Larry Willis’ Inner Crisis (1974) is a record I’ve had for ages, but I have no idea exactly where or when I acquired it. I’m certain it was a spontaneous purchase (I mean, just look at the cover!) and I gambled because the dude looked cool as hell. It being on the legendary soul-jazz label Groove Merchant must have sealed the deal, an imprint I will always risk money on. Listening today, as soon as the needle dropped, it became clear that the adage “Don’t judge a book by its cover” may be prudent for many things, but usually not for records. With many many jazz, rock, soul, funk, and latin records, using the cover artwork as a buying guide can pay off in spades.
Inner Crisis plays like an independent film studio making a grimier and grittier version of a Hollywood blockbuster. It’s rough around the edges, but that's exactly what makes it work. Willis clearly is a disciple of early 70s Herbie Hancock, and mustered up a crew of players to create a Head Hunters-esque funk jazz outfit that may lack in production and polish, but excels at creating a down and dirty authenticity that I’m certain Herbie would approve of. (Hell, maybe even be a little jealous of).
Starting with a clanging drum break, “Out On The Coast” maintains a groove that feels as though the band might go off the rails, but they somehow survive. After the opener, each song gets a little more jazz influenced, with Willis’ Rhodes’ phrases getting more modal and obtuse, while the unrelenting rhythm section makes sure that the backbone is still most certainly soul music.
Side B starts exploring hard bop with “Bahamian Street Dance”, a song containing a Fred Wesley-like trombone solo from David Bargeron to keep it grounded in the funk spirit of the LP. The last two tracks veer nicely into the waters of Miles Davis’ In A Silent Way, adding some acoustic piano work and improvisations over the repetitive patterns often found in early fusion.
Inner Crisis lives up to its crate-digger reputation as a must-have gem of early 70’s soul-jazz. It’s wild to me that before, during, and after this shooting-star-of-an-album, Larry Willis was a full fledged member of Blood, Sweat, and Tears, a band I must admit I have zero fondness for. People who have spun their copies of Herbie’s Fat Albert Rotunda, Maiden Voyage, and Thrust into dull pieces of wax might find their new daily spinner with this platter.