Criss Cross Jazz

Criss Cross Records kept pulling me back for a very simple reason: the deeper I went into the catalogue, the more familiar names I found at surprisingly early points in their careers. This is not a label built around one star or one easily defined period of jazz. It is a catalogue in which musicians such as Kenny Garrett, Mark Turner, Brad Mehldau, Peter Bernstein, Chris Potter and many others appear in settings where the music still feels hungry and open. For my Criss Cross Records selection, that became much more interesting than simply choosing the most famous names. I wanted to hear how a small Dutch label from Enschede managed to become so closely connected with several generations of serious New York jazz musicians. The answer, I think, lies partly in founder Gerry Teekens’ taste and partly in his willingness to put strong musicians together and then give them room to play.

The story started in 1981, when Teekens recorded guitarist Jimmy Raney after organizing European tours for American jazz musicians. That first session became *Raney ’81*, with Jimmy Raney and his son Doug on guitar, Jesper Lundgaard on bass and Eric Ineke on drums, recorded in Hilversum on February 27, 1981. The label name itself came from Thelonious Monk’s composition “Criss Cross,” which seems appropriate for a catalogue that would eventually connect Dutch initiative with an enormous network of American jazz players. Teekens was a linguistics professor as well as a drummer, and this never feels to me like a label conceived by a marketing department. His choices were often based on musicians he personally believed deserved to be heard, including players who were under-recorded and, increasingly, younger musicians who had not yet become established leaders. That instinct is one of the main reasons the catalogue remains so rewarding to explore today.

Hearing the label develop

Warne Marsh’s “Star Highs” is one of the early recordings that helps me understand what Teekens was after. The 1982 session brought Marsh together with Hank Jones on piano, George Mraz on bass and Mel Lewis on drums, with Max Bolleman engineering the recording in Monster in the Netherlands. What catches me is how little the performance needs to prove. Marsh’s tenor has space around it, Jones never crowds him, and the rhythm section keeps the music moving without turning the performance into a display of speed or power. I particularly like the way the track rewards attention to the musicians behind the soloist: Mraz and Lewis are not simply keeping time, they are constantly shaping how relaxed or alert the music feels. On a revealing pair of speakers or headphones, that interaction is more interesting to me than spectacular soundstage effects, because the recording lets me follow four musicians thinking at the same time.

By the mid-1980s, the Criss Cross story had begun moving much more strongly toward the United States. Teekens started making regular recording trips to New York and initially worked at Rudy Van Gelder’s studio, a connection that produced some fascinating sessions. One of the most significant for me is *Introducing Kenny Garrett*, recorded at Van Gelder’s Englewood Cliffs studio on December 28, 1984 with Garrett on alto saxophone, Woody Shaw on trumpet and flugelhorn, Mulgrew Miller on piano, Nat Reeves on bass and Tony Reedus on drums. “For Openers,” written by Garrett, already has the qualities I enjoy in his playing: attack, forward movement and a tone that remains individual even in such powerful company. What makes the recording valuable is that the band does not sound like famous musicians assembled retrospectively for historical importance. They sound like five players with something immediate to say, and that freshness matters more to me than the fact that several of these names later became major figures.

The label’s real strength becomes even clearer when I move into the 1990s. Mark Turner’s *Yam Yam*, recorded in New York on December 12, 1994, was Turner’s debut recording as a leader, and the personnel now reads almost like a list of musicians who would help define modern jazz: Kurt Rosenwinkel on guitar, Brad Mehldau on piano, Larry Grenadier on bass and Jorge Rossy on drums, with additional tenor saxophones on one track. “Yam Yam I” is especially revealing because its length gives the musicians enough time to establish ideas, answer one another and change the direction of the performance without losing its centre. I enjoy the contrast between Turner’s controlled tenor sound and Rosenwinkel’s guitar, while Mehldau often seems to add detail between the obvious musical events rather than simply filling harmonic space. This is where good stereo imaging genuinely adds something, because being able to follow the separation between piano, guitar, saxophone, bass and drums makes the musical conversation easier to understand. I would use a recording like this as reference music, but not because it contains obvious audiophile tricks. I would use it because a transparent system lets me hear more clearly how a very good band works.

A catalogue that did not stop in the past

One thing I particularly respect about Criss Cross Records is that its importance is not limited to discovering musicians decades ago. After Gerry Teekens died in 2019, his son Jerry Teekens Jr. continued the family connection with the label, and new sessions appeared rather than Criss Cross becoming only an archive. That continuation gives the catalogue an unusual sense of perspective. I can move from musicians at the beginning of their careers to recordings made decades later when some of those same players have become established figures. It changes the way I hear the older sessions, because I know where those musical voices eventually went, while the early recordings still retain their uncertainty and energy.

*Solid Jackson* by M.T.B. brings that idea together beautifully. Recorded in Astoria, New York on November 25 and 26, 2023 and released in November 2024, it reunited Brad Mehldau, Mark Turner, Peter Bernstein and Larry Grenadier, four musicians who had recorded *Consenting Adults* together in 1994, this time with Bill Stewart on drums. The title track “Solid Jackson” gives me almost the opposite pleasure from hearing these musicians on their earlier Criss Cross dates. There is less sense of young players establishing themselves and more confidence in leaving things unsaid. Mehldau can place a phrase without forcing the music around it, Turner remains patient, Bernstein fits naturally between melody and rhythm, and Stewart gives the performance movement without making the drums the centre of attention. The recording is clean enough to reveal small changes in touch and dynamics, but what stays with me is the maturity of the interaction rather than the resolution of the recording.

That is ultimately why Criss Cross Records works so well for me as a listening journey. I can begin with Warne Marsh and the early Dutch sessions, pass through Rudy Van Gelder and Kenny Garrett, arrive in 1990s New York with Mark Turner, Brad Mehldau and their generation, and then hear some of those musicians again decades later. There are hundreds of recordings in the catalogue, so naturally not every session will become essential listening for everyone, and I do not think this is music that should be reduced to a handful of demonstration tracks. What makes me return is the consistency of the musical idea behind the label: strong players, strong rhythm sections, room to improvise and very little unnecessary interference. On a good high-end audio system the recordings can reveal impressive detail, space and dynamics, but those qualities only matter because there is so much musical interaction worth hearing in the first place. Criss Cross stayed with me because exploring it feels less like working through a record company’s catalogue and more like following several generations of jazz musicians while their individual voices are taking shape.

HiFi’ve, Ronald – Your EarFluencer