The knock on Mobley, famously, came from Miles Davis, who called him a "middleweight" — meaning his tone lacked the commanding presence of John Coltrane or Sonny Rollins. Davis still hired him to play on Someday My Prince Will Come (1961), which tells you something. The label stuck anyway, and it did Mobley a real disservice for years. What Davis heard as a limitation, a lot of listeners now hear as a feature: Mobley never pushed, never screamed for attention, never tried to overwhelm you. His approach was conversational and unhurried, and it drew you in rather than knocked you back.

His tone is the first thing you notice. It's rounder and darker than most hard bop tenors — less bright-edged than Coltrane, less gruff than Dexter Gordon, not as muscular as Rollins. It sits in a kind of warm middle register that sounds almost relaxed even when he's playing complicated stuff. His phrasing had a natural swing to it, the kind that feels inevitable rather than worked out. And his melodic ideas were consistently clever without being showy — he wasn't trying to dazzle you, he was trying to tell you something.

Soul Station (1960) is the one to start with, full stop. It's him as a leader in ideal conditions — Wynton Kelly on piano, Paul Chambers on bass, Art Blakey on drums — and everything clicks. The version of "Remember" on that record alone is worth the price of admission. But there's a lot more to dig into. Workout (1961) is excellent. Roll Call (1960) has Freddie Hubbard firing on all cylinders alongside him. The Blue Note run across the late fifties and sixties is deep and remarkably consistent.

Mobley was also a fine sideman who showed up on key records by other people. He was part of the early Art Blakey Jazz Messengers, which was essentially a training ground for the best hard bop players of the era. He worked with Horace Silver before Silver formed his own quintet. And his stint with Miles, however complicated by Davis's public remarks, produced some genuinely good work. He fit well into other people's bands because he listened well and never tried to steal the room.

Health problems interrupted his career repeatedly, and he spent his later years largely out of the spotlight, which is a shame. But the records are there and they hold up. If you've been working your way through Blue Note and you've hit the obvious landmarks — Coltrane, Rollins, Lee Morgan, Herbie Hancock — Mobley is the next logical step, and you might find yourself wondering why you waited this long.