formula has been over-exploited. What once sounded exhilarating has increasingly become merely enervating.

Coryell's new band, the Eleventh House, features drummer Alphonse Mouzon, bassist Danny Trifan, keyboarder Mike Mandel (the sole holdover from Coryell's previous band) and trumpeter Randy Brecker (who has since left for Cobham's group). On paper, this sounds like a winning combination, but in practice, it's a stale offering.

The music consistently recalls other jazz-rock aggregations (Weather Report and the Mahavishnu juggernaut) more than it suggests any distinctive or original ensemble approach. Coryell flaunts his prolix attack at wearisome length, while Mouzon plays indiscriminately giving the record a mind-numbing veneer of sameness. Besides being trite, most of this band's effects are glib — a sign, perhaps, that superficial dazzle has temporarily replaced considered substance.

Unfortunately, matters are no better on Cobham's new album, Crosswinds. His first effort, Spectrum, sold surprisingly well, and Cobham has assembled a crack band for this new record, including Randy Brecker on trumpet and brother Mike on tenor, John Abercrombie on guitar, and Frank Zappa alumnus George Duke on keyboards. Once again Cobham has composed all the tunes, which range from atmospheric mood music to rockish riffing.

Cobham's unique style has been described as a cross between Tony Williams (Miles Davis's influential drummer during the Sixties) and Bernard Purdie (Aretha Franklin's drummer and bandleader). Without question Cobham is one of the cleanest, fastest drummers in jazz, in this respect bearing comparison with Buddy Rich. But Cobham's virtues as a leader are more questionable; left to his own devices, Cobham can sustain an entire album only with difficulty, especially since his own compositions lack distinction.

Indeed, there is ultimately a sense of sterility about Cobham's virtuosity on Crosswinds, just as there is about Coryell's less spectacular prowess on Introducing the Eleventh House. Their blitzkrieg exhibitions ring hollow without a challenging musical context. Those electronic devices, rhythmic figures and stylistic departures that revolutionized mainstream jazz five years ago here become yet another restrictive orthodoxy, refined in its executions, but complacent in its ambitions. (RS 165)

JIM MILLER