Speak No Evil (1966) – Wayne Shorter
Tracklist:
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Witch Hunt – 8:07
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Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum – 5:54
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Dance Cadaverous – 6:45
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Speak No Evil – 8:23
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Infant Eyes – 6:51
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Wild Flower – 6:04
Personnel:
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Wayne Shorter – tenor saxophone
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Freddie Hubbard – trumpet
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Herbie Hancock – piano
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Ron Carter – bass
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Elvin Jones – drums
Speak No Evil is more than a high point in Wayne Shorter’s career — it’s a defining document of mid-’60s post-bop, a subtle pivot between the structured innovations of hard bop and the freer explorations of modal and avant-garde jazz. Released in 1966, this album stands as one of Blue Note Records’ crown jewels and arguably Shorter’s greatest studio effort as a bandleader.
Recorded on Christmas Eve 1964, Speak No Evil captures a group of jazz giants at the peak of their creative interplay. Shorter had already made waves with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers and was then deep into his role as a core composer and tenor saxophonist in the Miles Davis Quintet. But here, he takes center stage with a collection of original compositions that are mysterious, moody, and effortlessly lyrical.
What sets Speak No Evil apart is Shorter’s ability to balance structured composition with openness. These tunes aren't head-solo-head exercises — they breathe, they twist, and they often carry a sense of foreboding or ambiguity rarely heard in jazz writing of the era.
“Witch Hunt” kicks off the album with swagger and subtle dissonance — it’s catchy and cerebral, with Freddie Hubbard’s trumpet slicing cleanly through Elvin Jones’ rolling pulse. “Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum” follows with a lilting swing, tinged with melancholy and grace. Shorter’s soloing throughout is notable for its restraint; he rarely explodes, preferring to speak in shadows and leave space in the music.
“Dance Cadaverous” and the title track “Speak No Evil” delve deeper into abstraction, harmonic depth, and mood. Hancock’s comping is spacious and often ambiguous, while Carter and Jones lay down time in a way that’s simultaneously locked-in and fluid.
“Infant Eyes”, written for Shorter’s young daughter, is the emotional centerpiece — a slow, tender ballad full of wonder and vulnerability. It’s one of the most achingly beautiful compositions in jazz, and a standout in Shorter’s catalog.
“Wild Flower” closes the album with a sense of gentle optimism — not resolution, necessarily, but release.
While Speak No Evil is Shorter’s vision, this record wouldn’t be what it is without Freddie Hubbard’s crisp fire, Herbie Hancock’s harmonic language, Ron Carter’s elegant grounding, and Elvin Jones’ turbulent propulsion. This rhythm section was, in essence, the Miles Davis Second Great Quintet minus Miles, and they bring the same intensity, freedom, and trust to Shorter’s compositions.
Each musician plays for the music, never for ego — a testament to the mutual respect and deep listening that define the album.
Speak No Evil is often labeled as a post-bop record, but it transcends genre tags. It’s haunted and haunting, gorgeous and elusive, a masterclass in understatement and melodic invention. It’s also a lesson in economy — how to say more by saying less.
Wayne Shorter wasn’t trying to blow down walls with sheer force — he was more interested in unlocking doors to rooms you didn’t know existed. With Speak No Evil, he created a space where mystery meets mastery — and it still echoes, decades later.
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