Dániel Szabó Trio Meets Chris Potter, Contribution (BMC). Szabó is a 34-year-old pianist and composer with impressive academic and performance credentials and awards in Hungary and the US. One of his professors at the New England Conservatory was Bob Brookmeyer, who sent a copy of Szabó’s CD with a note strongly suggesting that his former student deserves close attention.
This album commands close attention.
Szabó’s compositions have lines with binding energy that urges forward motion, and chord structures of challenging densities, prompting Brookmeyer to refer to it as “highly evolved music.” Throughout, currents and undercurrents of Eastern European rhythms and minor harmonies inform both writing and improvisation. Szabó, bassist Mátyás Szandai and drummer Ferenc Németh previously recorded with guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel in an album I have yet to hear. It seems clear that it takes musicians of Rosenwinkel’s and Potter’s virtuosity and openness to ideas to navigate in Szabó’s deep, sometimes stormy waters. Conversely, it requires musicians of these three Hungarians’ advanced techniques and jazz sensibilties to hold their own with Potter, a soloist of daunting power, swing and imagination. His work is riveting on tenor and soprano saxophones, and bass clarinet in the nostalgic piece called “Melodic.” Szabós piano playing, founded in post-Bill Evans harmony and dynamics, is of a piece with the advanced concepts of his writing. His exchanges and counterpoint with Potter are natural, unforced.
This album was recorded in Budapest. Potter’s domestic ties to Hungary seem to take him there frequently. If that means we may expect further collaboration between him and the Szabó trio, so much the better. This is, indeed, highly evolved–and highly satisfying–music. Here are Szabó, Szandai, Németh and Potter at their CD release party in an extended version of “Attack of the Intervals,” the first piece on the album.
Archives for March 2010
Herb Ellis, 1921-2010
Herb Ellis died last night at home in Los Angeles. He was 88 years old and had Alzheimer’s disease. Ellis was most celebrated for his guitar playing with the Oscar Peterson Trio that also included bassist Ray Brown. For more than half a century, he was one of a handful of guitarists recognized as masters of the instrument. Musicians of several generations cherished him as a colleague. A few of them were fellow guitarists Barney Kessel, Joe Pass, Charlie Byrd and Laurindo Almeida; trumpeters Louis Armstrong, Roy Eldridge and Harry “Sweets” Edison; saxophonists Ben Webster, Plas Johnson and Stan Getz; and Ella Fitzgerald.
In the notes for one of Ellis’s last recordings as a leader, I wrote:
In the 24 bars of his unaccompanied introduction to “Things Ain’t What They Used to Be,” Herb Ellis sketches the elements of his musicality.
• Harmonic sophistication
• Fleet execution
• Expression of abstract ideas in earthy language
• Bred-in-the-bone familiarity with the blues
• Distinctive Southwest twang
• Humor
• Perfect time
When Peterson modeled his trio on Nat Cole’s in 1950, he at first had Brown on bass and Cole’s former guitarist irving Ashby. Then Barney Kessel signed on for a year. Ellis replaced Kessel and spent five years with Peterson. The trio became one of the most celebrated groups in jazz. Their concert recordings contain some of the most exciting music ever captured on record. Peterson, Ellis and Brown agreed that the album from the Stratford, Ontario, Shakespeare Festival in 1956 caught them at their peak. They may not have again quite reached that apogee during their time together, but they came close in this 1958 performance at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. Ellis simulates bongos, solos with all of the facets listed above, and demonstrates his skill as a rhythm guitarist.
As far as Peterson was concerned, Ellis was irreplaceable. When Herb left the trio in 1958, Peterson did not consider hiring another guitatist. He brought in drummer Ed Thigpen. That was a great trio, too, but the electricity and empathy of Peterson, Ellis and Brown was unique.
You will find a trove of Ellis albums here.
Herb Ellis, RIP.
Aren’t You Triply Glad You’re You?
Skipping along through 65 years of the history of a superior popular song gives us an idea of its evolution as a subject for jazz improvisation. Indeed, our examples provide an idea how jazz improvisation itself has evolved. The song is Johnny Burke’s (words) and Jimmy Van Heusen’s (music) “Aren’t You Glad You’re You?” As Father O’Malley, Bing Crosby introduced it in the 1945 film The Bells of St. Mary’s. He had a substantial hit record of it the same year. Among the singers who did covers (did they call them covers in those days?) were Frank Sinatra, Doris Day and Julius LaRosa. Later, Bob McGrath and Big Bird sang it…often… on Sesame Street. Their version is afield from our discussion, but if you’re interested, you can hear it by clicking here.
