MPS Records

MPS Records is one of those labels where the recording philosophy and the music developed together. Founded in 1968 by Hans Georg Brunner-Schwer in Villingen, in Germany’s Black Forest, MPS stands for Musik Produktion Schwarzwald. Brunner-Schwer was not only a producer and audio engineer but also an amateur pianist and co-owner of the German electronics company SABA. That technical background mattered. Long before MPS officially existed, he had built a highly advanced recording studio above the living room of his villa, and in 1961 Oscar Peterson was invited there after a concert in Zurich. The recordings made that night became the starting point for a relationship that would eventually help define MPS Records.

From a living room to an international jazz label

Brunner-Schwer began releasing records under the SABA name in 1963, but when he left the company in 1968 he established MPS as an independent label. By then he had already recorded musicians including Wolfgang Dauner, Horst Jankowski and George Duke, while the sessions with Oscar Peterson were waiting for release because Peterson was still contracted to Verve. Once that restriction ended, the *Exclusively for My Friends* recordings became the first major statement from the new MPS label. For me, they remain one of the clearest ways to understand what Brunner-Schwer was trying to achieve.

Listen to Peterson’s *Action, Vol. I*, recorded with bassist Ray Brown and drummer Ed Thigpen, and the intimacy is immediately apparent. On “At Long Last Love” Peterson attacks the piano with extraordinary speed, but the recording never turns that energy into a hard wall of sound. I can follow the weight of his left hand, the quicker figures in the right and the way Brown and Thigpen respond underneath him. “I’ve Got a Crush on You” shows the other side of the trio, with more room between the notes and a much gentler sense of movement. What interests me most is that the recording quality serves those musical differences instead of simply making everything sound impressive.

The later volume *My Favorite Instrument* is even more revealing because Peterson is completely alone. “Perdido” exposes the speed and rhythmic control of his playing, while “Little Girl Blue” gives the piano space to breathe. Through good speakers or headphones, I hear not just a large instrument between the channels but individual changes in touch, sustain and intensity. That sort of midrange transparency matters because Peterson’s technique is not only about how many notes he can play. The quieter passages show how carefully he controls timing and dynamics, and the MPS recording lets me hear that without pushing the piano unnaturally forward.

MPS soon became much broader than Peterson. By 1982 the catalogue had grown to more than 500 releases, covering European jazz, American jazz, fusion, free jazz, vocal music and international collaborations. The artist list is remarkable: George Duke, Monty Alexander, Baden Powell, Jean-Luc Ponty, Freddie Hubbard, Joe Henderson, Bill Evans, Albert Mangelsdorff, Volker Kriegel, The Singers Unlimited, Count Basie and many others all appeared in the catalogue. Producer and jazz writer Joachim-Ernst Berendt also played an important role in bringing musicians to the label, particularly artists who were willing to move beyond conventional jazz boundaries.

Much more than traditional jazz

George Duke is one of my favourite examples of how adventurous MPS could become. Brunner-Schwer first encountered the young Duke in San Francisco in 1966, and their association later produced a run of albums that captured Duke moving decisively into fusion. On *The Aura Will Prevail* from 1975, Duke worked with drummer Leon “Ndugu” Chancler, bassist Alphonso “Slim” Johnson and percussionist Airto Moreira. “Dawn” shows his atmospheric keyboard work, while “Floop De Loop” moves in a completely different direction with a much stronger funk pulse. This is where MPS becomes particularly interesting to me, because the catalogue refuses to stay in one comfortable corner of jazz.

The sound of *The Aura Will Prevail* also demonstrates how well the MPS approach could handle electronic instruments. Synthesizers occupy their own space rather than becoming a bright layer spread across the stereo image, and the percussion remains easy to follow when the arrangements become busier. On a transparent system, Chancler’s drums have real physical impact but do not dominate the keyboards. I like recordings that allow me to follow several musicians at once without making me work for it, and this is a good example. The musical character comes first, but good engineering makes Duke’s mixture of jazz, funk and experimentation much easier to understand.

Baden Powell provides another side of the catalogue. His relationship with producer Joachim-Ernst Berendt produced six MPS albums between 1966 and 1975, combining Brazilian traditions with jazz and classical guitar technique. On *Images on Guitar*, recorded in 1971, Powell works with French singer Janine de Waleyne. “Blues À Volonté” has a loose, funky character, while “Conversação Comigo Mesmo” combines intricate guitar playing with a strong rhythmic foundation. What catches my ear here is the contrast between the directness of Powell’s guitar and the surrounding voices and percussion. There is detail, but the detail never separates the musicians from one another.

Monty Alexander adds yet another personality. His MPS relationship began with *Here Comes the Sun* in 1971 and continued for more than a decade. With bassist Eugene Wright, drummer Duffy Jackson and percussionist Montego Joe, Alexander could move naturally between straight-ahead jazz and Caribbean rhythm. “Montevideo” immediately shows that rhythmic side, with piano phrases bouncing against the percussion rather than simply sitting above a conventional rhythm section. Years later, recordings such as *Cobilimbo* brought guitarist Ernest Ranglin and steel drums into the picture, making it obvious how wide the musical definition of MPS had become.

The Singers Unlimited are equally important when considering the label from an audiophile perspective. Oscar Peterson introduced their music to Brunner-Schwer, and the Chicago vocal group went on to record extensively for MPS. Their sophisticated overdubbed vocal arrangements demanded precise studio work, and Brunner-Schwer used multitrack recording to build unusually complex vocal textures. Their first MPS album, *In Tune* from 1971, combined Gene Puerling, Bonnie Herman, Don Shelton and Len Dresslar with the Oscar Peterson Trio. Voices appear with remarkable separation while still functioning as a group, which makes these recordings particularly useful when I want to hear how a system handles vocal realism and layered stereo imaging.

Why MPS still matters to me

There is a temptation with MPS Records to talk mainly about sound quality because Brunner-Schwer was so closely associated with recording technology. I think that misses half the story. The better reason to explore MPS is the freedom of the catalogue. A Peterson piano trio, George Duke’s synthesizers, Baden Powell’s Brazilian guitar, Monty Alexander’s Jamaican influences and the carefully stacked voices of The Singers Unlimited can all sit under the same label without feeling like an arbitrary collection. The common factor is a serious interest in musicians with a recognizable identity and in recording them without flattening those differences.

Brunner-Schwer sold most of the MPS recording rights to PolyGram in 1983, and parts of the catalogue later appeared through PolyGram and Universal. In 2014 the catalogue moved to the German media company Edel, which began a substantial programme of remastered reissues while also bringing new recordings to the label. That has made a great deal of classic MPS material available again on vinyl, CD and streaming platforms. For listeners interested in reference music, this is valuable because we no longer have to treat the original MPS catalogue as something accessible only through rare pressings.

I would start with Oscar Peterson if I wanted to understand the original MPS idea, but I would not stop there. Peterson shows what Brunner-Schwer could achieve with acoustic piano and a small jazz ensemble, George Duke demonstrates how comfortably the label moved into fusion, and Baden Powell, Monty Alexander and The Singers Unlimited reveal just how broad its musical thinking became. What I value most about MPS Records is this combination of technical curiosity and musical openness. The recordings can tell me a great deal about speakers, headphones, amplifiers or DACs, but more importantly they introduce me to musicians whose individuality was captured with unusual care.

HiFi’ve, Ronald – Your EarFluencer