somber piano sets the slow pace. A rich, rounded tone rises from the bowed bass. When the piano introduces a simple rhythmic figure, the bass picks it up and carries it forward. The sax enters relaxed and unhurried, the trumpet close behind, trading easygoing solos. There’s an old-time glow here, something that recalls an earlier jazz era without imitating it.
Those brief spoken interludes never feel staged. You feel like you’re overhearing something meant for family first and the listener second.
The band locks in and doesn’t let up on “Flatbush.” Bright piano runs streak across the top while firm chords land underneath. Unison horns punch through, then splinter into sharp exchanges, high notes squeezed tight against the groove. The intensity builds—cymbals flashing, sticks snapping—and when the horns regroup at the end, they slam it shut.
The album closes with “To My Dear Ones,” a poem by Holt’s late father, narrated by Sharp Radway. All those family voices threaded through the album feel real. Sweet. This final one carries that same honesty. Freedom, here, isn’t some big idea—it’s family, memory, and a bass sound that stays with you long after the record ends.
