I consolidated and alphabetized my scattered music collection in an ambitious quarantine project last summer. The result was satisfying, but I was disappointed by the confounding absence of Urban Renewal amid the Bobby Watson recordings.
The oddest release in Watson’s catalog recently turned up in a misplaced box previously hidden by holiday decorations. I thought it might be fun to goof on what I’d long considered his sole recorded misstep. After all, most everything else about Watson is perfect.
Kansas City’s most admirable cultural ambassador, Watson is Plastic Sax’s two-time Person of the Decade. In addition to being one of the most soulful musicians alive, Watson is among jazz’s great sages. He’s strikingly handsome to boot. Watson’s unconditional superiority causes one to sometimes wonder if he’s even human.
That’s why I was eager to revisit the suspect Urban Renewal. I braced for the worst when I tossed the out-of-print 1995 album into a CD player for the first time in more than 20 years. What once seemed like a disappointing sellout now sounds… well, pretty darn good.
Victor Lewis’ drums are artificially inflated with hot studio air and the sheen occasionally applied to Rachel Z’s electric keyboards is similarly dated. But unsurprisingly, Watson is his usual superlative self. As the photo on the back cover implies, he doesn’t stick to alto saxophone. The protest poetry voiced by Dejáh on “Hi-Tech Trap” remains all-too relevant. And “If” is one of Watson’s signature heart-rending ballads.
Urban Renewal could be mistaken for a solid David Sanborn album in its slickest moments. But most of the album confirms Watson’s reputation as one of the most indispensable artists in jazz. It would seem Watson really is something more elevated than a mere mortal.