It appears that the Japanese have become very good at jazz as of late. Jazz has its own storied history in Japan, but the most recent resurgence hit in the past decade or so. Kyoto Jazz Massive was the first step; the brothers Okino took a jazz foundation, mixed in a healthy dose of various electronic genres, and kickstarted the nujazz genre in Japan. Since then, the Massive have put out an album and collaborated with other likeminded artists, which brings us to Sleep Walker. Though Kyoto Jazz Massive was originally a DJ group, they seem to do just as well when the electronics disappear—the duo took on producer duties for Sleep Walker’s debut album in 2003, which features some great tenor saxophone work that some call reminiscent of Pharaoh Sanders. Not surprising, since the jazz legend has played with Sleep Walker on at least one track, the title track to 2006’s The Voyage.

I am about as poor a connoisseur of jazz as exists in this world; I have never heard a whole Miles Davis album, I know one John Coltrane song (maybe two), and the story remains the same for nearly every jazz great you care to name. I remember being in a jazz club in NYC once, during a high school trip, and I can’t tell you for the life of me where we were in the city or who the performers on stage were. I remember they were pretty good, and that there was a two drink minimum. What Sleep Walker brings to the table, however, is exactly the sort of smoky atmosphere I’ve liked most about the jazz I’ve heard. Whether it’s the lively quick-step of opener “Ai-No-Tabi” or the soulful slumber of the final track to Sleep Walker’s first self-titled album, a song called “Ai-No-Umi,” Sleep Walker evokes the sound of summer nights and urban nightlife, a whirlwind of revelry and celebration followed by the quiet contemplation of the long walk through the forest of towering skyscrapers, through the tree-lined streets and spotlit park paths, up to the apartment and straight into bed.