Rein’s Dream

June 16, 2016September 5, 2016 - Francois 3 Comments

At the distinguished age of 73, pianist Rein de Graaff preserves a childlike enthousiasm for his trade, which he typifies matter-of-factly as ‘bebop, ballads and blues’. As a boy of 15, De Graaff entrusted his equally jazz-crazed pals with the wish to one day play with his heroes Hank Mobley, Dizzy Gillespie and Dexter Gordon. “I never would have thought that dream to come true. But, amazingly, it did.”

They told me De Graaff had long since decorated one of his rooms in his countryside bungalow as a jazz museum. Well, make it two rooms. De Graaff has led me from one room, filled with the monumental archive of his career and hundreds of jazz magazines (e.g. all Downbeat Magazine issues up to 1970, which speaks for itself if you’ve learned to know anything about De Graaff’s tastes) to another that hosts a grand piano, walls adorned with vintage photographs, concert posters and a vast collection of original classic bebop and hardbop albums on labels as Blue Note, Prestige, Clef/Norgran, Savoy, Bethlehem and Argo. I’m the drooling kid in the candy store. Come to think of it, if it comes to collecting vinyl, Rein de Graaff transforms into a boy that has entered the Efteling amusement park as well. Collecting has been a lifelong passion. “I just got back from a Los Angeles festival. There was a record fair just outside the Capitol building. It was great!”

For De Graaff, the classic jazz of the late fourties to the late sixties that his speaker system churns out has always remained the real deal. “Jazz shouldn’t be too clean, it has to have an edge, something dirty and smoky. The music I play comes from the smoke-filled clubs, where sex often was cheap, and the blues was heard… I started out at the end of the era when New York clubs had music from 10 to 4. And then there was Slugs’. I usually went to bed at 8 in the morning. Nowadays, I’m having breakfast at 8! Naturally, there was something going on. I mean, who’s sitting at the bar? Hustlers, for instance. It was partly a criminal environment. All these things somehow ring through in the music.“

No reason for Sam Spade to stake out De Graaff’s Veendam residence, though. Just the music. A gentlemen from peat country, the north-eastern region of Groningen in The Netherlands. A man for whom a bargain is a bargain. This man has been a boy, frail and white as whipping cream, who happened to land in classic jazz paradise. That, indeed, is Rein de Graaff’s unusual, arresting story.

Partly anyway. It was clear from the outset that the young man from an upper middle-class family had a natural talent for music and playing piano that could bring him places. The boy had soaked up the sounds of Charlie Barnett, Winifred Atwell and played ragtime when one day the radio broadcasted Charlie Parker’s Shaw ‘Nuff and Stupendous. He heard Bud Powell play Tempus Fugue-It, Clifford Brown blast through All Chillun Got Rhythm. The kid was hooked, caught in ‘Webb City’. Getting involved into bebop with a cultish zeal reminiscent of its inventors, Rein de Graaff’s self-taught playing matured, under further influence of albums as Interpretations By The Stan Getz Quintet, The Jazz Messengers At The Cafe Bohemia and Griffin/Coltrane/Mobley’s A Blowing Session.

“People usually stay true to the music that makes an impression on them when they’re 15 or 16. It’s ingrained. That certainly holds true for me. Introducing Lee Morgan was and still is an all-time favorite. Hank Mobley is stunning, and the rhythm section is extremely lively. Of course, Blakey backed Mobley on some wonderful classics, like Soul Station, but the Art Taylor/Doug Watkins combi is dear to me.”

“I have most of the classic West Coast albums now, but I didn’t like West Coast jazz when I was young. The only record I liked was Shorty Rogers’ Modern Sounds. Take a listen here, that’s not cool, right, it’s hot! Great arrangements too. A bebop album that blew my mind was It’s Time For Dave Pike. Yeah man, that’s great, it’s Charlie Parker on vibes. I took it to his gig at a club in Groningen in 1967 and asked Dave Pike to sign it. I wasn’t a kid anymore but thought to give it one more go as far as signatures were concerned! I felt that our thought processes were alike. And it proved they were. Later on, when we became friends, it totally clicked. By the way, that vibraphone over there is the one that Dave used for the It’s Time For Dave Pike album.”

