There is a saying in the opera world which, though innocuous on the face of it, damns a work before the overture has begun let alone after the fat lady sings. The saying, beloved of breathless publicists deaf to its implication, is that such and such an opera is "rarely performed."

The reason it is rarely performed, of course, is because nine times out of ten it is a dud. When it comes to jazz albums the parallel saying is "previously unreleased." Unless the recording has only recently been discovered to exist, five gets you ten that it, too, is a dud—and the longer it has lain unreleased the greater that probability. First Flight To Tokyo is, Blue Note tells us, a "thrilling previously unreleased" live recording. Its subtitle, The Lost 1961 Recordings, suggests the tapes have not until recently been known to exist and that, as with the Dead Sea Scrolls, only decades of dedicated archaeological excavation have unearthed them. In fact, the tapes and their whereabouts have been known about for sixty years. One is minded, therefore, to arrange the following words into a well known phrase or saying: barrel, bottom, scrape.

Actually, First Flight To Tokyo is not that bad. It is certainly not a dud. But nor is it the masterpiece it will doubtless be dubbed by gullible reviewers who are perhaps unfamiliar with the genuinely great live albums in the Jazz Messengers' discography. It is, in fact, a solid album from one of the hardest working bands of its era and not without interest. But A Night At Birdland (Blue Note, 1954) or At The Caf�� Bohemia (Blue Note, 1956) it is not.

The alternate takes of