A Bronx Morning provides a striking contrast to Manhattan Melody, which also appears in this review cluster. One thing I learn in the comparison is that there are lots of different ways to be great. Leyda is a bit Vertovian too—lots of modernist compositions, framing for interesting framing’s sake. But there’s an andante quality to this that isn’t very Soviet, and is very appealing. This is his neighbourhood! Everything is so well selected and presented. Authoritatively, I mean, or even definitively. He knows and loves his subject, and communicates it very powerfully. There’s a melancholy here too. Terrific.