Album art by Jamie Breiwick of B Side Graphics.
By Dominic Guanzon
I first met Ricky about 10 years ago in the North Central College Jazz department. He had come from Quito, Ecuador to Chicagoland with his orange-reddish-brownish Gibson and significantly shorter hair. In the subsequent years of us sharing theory classes, combos, projects, club visits, and, if you’d believe it, vocal jazz choir, I was lucky to watch him grow into a thoroughly thoughtful artist. One who wears his influences as proudly as he does his perm. But for me, all of that pales to the great honor of being the master of ceremonies at his wedding to fellow NCC alum and vocalist Grace Blackford.
What I’m really saying is, this review may be biased.
After several years of living in Oak Park, including through the pandemic, he and Grace left for Cleveland, Ohio to stake their claim as artists while being closer to the latter’s family. I actually don’t remember the last thing we said to each other in-person, and that could very well have been the point; that we’d see each other soon enough.
Finally getting to listen to his debut has been a life-fulfilling moment, like the closing chapter in a novel. Usually, only family and friends get to see an independent artist grow emotionally, while teachers and mentors see them grow creatively. I got the illustrious opportunity as the music-blogging college friend to do both poorly, but, emulating Ricardo, proudly.
(Left) Ricky, me, and a fellow student in a North Central College rehearsal room. (Right) Ricky, a fellow student, and me with guitar legend Pat Martino in 2016 at the Jazz Showcase.
“Introspectiva,” serves as Morales Vivero’s opening number to the world, and it just makes sense for him: a simple, repetitious melody as the harmony dips in and out of dissonance; a modern Latin rhythm that drives onward with the crunch of the guitar; a big bookmark in the in-head that springboards into a bop-esque line. It’s a structure that would feel right at home in the playbooks of Wayne Shorter or Chick Corea, and is fertile ground for improvisation by Morales Vivero and pianist Grant Heineman.
In keeping with the tributes, two notable jazz standards come into play. The legendary “Blue in Green” has seen its fair share of interpretations. They’re mostly ballads as well, but the occasional funk or straight-eighth interpretation has been done. This album’s version may be one of the few Afro-Cuban ones to be put to record. Drummer Anthony Taddeo even brings out the cowbell, but makes sure not to make the percussion the domineering personality of the track as many Afro-Cuban tunes tend to do.
So far, a hint of dark, even spectral tinge hangs over the album, reinforced by Morales Vivero’s take on “Equinox.” It’s a great match for what is already one of Coltrane’s most iconic compositions, with an intro so damn cool, it can feel as necessary as the intro to “All Things You Are.” Ricardo doesn’t hesitate to oblige, re-rhythmizing the intro and parts of the in-head while letting the bluesier side of him take over for the solos. Of notable mention is the fourth and final go around, upping the reverb to bring a kind of epic, maddening haunt. Alto saxophonist Ronell Regis flexes his muscle as well, matching the previous solo in energy and mirroring the guitar on a line I’m not sure is originally composed or taken from another recording. Regardless, it’s a fun one.
Ricardo Morales Vivero. Photos by Alyssa Redd.
“What We Have” starts as a homely bossa, but becomes a love declaration that spins itself into an emotional deluge. According to Morales Vivero at his album release show in Cleveland’s Bop Stop, the song has been around for years. It was first performed when he, Blackford, and fellow alum Roman Gilbert were all part of a jazz-rock group called Radioactive Geese. I don’t remember that song specifically, but that’s probably because I was busy jumping around to the group’s rendition of Beyoncé’s “Crazy In Love,” or Jamie Cullum’s “I’m All Over It” This time, the tribute goes to Ricardo’s own past, and present.
Blackford’s one feature is on this one track, and her expressive inflections and wide annunciations paint a picture of a smile on her face, putting one on mine. The repeated section of “the water comes rushing in, the wind takes our finest jewels. Our trophies, they turn to dust, but that isn’t all we have,” is one of my favorite lyrics in a jazz album this year. I’ve long-heard Grace and Ricky collaborate live and on the latter’s music, so hearing them do the same on the former’s album feels full circle.
Guitar in the jazz tradition is a school in and of itself, and one I’m not the best-equipped to talk about. However, my time in my school’s jazz department saw about five or six students come in as guitarists, so I was lucky to constantly have Kurt Rosenwinkle and Jonathan Kreisberg on my playlists. The remaining two originals on the album see Ricardo tapping into these influences.
“West Blvd” is an original that see-saws between straight and 6/8. It honestly sounds like it would be perfect for walking, as the latter section does such a good job flying in contrast to the former, particularly when the piano picks up the melody for a few bars. It’s a soaring high point. In fact, having walked to and from my library with this in my ears, I can confirm it’s right up there.
“Take 2” is right in line with Morales Vivero’s emergent songwriting, almost serving as an extension of the opening track. This time, the tone maintains that level of dark, but with an added layer of slickness underneath. The combined section played before solos epitomizes just how cool the dark can be.
