PATRICK YANDALL: A Journey Home

Under normal conditions, Patrick Yandall would one of those jazz-inflected guitarists I would go nuts over. The San Diego-based musician is a veteran of the scene, active since the ’90s in many bands and collaborative efforts, and has released 20 albums of his music. His productive longevity is understandable, considering that Yandall is an excellent guitarist, potentially a great one. He is a master of grooves, tone, and feel, a fret man able to fill the room with the warm yet crystalline sparkle of Wes Montgomery-like octave chords, punctuate the beats with short blues riffs and swift jazz runs, and, when the feeling merits, let loose with an impressive flurry of runs. In its best moments–and there are many sweet spots on this disc–his soloing transcends the often repetitive and simplistic structures of his self-penned material. The grooves, after the fact, lack anything resembling a personality; they are placeholders, more or less, existing less to push Yandall beyond what’s expected of him on a commercial release. Listening to Yandall genuinely burn bright in his splendidly crafted solos, it sounded as if the artist were restricting himself, not daring to cross a limit he set for himself.

A guitarist as technically gifted and as fluidly expressive as Yandall ought to be leaping over such barriers and cutting loose for real on a track or two. Stronger, more varied, more intricate compositions would aid toward that goal, if Yandall were so inclined. The songs on A Journey Home are simple, hardly a sin, and there are some good melodic ideas here, but there is a formula smooth-jazz/light funk motif they fall into, with incidental keyboards, synths providing a few pale shades of color, an occasional piano solo (played by Yandall, who, as I understand, plays all the instruments). The drum tracks, honestly, are without soul. The burden falls to Yandall’s obvious virtuosity, which raises to the occasion on several tracks, especially on “Passion,” a Latin groove where the artist unleashes what he can do; hot riffs, screaming ostinatos, raging note clusters. But alas, it is too short a solo, as it fades and we return again to the album’s steadfast sameness, waiting for another moment when the guitarist steps into the spotlight again. Yandall, though, does his listeners a good turn with the last track with a stone cold blues shuffle, “Blue Jay Blues,” highlighting a glorious walking bass, and a pulverizing solo from Yandall, with brief and sharp assertions, serpentine runs weaving between the one-four-five beats, some bittersweet BB King-like vibrato. This track is a rousing, strutting jam. One wants more.

This ought to have been an outstanding album. As is, it is only good one, buoyed by Yandall’s spirited playing. A musician this gifted deserves the energy and inspiration an actual band of musicians can provide, and the improvisatory possibilities better material can provide.