John Scofield & Dave Holland, Memories of Home Review

By Jeff Becker

Memories of Home is John Scofield and Dave Holland presenting a duo recording as a summation of their experiences together thus far. Together they offer something quieter and more exacting with a shared interior space, shaped by decades of listening, where sound functions as recognition.

“Home,” here, is not nostalgic in the sentimental sense. It is ethical. It is a way of phrasing, a way of letting time move, a way of trusting the other player to complete the sentence. In a jazz landscape increasingly defined by density and velocity, Scofield and Holland choose balance. For jazz fans and duet thinkers, Memories of Home operates as a study in restraint, interaction, and the accumulated intelligence of shared musical life.

The album opens with the duet setting the orientation. “Icons at the Fair” unfolds gradually, allowing the listener to acclimate to the duo’s internal logic. Scofield’s guitar voice is immediately recognizable, angular yet warm. Holland’s grounding presence defines the track’s emotional gravity. His playing establishes the form, develops the feel, and moves with Scofield in a forward way, each phrase responding to the last.

A familiar Scofield composition, “Meant to Be,” takes on a new psychological profile in this stripped-down setting. Holland opens alone, establishing the harmonic ground, feel, and emotional temperature. His performance is centered, unhurried, and alert. When Scofield enters, first with colors, then with the melody, the tune is developed with the duet’s unique style and attention.

What emerges is a portrait of shared musical language. Holland’s responsiveness allows Scofield to reshape phrases mid-thought, knowing the bass will follow without anticipation or delay. This track exemplifies the duo’s greatest strength, which is their ability to move freely without destabilizing the form, flow, or feel.

“Mine Are Blues” introduces a grounded riff-based, blues-facing energy. Scofield’s phrasing leans into asymmetry with phrases that bend against expectation, while Holland supplies a steady frame that absorbs the tension.

Rather than dramatizing the blues, the duo treats it as a conversational setting where their shared language can flourish. The groove is present, allowing subtle rhythmic decisions to carry meaning. The result is music that feels alive as the two interact and share harmonic, melodic, rhythmic, and accents that shape the performance.

“Mr. B” carries lineage lightly. Dedicated to Ray Brown, the performance doesn’t reenact history; instead, it builds upon it. Holland’s bass line articulates a steady, centered pulse, firm without insistence, while Scofield responds with phrases that circle and probe rather than assert.

The piece builds on the swing of Brown, but in the style of these players’ relationship. The time feel emerges from mutual agreement, a modern swing that is grounded in jazz history, but not defined by it. Holland’s solo, in particular, reflects an understanding of tradition as something built upon rather than quoted. The clarity of pitch, the weight of each note, and the unforced flow of ideas feel grounded in the jazz experience, not homage to an era.

Scofield’s melodic sensibility is presented with fluidity and intimacy in “Easy for You.” The tune breathes slowly, shaped by touch rather than contour. Holland avoids anchoring the harmony too tightly, choosing instead to trace emotional outlines beneath the melody.

There is an unspoken patience to this performance. Each phrase is allowed to take shape and resolve. The absence of urgency becomes the point. For listeners accustomed to complexity as value, “Easy for You” offers a counterproposal of less is more and clarity has depth.

As the album progresses, Scofield and Holland continue to draw from their shared catalog, reshaping older material through the lens of accumulated experience. What unites these performances is their refusal to overstate. The song develops naturally as ideas are explored and discussed through their common punctuation.

This is music unconcerned with proving relevance. Its confidence lies in continuity and the sense that this duo has found a way of expressing the music in a manner that no longer requires negotiation.

“Memories of Home,” the title track, reveals the duet’s language shaped by a folk-like simplicity, allowing Scofield to color the line through subtle inflection and bends that suggest speech, pauses that imply reflection.

Holland’s contribution is quietly profound. His use of space, the gentle shaping of sustained tones, and the expressive contouring of phrase endings give the piece its depth. This is not accompaniment in the traditional sense; it is parallel storytelling. Together, the duo evokes a sense of folk-jazz belonging that feels in line with modern jazz of today.

For jazz fans, Memories of Home offers a model of duo interaction that prioritizes listening. The nine-song set demonstrates how small ensembles can carry emotional and structural weight while still having depth and a profound musical message. Scofield and Holland have created a style of jazz together over the years. That style is patient, conversational, and deeply human while remaining unmistakably present. This album doesn’t ask to be admired. It asks to be returned to. And in that return, something lasting reveals itself.