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I’m not a jazz fan, far from it. And I’ll own that what, I imagine, most impresses some listeners about John Coltrane is the part I find least interesting: the wild solos, the near-manic virtuosity. Me, I like my virtuosity more considered. But on Crescent Coltrane’s got that too. The opener, “Wise One”, justifies him entirely in my eyes (or ears): the delicate playing, the haunting-asymmetric melody, the way pianist McCoy Tyner, previously buried in the mix, breaks out after the 3-minute mark, at first tentatively but soon taking flight, and somehow rendering his whole solo with a Major-inflection unhinted at in Coltrane’s heavy, dirge-like intro. The tone of the ride cymbal—how 2-3 soft taps at the start seem to fill the right speaker. And even Coltrane’s solo, much like a mathematical equation as it comes to sound at about 7 minutes, never gets crazy; just as it seems about to it pulls back to rueful self-questioning, while the cymbals swell. Piano could be higher, drums softer, but I love the panning, the spaciousness, the room-sound. Abrupt transition to “Bessie’s Blues” doesn’t do it for me—seems to undercut the gravity—and despite some tasty piano I generally skip it. “Lonnie’s Lament”, now that is beautiful—like Miles Davis’s “Circle”, it’s chamber music, virtually, might as well not be called jazz at all but for the instrumentation. Coltrane’s in his element: the slightest deft touch—the hint of a trill—seems to make the simple melody glow. The way Tyner uses chords to make a solo, again like a scribbled equation, like a mindgame, but with feeling. Yeah some of Tyner’s licks get a little too “Secret Squirrel” for me, and those flourishes are pure cocktail-lounge. Then again when Coltrane comes back in he’s on fire, if I can use that term for work of this much restraint: it’s like he’s been burned, he’s almost spent, but he can’t resist the most poignant meditations in the gaps in the melody. And “Drum Thing”—that is great! One-note bass, tom-hits like near-distant retorts ’Trane’s sax like a soldier whistling/humming as he surveys the empty battlefield. Then the drummer (Elvin Jones) cuts loose. Like I’m not a jazz fan, I’m not one for drum solos, but something about this one keeps it from offending me: for one thing the reverb, like I’m listening through an open window as I walk by; and it stays panned right, rises up briefly but never takes over. You can almost see Coltrane and bassist Jimmy Garrison waiting, watching. Blends back to toms so smoothly too, and one-note bass, and ’Trane humming his elegy. In a way it’s the most timeless track here: a postpunk drone, if Adrian Belew had done it, or Rhys Chatham. Verdict: classic, no doubt. Not quite my style, but I bow before the discipline, the technique, the revelation of what you can do with 3-4 instruments.