Archives for February 2006

John Salmon writes about the Rifftides review of Maria Schneider at Jazz Alley:

I’m amazed that anyone could write a piece on big bands and not mention Maynard Ferguson’s band, which is on the road 200 days a year. How is it possible to do a piece on big bands and ignore the one touring band still out there? Yes, there are larger groups that don’t tour (MF has 10 pieces, including himself), but who’s reaching the public, especially young people, for jazz?

Many critics like to dump on Maynard, but almost any MF album, other than the last few he did for Columbia in the 70’s, (when Freddie Hubbard and many other jazzmen were doing similarly dubious albums), is at least good. Some, like his Roulette era albums of 1958-1962, and are unrivaled by anyone, including Basie and Ellington. I love Maria Schneider, but name one kid drawn into jazz by her music. And many of the guys in her bands came up through MF’s bands.

Maynard’s drawn many thousands, as players and listeners, into this music. Before you scoff at Maynard as a player, note that Ellington wanted him on his band, and asked him to join several times. The question is, will jazz be “art music” solely, with no broad audience, or will it be music that retains at least enough popularity to employ all the music school graduates you spoke of?

I could list all the great players that came up through Maynard’s bands, but just talking about tenor players there are-Wayne Shorter, Joe Farrell, Don Menza, Carmen Leggio, Nino Tempo, Lou Tabackin, Mark Colby…and writers including Bill Holman (who you mentioned), Quincy Jones, Al Cohn, Johnny Mandel, Don Sebesky, Mike Abene, Jaki Byard, Kenny Wheeler, and dozens of others.

I’m upset about this, because the failure to mention Maynard is symptomatic of the cliquish nature of writing about the music. It’s not “Maynard or Maria”-it’s both. What about Chris Botti? Far too popular to get a mention here, no doubt. A fine player who deserves all the kudos he can get…and a far more interesting player than Wynton Marsalis.

Jazz’s endless taste wars are foolish and destructive. Dixie v. swing? Why not both? Bop v. swing? Why not both? Coltrane or Getz? Why not both? Why do we have to choose? For a while there, no critic had a word to say about any tenor player not named Coltrane.

Why not also promote talented people who are producing good music and who are able to maintain what little public interest there is in jazz? Unless there’s simply more snob appeal in being a fan of, and writer about, unpopular music.

—John Salmon

http://magrittejbs.blogspot.com

I disagree with little in Mr. Salmon’s comment, but I am not content to be set up as the straw man he wants to knock down.
I did not write “a piece on big bands.” I wrote a piece on Maria Schneider’s big band, prefacing the review portion with a few remarks on changed economic circumstances that generally keep big bands off the road.
My not mentioning Ferguson is not “symptomatic of the cliquish nature of writing about the music.” It is symptomatic of the fact that Ferguson does not now have a big band, regardless of its name (Big Bop Nouveau). Ten pieces add up to a medium-sized band, fourteen or more to a big one.
“Many critics” may “like to dump on Maynard.” I do not. Nor can I recall ever “scoffing at him as a player.” As an owner-operator of trumpets, I would be drummed out of the trumpet corps.
If Mr. Salmon thinks I fall into the category of critics who categorize music and promote “endless taste wars,” he hasn’t read much of my stuff. I invite him to do so.

There was a time when big jazz bands were so numerous and held in such esteem that the best of them might show up virtually anywhere in the United States, no matter how small the town: Duke Ellington in Fargo, North Dakota; Artie Shaw in Palacios, Texas; Woody Herman in Eugene, Oregon; Stan Kenton in Redlands, California; Count Basie in a succession of one-nighters across the upper Midwest. It was an era in which good music and popular music were often one and the same. The swing era thrived for only a decade or so. The bonanza of big bands began to fade in the late forties. By the end of the 1950s, it had pretty much played out. Now, most of the big bands that tour are attached to the names of dead leaders. They tend to play country clubs, corporate functions and—now and then—private parties of the wealthy.

