Despite the far-reaching quotations in his work, it never seemed that Scofield was derivative or stretched for motivation. Grasped by the inspiration for a musical idea, he would push it to the limits of creative invention, feeding off his sidemen until grasped by a fresh concept that he would subsequently exhaust. Blake’s tenor provided particularly potent fuel, as they, face to face, improvised harmonies, some of which melded seamlessly with the tune. Others that didn’t quite work were nonetheless commendable for their innovation. Free to experiment beyond the confines of chords or melodic conventions, Scofield and Blake fed off each other, reaching daring levels of free-form creativity.

Not to be left out of the conversation, Stewart toyed with the repetitive and infectious grooves of “Loose Cannon,” allowing the audience to catch a true glimpse of his virtuosity. He constructed polyrhythmic extrapolations onto the initial simple patterns, building on the rhythm and blues flavored hooks and then subsiding into sparse, off-putting snare shots as he tried to push Blake’s more cool and subdued solo into another, more frenzied direction. Blake’s resistance to percussive prodding created a palpably apparent tension, until Stewart resolved the matter, asserting his authority in the first of many explosive solos. Building up from a simple extended interplay between nothing but hi-hat and bass drum, Stewart frenetically tore into his kit, twisting spell-binding, gravity defying licks, occasionally straying into Latin inspired patterns that provided a pulsing cross-current to Murphy’s bass.

However, all was not brash thunder and explosive lightning. To temper the vitrolite building through the first of two stunningly executed sets, the group called upon the folk song “Scarborough Fair” and a little known Gershwin standard, “Soon.” Perhaps the most compelling diversion was one of Scofield’s elegant compositions, an ode to his wife entitled “Mrs. Scofield’s Waltz.” A lyrical and haunting ballad, it allowed Black to soar over the melody, as he engaged in touching introspective moments in the middle register and soaring to plaintive highs in upper octaves. As such, work provided a fitting counterpoint to the previous “Chicken Dog.” While the former relieved tension by closing with mellow, mellifluous chords, “Mrs. Scofield’s Waltz”was rudely interrupted at the end by piercing dissonances, the heart-rending tribute rendered barren by coarse and interruptive cacophony. It merely serves to demonstrate how Scofield refused to let his audience become complacent with the music.

In these moments, John Scofield’s force as a composer and bandleader were realized, as he emerged to shape the music to become greater than the some of individual parts. In transcending his musical boundaries and establishing compositional prowess, he truly does belong in the “big three” of jazz guitarists, because he left this reviewer with heart pounding, mind racing, and completely out of breath.