Pass brought his guitar sophistication to material most jazz musicians would have ignored entirely.
A Sign of the Times catches Joe Pass in an unusual spot: taking orchestrated versions of pop standards and filtering them through his own immaculate technique. This was not his natural habitat. Pass was a bebop guitarist who lived for complex chord changes and melodic invention. But here he is in 1965, accompanying lush arrangements of songs that had just come off the radio, material designed for mass consumption rather than jazz connoisseurs.
The title track had been a hit for Petula Clark, which tells you something about the album's crossover ambitions. Rather than resist this commercial framing, Pass simply played through it with his usual polish and clarity. His tone remains direct and unhurried even when the orchestration swells around him. It's the kind of record that could sell to people who bought Mantovani records but had just discovered that jazz could be elegant and easy to listen to. Nothing wrong with that, but it explains why this album has never been central to understanding Pass's contribution to jazz.
Scott Yanow's review in AllMusic dismissed it as a historical curiosity, which is fair enough. This record sits on the margins of Pass's discography—not a place where his voice truly leads, but a place where he proved he could adapt without losing his identity. It was reissued on CD paired with Simplicity in 2002, which suggests some durable appeal among collectors and completists. If you're exploring Pass's career, start elsewhere. But if you stumble across this and want to hear a master guitarist bring his craft to material outside his usual domain, it delivers exactly what the title promises.