The album's title originates from Hubbard's nickname. The track "Cry Me Not", composed by
Randy Weston for the session and arranged by
Melba Liston, was considered by Hubbard to be "the most interesting tune on the record". "Luana" is dedicated to Hubbard's niece, whilst "Osie Mae" – a title which sounded "funky" to Hubbard – is characterized by an A-B-A-B pattern. "Earmon Jr.", composed by Hubbard and arranged by
Ed Summerlin, was named for Hubbard's brother, a pianist.[4]
From Hubbard's opening solo on the flying, boppish title track, which crackles with his trademark urgency, crisp, flaring sound and hell-for-leather attack, the music throws you back into a jazz era when the muscular dynamism of
hard-bop was at the sharp end of a still commercially popular jazz.
Jimmy Heath's tenor sax has a dry loquacity, and drummer Philly Joe Jones sustains a constant push and chatter of
hi-hat snaps, swishing
cymbal caresses and
rimshot rattles. And for all the idiom's prevailing speediness, it's the pulsating warmth of the arrangement and Hubbard's balance of spaciousness and fitfully unleashed power on Randy Weston's rhapsodic "Cry Me Not" that is a particular highlight of a memorable set.[5]
The album's title originates from Hubbard's nickname. The track "Cry Me Not", composed by
Randy Weston for the session and arranged by
Melba Liston, was considered by Hubbard to be "the most interesting tune on the record". "Luana" is dedicated to Hubbard's niece, whilst "Osie Mae" – a title which sounded "funky" to Hubbard – is characterized by an A-B-A-B pattern. "Earmon Jr.", composed by Hubbard and arranged by
Ed Summerlin, was named for Hubbard's brother, a pianist.[4]
From Hubbard's opening solo on the flying, boppish title track, which crackles with his trademark urgency, crisp, flaring sound and hell-for-leather attack, the music throws you back into a jazz era when the muscular dynamism of
hard-bop was at the sharp end of a still commercially popular jazz.
Jimmy Heath's tenor sax has a dry loquacity, and drummer Philly Joe Jones sustains a constant push and chatter of
hi-hat snaps, swishing
cymbal caresses and
rimshot rattles. And for all the idiom's prevailing speediness, it's the pulsating warmth of the arrangement and Hubbard's balance of spaciousness and fitfully unleashed power on Randy Weston's rhapsodic "Cry Me Not" that is a particular highlight of a memorable set.[5]