Lonnie Liston Smith proves he still had the touch for spacious, soulful keyboards and patient grooves.
By 1985, Lonnie Liston Smith had already made his mark as a cosmic jazz architect, but Rejuvenation finds him leaning into something more grounded — still spiritual, still layered with synthesizer wash and Rhodes piano, but closer to funk and soul than the pure spaciness of his earlier work. The album sits somewhere between meditation and dance floor, never quite choosing a side, which gives it an unusual pull. Smith's touch on the keys remains assured; he knows how to let space do the heavy lifting, and he resists the urge to fill every gap with sound, a discipline that kept his best records focused.
This is not a reinvention. Rather, it's a record where an established artist checks in with where he stands, refining rather than rethinking his approach. The grooves land with a pocket-conscious confidence, and the synthesizers have warmth instead of the colder shimmer they might have had elsewhere in the mid-80s. Smith was comfortable enough in his powers to trust simplicity — a single repeating motif, a locked-in bass line, space for the listener to breathe.
Rejuvenation is solid journeyman work from someone who knew his instrument and his audience. It won't surprise anyone familiar with Smith's catalog, but it's not a record to skip over either. If you've followed his output, this is worth the time. If you're new to him, start with an earlier Flying Dutchman release to catch his full range, then come back here to hear how he refined things.