(From left, clockwise: Lee Morgan – Introducing Lee Morgan, Savoy 1956; Shorty Rogers – Modern Sounds, Capitol 1952; Dave Pike – It’s Time For Dave Pike, Riverside 1961)

By the early sixties, De Graaff, who didn’t fancy getting into Chopin and the like at Conservatory, gigged steadily, had won a prize at the Loosdrecht Jazz Festival, toured Germany with a swing orchestra, and even shared the stage with Sonny Stitt at the Blue Note in Paris. Back in The Netherlands, De Graaff scoured Amsterdam clubs, particularly the Sheherezade, where the expatriate tenor saxophonist Don Byas mentored young lions like De Graaff and his friends and colleagues such as saxophonist Dick Vennik, drummers Eric Ineke and John Engels and trumpeter Nedley Elstak.

But the big year for De Graaff turned out to be 1967. The pianist rises from his chair and beckons me to come up close to the photo wall. “So you’ve seen the big picture of me and Hank Mobley on stage over there, right. But look here, this one you have never seen. Hank, Evelyn Blakey (Art Blakey’s daughter) and me, we’re watching tv.”

In 1967 the 24-year old De Graaff traveled to New York. He said to his friends that he wanted to experience the jazz life of his heroes and, jokingly, added that his main goal was to play with Hank Mobley. For De Graaff, Hank Mobley was and has always remained the personification of jazz. “I got out of the subway in the Lower East Side and the first man I saw was walking with a trumpet case at the other end of the sidewalk. He looked familiar. He looked like Kenny Dorham, one of my all-time heroes. I followed him for a while and then had collected enough nerve to ask if he really was Kenny Dorham. Indeed he was! Subsequently, Dorham invited me to come up to the East Village Inn at night.” The following week, De Graaff hung out with musicians like Walter Davis Jr., Barry Harris and Evelyn Blakey, at whose place De Graaff had dinner one night. Evelyn knew of Rein’s wish to see Mobley and invited Mobley as a surprise guest for the astonished, skinny piano player from Holland. “She asked me to open the door. I obeyed. My heart burst out of my chest. There was Hank Mobley. ‘Hi, I’m Hank’, he said.”

In New York, De Graaff played with Hank Mobley, Lee Morgan, Elvin Jones and Joe Farrell. It was a dream come true. It was pretty devastating, however, regardless of their brilliant, swinging game, to see his heroes play sleazy bars for a nickle, while he opinioned that their stature should be of concert hall level, and to see some of them, like bassist Paul Chambers, succumb to a dreary, destructive alcoholic life style. “I saw some of that as well in Germany and The Sheherazade, it was a bit scary. I decided to follow a different path.”

The following decades would see the pianist lead a prolific but most unusual jazz life. Working by day in the electro ware wholesale company of his father (which De Graaff continued in later life and sold at the age of 56), De Graaff played at night and during days or weeks off. His popular De Graaff/Vennik quartet ventured more and more into modal jazz territories, while De Graaff also supported Americans such as Johnny Griffin, Dexter Gordon, Clark Terry, Arnett Cobb, Dizzy Reece, Carmell Jones and Red Rodney on their Dutch and European gigs. Great experiences, with lessons to be learned as well, like those from Griffin and Art Taylor, who played either at furious breakneck speed or extra slowly, getting into a distinctive ‘groove’, something De Graaff called ‘American Tempos’.

It was an outrageously busy lifestyle. Better to burn out than to fade away? “I didn’t drink. That helps. And I was young, able to get along without much sleep. Sometimes I got home at 4 in the morning and was at the office at 8! And for instance, when I had a business meeting far away, I would combine it with a gig the night before! Most of all, playing jazz was my high, gave me a lot of adrenaline. My work gave me a kick as well. All that keeps you on your toes!”

De Graaff’s skin has that antique porcelain quality. Aged but still quite smooth. Strands of yellow-ish hair embellish a white crop, like sheep wool. Slightly wavy hair, and always that broad curl at the back of his neck. Not too neatly trimmed. An edge. “But yes, I lived three lives. My wife and children are proficient in music and they were understanding.” Then, dryly: “I wouldn’t have married her otherwise. But indeed, I was away a lot and didn’t see enough of my little daughter. I decided to do it differently when my son was born. The kids loved it as well, though, having those Americans around. Instead of hotels, they stayed at our place. Teddy Edwards and Babs Gonzalez were housefriends. Babs always played checkers with my kid daughter,” laughs De Graaff. More laughs erupt when De Graaff recounts the extended sleepovers of Johnny Griffin and Art Taylor, who always slept in a bunk, ‘can you imagine?!’

