Fusion drums meet post-bop horns: Hart as bandleader, pushing boundaries with two bassists and burning saxophones.
The first thing you hear is rhythm breaking into pieces. Billy Hart has assembled a two-bass front, Buster Williams and Dave Holland creating a doubled low end that feels weightless and modern at once—not the locked four-four of mainstream jazz, but something fluid and searching. Don Pullen at the piano moves in sharp, dissonant clusters. Above this, Oliver Lake on alto and Dewey Redman on tenor circle each other like they're negotiating space, their tone colors distinct and wary. Eddie Henderson and Hannibal Marvin Peterson add trumpet and flugelhorn in layers, sometimes in unison, sometimes pulling away. Michael Carvin on percussion thickens the texture further. It sounds like fusion, but not the smooth kind—there's real tension here, real searching.
Enchance catches Hart at a turning point in his career, stepping out as a bandleader after years supporting others. By 1977 he was proven as a drummer—the swing is immaculate, the timekeeping flexible and intelligent—but here he's building ensemble sound, not just keeping time. The two-bass approach is the album's signature move: it allows the horns to breathe freely without sacrificing low-end weight. Pullen's abstraction fits perfectly; this isn't bop piano comping but something closer to Herbie Hancock's fusion work, which makes sense given the year and the company.
The album didn't become a calling card, and Hart would return to trio and quartet settings, but Enchance remains his statement as a conceptualist—a drummer who understood that rhythm could reshape the whole ensemble, not just serve it. Horizon Records released only a handful of sessions like this, and the label itself would fade quickly. The recording exists now mostly for serious Hart followers and fusion scholars, a document of an interesting moment when post-bop and electricity were still negotiating terms.