“Aren’t You Glad You’re You” is a perfect marriage of optimism and sunshine in the lyrics, melody and harmony. It has a couple of chord changes that are unexpected enough to spice it up for blowing, and it’s fun to sing or play. Crosby’s recording seems to be unavailable on the web. LaRosa’s record enjoyed a good deal of air play in the early 1950s and works nicely for our purpose. He takes mild liberties with the lyrics, employs interesting phrasing and radiates the song’s happy outlook.
There may have been jazz versions of “Aren’t You Glad You’re You” before 1952, but the first one I know of was on Gerry Mulligan’s initial quartet album for Pacific Jazz. Mulligan had gone from insider favorite to general popularity with his pianoless quartet co-starring Chet Baker. In the early 1950s it was not illegal for jazz to have general popularity. Mulligan, baritone saxophone; Baker, trumpet; Chico Hamilton, drums; Carson Smith, bass. YouTube, for reasons best known to its contributor, gives Chet the credit and the cover shot.
Cut in a sequence of pages flying off a calendar and, whaddaya know, it’s November, 2009, and the John McNeil-Bill McHenry Quartet is on the stand at the Cornelia Street Café in New York. Joe Martin is the bassist, Jochem Rueckert the drummer. It may seem that after the melody chorus, our intrepid modernists leave Mr. Burke’s chord scheme behind but, as I keep telling you, listen to the bass player. If McNeil seems amused by McHenry’s initial solo flurry, it’s for good reason.
McNeil and McHenry did not include “Aren’t You Glad You’re You?” in Rediscovery, their CD excursion into the bebop and west coast past. Perhaps it will show up on the sequel. Perhaps there will be a sequel.
Have a good weekend. Aren’t you glad you’re you?
Onward With Ruth Price
Even before the recession, the business side of jazz was struggling. During the worst of the downturn, singer and nonprofit entrepreneur Ruth Price took a double hit when her Jazz Bakery lost its lease. The club is still looking for a home. Reporter Greg Burk tells the story in today’s Los Angeles Times.
The Jazz Bakery is a nonprofit organization. To followers of the scene, that statement is a redundancy, of course. In Los Angeles, saying a jazz club doesn’t make money is like saying a restaurant doesn’t serve scrap iron.
In 18 years as president and artistic director of the Jazz Bakery, Ruth Price has always known that fresh music doesn’t translate into hefty profits. Lately, though, Price has found it harder to offer quality at a discount. Last May, the Jazz Bakery lost its space in Culver City’s old Helms Bakery complex when its philanthropic landlord, Wally Marx Jr., died. Since then, Price and the Jazz Bakery’s 13 directors have scoured the city for a new permanent location. They report some excellent prospects but can confirm only that the club will remain on the Westside and that its status as a quiet concert venue will continue.
To read the whole story, go here.
Of the many albums recorded at the Bakery, I have long been partial to the two CDs alto saxophonist Lee Konitz and pianist Alan Broadbent recorded in concert there in 2000. The spirit of Lennie Tristano – salty and benevolent — hovered over the bandstand that night.
As for Ruth Price in her artistic rather than her managerial role, she is an undersung vocalist. I mean that in two senses; she doesn’t sing often enough and she doesn’t get the recognition she deserves. One night at the Jazz Bakery, she was a guest for one number during a Gene Lees evening. She sang Bill Evans’ “My Bells,” featuring Lees’ lyrics to that beautiful Evans melody line with its devilish intervals. Ms. Price nailed it so definitively that I’ve been hoping ever since that she would record it. She did record at another Los Angeles club. Her CD with Shelly Manne and His Men is one of the best vocal albums of our time.
The technical quality is substandard in the following segment from a 1958 Stars Of Jazz program, and Bobby Troup’s interview with Ruth doesn’t quite get off the ground, a risk of live television. But the singing soars. Stan Levey is the drummer, and although the glimpses of them are brief, I am reasonably sure that the bassist and pianist are Scott LaFaro and Victor Feldman.
