Cedar Walton grew up in Dallas and came up through the same wave of pianists shaped by Bud Powell and Thelonious Monk — players who treated the piano as a rhythmic instrument as much as a harmonic one. By the time he got to New York in the late 1950s, he had technique to spare, but what really distinguished him was his time. Walton's groove was uncommonly solid, the kind that made bassists and drummers relax the moment he sat down.

He joined Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers in 1961, which put him in one of the hardest-working apprenticeships in jazz. That stint produced some of the Messengers' best recordings, and Walton's compositions — "Mosaic," "Fantasy in D," "Ugetsu" — became part of the permanent hard bop repertoire. They're the kind of tunes that other pianists still pull out on gigs because they work so well: strong melodies, interesting but playable changes, a built-in momentum that helps the whole band.

After the Messengers, Walton became one of the most in-demand sidemen around. He recorded with Lee Morgan, Freddie Hubbard, Hank Mobley, and Milt Jackson, among many others. That sideman reputation was well-earned but also slightly unfair — it made him sound like a support player when he was actually one of the stronger voices at those sessions. His comping was so smart and responsive that it sometimes overshadowed the fact that his solo playing was just as good.

As a leader he made a run of excellent records through the 1970s and beyond, often working with his quartet Eastern Rebellion, which featured Bob Berg or George Coleman on tenor and the rhythm section of Sam Jones and Billy Higgins. That group had a particular chemistry — loose but tight, bluesy but harmonically sophisticated. Eastern Rebellion (1975) is a good place to start if you want to hear Walton in his element: relaxed, confident, swinging hard without making a big deal of it.

What's worth knowing before you press play is that Walton rewards attention but doesn't demand it. His music works fine as background, but if you actually listen, you'll keep catching things — a chord substitution that's just slightly unexpected, a left-hand voicing that locks the rhythm in a satisfying way, a phrase that resolves somewhere you didn't quite predict. He wasn't trying to shock anyone. He just knew how to play, and he did it consistently for about fifty years.