A white boy amidst Afro-American legends, many of whom were desperate, troubled, grappling with racism, dissapointed in American society, and, like Art Taylor, quite militant about it. “You’ve read Taylor’s book Notes and Tones, right? (Ed., Art Taylor’s controversial 1982 book of interviews with fellow musicians) The thing is, these guys transformed into Europeans in a way. Don Byas spoke Dutch, Art Taylor spoke French. Life in Europe wasn’t so stressed, they were more relaxed in general. In The States, the cops were on their backs all the time and they were ripped off regularly. It wasn’t like that over here.”

“Musically, I just gave my best. At the start of my career in New York, and later in Detroit with trumpeter Louis Smith, I was sometimes the only white musician in the group. Oh, I’ve had a bassist say to me once, (De Graaff puts on a deep, gritty voice) ‘Show me how good you are’. I made sure I did. The thing is, jazz is the shared language. You communicate on that level. I remember what the emcee said when I was on stage with Hank Mobley. He said: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, how about a big hand for Hank Mobley, Herbie Lewis and Billy Higgins, and the young man from Europe. You heard the man, he’s preaching the same message as we do.’”

(From left, clockwise: Dexter Gordon & Rein de Graaff; Rein de Graaff, Herbie Lewis, Hank Mobley & Billy Higgins; Art Taylor, Henk Haverhoek, Johnny Griffin & Rein de Graaff)

I mention De Graaff’s version of Gil Fuller’s I Waited For You (from Drifting On A Reed, Timeless, 1977), a classic De Graaff cut of long, flowing lines, spare blue notes, tumbling and rollicking lyrical modes and some ‘out’ phrases. “That was inspired by Joachim Kuhn, who although he didn’t really swing, was outrageously good. I was into McCoy Tyner as well, our quartet developed more of a ‘new thing’. Musicians advised me to quit bebop, start something new. It was kind of a breather for me, a liberation, really. And the quartet was so propulsive! That avantgarde stuff didn’t sit too well with the legends, though. I remember Dexter Gordon saying one night, ‘Rein, stop that Chick Corea shit, will you!’

The quartet existed until 1989, but in the late seventies De Graaff again took some advise to heart. “Now audiences said, ‘Hey Rein, you used to play such beautiful bebop, why don’t you get back into that? Of course that’s when I went to New York to record New York Jazz (Timeless/Muse, 1979) with Tom Harrell, Ronnie Cuber and the classic rhythm section Sam Jones and Louis Hayes. I used to play along with all those Cannonball Adderley albums at home, you know!”

A combination of Horace Silver, Bud Powell, Sonny Clark, Hampton Hawes and a touch of Lennie Tristano, De Graaff has made his mark as one of the premier European bebop/hardbop pianists. An ‘unpianistic’ pianist, relishing long, flowing lines that he tries to construct as horn men do. A more gentle touch, like his friend Barry Harris, in contrast to Powell’s hammering lightning bolts. “Someone in The States once said to me, ‘hey man, you blow a nice piano!’ Horns have fringes. Playing piano like Oscar Peterson is not my ambition. He was the best in the world, but I couldn’t care less. All over the keyboard, flurries of arpeggio’s, brilliant, perfect playing, but constant brilliance and perfection becomes boring after a while.”

“I think I was a fanatic. That’s crucial, you gotta have that dedication and obsession. Let me tell you a story guitarist Peter Leitch told me. He teached a class at Conservatory, there was a talented guitar player. Leitch said, ‘okay, I’ll see you at the workshop on Friday.’ The young man said, ‘No, I can’t make it, I have to hang wallpaper at my grandma’s’. You know, that’s not the right mentality. Small wonder, we’ve never heard from the gentlemen since.”