Bernstein And Schuller In The Third Stream
“Third Stream” seems a quaint term nearly half a century after it kicked up a bit of a fuss in jazz and classical circles. Still, it never quite goes away, as the recent Eric Dolphy posting reminded me. Two of the names that remain associated with the movement are Gunther Schuller and Leonard Bernstein. Several years ago, I wrote about Schuller’s central role in creation of the term and implementation of the concept. It was in a review of a CD reissue of two daring and indelible Columbia albums of the late 1950s, Music for Brass and Modern Jazz Concert. In a moment, documentation of Bernstein’s peripheral but highly visible role in the Third Stream movement. First, about Schuller from that 1997 Jazz Times review:
In his notes for Modern Jazz Concert, Gunther Schuller emphasized the unimportance of pigeonholing the music, “…I will therefore not categorize and typecast the six works on this record.”
Nonetheless, Schuller could not long deny the insatiable human need to label. In 1957 he created a name for this music that drew upon the jazz and classical traditions. It was “Third Stream.” There had been successful meldings of the improvisation and swing of jazz with big classical forms at least as far back as Red Norvo’s 1933 “Dance of the Octopus,” but “Third Stream” caught on as a moniker and persuaded many listeners that the marriage was new. If it attracted attention to the works in this album, then no harm and considerable good was done. The inspired playing of Miles Davis on John Lewis’ “Three Little Feelings” and J.J. Johnson’s “Poem for Brass” allowed producer George Avakian to convince Columbia to commit large resources to a Davis project that turned out to be Miles Ahead. That revived Davis’ partnership with Gil Evans and led to Porgy and Bess and Sketches of Spain. “Poem for Brass” was the first major indication that J.J. Johnson was a large-scale composer. “Pharaoh” allowed Jimmy Giuffre to extend his range beyond the 16-piece band. Schuller’s “Symphony for Brass and Percussion” was not a jazz composition but its presence on the Music for Brass album under the baton of Dmitri Mitropolous shed prestige on the entire undertaking.
Fast forward to 1962 and Leonard Bernstein’s series of televised New York Philharmonic concerts for young people. He included in one of the concerts a piece by Schuller called “Journey Into Jazz.” The segment found Bernstein entertaining, informative and wordy. The portion of the video available to Rifftides excludes much of Bernstein’s setup explanation, which began with a small jazz group on stage with him. It is not just any jazz group. It is Don Ellis, Eric Dolphy, Benny Golson, Richard Davis and Joe Cocuzzo. The band plays briefly, then Bernstein says the following, leading us into the video.
BERNSTEIN: Now that’s about the last sound in the world you’d expect to hear in Philharmonic Hall, isn’t it? Sounds more like your next-door neighbor’s radio, or the Newport Jazz Festival. And yet, that’s a sound that’s been coming more and more often into our American concert halls, ever since American composers began trying, about forty years ago, to get some of the excitement and natural American feeling of jazz into their symphonic music.
Even so, in spite of these tries at combining jazz and symphonic writing, the two musics have somehow remained separate, like two streams that flow along side by side without ever touching or mixing–except every once in a while. But it’s those once-in-a-whiles that we’re interested in today: those pieces in which the jazz stream now and then does sneak over to the symphonic stream, and for a moment or two, flows along with it in happy harmony. And these days–at least, for the last five or fifty years, that is–there is a new movement in American music actually called “the third stream” which mixes the rivers of jazz with the other rivers that flow down from the high-brow far out mountain peaks of twelve-tone, or atonal music.
Now the leading navigator of this third stream–in fact the man who made up the phrase “third stream”–is a young man named Gunther Schuller. He is one of those total musicians, like Paul Hindemith whom we discussed on our last program, only he’s American. Mr. Schuller writes music–all kinds of music–conducts it, lectures on it, and plays it. Certainly he owes some of his great talent to his father, a wonderful musician who happens to play in our orchestra. We are very proud of Arthur Schuller.
But young Gunther Schuller–still in his thirties–is now the center of a whole group of young composers who look to him as their leader, and champion.
