One of Woody Herman’s original sainted Four Brothers, poll winning baritone saxist Serge Chaloff had it all: a sharp dresser, matinée idol good looks, great hair, and all topped off with a monstrous heroin addiction. This is basically, the prized 1993 Mosaic box set plus a few tasty extras and an informative 24 page Joop Visser-penned booklet. On record Serge was usually heard in the company of Herdsmen such as Red Rodney and Earl Swope or reliable Boston hometown firemen like Herb Pomeroy and his gang. Two LPs, The Fable Of Mabel and Boston Blow-up (the latter featuring a version of ‘Body And Soul’ that makes one almost forget Coleman Hawkins’ classic interpretation), finally put Serge on the map as a leader but his best was still to come. Blue Serge proved to be not only his next and final album but unquestionably his greatest personal statement to where it remains unchallenged as one of the finest albums of the post-bop era.

In terms of dexterity, Serge Chaloff was master of his instrument. Though he could easily handle the most difficult bends at high speed, his great talent was the breathless manner he employed to colour his work with varying degrees of light and shade. One moment, he could be as agile as Lee Konitz, lyrically gifted as Stan Getz and as exciting as Charlie Parker (check his double-time break that immediately follows Leroy Vinnegar’s bass solo on ‘Susie’s Blues’ on Blue Serge.

Taped in just one day, Blue Serge finds the upbeat leader in the company of Sonny Clark, Leroy Vinnegar and Philly Joe Jones. Said Serge: “I picked out what I felt was the best rhythm section around and just told them to show up, no rehearsals, no tunes set and trusted to luck and musicianship. I think it paid off.” It certainly did, as together they filed definitive versions of ‘I’ve Got The World On A String’, ‘Thanks For The Memory’ and, most notably, ‘A Handful Of Stars’. Sadly, Serge’s excesses caught up with him to the point where his final visit to the recording studio was in a wheelchair for a Four Brothers Reunion. His energy level was now so dissipated that he only managed to play his allotted solos, all section work being handled by Charlie O’Kane. Five months later, on July 16, 1957, Chaloff died, He was just 33. Final word – at a fraction of the price of the long-deleted Mosaic motherlode, this is not to be missed.