There are, of course, innovative large jazz ensembles, among them The Vanguard Orchestra, the Bill Holman Band, the Mingus Big Band, Bob Brookmeyer’s New Arts Orchestra, the Jon Faddis New York Band, The Seattle Repertory Jazz Orchestra, the Blue Wisp Big Band, the Columbus Jazz Orchestra, the Mike Vax band, Holland’s amazing Metropole Orchestra, Germany’s powerhouse WDR Big Band and, perhaps most discussed these days, the Maria Schneider Orchestra. Chains of one-nighters used to draw bands across the country, providing music for millions and, at the swing era’s peak, employment and experience for thousands of young musicians. The supply of jazz players today is large, the demand for them small. The primary law of economics dictates that the few big bands mostly stay put, rehearsing regularly and working rarely—once a week when they’re lucky, and usually for little money. When they do travel, it is often to big European festivals, seldom to those in the U.S.

It is unusual, nearly unheard of, for a big band based on the east coast to tour in the west, so when the Maria Schneider Orchestra played Seattle’s Jazz Alley for two nights this week, the club was packed. Whether that indicates hunger for the music or response to all the publicity she has been getting lately is beside the point. The evening I was there, 350 people listened with concentration and appreciation to a cross-section of Schneider’s compositions from her five albums. She also unveiled two new pieces.

“Some nights are better than others,” the band’s baritone saxophonist, Scott Robinson, said afterward at the bar. “This was a good one.” Good for the band and for Robinson. His solo over the langorous subtleties of Schneider’s suspended ensemble backgrounds in “Sea of Tranquility” displayed his technical control and emotional range from the big horn’s deep bottom to its altissimo top, where most baritone players do not or cannot go. Robinson’s judiciously applied throat sounds and split tones contributed to the logic and beauty of the solo. In its creativity it was miles beyond what he did with the piece in Schneider’s 2000 CD Allegresse. Robinson has played it dozens of times since. Familiarity breeds insights.

It is a writer’s band, and the writer populates it with musicians who play her demanding compositions with virtuoso skill and provide ensemble cohesiveness that can come only from long, close association. Most of the band’s members have been with Schneider as long as Robinson has. They are from the cream of New York players and include some of the music’s most individual improvisers in a period of jazz not overflowing with individuality. Among the memorable soloists at Jazz Alley was Steve Wilson on “Sky Blue,” a new composition. Schneider told the audience that she wrote it after a friend died. It is a hymn, not a dirge. Wilson’s soprano saxophone tone has breadth and depth rather than the pinched snake-charmer sound favored by many who play the horn. His solo was a marvel of structural unity and passionate delivery. “He took my breath away,” said the woman on the next bar stool, “he’s beautiful.” (The bar is the best place in Jazz Alley for sight lines and balanced sound. Don’t tell anyone; I want to be able to get a seat there the next time.)

A new Schneider piece,“The Pretty Road,” is yet to be recorded, something to anticipate. It has to do with her memories of growing up in Windom, Minnesota, “the environment of my past,” she said. She has layered into it little references to things she recalls—church music, childhood songs, a meadowlark, the sight of the town from a hilltop at night. It is program music of a high order. She featured on flugelhorn and trumpet Ingrid Jensen, who soloed with the self-editing of increased maturity that leavens her spirited virtuosity. The dynamics of Schneider’s ensembles in the piece were meticulously shaped—almost micro-managed—by her graceful but definite conducting.
As the band was about to launch into its final number, a woman in the audience cried out, “Why don’t you sing, Maria?” Ah, of course, a pretty woman on a bandstand must be a singer. Every female jazz musician has dealt with the stereotyping a hundred times. Schneider responded with good humor, “Some night I’m going to do that. I’ll sing ‘My Ideal,’ and you’ll go running.”