Like Barry Harris, De Graaff has been a true ambassador for bebop and hardbop. From 1986 till his 70th birthday in 2012, De Graaff gave four lecture/tours a year, playing and explaining the music that grew out of Charlie Parker et al. Essential jazz history, embellished by an endless list of acclaimed and underrated Americans: Teddy Edwards, Clifford Jordan, Johnny Griffin, James Moody, Ronnie Cuber, Charles McPherson, Harold Land, Houston Person, Frank Foster, David “Fathead” Newman, James Clay, Barry Harris, Webster Young, Bud Shank, Billy Root, Herb Geller, Al Cohn, Louis Smith, Art Farmer, Eddie Daniels, Lew Tabakin, James Spaulding, Bob Cooper, Gary Foster, Pete Christlieb, Gary Smulyan… That’s when people started nicknaming De Graaff ‘Professor Bop’. “That was the source. Guys like Johnny Griffin, he could tell how it was to play with Monk, Harold Land what Clifford Brown was about. And Teddy Edwards, come on, he invented bebop!”

Fortune’s favorite? A fullfilled man, certainly. But where have all the flowers gone? At 73, De Graaff concedes that he’s starting to become a regular visitor of the crematorium. De Graaff puts his arm in the air and moves a closed hand back and forth slowly. “It’s the Big Hand working. Here it goes, ‘swoosh’, takes a bunch of us, draws back again, only to resume its relentless work… Dave Pike passed away last year.” You can hear a pin drop. Says De Graaff, his face now a brittle mask that hides sorrow. Only human: “That really made me kind of sad. We were like bloodbrothers. But ok, we performed, made a record. Fine. At least, that’s consigned to posterity.”

“I’ve got nothing but nice memories. My favorites? The first time that I played with Hank Mobley is really dear to me. Also, my tour with Dexter Gordon, Sonny Stitt and Philly Joe Jones was fantastic. I knew these guys inside out from their records, but to sit beside them on stage really is something else. They play familiar phrases and licks, but the licks are theirs, original. The impact is enormous.”

His blue-grey eyes, mostly hidden behind wrinkled eyelids like ladybugs in the cracks of cobblestones, suddenly grow: clarity, earthiness, a little tenderness. “I carefully pick my recording projects, it has to be something fresh. That’s why I did duet albums and performed with two baritones, for instance. It’s still possible to be creative in bebop and hardbop, or what you’d call mainstream jazz. I will be doing my Chasin’ The Bird tour in the near future. That would give you an idea of what that tour is about, right?”

Rein de Graaff

Pianist Rein de Graaff (Groningen, 1942) recorded more than 40 albums, both as a leader and in cooperation with numerous Americans and fellow Europeans. He won the Boy Edgar Prijs in 1980 and the Bird Award at North Sea Jazz Festival in 1986. From 1986 to 2012, De Graaff organised Stoomcursus and Vervolgcursus Bebop: lectures about bebop, which included performances by a host of American and Dutch luminaries, as well as upcoming youngsters. De Graaff’s career is chronicled in Coen de Jonge’s Belevenissen In Bebop. (Passage, 1997)

Selected discography:

Body And Soul (with J.R. Monterose, Munich 1970)
The Jamfs Are Coming (with Johnny Griffin & Art Taylor, Timeless/Muse 1975)
Modal Soul (Timeless 1977)
New York Jazz (Timeless/Muse 1979)
Good Gravy (with Teddy Edwards, Timeless 1981)
Live (with Arnett Cobb, Timeless 1982)
Rifftide (with Al Cohn, Timeless 1987)
Blue Bird (with Dave Pike & Charles McPherson, Timeless 1988)
Nostalgia (Timeless 1991)
Blue Beans & Greens (with David “Fathead” Newman & Marcel Ivery, Timeless 1991)
Baritone Explosion (with Ronnie Cuber & Nick Brignola, Timeless 1994)
Alone Together (with Bud Shank, Timeless 2000)
Blue Lights The Music Of Gigi Cryce (Timeless 2005)
Indian Summer (with Sam Most, Timeless 2012)

Fried Bananas, the vinyl release of a 1972 Dexter Gordon performance with the Rein de Graaff Trio by Gearbox Records is due in November.

Pistol Speaks

April 21, 2016June 10, 2016 - Francois 7 Comments

Dominique Jennings Brandon fondly remembers her father, the artist Richard Slater Jennings, a.k.a. “Prophet”, known among jazz fans for the sleeve artwork of Eric Dolphy’s Out There. In our e-mail interview, she speaks candidly and in great detail about the colorful and heady life and work of the painter, journalist, filmmaker, hustler and spiritual ‘consigliere’ to many of the modern jazz giants.

