The first time I heard Andy Woodson was from a sampler pressed in Columbus, Ohio. It was mostly dominated by pop/rock, most of it being quite good, while some of it was less than inspired. The exceptions were two tracks by an a capella group and Woodson’s hard fusion composition “Mad Cow”. The main riff sounded like someone fed Frank Zappa through a meat grinder while slinky horn lines added fat to the lead guitar. Had the internet been as ubiquitous then as it is now, I would have snooped out details on Andy Woodson right away. Alas, dial-up internet and a largely offline CD market put a cramp in that search.
Apart from a stint in Charged Particles and Magically Delicious, the Columbus-based jazz bassist has released the solo albums Scioto (from which the aforementioned “Mad Cow” appears), Catalpa, and now Pawpaw. The music of the independently-released Pawpaw combines the soulful flute of Herbie Mann, the adventurous yet breezy spirit of the Brecker brothers, and the melodic ease of Weather Report and Spyro Gyra while leaving room for a few left turns here and there.
Woodson plays both fretted and fretless basses and is joined by Columbus mainstay Bobby Floyd on the Fender Rhodes electric piano and B3 organ, Lee Savory on trumpet and flugelhorn, Michael Cox and Kevin O’Neil on saxophones, Cary Hackett on cornet, Dennis Hodges on guitar, Reggie Jackson on drums, and Jim Ed Cobbs on percussion. Louis Tsamous, Erik Augis, Andy Harrison, Willie Barthel III, Kris Keith, and Rory Canine make appearances on drums, Fender Rhodes, guitar, drums, flute, and vocals. Considering that it was recorded in the wake of the COVID crisis in a town that is not New York, Los Angeles, or Nashville, Pawpaw is remarkably put-together. It is the work of professionals, from the most rudimentary instrumental vamp right down to the cover art by Paul Volker.
In addition to being very refined and technically accomplished, Pawpaw is also fun. For instance, the bass riff that drives the title track is very straightforward — no crazy jazz harmonies or arcane rhythms and figures, just a snappy couple of intervals over two chords in a minor key. The wind’s melody remains light and bouncy, even as the time signature faces an ongoing ebb and flow. Perhaps the coolest part of the track is at the start of the drum solo, where Jackson deceives the listener into thinking it will settle into a half-time groove.
“Pawpaw” segues right into “Prairie Portage”, a heavily kaleidoscopic waltz that is easily another highlight for the album. “Insinnuendo” not only boasts a clever title but also gets to glide on a tight groove. The slow reggae burn of “Sleeping Giant” and lazy blues of “Gulch” round out the picture nicely but hardly account for Pawpaw‘s more experimental moments.
“Ruairi” serves as a brief interlude between “Prairie Portage” and “Insinnuendo” — less than two minutes in length, in fact — that also happens to carry a heavy dose of atmosphere reminiscent of Tony Levin’s contribution to Brian Eno’s 1970s albums. “WEIRDO”, unlike the Miles Davis tune of the same name, truly lives up to its title. Starting with samples and followed by a plethora of electronic noises flying about, “WEIRDO” is anchored by ramshackle percussion, piercing wah guitar, and Woodson’s fretless bass. It’s a fun combination intent on not overstaying its welcome.
The same can be said for Pawpaw overall. With only seven songs, it clocks in at a trim 40 minutes, perfect for the vinyl format (on which it is currently available). The album doesn’t want to linger, yet does nothing by half-measures. Pawpaw is every bit as enjoyable as it is refined.