And so I thought that the perfect way to begin today’s program about jazz in the concert hall would be to play a piece by Gunther Schuller–especially this one particular piece which is an introduction to jazz for young people–
The Rifftides staff thanks pianist-composer Jack Reilly and blogger Ralph Miriello of Notes On Jazz for calling our attention to the video from Leonard Bernstein’s Young Peoples Concerts.
Correspondence: Party For John Norris
From Toronto, guitarist and author Andrew Scott sends news of a memorial event in honor of the influential Canadian jazz publisher and record company owner John Norris, who died in late January.
Sandi Norris, Ted O’Reilly, Jim Galloway, Don Thompson and I are organizing a Jazz Party in celebration of the wonderful life of John Welman Norris on Sunday April 18th from 3:00 until 8:00 at the Hart House Music Room (at the University of Toronto). A light lunch will be provided.
In addition to the music, Ted O’Reilly will be the master of ceremonies for the party. A microphone will be available for anyone who would like to share some pubic thoughts about John.
Spring In The South 40
Bill Is Back
An alert Rifftides reader, Andy Rothman, sent an alert that YouTube has reinstated the Finland videos that disappeared from our Bill Evans, Relaxed And Articulate posting of May 2008. To read the reconstituted piece and view the clips, go here. Many thanks from the staff to Mr. Rothman.
Correspondence: Jamil Nasser’s Memorial
There was a memorial service Sunday night in New York for the bassist Jamil Nasser, who died last month. Among those in attendance was pianist, composer and writer Jill McManus, who sent Rifftides a report.
There was a sizeable crowd at Saint Peter’s Church in Manhattan on the evening of March 21st to honor and remember bassist Jamil Nasser, who died on February 13th. His strong, resounding bass playing was held in high regard. Nasser cut a wide swath through jazz from the 50s through the 70s, not only playing with top musicians, but also reaching out to produce and foster jazz. He later taught at the State University of New York at Stony Brook and was on the board of the Jazz Foundation and music director of Cobi Narita’s Jazz Center of New York, which organized the event. Nasser’s wife of 30 years, Barbara (Baano) Nasser was present, as were some of his five children and many family members.
I remember Jamil from my early days of playing. A slim man with an impish smile, he had a big, generous sound and an immediate way of connecting with people. He was supportive, always ready to play, a good-hearted person one could talk to. I was always glad to see him. The number of musicians there last night testifies to the respect he had earned. It was a moving night -colleagues from the core of jazz history keeping alive, in a radically different time, the memory, the thread of tradition, and love.
Jamil (born George Joyner, in 1932 in Memphis) was mentored by Lester Young and Phineas Newborn, played with Newborn’s trio, recorded with Red Garland, John Coltrane and Al Haig, led his own quartet through Europe in the late 50s, played in the Ahmad Jamal Trio from 1964 to 1972, and worked with such other great players as pianist Randy Weston and saxophonist George Coleman, who both performed at the tribute.
Nasser’s old friend from Memphis, Harold Mabern, led off, with Jamil’s son Muneer on trumpet and Lisle Atkinson on bass. With his crisp and highly rhythmic piano, Harold was dazzling. Pianist Frank Owens’s authoritative stride and swing included a spot with drummer Frank Gant, a member of the outstanding Jamal trio, now somewhat handicapped, playing “Amazing Grace” on a tiny set of bells. Saxophonist Jimmy Heath, with pianist Barry Harris, Atkinson and drummer Carl Allen did a mellow “There Will Never Be Another You.” Jamaican pianist Monty Alexander’s island tinge blossomed on a haunting bossa written by Nasser, “Tropical Breeze.” His next offering, “No Woman No Cry,” was deep and solacing. Pianist Randy Weston was, for me, the high point of the evening, playing his personal blend of jazz harmonies and deep-rooted tribal sounds and rhythms, with the amazing “low-down” bassist Alex Blake, who strummed and seared, and trombonist Benny Powell, who added thoughtful melodic lines.
