Bechet was at the peak of his September fame when, while waiting to record in a Paris studio, he happened to overhear a young French-Algerian pianist. Bechet was so taken with Martial Solal’s playing that he told Charles Delaunay he’d like to record with him some day. Delaunay, father of jazz discography and founder of the magazine Jazz Hot, knew that the history of jazz is laden with missed opportunities, and he decided it might as well be some day soon. 　　 Thus this music came into being, at two sessions in March and June of 1957, and it was some of the finest of Bechet’s late years. There were, Delauney states in the original liners notes, no preliminary rehearsals. Bechet and Solal simply agreed that “they would prefer to records standards and ballads” – that was all. 　　 Bechet was approaching 60; Solal was 29. The others on the first session were Americans in their middle 20s. There were no problems, though Solal was identified with the modern movement and drummer Al Levitt had studied with Lennie Tristano and worked with Lee Konitz, Stan Getz and Paul Bley. These Foolish Things, the first tune recorded, was begun at 2:35 p.m. and finished in two takes. No second takes were required for the remainder of the program, which included seven more numbers. The last note sounded at 4:30. Professionals were at work, enjoying themselves and each other and the task at hand. No need for loquacity – the longest track runs 3:45 (it was the first recorded), but none seems too short. 　　 The June session featured a new rhythm team. Bassist Pierre Michelot, 28, would soon gain international recognition as co-leader, with Bud Powell and Kenny Clarke, of The Three Bosses, a working trio. Clarke, 43, had taken up permanent residence in France the year before. Though known as the founding father of bebop drumming, he was no stranger to Bechet, having first worked and recorded with him in 1939, then again ten years later when both were in Paris. The day was very hot, but that was the sole source of sweat: Six tracks were set down between 7:20 and 8:50 p.m., and the album was completed. 　　 It was first issued in the U.S. in 1958, and Down Beat (which just a few years earlier had proclaimed on its cover: “Bechet Plays Like A Pig: Michel Legrand”) gave it 4 ½ stars. The reviewer, Martin Williams, said, among other right things: “This is neither a curiosity nor a stunt but a respectful meeting of individuals. It is also a lesson for anyone who has prejudices about jazz styles.” 　　 The lesson, obvious as Bechet and Solal made it, was not well heeded, but the current crop of jazz listeners seems less inclined to put musicians in neatly labeled stylistic boxes and expect them to stay put (they never have, of course, and blessedly never will). 　　 What you will hear on this record is masterly playing by the late King of the Soprano Saxophone (Sidney Bechet died on his 62nd birthday, May 24, 1959) and by one of the most original and consistently excellent post-Tatum pianists, supported by first-rate rhythm. Listen well.