Through the evening, there were fine solo moments from trombonist Rock Ciccarone, alto saxophonist Charles Pillow, Greg Gisbert on trumpet and flugelhorn, pianist Frank Kimbrough, tenor saxophonist Rich Perry and, in the flamenco surge of “Buleria, Soleá Y Rumba,” a wild few moments from tenor saxophonist Donny McCaslin. McCaslin’s ardor was so appropriate to the spirit of the music, his solo so entwined with Schneider’s ensemble passages that when a man at the bar was moved to give a loud whoop, dagger stares from those around him discouraged further interference. It was a listening crowd. John Wikan on cajon and Peruvian percussionist Hugo Alcaraz swelled the band to twenty members for this three-part Spanish extravaganza. Following Gisbert’s memorable flugelhorn solo, the interaction among Wikan, Alcaraz and drummer Clarence Penn, punctuated hilariously by Penn’s cowbell triplets, concluded in a feat of rhythmic precision that brought the piece to an abrupt halt, setting off a joyous roar from the audience. Now it was okay to whoop.

Maria Schneider does not sing. She writes music. Her band sings it for her.

On OH! Say

Love your column and read it faithfully every day. Actually, the “Star-Spangled Banner” is a glorious and thrilling and quite triumphant melody and, if you think about it, is a pretty potent anthem, while “God Bless America” (tune I’m talking about here) is the worst sentimental garbage. The problem with “Star” is that it is difficult in that it has an innate theatricality, a grand opera quality, that is totally destroyed if you “pop music” it in any style; gospel, R&B, country, whatever. It takes a well-trained, classically-produced tone to reveal the melody in all its glory. If you can sing something “straight” and in tune and you have beautiful high notes, you’re in. Now, Aaron Neville can do that – I didn’t hear the performance but it sounds like too many cooks spoiling the broth – unnecessary. Aaron Neville has a beautiful voice and is representative enough of New Orleans – why were the other two even necessary – so much of these big spectacles is overdone and worthless from a sheer performers’ point of view. I wonder what kind of mess they will make of the Grammy’s this year.

—Vicki Seldon

Two points: (1.) When I wrote “God Bless America,” I meant “America The Beautiful.” Mea culpa. (2.) An evaluation of Mr. Neville’s vocal quality is a matter of taste and stylistic preference. At the Super Bowl, whether because of nervousness, bad luck or bad material, he used his voice poorly.

Hal Wilner (sometimes spelt Willner on the web), the producer, has put together some extraordinary collaborations on his tribute records to Mingus, Nino Rota, Monk, Poe, Weill and Disney. What’s more, most of them work. One of my favourites is Ringo Starr, Ken Nordine, Bill Frisell, Herb Alpert and Wayne Horvitz doing “When You Wish Upon A Star” on Stay Awake: Interpretations of Vintage Disney Films (1988). On this CD you also can experience perhaps the segue to end all segues – Sun Ra to Harry Nilsson!

I was also lucky (and old) enough to see many of the 20 episodes of NBC’s Night Music with David Sanborn when Hal was Producer. Couplings such as Sonny Rollins with Leonard Cohen, or Phil Woods with the NRBQ (New Rhythm and Blues Quartet) were not uncommon. Bring them out on DVD someone!

—John Kieffer

The collection of performers on Stay Awake is even more eclectic than Mr. Kieffer indicates. The CD also includes Suzanne Vega, Yma Sumac, Bonnie Raitt, The Replacements, Garth Hudson, Los Lobos, Betty Carter, Buster Poindexter and His Banshees of Blue, and James Taylor. Tom Waits sings, or rasps, “Heigh Ho” from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Aaron Neville of Super Bowl notoriety does the “Mickey Mouse March.”

The digital doctor and his aide have ministered to my invaluable, but not irreplaceable, electronic assistant, Mr. Dell. ‘Ol Dell is feeling considerably perkier and moving from task to task with dispatch. I think he’ll make it, after all. (Hat in the air. Spin Around. Big smile. Music up and out.) If you don’t get that, you haven’t watched the right reruns lately.
Speaking of up and out, I’m headed over the mountains to Seattle today to transact a bit of business and listen to the Maria Schneider Orchestra at Jazz Alley. I just learned from Jon Wikan that he will be adding his cajon to the rhythm section, bringing the size of the band to twenty. There must be staggering economics involved in transporting a big band from New York to the west, then up and down the coast. I’m glad that it can still be done.
There will be no new posts for a couple of days; I’m traveling sans laptop. I’ll plan to publish a report on the performance when I return to duty.