The guitar’s explosive solo captures the field here, utilizing what sounds like an organ pedal in its climax. The rock and roll break almost sounded like a throwback to Herbie Hancock’s iconic solos on “Chameleon” from “Headhunters”, or on Freddie Hubbard’s “Red Clay.” Heineman’s pitch shifting on the keyboard, while Taddeo goes ham on the drums and cymbals, probably has something to do with it as well.
Ricardo Morales Vivero. Photo by Alyssa Redd.
There has been a template for jazz album debuts to either go standards-heavy, or to put it all out there in an all-original display. Morales Vivero goes half-and-half, composing four of the eight tracks. It’s fitting that his debut album translates from Spanish to “introspective.” It reads like a message of humility and tribute that puts his influences further into the forefront. It also helps he’s wearing a Saint John Coltrane shirt in his promo photos.
Latin American influences are very much part of that message. Bolero music, especially Mexican bolero, has a history and cultural significance that I cannot speak with much authority on. But I can feel the beauty of it, and if I’m listening right, that sound might be one of the greatest achievements in romantic expression any region of humanity has produced. That’s just my first impression, of course.
“Sabor a Mí,” written by Mexican composer Álvaro Carrillo, is a bolero standard that makes an appearance on most playlists and compilations. No surprise there, as the song has the perfect harmonic thread supporting such a sweet melody. Morales Vivero takes on the tune in a looser fashion, and entirely by himself. It flirts with a sense of cosmic ascension that isn’t normally associated with the song, but isn’t out of place with the concept of love. A deeper plunge into the emotion, as opposed to just a “taste” of nostalgia other versions may opt to do.
The album closer “Corazón Delator” is taken from the songbook of Soda Stereo, one of the most influential rock bands to come out of Argentina, if not the continent. From what I’ve gathered, they also appear to be one of the country’s greatest rock exports, and have had as much influence in modern South American rock as the “Chicago Boys” have had influence in modern South American neoliberal economic policy.
That last line is certainly a non-sequitur, but I’ll undo it by mentioning Ricky is part of a podcast called Bad Habits. In it, he discusses a variety of political and economic topics, and while I might not be able to understand much given it’s entirely in Spanish, I did discuss similar topics with him back in college together. I’ll never forget sharing a political science course in 2016, which was an…interesting time in US politics. I bring it up at all because his cool-headedness amidst the towering existentialism of that class translates so well into the album. That’s a stretch of the imagination, however so has the last decade of politics.
All that aside, I may have just made contact with the Soda Stereo phenomenon, but I can say I’m in love with the composition. Prior to my jazz awakening in college, 80s new wave was almost always playing on my iPod. You can blame GTA: Vice City for that. My one-button playlists were only filled with US and UK artists, however. Morales Vivero does his job here not just as a musician, but as a lover of music spreading the sound of his heroes.
Ricardo Morales Vivero. Photo by Alyssa Redd.
“Introspectiva” has a sort of muted quality wrapped around itself. Some might say it’s the album holding itself back, and I’d agree if the album name and cover weren’t what they were. Those simple choices, with all their mystique and allure, make this list of songs a complete package. As someone who has several meme chats with the man himself, I’m sure I’ll get a confirmation at some point.
As of this writing, I have yet to see Ricky face-to-face since he left Chicago (alright, Oak Park, but I live in Bolingbrook, so I don’t have the right), so hearing this album is like a postcard from a new adventure. So what I hear in “Introspectiva” is Ricardo Morales Vivero taking the heart of Latin America’s rock and roll and his jazz rebirth in Chicago to firmly plant himself as a musician to watch out for in Cleveland.
But what I read is Ricky doing well, doing what he loves, and chasing the dream of settling down.
I can’t wait to visit.
Favorite Track: “West Blvd” for giving me that sense of wonder in the B section.
Favorite Lyric: “The water comes rushing in, the wind takes our finest jewels. Our trophies, they turn to dust, but that isn’t all we have,” from “What We Have” (lyrics by Grace Blackford). It’s a vividly simple statement of scenes, harkening to the Jobim standard “Águas de Março.” But whereas those words thrive in its playful simplicity, the Blackford-written lyric brings us to the core of the relationship in plainly-stated words and syntax. Hearing that line for the third time in the climax fully illustrates the very sequence, a satisfying achievement for any lyricist.
Favorite Moment: Hearing Ricky go sicko mode on the last chorus of his “Equinox” solo and punching in the extra reverb, seemingly out of nowhere. I swear, this is a college-era inside joke of how the occasional conversation would circle back to the clip of our NCC jazz theory teacher, guitarist John McLean, doing the same thing during a faculty concert. But even more so because it’s John McLean, and when the spinning wheel in John McLean’s head lands on the thin slice labeled “ok fuck it,” he really plays “fuck it.” There’s a good chance it’s total coincidence, or even that Ricky did it subconsciously, but I want to believe.
RATING: 501 curls out of one perm.
The players are:
Grace Blackford (voc)
Ronell Regis (as)
Grant Heineman (p, keys)
Kip Reed (eb)
Anthony Taddeo (d)
Tuck Mindrum of Plastic Dino Records: Engineering and mixing
Dan Coutant of Sun Room Audio: Mastering
Alyssa Redd of Alyssa Red Photography
You can find Ricardo Morales Vivero on Bandcamp.
Blue Collar Jazz 
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