Bassist and deep-voiced singer Carlene Ray’s extraordinary vocal rendition of “Everything Must Change” sent pure tones to the rafters and brought a chill. Pianist Norman Simmons’s provocative “If I Should Lose You,” assisted by Lisle Atkinson, preceded alto saxophonist Lou Donaldson’s soulful version of “Body and Soul,” with pianist Richard Wyands, bassist Michael Max Fleming and drummer Jackie Williams. (During Donaldson’s performance, we noticed through the church window above, a homeless man flapping the sections of his cardboard box as he settled his body on the ledge for the night–and we felt blessed.) Tenor saxophonist George Coleman, also originally from Memphis, brought reminders of his many gigs over the years with Jamil. He played “I’ll Be Seeing You,” sometimes intertwining ideas with tenorman Ned Otter. Coleman’s son, George, Jr., accompanied them on drums, with Mike LeDonne on piano and Lisle Atkinson on bass. Frank Wess did a gorgeous flute version of “The Summer Knows” with Fleming and drummer Ray Mosca, and then took a medium romp on “I Remember You.” Bert Eckoff played a brief flowing piano solo and a duo with Atkinson. Jimmy Owens followed with a solo trumpet blues. Then, Monty Alexander led a brief jam that included drummer Wade Barnes and flutist Dottie Taylor.
Jamil’s son Muneer Nasser has compiled a book of Jamil’s interviews and life experiences called “Stories of Jazz as told by Jamil Nasser,” due out in the fall. The first 100 copies include a CD with rare interview clips. It is available at Amlayna Productions.
–Jill McManus
Ms. McManus’s Symbols of Hopi (Concord, 1984) features her compositions, arrangements and piano, saxophonist David Liebman, trumpeter Tom Harrell, bassist Marc Johnson, drummer Billy Hart and American Indian percussionists. It is one of the important recordings of the 1980s still not reissued on CD. Copies of the vinyl LP occasionally show up on e-Bay and other auction sites. This one, for example.
Jamil Nasser With Eric Dolphy
In a rare instance of Jamil Nasser on video, the clip below shows him performing with alto saxophonist Eric Dolphy in Berlin in 196l. Benny Bailey is the trumpeter, Pepsy Auer the pianist and Buster Smith the drummer. The piece is Dolphy’s “245” from his 1960 Prestige album Outward Bound.
Rebecca Kilgore And PDXV In Concert
Rebecca Kilgore is a singer specializing, although not exclusively, in classic songs of the middle decades of the twentieth century. She loves Irving Berlin, Frank Loesser, Burke & Van Heusen, Dorothy Fields, Cole Porter, Dennis & Adair, Johnny Mercer, Duke Ellington, Fats Waller. Dick Titterington, Kilgore’s husband, is a trumpeter who leads a post-bop quintet. Much of his repertoire comes from Hank Mobley, Kenny Dorham, Tom Harrell, Joe Henderson, Harold Land, Thelonious Monk and from the members of his band, PDXV.
Kilgore is a star on cruises and the circuit of little festivals known as jazz parties whose audiences tend toward white hair and tastes formed, in spirit if not in fact, in the 1940s or earlier. PDXV plays in clubs and concerts for listeners inspired by music that developed after changes wrought in jazz by Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Bud Powell. Except in their happy marriage, Kilgore and Titterington rarely comprise a team. Chatting with the audience at The Seasons last weekend, Kilgore explained their separate paths: “We have divergent tastes.”
Maybe their tastes are not quite as divergent as they appear. If their concert, part of a mini-tour of the Pacific Northwest, was a reliable indicator, they might be well advised to reconsider their professional separation. In a program cleverly constructed for balance and contrast, each of the halves opened with a handful of Kilgore vocals backed by and integrated with the quintet. Short solos and occasional obbligatos by band members augmented the vocals. PDXV followed with hard-charging numbers opened up for solos from Titterington, saxophonist Rob Davis, bassist Dave Captein (all pictured), pianist Greg Goebel and drummer Todd Strait. Then Kilgore returned for a song or two to end the set. The variety and contrast seemed to settle, rather than bother or puzzle, listeners devoted to what might seem disparate genres, old pop and hard bop.