Arebellious, wordly spirit who usually was exactly where it was at in the classic jazz era of the fifties and sixties, the highly esteemed Prophet befriended the cream of the modern jazz crop. Legends like Sonny Rollins, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Charles Mingus, Max Roach, Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, Freddie Hubbard, James Moody, Jimmy Heath, Slide Hampton and Johnny Griffin were pals of Prophet, who shared both their heartfelt passion for America’s truly original art form as well as the arduous and proto-rock&roll lifestyle attached to it. In appreciation of his friendship and personality, both Eric Dolphy (The Prophet) and Freddie Hubbard (Prophet Jennings) dedicated compositions to Richard “Prophet” Jennings.

According to legend, Jennings treated musician King Porter to an inexhaustable string of anecdotes about cons and tricks, whereupon King Porter replied caustically, ‘Man, you a motherfuckin’ prophet.’ The name stuck. Prophet liked to tell a story. There’s a telling example in John Szwed’s biography of Miles Davis, So What):

“I remember one night, one time, Max Roach and Clifford Brown… They were playing at a club in Detroit – The Crystal Lounge. So this particular night we’re at the Crystal Lounge and Max Roach and him had set the stage on fire. Now, Miles, he was – you know, he was staying around Detroit at this time. It was raining like a motherfucker, so this particular night, Brownie had just come off the stage. That stage was a burning inferno. Clifford Brown had set that motherfucker on fire… The door opened and in walked Miles. He had his coat turned up and it was raining… He went over to Clifford Brown and asked for Clifford’s trumpet. He reached in his inside pocket, took out his mouthpiece, put it in Clifford’s trumpet… Now, the stage was still on fire. It was still burning… Miles got up on that stand with the support of the piano to hold his ass up. He put that motherfucking trumpet to his mouth and that motherfucker played My Funny Valentine. Clifford Brown stood up there and looked at him and just shook his head… That little black motherfucker, behind all that fire, he made people cry… When he got through playing and took his mouthpiece out, he put it back in his coat, gave Brownie his trumpet, and split. That’s what he did. I saw this. I was there!”

A couple of years later, Thelonious Monk visited an exhibition of paintings by Prophet in Detroit, which resulted in Prophet’s portrait of Monk for the Jazzland album Thelonious Monk With John Coltrane. Prophet also designed Max Roach’ It’s Time. His best known covers are the Dolphy albums Outward Bound and Out There. I’m sure most of you shared my puzzlement and curiosity when stumbling upon Out There as a teenage jazz fan, a cover that conveys a Dali-esque space landscape including a cello (or upright bass) battleship and giant-size metronome. Prophet’s album covers are significant for being among the first that were designed by Afro-American artists. Instead of focusing rigidly on a marketable image, Prophet strived to evoke the mood of the adventurous music contained within the grooves.

Bits of information reveal that, allegedly, Prophet danced around the steelmills of Youngstown, Ohio as a kid; that he worked as a (music) journalist in Detroit. Prophet’s work as a painter, instilled with the spirit of the Harlem Rennaisance, was exhibited in the US from the mid-fifties onwards. He settled in Sweden in 1964 with his future wife, the Swedish air line hostess and former singer Ann-Charlotte. His paintings were exhibited in the US and Europe. Prophet suffered from tuberculosis in his younger life. Tragedy befell the artist and his daughter when Ann-Charlotte, mother of the then four years old Dominique, died in a plane crash in 1969. Prophet returned to the US and worked in comedy with his friend Richard Pryor, among other creative endeavors. Prophet passed away in California, in 2005.

In 2001, director and film writer Ken Goldstein made a documentary about Prophet, Prophet Speaks, which included footage of the days and nights the artist spent with Rollins, Gillespie, Coltrane, Monk, Davis et al. Unfortunately, it wasn’t released on dvd. Most admirers of jazz and the arts, therefore, have remained ignorant of the life of a pivotal underground artist and jazz guru of the fifties, sixties and beyond.

Flophouse Magazine: Where and when was your father born?

Dominique Jennings Brandon: He was born Richard Slater Jennings on April 5th in Youngstown Ohio in the mid-20’s.

FM: There’s a story about your dad about him dancing around the steel mills of Youngstown, Ohio as a kid. Is that true? In a vaudeville show, or on his own?

