This concert took place at Tufts University, Boston as part of an event called ‘Art, Race And Politics In America’, which included the screening of the 1959 documentary The Cry Of Jazz, and a discussion with Carter, Parker and Shipp before they took to the stage. Such a vital premise for the music, which apparently generated much debate and anecdote, resulted in a performance that is fully committed to both the principle of spontaneous creativity and the conveyance of deep emotion. There is a palpable sense of urgency that can be felt many times during the three lengthy pieces in the set, primarily through the distinctive manner in which lines that sound choppy and broken nonetheless progress relentlessly with a stark, stout pugnacious momentum, like a forward march over the bumpiest of ground. Parker is as discreet as he is direct, providing a steady pulse, often with quite curt phrases that usefully cushion the distinctive left-hand bombs dropped by Shipp. As a drums and bass unit the two men provide an object lesson in independence of thought among interdependence of movement, but the presence of Carter is just as decisive. Firstly, his rare skill on brass as well as reeds (as opposed to the more common multi-reedist) really makes a difference in terms of the breadth of the tonal palette, though his work on soprano saxophone is compelling for the great delicacy he gives to his notes without lessening impact. The overall fluidity of form in this performance is impressive, but the moments where the players launch into the most visceral, if not primal of strategies, as in a brash, burly on-the-beat vamp, are well judged. It is a celebration as well as a cry of the blues, never mind a thing called jazz.