Fournier grew up in New Orleans, and that city never fully left his playing. There's a looseness in his time-keeping, a sense that the beat is breathing rather than clicking, that you can trace back to the parade rhythms and second-line shuffle of his hometown. He wasn't flamboyant about it — you'd never mistake him for a showboater — but once you start listening for it, that New Orleans ease is all over his work.

He landed in Chicago in the early 1950s and fell in with Ahmad Jamal, which turned out to be one of the defining partnerships of his career. Jamal's trio was built on space and restraint, and Fournier fit that concept perfectly. The recordings they made together — especially Ahmad Jamal at the Pershing: But Not for Me (1958) — became hugely influential, not just in jazz circles but among pop musicians and producers who were drawn to that bouncy, unhurried feel. Miles Davis was reportedly a devoted fan of those recordings, and you can hear why.

What Fournier brought to Jamal's group was a particular kind of listening. He played brushes with real finesse, but more than technique, he had the patience to hold back when most drummers would fill. The space he left was never dead air — it had weight, like he was making a deliberate choice every time he didn't play a note. That's harder to do than it sounds, and a lot of drummers never figure it out.

Beyond the Jamal years, Fournier worked steadily as a sideman across Chicago's busy club and studio scene, and he spent time playing with George Shearing and others. He never became a household name the way some of his contemporaries did, which has a lot to do with the nature of his gift — he was too selfless, too focused on serving the music, to push himself to the front. The records he made are a better argument for his abilities than any biography.

If you're coming to Fournier fresh, start with Ahmad Jamal at the Pershing: But Not for Me (1958) and pay attention to the drums specifically. Once you hear how much that record relies on his groove — how he shapes the whole feeling of the room — you'll start to understand why Ahmad Jamal sounded so different from other pianists of the era. A lot of that difference was sitting behind the kit.