Calvin Keys doesn’t call a lot of attention to himself. Over six decades, working quietly and diligently, the Oakland-based guitarist has established himself as one of jazz’s most eloquent six-string searchers, an improviser known for his lithe, beautifully crafted solos. Since the release of his 1971 debut album Shawn-Neeq (Black Jazz), a long-time collector’s item reissued on Tompkins Square Records in 2015, Keys has gained a passionate coterie of fans. Some of his most ardent supporters have been musicians who hired him, like departed giants such as Earl “Fatha” Hines and Ray Charles. Fellow Midwesterner Pat Metheny describes him as an early influence, writing the tune “Calvin’s Keys” in his honor. And Ahmad Jamal, who’s featured the guitarist on half a dozen albums since the 1970s, told me that Keys “is one of my favorite players. He has a tremendous warmth and technical facility in his work, and he’s very serious about what he does.”
Keys’ discography reflects his abiding commitment to his craft and his quest for ever deeper musical expression. His self-produced recordings released on Lifeforcejazz (Standard Keys, An Evening with Calvin Keys, Close Enough for Love, and now Simply Calvin) all reveal intimate aspects of his persona that manifest in his subtle touch, rhythmic command, and passionate lyricism. His lack of pretense on the bandstand is echoed off stage, where he’s known around his East Oakland neighborhood as a loving family man and approachable neighbor who also happens to be a world-class jazz artist. A familiar presence and positive force in the community, he can be found fishing, shooting pool, or watching professional sports and eating popcorn when he’s not playing guitar.
He’s also known for building camaraderie amongst his bandmates, and he considers the Simply Calvin combo as a particularly cohesive lineup. The album captures the guitarist applying his unflashy virtuosity to a program focusing on classic post-bop compositions with his working quartet, circa 1992. “I felt that was some of my best work,” Keys says. “The spirit we had was deep.” Recorded at the studio of percussionist Kenneth Nash, who adds some beautifully propulsive textures on several tracks, the sessions feature the persuasively swinging tandem of drummer Mark Lignell and bassist Tim Hauff, and Jeff Chimenti on piano and keyboards. Chimenti’s command as an improviser at this early stage in his career might come as
a surprise to those who know him as the keyboardist in an overlapping constellation of post-Grateful Dead bands, including Bob Weir’s RatDog, The Dead, Furthur, and Dead & Company.
“I have been blessed to be in the company of some great musicians, and Jeff is one of them,” Keys says. “It’s been an incredible experience, coming out of some old ghetto in Omaha, Nebraska and being associated with some of the world’s most outstanding musicians.”
Listening to Simply Calvin makes it perfectly evident that Keys provides as much inspiration as he receives. The album opens with a sheer blast of beauty on a brief, tender ballad Keys wrote in 1986 for his newborn daughter. An unaccompanied love letter, “Marela,” evokes his awe and gratitude for her transformative arrival. An extended, relaxed version of Cy Coleman’s 1957 hit for Frank Sinatra, “Witchcraft,” introduces the guitarist as a player with an exceptionally warm tone and effortless sense of swing. He sounds just as gracefully fluid on Chick Corea’s sublime waltz “Windows” as navigating Joe Henderson’s jagged blues “Isotope.”
Nash’s deft percussion work provides adds a jolt of energy to the powerful version of “What’s Going On,” the Marvin Gaye hit inspired by the 1969 police crackdown during People’s Park riots in Berkeley. In the hands of Keys and his collaborators, the soul-steeped cri de coeur takes on new layers of grit amidst the freight train momentum. A different kind of despair suffuses Billy Strayhorn’s masterpiece “Lush Life,” a tune that inspires an exquisitely constructed Keys solo.
The album shifts into a celebratory mood with “Cindy,” a briskly grooving number by drummer and songwriter Billy Osborne with an infectuously joyous bounce. Herbie Hancock’s harmonically intricate “Dolphin Dance” is another ideal vehicle for Keys’ melodic invention, and he closes the album with pianist Denny Zeitlin’s gorgeous piece “Quiet Now,” a tune made famous by Bill Evans, who recorded it many times.
Much like Evans in his prime, Keys is a player defined by his tone, tasty harmonic palette and unfailing sense of restraint. The man never plays two notes where one will do. Simply Calvin offers a glimpse at Keys as he sounded in an amenable setting some three decades ago, but the past is prologue. An artist on a ceaseless quest, he’s an undiminished creative

force today. “I’m still searching for that note,” he says. “I’ve still got a lot of music in me I want to pull off.”
Andrew Gilbert writes about jazz for the San Francisco Chronicle, San Jose Mercury News, and KQED Arts and many other publications.
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