Jackson Plays Dylan doesn’t treat these songs as monuments — it finds new rooms inside them.
Solid Jackson Records/Palmetto Records
Javon Jackson – tenor saxophone; Jeremy Manasia – piano, keyboard; Isaac Levien – bass; Ryan Sands – drums; guest vocalists Lisa Fischer and Nicole Zuraitis
Bob Dylan and jazz don’t have an obvious history together, but Javon Jackson makes a persuasive case that they should. Jackson Plays Dylan finds the tenor saxophonist moving through Dylan’s catalog on his own terms, taking the melodies where he wants them, sharing them with his rhythm section, or handing them to a singer when the song calls for it.
Jackson came to Dylan late — introduced by Art Blakey’s attorney during his Jazz Messengers years, then hooked for good by the Denzel Washington film about Rubin Carter. “Hurricane” gets a funk-charged reading here, its outrage intact even without a lyric in sight. That quality Jackson loves in Dylan — the willingness to speak for people who can’t, the vulnerability tucked inside the anger — translates remarkably well to the horn.
One of the pleasures of the album is how Jackson navigates the tension between melody and improvisation. On “Blowin’ in the Wind” — a song everyone on the planet knows — he plays it straight at first, exactly as you remember it, then gradually drifts, taking pieces of the melody with him and turning them over. Manasia follows the same path on piano. “Lay, Lady, Lay” flips the script entirely, with bassist Isaac Levien carrying the original melody while Jackson improvises on top. And on “Mr. Tambourine Man,” saxophone and piano stay close to the tune before breaking away into a swinging, joyful romp that they both seem hesitant to leave.
Some songs need a voice, and “Gotta Serve Somebody” is one of them — Lisa Fischer’s take sounds like a confession: voice low and close, barely above a whisper, choosing her words carefully. She doesn’t belt it; she withholds, which makes every moment she opens up land harder. Nicole Zuraitis does something different on “Forever Young” — her voice is clear and direct, the kind of singing where you feel like she’s looking you in the eye. She holds certain notes just long enough to squeeze the emotion out of them, and when Manasia solos between her phrases, it feels like he’s turning over what she just said, reluctant to move on.
“The Times They Are A-Changin'” builds from a near-funeral lament into something almost jaunty, and given that Dylan wrote it when the world felt like it was coming apart, the fact that it still resonates so hard right now says everything. On “Like a Rolling Stone,” Jackson does something that stops you — his sax finds the same weathered, ragged quality as Dylan’s original vocal. Then the band locks in and he takes off.
The album closes where it needs to, on the quiet ballad “Make You Feel My Love.” Jackson’s playing here is unhurried and exquisite, the rhythm section keeping things tender without turning precious. A dissonant piano note here and there keeps it honest.
Jackson Plays Dylan doesn’t treat these songs as monuments — it finds new rooms inside them.
