Joel Ross, Gospel Music Review

By Jeff Becker

Joel Ross Blue Note Records album Gospel Music is built on unstoppable rhythmic drive, where subdivision becomes thematic material, groove shifts function as structural hinges, and leadership emerges not through architecture.

From its opening measures, Gospel Music  the ensemble operates inside a shared subdivision logic so consistent that it becomes the album’s underlying motif. Tempos shift, textures widen, voices enter and recede—but the internal placement of eighth notes against the groove remains remarkably coherent. This is not tightness in the rigid sense. It is tightness as agreement.

“Wisdom Is Eternal (For Barry Harris)” opens with bell-like upper-register textures, celeste and glockenspiel overtones extending the vibraphone’s shimmer. The pacing is devotional, unhurried. Yet even in its spaciousness, the rhythmic field is clearly defined. The ensemble does not float; it settles. Notes are placed with deliberation against the pulse, which defines it with gravity.

That sense of gravitational agreement becomes central across the record. “Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit)” shifts groove and density, distributing thematic material across the front line. The dual-sax interplay of Josh Johnson’s alto and Maria Grand’s tenor often unfolds contrapuntally, but the lines never compete for rhythmic authority. They interlock through shared subdivision. Groove shifts feel structural, not decorative; they act as hinges that redirect energy without destabilizing the pulse.

On “Protoevangelium (The First Gospel),” the transition from arco to pizzicato bass is timbral and architectural in setting the feel. Kanoa Mendenhall’s bass reshapes the rhythmic floor, moving from reflective sustain into forward propulsion. The ensemble crescendos around that shift, but again, the escalation is controlled by subdivision agreement. Intensity grows from rhythmic layering, not just from layered density.

Gospel Music leans into forward motion on “Hostile,” the rhythm section demonstrates the album’s core design principle. Jeremy Dutton’s drumming provides a driving post-bop undercurrent, but the propulsion is disciplined. The saxophones articulate angular lines with precision, while Jeremy Corren’s piano syncs into the rhythmic grid rather than pushing against it. The result is high energy without fragmentation. Even extended improvisational passages remain structurally tethered to the groove.

This groove architecture is not static. “Word for Word” shifts into a buoyant swing feel, blues-inflected and elastic at the phrasing level. Horn lines stretch across the barline, but they never obscure the pocket. Syncopated exchanges between piano and rhythm section reinforce the backbeat implication without overstatement. Gospel lineage appears here less through chord vocabulary and more through pocket weight, the way the band sits just inside the subdivision.

“Repentance” offers sustained vamp-based motion, with subtle metric modulation layered into the rhythmic field. Rather than disrupt the pulse, these shifts deepen it. The vamp becomes a site of controlled expansion, where repetition reinforces structure. The spiritual character here is rhythmic first: the insistence of repetition, the layering of tension beneath improvisation, the shared awareness of pulse placement.

Across the album, the ensemble feels locked letting elasticity appear in open passages. “The Shadowlands,” for example, with its sustained minor-modal language and long decays, but even at its most spacious, the group maintains internal rhythmic cohesion. Silence is measured. Activity is the focus.

Ross’s vibraphone often leads melodically, his playing defines contour and clarifies rhythmic phrasing. Leadership here is not vertical dominance; it is horizontal alignment. The vibraphone articulates time as much as melody, reinforcing subdivision clarity.

The vocal-centered pieces of “Praise To You, Lord Jesus Christ,” “Calvary,” and “The Giver,”shift the texture but preserve the rhythmic spine. When voice enters, the ensemble widens its dynamic field without compromising pocket. The rhythm section supports rather than dramatizes. Even in devotional tempos, subdivision placement remains precise. Gospel presence emerges through groove posture and collective weight rather than harmonic overt signaling.

By the time the album reaches “To The Throne (The Mercy Seat)” and “Be Patient,” the band’s internal alignment feels fully integrated. Unified horn parts and deliberate solo phrasing reinforce the ensemble’s cohesion. Phrases expand gradually; dynamic shaping is controlled, never abrupt.

“The New Man” condenses form into a compact rhythmic statement, bright in harmonic coloration but disciplined in time. And in the cinematic closer, “Now & Forevermore,” expanded instrumentation—harp, electronics, mellotron textures—broadens the timbral field. As sustain overtakes propulsion, the underlying rhythmic agreement does not dissolve. It becomes implied rather than explicit, but the architecture remains intact.

Gospel Music stands as Ross’s most disciplined architectural work to date. It’s an album organized around the architecture of time. Energy is aligned internally. Groove shifts serve structural purpose. Subdivision functions as motif. The ensemble’s steadiness across changing textures makes the design unmistakable.

Gospel Music assert its spiritual identity through rhythmic integrity. The band agrees on where time lives, and everything else builds from there.