Kilgore did not confine herself to The Great American Song Book. True, she gave a delightful “I Hear Music,” conspired with Davis in a dramatic voice/tenor sax unison recreation of a Stan Getz solo on “Foolin’ Myself,” and sang a definitive version of “If I Only Had a Heart,” Harold Arlen’s poignant alter-ego to “If I Only Had a Brain.” A seeker of half-forgotten songs, she reached into the 1950s for Bob Haymes’ “You For Me.” But she also sang young pop star Nellie McKay’s unorthodox “The Dog Song,” a gutsy cover of Curtis Stigers’ “Feels Right,” and went Brazilian with Susannah McCorkle’s “Dilema” and João Donato’s “Take Me to Aruanda.” Titterington approximated Bob Brookmeyer’s valve trombone asides on the Astrud Gilberto recording of “Aruanda,” then spun a trumpet solo that sparkled like sun on the waters of the beach in the song. Kilgore’s divergence theory took a hit when she ended her first portion of the second set with Dave Frishberg’s tender “Listen Here” and PDXV followed with Hank Mobley’s swaggering “Up, Over and Out.” The transition made for integration, not a culture clash.
In the course of writing this piece, I discovered that Kilgore has recorded a bossa nova album that has “Take Me to Aruanda.” The band on it includes Captein, guitarist John Stowell and the legendary (term used advisedly) Lyle Ritz on ukulele (yes, ukulele). I’m going to have to find that one. As for PDXV, they were in top form at The Seasons. For more about the band, see this Rifftides posting.
Other Places: A Brubeck Jazz Profile
On his excellent blog, Jazz Profiles, Steve Cerra’s new subject is Dave Brubeck. He is taking for his text the extensive booklet notes I wrote for the four-CD Brubeck box called Time Signatures: A Career Retrospective. When it popped up today, I read the essay for the first time in years. To adapt what Paul Desmond used to say about recording, I didn’t have to cough too often during the playback. To read the first of three parts and see the photographs Mr. Cerra integrated into the text, go here. Parts two and three will follow this week.
Thanks to Steve for the rerun.
New videos have materialized from a concert Brubeck’s quartet played in Baden-Baden, Germany, in 2004, when he was a mere 83 years old. Bobby Militello was the flutist, Michael Moore the bassist, Randy Jones the drummer. The first piece is “Pennies From Heaven.” Dave introduces the second one.
Have a good weekend.
Out Of The Rifftides Past: David Newman
Now and then the Rifftides staff rummages through the archives, wondering what was on the blog early in its history. Yesterday we found a review from four years ago, to the day. It discusses an album by a musician whose death in January, 2009 gives the last line poignancy we could not have anticipated when the piece first appeared.
Fathead
One minute and twenty-six seconds into a blues called “Bu Bop Bass” on his new CD, Cityscape, the tenor saxophonist David “Fathead” Newman begins his solo with a phrase that consists of two quarter-note Fs, a quarter-note A and a half-note A–an interval of a major third in the key of F concert. How simple; except that it is not simple. It is complex, because Newman gives each note a customized time value that no annotator could capture on paper. They are Fathead Newman quarter notes and a half note. In addition, he gives the half note a slight downward turn, not so far that it becomes A-flat, just far enough that it’s a David Newman moan, a characteristic of his expression. Furthermore, he plays the phrase, as he does all of his music, with a tone that manages to be full and airy at the same time, not quite like anyone else’s tone. Newman has invested a one-bar phrase with his personality, so that anyone familiar with his work will know in that instant who is playing.
This sort of thing is what experienced musicians, fans and critics have in mind when they say that there was a time when they could recognize a soloist after a few notes. Except in the nostaligic minds of older listeners, that time is not gone, although it must be conceded that there are plenty of young soundalike players on every instrument. Is that a new phenomenon? Aside from specialists, could anyone really tell apart all of those disciples of Coleman Hawkins in the late 1930s and early forties, the herd of alto saxophonists in the 1950s who wanted to be Charlie Parker, the 1960s trumpeters who aspired to be clones of Freddie Hubbard? Imitators are eventually lost in the crowd. Individualists stand out.
On Cityscape, Newman places himself in the context of a seven-piece band similar to the six-piece Ray Charles outfit in which he became well known in the 1950s. He hasn’t recorded in that setting in a few years, and it’s good to hear again. The sound and feeling are reminiscent of the Charles days, but Newman and pianist-arranger David Leonhardt have collaborated to make the harmonic atmosphere fresh. Howard Johnson fills the crucial baritone saxophone chair. Benny Powell, often sidelined by illness the past few years, is on trombone. He and Johnson solo infrequently but well. With Winston Byrd on flugelhorn, they fill out the rich ensembles behind Newman’s tenor and alto saxophones. On alto in a piece called “Here Comes Sonny Man,” Newman recalls “Hard Times,” one of the records that made him famous with Charles.
