Most people spell “African-American” with a hyphen, but Larry Wilmore, known as the “Senior Black Correspondent” on Comedy Central’s “The Daily Show,” feels the term more rightfully deserves a pair of question marks. “African? American? Make up your mind!”

The music made by the 67-year old pianist McCoy Tyner between 1968 and 1970 steadfastly refuses to make up its mind: It is hardcore American jazz with a decidedly African spin. Captured on a new three-CD boxed set, “Mosaic Select: McCoy Tyner” (mosaicrecords.com), this is incredibly little-known music by one of the most famous contemporary jazz keyboardists; had I not known to whom I was listening, I might have assumed it was Dollar Brand or another jazz composer-pianist who was born and raised in Africa

This is the same McCoy Tyner who collaborated with John Coltrane on his famous exploration of modes from that continent, “Africa Brass,” yet it sounds nothing like that 1961 classic. During his half-decade as Coltrane’s pianist, Mr. Tyner also recorded as a leader on Coltrane’s label, Impulse Records. In 1967, the year of the tenor giant’s death, Mr. Tyner switched to Blue Note, where he made three well-received albums in 13 months: 1967’s “The Real McCoy” and “Tender Moments,” and 1968’s “Time for Tyner.” All, more or less, were in a modal hard bop tradition — a logical outgrowth of the music he had been playing with Coltrane.

Mr. Tyner was one of the last signings of Blue Note label founder Alfred Lion, who had sold the company to Liberty Records two years earlier and retired in 1967. Beginning the following year, Mr. Tyner’s music for Blue Note started to reflect a distinctly post-Lion sensibility; “Tender Moments” and “Time for Tyner” included one or two compositions with African elements, but this would increasingly become the dominant factor in Mr. Tyner’s music in the late 1960s. He eventually did seven sessions for Blue Note in these three years, resulting in two albums that were issued at the same time — the compatibly named “Extensions” and “Expansions” — and two more that were not released until considerably later — 1974’s “Asante” and 1976’s “Cosmos” — the latter being a double LP catchall of everything Mr. Tyner had done for the label but which had not yet been released.

In the years when Lion ran Blue Note, the music had a very clear identity, whether it was the avantgarde stylings of Andrew Hill or the soul-jazz it pioneered with its many organ stars. Without Lion’s guiding force, the label essentially housed a cadre of inspired individuals more or less in business for themselves. Mr. Tyner assembled an outstanding quartet with the trumpeter Woody Shaw, the alto saxist Gary Bartz, the bassist Herbie Lewis, and the drummer Freddie Waits, but, remarkably, Blue Note failed to sell many records for him and opportunities for the band were sparse. According to the reissue’s producer, Michael Cuscuna, Mr. Tyner resorted to driving a taxicab during dry spells to feed his family.

Even as his music grew more African-inspired, Mr. Tyner was increasingly asserting himself as a composer — nearly all of the 21 tracks on the three CDs break the 10-minute mark, but they’re not just bouts of extended solos. Not that the solos are short, either; in fact, they generally pivot around an involved theme in addition to lengthy improvisations; there’s a lot going on here.

The most African element of Mr. Tyner’s music is his percussive touch at the keyboard, which is something he has in common with such predecessors as Thelonious Monk, Bud Powell, and even Cecil Taylor. It’s widely said that Mr. Taylor plays the piano “like 88 tuned drums,” but the expression applies equally to all four pianists, and Mr. Tyner’s playing in this period is especially drumlike. “Vibration Blues,” a trio title with Messrs. Lewis and Waits, is essentially a four-measure phrase that Mr. Tyner plays up and then down, repeating it until he has played a whole chorus worth of it, then improvises on this motif. The repetition of that short, catchy phrase is an example of a pop style element without any resorting to things like electronics or fusion techniques. By the end of the piece, Mr. Tyner works himself into a swirl of notes that, taken alone, might suggest a devotee of Mr. Taylor; but it’s how he builds up to that frenzied passage, gets into it, and then resolves it that sets Mr. Tyner apart.

Mr. Tyner’s African inspiration was rarely taken literally (although, on the cover of “Extensions,” which parodies an issue of “National Geographic,” it’s taken somewhat comically). Most sessions utilized no African instruments or any percussion beyond the standard American trap kit. Some of the instrumentation on the recordings is surprisingly Euro-centric: The first date has Ron Carter soloing on cello, playing a remarkable arco solo on “Vision” and pizzicato on “Smitty.” Both Mr. Carter and Alice Coltrane (John’s widow), who begins “Message From the Nile” on harp, use these European instruments in an urgently rhythmic, African way, combining the harp, for instance, with the saxes of Wayne Shorter and Gary Bartz. Mr. Tyner even gets a distinctly African effect from the string quartet that is heard on three pieces as well as from the waltz time signature employed on “Song for My Lady,” which is known today as Mr. Tyner’s most famous composition.

Finally, on the last date, the “Asante” session, Mr. Tyner drops the other shoe and gives himself entirely over to the African groove: He adds a conga player (Mtume, the son of the veteran saxist Jimmy Heath, who was playing at the time with Miles Davis); has his drummer (Billy Hart) playing additional percussion instruments; uses a guitarist (Ted Dunbar) to stress the rhythm; and brings in a vocalist (Songai Sandra Smith) whom the liner notes tell us was once a New York schoolteacher.

Mr. Tyner also supplements the alto of his saxophonist, Andrew White, with a wooden flute, which he plays himself. This is dense, multitextural (not to mention multicultural), poly-rhythmic music that combines jazz based on scales, chords, modes, even completely free playing for a rich sonic vista that sounds like it could be the score to a film or a play set in the Ivory Coast. The difference is that it’s better than any film music I’ve ever heard.

After these recording sessions, Mr. Tyner stayed out of the studio for two years before launching a new relationship with Milestone Records and steadily establishing himself as one of the most durable pianist-bandleaders on the postmodern scene. He has made all kinds of wonderful music since, even led his own big band, but these 21 tracks represent a special period, when a pianist from Philadelphia took us back to his roots in Africa.

wfriedwald@nysun.com