Jazz drummers, in general, are philosophers when contrasted with the dumb jock model often attributed to boomer era fossil rock. Mr. Gray is a thinking drummer with an expansive kindliness about him that shifts to striking capacities of concentration when he engages his kit.
One commonality I find with this run of drummers is their embrace of flow. Outside now a fat offshore slop front is busy soaking Boston and all the sounds of rain, downpour, focused splashing below the bad roof gutter, car tires mildly hydroplaning on Hampshire street and a syncopation of drippings adds up to some counterpart of flow drumming.
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