This is basic music mining a rich tradition that grows out of jazz, rhythm and blues and the expansive territory band history of the American Southwest. No one alive does this sort of thing better than Fathead Newman.
(Originally posted on March 17, 2006.)
Other Places: Pat And Deval Patrick
Governor Deval Patrick of Massachusetts grew up apart from his father, Pat. His dad was a saxophonist who devoted most of his adult life to the music and spacebound teachings of Sun Ra, the band leader who for many devotees of the avant garde epitomizes freedom and adventure in late 20th century jazz. Patrick’s wild baritone saxophone solos, often played far above the horn’s normal range, were for more than 30 years rousing components of Sun Ra’s concerts and recordings.
Governor Patrick has seldom spoken about his father, but nearly twenty years after his death, the governor and his family have donated Pat Patrick’s collection of scores, photographs and recordings to Berklee College of Music. In today’s Boston Globe, David Abel reports on the donation, the contrast between the free-spirited father and his studious son, and their spotty relationship. The online version of the story includes a video clip with the voices of father and son and samples of Pat Patrick’s playing with Sun Ra. To read it, go here.
This clip of the Sun Ra Arkestra in Berlin in 1986 will give you an idea of the difference between Pat Patrick’s working environment and that of his son in the statehouse. Patrick, Sr.’s baritone sets the riff :40 into the video. Don’t miss his duet with the trombonist beginning at 4:00. Take a deep breath and click on the Play symbol.
For quieter moment’s in Patrick’s career, you will find him in the reed section on Jimmy Heath’s Really Big CD, Blue Mitchell’s rare A Sure Thing and John Coltrane’s Africa Brass Sessions.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
Catching Up With Jovino Santos Neto
For 15 years before he moved to the US from his native Brazil in 1993, Jovino Santos Neto was the pianist and arranger for Hermeto Pascoal, whom Miles Davis is said to have called, “the most impressive musician in the world.” Santos Neto lives and teaches in Seattle and travels to Brazil frequently, keeping up with developments in music there and maintaining his tie to Pascoal. His most recent trip was to join his mentor at a music camp in Ubatuba, on the coast between São Paolo and Rio de Janeiro. They were on the faculty teaching 25 or so professional musicians and advanced students, most of them from the United States. The participants pay as much as $2,000 tuition to improve their Brazilian music skills in lush surroundings.
There are more photos from Ubatuba on Santos Neto’s Facebook page.
Before his Brazilian trip, Santos Neto gave the world premiere of a new composition for piano and two flutes. His fellow performers at Symphony Space in New York were Tara Helen O’Connor (the taller of the two flutists) and Alice Jones. The piece is Agradecendo (Being Thankful).
To read a brief Rifftides review of Santos Neto’s most recent CD, go here.
Weekend Special: PDXV
PDXV, Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 (Heavywood).
Five years ago, Trumpeter Dick Titterington brought together for one engagement saxophonist Rob Davis, pianist Greg Goebel, bassist Dave Captein and drummer Todd Strait. They discovered that their combination worked and decided to keep it going. For their name, the quintet added the Roman numeral V to the FAA acronym for the airport in Portland, Oregon, their home base. PDXV quickly developed cohesiveness, stylistic range and an identifiable sound that make them more than just another hard bop quintet. They center their repertoire in pieces by mainstream icons including Thelonious Monk, Joe Henderson, Harold Land and Kenny Dorham. In these two albums they leaven their post-bop traditionalism with tunes from modernists Gary Dial, Steve Swallow, Tom Harrell, Dick Oatts, Fred Hersch, Stanley Clarke and the French trumpeter Nicolas Folmer.
All of the members are strong soloists, as they demonstrate from the outset. Vol. 1, a concert recording, opens with Land’s 1972 composition “Step Right Up to the Bottom,” a kaleidoscope of chord changes, time shifts and variations in dynamics that launch Davis into a gutsy, compact tenor solo. He establishes an improvisational line of inquiry picked up by Titterington and continued in solos by Goebel, Captein and Strait. It is a good introduction to the group and a demonstration of the like-mindedness that gives PDXV its solidarity. Their flawless execution of Land’s challenging material at a metronome pace of 200 leaves no doubt about the players’ chops. Virtuosity is an important part of the package, but dazzle does not seem to be their goal. Titterington’s and Goebel’s lyricism is notable in “Red Giant” by Oatts, as is Davis’s on soprano in Swallow’s quirky “Outfits.”
