ReDiscoveries

In less than 11 years, guitarist Emily Remler went from rising star to shooting star, from her first major exposure—an invitation from Herb Ellis to perform as part of "Guitar Explosion" at the Concord Jazz Festival on July 21, 1978—to her final concert on May 3, 1990, at the Hotel Richmond in Adelaide, Australia, where she was found dead from a heart attack the next day. She was 32 years old.

Her documentation on record was even shorter, from her April 1981 Concord debut Firefly to This Is Me, her seventh and final album, released in 1990. She has fewer than a dozen credits as a sideperson.

Today, women who play jazz guitar are plentiful and respected, but when Remler attended Berklee College of Music, their ranks were slim; Mary Osborne and Monnette Sudler are the only ones who come to mind from that era and before.

Thirty-four years after her last release, Remler was in danger of being forgotten. None of her albums released during her lifetime are in print, despite the fact that her sidemen included such prominent musicians as Hank Jones, Eddie Gomez, Buster Williams, Bob Moses, and Larry Coryell.

The recent Resonance Records triple-LP/double-CD set Cookin' at the Queens: Live in Las Vegas (1984 & 1988) is a welcome reminder of her prowess and a sad marker of what she might have accomplished if she hadn't died so young. It is given the label's typical grand treatment, with archival photos, a thorough essay by noted guitar expert Bill Milkowski, and testimonials from peers and heirs. It documents two concerts at the Four Queens Casino in Las Vegas, one from 1984, the other from 1988. In the earlier performance, Remler plays with a piano trio. In the later one, it's just Remler out front, plus bass and drums.

Remler was born in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, a couple of years before Rudy Van Gelder set up his famed studio there. After her time at Berklee, she freelanced in New Orleans, where Ellis heard her. During her Concord tenure, she regularly placed in the DownBeat critics polls. Her final album was among the first releases by the record label Justice, which also put out Ellis dates but was better known for country music.

By the time of the first Four Queens gig, with pianist Cocho Arbe, bassist Carson Smith, and drummer Tom Montgomery, only the bassist was a seasoned veteran. Montgomery had less experience, and fellow Berklee alumnus Arbe was an obscure local. Remler, at 26, was no beginner, a few months away from Catwalk, her fourth Concord date.

Yet, on this set of standards from 1929–61, Remler sounds tentative, maybe because of nerves from playing with a pickup group. It doesn't help that neither Arbe nor Montgomery do much to move the music along. Remler leans heavily into her most major avowed influence, Wes Montgomery, even pulling out his signature octave lines. It's surprising how hidebound she sounds—how generic. The sound, too, is generic—distant and flat. If this had been an unmarked tape, Remler might have been assumed to be some unremarkable guitarist from the late 1950s.

On both the LP and CD editions, the 1984 show ends on the same disc the 1988 concert begins on. What a difference! The last tune of the former is the 1931 Edward Heyman/Johnny Green staple "Out of Nowhere." The title is prophetic: From the opening strains of Luiz Bonfá/Antônio Maria's "Manhã de Carnaval," which Remler essays unaccompanied, she sounds like a different player. She projects verve, confidence, and commanding individuality. The recording, too, is superior to that of the earlier show, making it easier for listeners to appreciate her lithe touch.

Typically, the evolution of a musician is discussed in terms of aesthetic vision—of, say, John Coltrane from Giant Steps to Interstellar Space. It's rare to hear it discussed in terms of technical facility. The second show on Cookin' at the Queens: Live in Las Vegas (1984 & 1988) came a day after Remler's 31st birthday. Even if she played just a third of every day between the two gigs, that would be more than enough to satisfy Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000-hours-to-mastery concept. And masterful she is, frothy with ideas, her fingers able to keep pace with her mind.

It is instructive to compare Remler on that 1988 "Manhã de Carnaval" with another Brazilian staple from the 1984 concert: Antônio Carlos Jobim/Vinícius de Moraes's "How Insensitive (Insensatez)." On the latter, Remler stays within the song's breezy confines and gives far too much deference to the piano, in both her solo space and her comping. I hear flashes of her potential in some nice fleet runs, but this is uncommon.

On the former, absent another chordal instrument, Remler dictates the harmonic framework and digs deep into its melodic foundation. Smith is back on bass, with John Pisci on drums. To call Remler's solo assured is a woeful understatement, and her comping has impressive snap. In its last two minutes, it slows as if to end, but then Remler pushes it forward at half-speed in a vignette of marvelous invention.

The program, too, is more advanced. There are old standards, yes, but also tunes by Miles Davis ("All Blues" and "So What") and John Coltrane ("Impressions"). Remler demonstrates her place in the lineage with songs by Montgomery ("D-Natural Blues") and a Montgomery protegé (and another of Remler's influences), Pat Martino, playing Willis Jackson's "Gator Whale." Remler chose not to perform any originals during either gig.

If this release had just been the 1988 portion, it would have been a candidate for Best Album; with the 1984 segment added, it drops down a bit, but the chance to revisit this under-sung artist and cherish her artistic and technical development should not be missed.