Introducing yesterday’s rendering (word chosen with care) of the national anthem at the Super Bowl, the booth announcer said that it was to be, in part, a tribute to New Orleans. Hasn’t that unfortunate city suffered enough? Granted, “The Star Spangled Banner” is a miserable piece of music and our national anthem should be “God Bless America,” but Francis Scott Keys’ song did not deserve the trashing it received from Aaron Neville, Aretha Franklin and Dr. John. By comparison, the Seahawks got off lightly. Not only was the treatment a bad idea, but it was a bad idea poorly executed. The Rolling Stones might have done it better. Shame on everyone involved.

It was a full weekend, full of the Superbowl and full of maddening computer and server glitches. The down periods were frequent and frustrating. The beast is running for the moment, so we’ll post recent correspondence. I’m hoping for a return to complete online health after the digital doctor makes a house call. (DR)

There must be a whiff of country in the winter air.

Doug,
One more for the books—that works—Gatemouth Brown and Roy Clark, Makin’ Music. It’s listed as a country album, but it’s really Louis Jordan with a twang. The tunes include “Take the A Train” and “Caldonia,” and the band includes Airto Moreira on percussion and the Memphis Horns.
It may be slightly off topic, but with that cast I couldn’t resist adding it to the list.
—Peter Levin

Doug,
I also have a soft spot for Gary Burton playing with banjo icon Sonny Osborne on “Tennessee Firebird.” (1962) It’s more a display of Burton being able to play in Bluegrass rhythm than of Osborne being able to do jazz rhythms, but it’s very enjoyable.
—Anson Young

(DR responds)
Furthermore, it is an instance of drummer Roy Haynes kicking jazz and country behind in equal measure, so to speak. Haynes is also the drummer on Oliver Nelson’s The Blues and the Abstract Truth. If you want a real hoot, play Nelson’s “Hoe Down” and Burton’s “Tennessee Firebird” back to back.
“Wee-hah,” as they say, or holler, down yonder.

Doug,
Re your “Odd Couple” pairings, here is one that may shock you, but you ought to try and find it someday: Dorothy Collins and Barney Kessel!! That’s right! They did an album together in the Fifties called “Songs by Dorothy Collins”, which I remember very well. She was the “girl next door” pop singer on the “Hit Parade” TV show, and was never known as a jazz singer, but on this one album she selected some great standard ballads, put together a great rhythm section of Barney with an unknown bassist and drummer, and she really delivered a very credible jazz set — sort of an early Susannah McCorkle. She was probably chafing for years, singing all those pop songs, and secretly harboring a desire to be a real jazz cabaret vocalist. The album revealed a lovely voice with perfect pitch, a great rhythmic sense, crystal clear diction and great sensitivity to the lyrics. I’ll look for a copy on e-bay!
—Mal Harris

A search of internet music outlets, including e-bay, turns up references to the album, but no indication that it is available.

Might the moral of the “Odd Couple” series be that in jazz there are no odd couples—that the very nature of jazz allows for nearly infinite combination?
—Terry Teachout

Yes.
This is TT’s birthday, a momentous one, as you’ll see if you go here.

Doug,
I got hip to Paul Desmond from a line in a Michael Franks’ tune, “Rainy Night in Tokyo” – “Paul Desmond on the stereo…”
I went through my fathers’ jazz collection and found 3 albums. I’ve been hooked ever since.
Good luck with your book.
MIchael

Thanks.