The blend of the horns comes as close as anything I’ve heard lately to the benchmark of unity established decades ago by Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. Their merger is remarkable in Vol. 2 with Davis on tenor for a romp through Monk’s “Trinkle Tinkle” and even more striking when he is playing soprano in unison with Titterington on Folmer’s entrancing “I Comme Icare.” In the Monk tune, Goebel manages an amusing tip of the turban to Thelonious without resorting to imitation or parody. For this club date, Strait sent in a sub, Randy Rollofson, not a soloist of Strait’s incisiveness or melodic bent but a fine time keeper with a penchant for strategically placed cymbal splashes behind the soloists. Captein, known to many for his recordings with the Jessica Williams Trio, combines compelling work in the rhythm section with post-Scott LaFaro facility and imagination as a soloist.
You Tube has several short video clips of PDXV, each featuring a member in a solo, but ony one complete performance. It is of Nicolas Folmer’s “Iona.” With three of his compositions on their two CDS, it is clear that the band has high regard for the young Frenchman’s work. This was at the 2007 Cathedral Park Jazz Festival in Portland.
PDXV will be in concert at The Seasons in my town next weekend, with singer Rebecca Kilgore making it a sextet for part of the evening. It’s an intriguing combination; a vocalist admired for the purity of her interpretations of standard songs, and a hard-charging band of rebop adventurers. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Correspondence: Broadbent And Monk
Following the Ornette Coleman birthday posting three items down, Alan Broadbent sent the following:
Now, this one’s absolutely true, I was there and it’s never made the books.
Monk’s quartet came to NZ on his “64 world tour and I and my friend Frank Gibson had good seats at Auckland’s beloved Town Hall to see him. After the concert I was elected to drive Larry Gales in my ’53 Ford Prefect to the Musician’s Union where we held a little party for the band. Well, would you believe it, there was Thelonious all by himself standing in a corner, keeping to himself. Mostly, I think, because everyone must have been afraid to approach him. I remember him wearing a turban and occasionally doing a little twirl, which must have been somewhat intimidating to everyone, not the least me. Frank started nudging me. “Go on, Alan, go ask him something.”Being a lad of 17 and discovering all kinds of new things to listen to in jazz, even in 1964 New Zealand, I had been listening to Ornette and Charlie, trying to comprehend the new “free form” jazz. I had read the term in Down Beat, I believe.
Well, I made my way through the crowd toward his little corner of the world and looked up at what seemed to me a giant of a man in more ways than one. After gingerly introducing myself, I somehow managed to tell him I was listening to Ornette and asked him if he had an opinion about this new “free form” music.
Thereupon he looked down at me and said in a low, quiet voice….
“Well…. first you said FREE….. then you said FORM.”
Whereupon I thanked him and melded back into the crowd.
On this CD, Broadbent plays Monk’s “‘Round Midnight.” I hoped to find video of him performing a Monk piece but had no luck. Instead, here he is with Charlie Haden’s Quartet West in a 1999 concert in Sao Paolo, Brazil. Haden, bass; Broadbent, piano; Ernie Watts, tenor saxophone; Larance Marable, drums. Bizarrely, the YouTube clip identifies the tune as “The Long Goodbye.” Maybe they’d had too many Heinekens. The piece is, in fact, Charlie Parker’s “Dexterity.”
Mr. Broadbent adds that rumors of Larance Marable’s death are greatly exaggerated.
Larance suffered a stroke a few years back, but, although he can’t speak and is infirm, his friends might like to get in touch with him at West Side Health Care where he is very much alive.
Go Home! Ir A Casa! Heimgehen! Rentrez à La Maison! 집으로 ê°€ì‹ì‹œì˜¤! Arf!
Compatible Quotes: Ornette Coleman
It was when I found out I could make mistakes that I knew I was on to something. – Ornette Coleman
Jazz is the only music in which the same note can be played night after night but differently each time. – Ornette Coleman