Downhill From Here by guitarist Gilad Hekselman is eight tracks that lean into a lineage of melodic invention and rhythmic exploration while offering a sonic language that feels unmistakably of today’s modern jazz guitar style.
With Marcus Gilmore on drums and Larry Grenadier on bass, Hekselman revisits the trio format with deep roots and fresh soil. Gilmore, a longtime collaborator, provides the kind of percussive intuition that makes time feel infinite. Grenadier, making his first appearance on a Hekselman-led session, brings decades of lyrical architecture into a new chamber of interaction. These sidemen function as tonal co-authors.
The album opens with a sonic wink, “Downhill From Here,” a title that suggests resignation, yet the track itself ascends. Hekselman manipulates his guitar tone through the HX Stomp to bloom with analog warmth and digital shimmer. His opening statements are full of breath and poise, with Gilmore and Grenadier locking into a groove that is buoyant and exploratory. The phrasing is elastic, inviting surprise without ever losing the pocket. As the solo develops, Hekselman’s lines curl and lift like smoke from a candle to form organic, ephemeral, yet entirely intentional expressions.
A compositional standout, “Navanad” develops a folk jazz-inflected lyricism by the trio. Built around a beautifully fingered guitar figure, the piece demonstrates the trio’s rhythmic concord with almost telepathic acuity. Gilmore’s light-handed articulation and Grenadier’s melodic counterlines create a three-way dialogue of patience and propulsion. The result is a chamber-like intimacy that never forsakes its jazz vocabulary.
“Be Brave” showcases Hekselman’s modern compositional voice, creating a contemporary jazz performance with a pulse of today’s energy. Built on a straight eighth feel with emotive hits and sectional contrasts, the piece allows Grenadier to shine. His solo is melodic in contour and rhythmic intent, his percussive attack to the strings creating a compelling synergy with Gilmore’s drumming. Hekselman’s guitar tone, again sculpted by subtle pedal coloration, maintains a rich warmth even as the harmony turns angular.
The lone standard, Burt Bacharach’s “Alfie,” is rendered with quiet grace. Here, the trio leans into space—Gilmore’s brushwork whispering beneath Hekselman’s restrained chord-melody phrasing. The guitarist’s solo is a study in restraint and line, weaving chordal punctuation with scalar fragments that evoke Jim Hall’s tender lyricism more than Joe Pass’s flourishes. The balance of tradition and taste is exquisite.
“Wise Man” feels like a thesis on motif development as Hekselman takes a single pitch and colors it with rhythm, which becomes the melodic seed for the head and improvisation. His use of warm distortion adds a slight edge to various sections, without compromising the inherent beauty of the phrase. Gilmore’s solo is dynamic and architecturally aware, unfolding with narrative clarity rather than flash. There’s an intelligence to the interplay here that will reward repeat listening and transcription alike.
“Seeing You” is a ballad enriched by synth-like textures that Hekselman subtly blends into his guitar voicing. Grenadier and the guitarist trade melodic roles, underscoring their mutual respect and conversational flow. The harmonic palette is broad yet never gratuitous. Grenadier’s solo flows with a poet’s phrasing.
“Scoville” brings a new swagger to the mix with a funk-infused groove that is a clear nod to John Scofield, both in its syncopated phrasing and tonal bite. Hekselman’s guitar tone edges into overdrive, while still retaining clarity and his improvisation is laced with blues motifs, rhythmic displacements, and sly motivic callbacks. Gilmore and Grenadier lock into the kind of pocket that feels carved from granite. This track radiates heat and humor.
“Like A Wildflower” is a gentle close to the album, this Israeli folk melody, penned by Nachum Heiman, returns to origins. Hekselman delivers the melody with the, letting each note find its place. The phrasing is unhurried, the tone luminous. As the trio lifts the tune toward its end, the sentiment is one of affirmation, not resolution, but blossoming.
Downhill From Here is anything but a descent. It’s a solid creation of form, feeling, and fellowship. For jazz fans, there is much here to unpack: motivic development, trio interaction, tone sculpting, and textural nuance. The album offers Hekselman cultivating depth. And with collaborators like Gilmore and Grenadier, he’s found a fertile space for the next evolution of his voice. That’s the short of it!