Blogger John Salmon of Magritte’s Apple writes a followup to the recent review of a Dave Brubeck concert:

I did a little review of Dave’s Mass the other day.
Randy Jones and Bobby Militello are veterans of the Maynard Ferguson band, one of jazz’s great farm teams. When Bobby was on MF’s band he played baritone (and some flute); it’s nice to see that with Dave he gets to play an instrument that won’t wreck his back.
I’m wondering if others find themselves enjoying Brubeck’s playing more today than in the classic quartet days? He does seem to rely more on single note lines, but I’m not sure his playing has changed as much as my tastes have.

Thanks in DOUGS PICKS for recommending the superb album “‘Round Midnight” by Alan Broadbent. Broadbent doesn’t overwhelm with technique for its own sake, but his measured and tasteful playing remain with you.

However, if its “chops” you want, listen to the blistering performance on “The Man I Love”. I was also particularly struck with Joe LaBarbera’s tasteful and swinging playing throughout. One underrated drummer.

A class album that, without your recommendation, would have passed me by.

Don Emanuel

Kent, UK

My piece in this morning’s Wall Street Journal is about the brain connection between music and sports.

As someone who writes about and plays music, I would be the last to disagree with William Congreve that music hath charms. But silence has charms, too, and it’s getting hard to find. When Congreve wrote his famous line, circa 1700, people who wanted music had to make it themselves or go find it. The technological revolution in the past century changed that. Now music pursues us in the supermarket, the gas station, The Gap, the dentist’s office, the elevator, even the street. That’s bad news when I’m trying to think, let alone write. But it’s good news when I’m on the NordicTrack; the steady beat of music makes the workout easier. And I’m not the only one who feels this way.

Sorry, I can’t link you to the rest of the article. If you’re a WSJ subscriber, you’ll find it in the print edition and on line. Otherwise, a dollar at the newstand will get you the piece and bonuses including the day’s news, stock market reports and artsjournal.com blogmate Terry Teachout‘s theater reviews.

Entries continue to arrive in the unlikely-pairings sweepstakes. As we head into the weekend, here’s the latest batch.

Doug,

Here are a few “Odd Couplings”:

Gary Burton & Stephane Grappelli – Paris Encounter – Atlantic

Barry Harris with Don Cherry, Steve Lacy, Charlie Rouse, & Roswell Rudd – Interpretations Of Monk – DIW

Peter Friedman

Mixings of generations and styles don’t always work. Those collaborations did, because the participants had open ears and open minds. Interpretations of Monk has dicey moments, particularly in volume two. Over all, however, fun and musical values outweigh confusion.

Doug,

The one Johnny Hodges album I was always afraid to buy was the collaboration with Lawrence Welk.

Michael Moore

On the other hand, From a Rifftides reader who identifies himself as “Ellingtonrecords” (I wonder if that’s the first name or the last).

You did not mention one of the oddest pairings in the history of recorded jazz, the album Johnny Hodges and Lawrence Welk. I have it and while not a great album, it is not bad either. Welk had the good sense to let Johnny Hodges be Johnny Hodges. He hired big name arrangers for each of the songs on the album. It is far better than many of Johnny’s Verve label albums from the 1960’s.

Agreed. It’s a lovely album.

Doug,

The obvious one that comes to mind is one I haven’t heard, mostly out of fear. It’s Mary Lou Williams and Cecil Taylor’ Embraced, which is by all accounts a bit of a train wreck.

John Shade

Couplings don’t come much odder, or much less successful. The minds did not embrace.

Doug,

How about the odd couple that turned up on Joe Pass’ final studio date? Roy Clark & Joe Pass Play Hank Williams.

I don’t even know whether the Buster Ann label is still around, but it is an entertaining set.

Ken Dryden

How much is odd-couple entertainment worth? Amazon lists the Pass-Clark CD at $39.95.
Have a good weekend.

