Album Review: Dave Brubeck - "Time Out"

                     The Avachives Department of Musical Preservation

Dave Brubeck — Time Out (1959)
Reviewed by Mack "Tank" Rodriguez

So I put on this Dave Brubeck record, Time Out, because somebody told me it's a classic. Which usually means you're supposed to sit there and pretend you understand it.

First song starts off in some weird rhythm. Take Five, I think. Five what? Five minutes? Five dollars? Five guys carrying a piano up the stairs? I don't know. But it works.

That's the thing about this album. The music keeps doing stuff that sounds like it shouldn't work. The drums go one way, the piano goes another way, and somehow nobody falls through the floor.

There's a song called Blue Rondo à la Turk, which sounds like something you'd order at a restaurant when you don't know what anything on the menu means. It's got this rhythm that keeps tripping over itself, but in a good way. Like somebody walking down the street who looks drunk but actually knows exactly where he's going.

Then there's Strange Meadow Lark. Nice title. Sounds like a bird that's been hanging around a construction site too long. The piano gets real quiet and then starts wandering around. Pretty stuff. You don't need to know what he's doing. Just let him do it.

Take Five is the big one. Everybody knows that one. It's got that saxophone—Paul Desmond, I think—and the guy sounds like he's standing outside the bar waiting for his ride. Real cool. Meanwhile, the drummer, Joe Morello, is in there banging away like he's trying to build something. But it's not noisy. It's controlled.

That's probably the best thing I can say about this album: it sounds complicated without sounding like it's trying to impress you.

Some jazz records sound like the musicians are looking at you and saying, "You wouldn't understand this." This one doesn't. It just starts playing and figures you'll catch up eventually.

I don't know anything about time signatures. I know about time clocks. You punch in, you work, you punch out. But Brubeck apparently looked at time and said, "Yeah, but what if we messed with it?"

And somehow that became Time Out.

The album's got a bunch of different rhythms and strange stuff going on, but it never feels like a bunch of guys showing off in a toolbox. It's got a real personality. You can put it on while you're doing something else, and then suddenly you realize you've been standing there listening to the whole thing.

That's a good record.

Would I hang a picture of the album cover in my house? Sure. Nice colors. Would look good in a diner.

Would I be able to explain to you exactly why it's important?

No.

But I know this much: Time Out is one of those records where the musicians clearly knew what they were doing, even if I have no idea what they're doing.

And honestly, that's better than the other way around.

Rating: Pretty damn good, I guess.