I’m not the biggest Mayall aficionado, admittedly, but at face value I usually look at the Godfather of British Blues’ as an intermediary of sorts, the teeter totter between no-name and superstar. His legacy seems to be the guy that pushed the likes of Mick Taylor, Peter Green, and of course, Eric Clapton, onto greater success; albeit Clapton was already making a name for himself on the London scene when he was still playing blues rave-ups with the Yardbirds as early as ‘63. This may not be the best niche to have carved yourself in the rock pantheon, but The Turning Point is unlike a lot of Mayall’s better remembered material in that it didn’t yield any future legends, but the sounds in its grooves are far more enticing than anything that Clapton, Taylor, Green, or Walter Trout laid down while under Mayall’s guidance.

The first thing you’ll probably take note of on this album is also what its initial shock value thrives on, and that’s the fact that there are no drums. In an attempt at profundity, Mayall provided an overwrought description on the back cover of the album, describing his feelings towards rock during the summer of 1969. Things were locked in a stalemate of excessive electric guitar volume and pounding drums, so this live LP (recorded at the Filmore East) was to act as a departure and explore regions of “low volume music,” as he describes it. Perhaps this was an act of jealousy, given Clapton’s then new found success with Cream, who had made much of their name on those same qualities that Mayall claimed to resent. Either way, the album is a great listen mainly because it’s so different. I guarantee there is no other blues, jazz, or rock, or even any amalgam of any of the three that sounds quite like this.

The line-up on this date consisted of Mayall on occasional telecaster twelve string electric and his usual harp duties, Steve Thompson on bass, ex-session man Jon Mark on acoustic finger-style guitar, and the undeniable star of the show, sax and flute player Johnny Almond. The opening track “The Laws Must Change” is a 12-bar blues burner that rides briskly on top of Mark’s Spartan percussive chord bashing while the album closer “Room To Move” is another upbeat number that breaks down into a marathon mouth percussion showcase half-way through.  Something that’s rather compelling is that the albums other five tracks are mellow and jazzy songs underpinned by what sounds like simple blues progressions.

While the entire group is stellar–Thompson’s often hypnotic bass grooves flawlessly keep time, Mark’s percussive approach often finds him just banging his hands against his guitar, and Mayall’s typical virtuoso harp flair is in fine display–the real notable here is Almond. Early on he lays down a few melodic flute solos that are catchy enough to stay stuck in your head long after you’ve listened to them.  He really gets going when he picks up the sax on “So Hard to Share”, “California”, and “Thoughts About Roxanne” where the band pushes him up to vertiginous heights during his extended solos. And he handles it all flawlessly; I can’t say whether or not these solos were well rehearsed or if they were on-the-spot improvisations, but given the loose nature of these tunes I’d like to lean towards the latter.

If that’s the case, then it’s a travesty he never made more of name for himself later on. He gets near orgasmic on “So Hard to Share” and “Thoughts About Roxanne” where Mark’s slowly increasing strumming results in him spitting out a climactic spasm of notes. On “California” his ever ascending pitch goes higher and higher until it starts to sting. “California” is also one of the best numbers here due to it’s jump-off in the middle of it’s nine and half minute run time, demonstrating what happens when noodling goes right. Here Mark meanders with his finger picked chord phrases while Mayall employs a mixture of mouth percussion and harp for Mark to wind himself around. Then, Almond picks up his flute again and starts to play some melodic lines that sound like he could charm a snake.

It’s a wonder why this group didn’t stay together longer, apparently they recorded a studio follow up later that year, but it’s near impossible to find since it doesn’t appear to have ever been reissued on CD like most of Mayall’s discography. Clearly he wasn’t one to sit on his laurels; he was too hungry for new ideas and new minds for that. It’s like he says in response to urgent requests to play “Room to Move” (a hit on FM radio at the time) on his later live LP Jazz Blues Fusion: “No, there’s no more room to move, that’s all way in the past.” Ah well, at least we still got The Turning Point to remember the good ol’ days.