I’m grateful to your readers for their many excellent and interesting suggestions. And best of all, I can’t help but marvel at the friendly and civil nature of the responses. So much of the web, and blogs in particular, is marred by snarkiness run amok. What a pleasant surprise it is to find a little corner where interesting grown-ups are free to act like interesting grown-ups. Well done.
Eric Felten

Bob Coughlin, a longtime Dave Brubeck aficionado, attended a concert by the Brubeck quartet the other night, took notes, and posted his review on the Brubeck e-mail listserve. I thought it deserved wider dissemination. The quartet has the same musicians it has had for years—Brubeck, alto saxophonist Bobby Militello, bassist Michael Moore and drummer Randy Jones. “Russell” in Mr. Couglin’s report is Russell Gloyd, Brubeck’s manager, a musical collaborator who often arranges and conducts on large-scale Brubeck projects. “Iola” is Mrs. Brubeck.
I am frequently asked how Dave is doing at eighty-five. I usually say that he’s being careful, but touring and playing as if he were twenty-five. Mr. Coughlin’s report helps bear that out. The Rifftides staff thanks him for permitting us to share it with you.

Asheville, North Carolina, Grove Park Inn–Sat., January 28

Despite what I’ve heard about Dave being exhausted, he looks great and well rested backstage. Eager to talk, same twinkle in his eyes, but the traditional fingertip handshake has been replaced by an even more prudent extended left elbow and a gentle hello bump.

Dave being carefully attended to—Russell sets up a chair with two cushions backstage and Dave tries it out—wants the same arrangement onstage.

Onstage—Dave introduces the group and says that the dicey weather has
inspired his choice of tunes.

”Gone With The Wind”—Dave opens, Bobby solos, Dave solos—solid swinging
solos but they are just warming up.

”Stormy Weather”—bluesy intro by Dave, and then Bobby opens with long, mournful notes, deliciously stretching every note for all the anguish he can find. Super solo by Michael. Iola points out that we can watch Michael’s fingering on the bigscreen TV over to the left–amazing to watch, but makes me wish the cameramen could get equally good shots of Dave’s hands.

”On the Sunny Side of the Street”—smooth, swinging intro by Dave; Bobby’s first line is a blistering uote, “Standing on the corner, watching all the girls go by,” so fast I have to question whether I heard it.

”Thank You”—Dave starts slowly–the tune is disguised in rich, classical lines. Then the main theme emerges, followed by quite a few choruses of lovely variations. But then he pauses–not sure for how many beats. 3? 4? 6? 8? The silence is striking. And Dave seems to hunch over the keyboard, pulling his hands tightly together. Ba-boom! Da-da-da-dumm! (like the explosions in Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring) Tight little volleys of gorgeous chords, amazing stuff, dazzling choruses, finally leading into sweeping lines, and then several choruses that settle down into the final theme. There was no way this could have moved into the cue for Bobby, Michael, and Randy to jump in. It had to remain a solo. (Wow—this is why we go to concerts.)

”London Flat, London Sharp”—excellent version with Bobby and Dave both blasting and then a long solo by Michael—amazingly, he keeps the energy going, despite the limitations of the bass.

”Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me” / “These Foolish Things”—Dave plays “Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me” more slowly than I’ve ever heard, reflective and sad, conjuring memories of Paul Desmond’s quiet solos. Beautiful. Segues into “These Foolish Things” and a happier mood. Great work by Bobby too, and then Michael wraps it up with a long, mesmerizing solo.

”Take Five”—Dave kicks it off, but is looking tired. Bobby carries the tune, building it up and up, and then handing it over to Randy for an extraordinary drum solo–the usual complexities but perhaps a bit more accessible than usual, culminating with several distinct rhythms chugging together and then the addition of one more pattern, which at this point seems impossible.

Abruptly, it’s over. The emcee interrupts the applause by having a birthday cake brought in and leading “Happy Birthday”—which would be what?—53 days too late?

Crud. It’s over.

—Bob Coughlin

Ladies and gentlemen, in the exhibit to your right you will find a new assortment of Doug’s Picks. I know, I know; it’s about time. I’ve been busy. You’ll be busy too, but deliriously happy, if you adopt the recommendations. Good listening, viewing and reading to you, and happy February.