A Little Workout? More like an all-out assault! It's often said that a band is only as good as its drummer and in the past Hayes inevitably chose only the very best sticksmen. But at this pivotal juncture in his meteoric career, Hayes was about to take stock of his position. If his personal life was now in constant turmoil, then the (jazz) world around him was undergoing seismic changes, as demonstrated in the new directions taken by the likes of Miles and Coltrane. Furthermore, the hard bop of Hank Mobley and Johnny Griffin was now being tested by a new audience attracted to the inflammable New Thing approach of Shepp, Sanders and Ayler. Here is arguably the best small group that Hayes ever assembled and one soon to forever consolidate its reputation with the studio album Mexican Green. Hayes was still spilling out breathless improvisations at the speed of light, the overall intensity of his performance nothing less than astounding: ‘Dear Johnny B’ clocks in at a shade over 17 minutes, followed immediately with a foot-to-the-floor 14-minute-plus exploration of ‘Walkin’'. All this is driven by a ferocious performance by Tony Leven, who matches Hayes from start to finish. If Hayes shoots off in one direction with his tail on fire, then similarly Levin is off on a tangent, leaving both Mike Pyne and Ron Mathewson to hold the middle ground with confidence. Despite a few technical reservations surrounding these private recordings made at Rochester's Little Theatre, the collective performance by all concerned is nothing less than staggering. Add to this Simon Spillett's equally absorbing liner notes and you have the full package.