DJB: He danced around Ohio mainly on his own. The WLW was a big Nightclub, as well as Eddie’s. He danced with Billy Hicks and the Sizzling Six Review. He went on the road with them. He also was a dance show promoter.

FM: He lived in Detroit in times and circumstances that were often quite difficult for Afro-Americans. How did he get by? And how did he become an artist?

DJB: Lionel Hampton read an article Prophet wrote about him for the Buckeye Review and came to Youngstown looking for him. Prophet became Theatrical Editor for the Detroit Tribune newspaper that was owned by Lionel Hampton. He helped raise the circulation. He branched out with his partner Kenneth Brown to start their own Magazine called “Swingsation”. And then there was one issue of a paper called “The Word”. He was asked to be Advanced Publicity Man for Lionel Hampton’s Band. So he went on the road with Hamp and his band. Hadn’t been making much money. During his time in Detroit he became known for his good conversation and good weed, “Chicago Light Green”. He was a Healer and Confidence Man. He was living at the YMCA for a time which was $7 a week but difficult to cough up. He ran the concession bar at the Flame Showbar. That is how he met a lot of musicians.

He had a second bout of tuberculosis in the late forties and was hospitalised. It was during his 15-month convalescence that he took up drawing. He was always gifted at drawing and his friendly, treating doctor Dr. Greenich gave him a set of Pastel Chalks. He was discharged in 1950. He graduated from Chalks to oils when he bought a stolen set of oils paints from a known junkie in the neighborhood.

FM: “Prophet”, as your father was called, has also been a journalist and filmmaker. But he is mostly known as a painter. What do you feel is his lasting contribution to the world of arts?

DJB: His unique life poured into his work, which cemented an unseen perspective in art during the post-Harlem Renaissance period. He brings a raw emotional depth to his painings which spans many subject matters over the decades. Being a self-taught artist who was inspired by the Masters added more depth to his work. His portraits have eyes that follow you. His approach to painting skin is luminescent. His command of oils is uncanny and his early Pastel Chalk pieces are lush. His dimension, depth, perspective, and lighting are reminiscent of a much earlier era. His ability to capture such intimate moments on film with the modern jazz giants was another layer of his artistry. I think his ear and eye for greatness only intensifies his gifts and contributions to the art world.

FM: Has he worked in comedy? He was friends with Richard Pryor and Redd Fox, right?

DJB: He had a potent sense of humor and was a fantastic storyteller, which came from a rich life experience. He met Redd Foxx during his time in Detroit and Richard Pryor in New York in the late sixties. He worked as a consultant on the Richard Pryor Show in 1977 and was quite inspirational in the comedy circles. He is referenced in the Richard Pryor documentary “Omit the Logic”. Richard Pryor hosted an art show for him in Los Angeles in 1975.

FM: Your father was friends with many of the modern jazz legends, like Freddie Hubbard, Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Thelonious Monk, Johnny Griffin, Slide Hampton. Why do you think those jazzmen gravitated towards your dad?

DJB: His gravitas was undeniable. I believe they were all kindred spirits. Tastemakers. Together they were the integral part of an elite subculture. And the music they loved was the heartbeat. He provided them with a lively space to let their hair down. They called Prophet’s apartment the “Temple”. They were creative entities that fed off of each other. He enjoyed talking with his musician friends because they talked about everything. Not just music. Politics, religion, philosophy and everything in between. He was outspoken, blunt, no nonsense, witty, stylish, charming, compassionate, encouraging, generous and wise. The antithesis of a yes man. Widely talented, loyal and the ladies were quite fond of him!

Prophet - Albert Heath, actor Lee Weaver, Prophet, pianist Jeb Patton and Jimmy Heath

(Left: Albert “Tootie” Heath, Actor Lee Weaver, Prophet Jennings, Jeb Patton and Jimmie Heath at Jazz Bakery, Culver City, late 90s; Right: Prophet and Richard Pryor)

FM: Do you have recollections of meeting his musician friends in Sweden and the USA?

DJB: I was too young to remember any specific encounters with the musicians in Sweden. When we lived in the Los Angeles/West Hollywood, I remember Dizzy Gillespie visiting us and we went to his performance at the Hollywood Bowl. He also gave my Father a movie camera. I remember encountering Miles Davis driving in our neighborhood when he invited us to join him at a fancy clothing store for a shopping excursion. His ex-wife Francis Davis was a longtime neighbor of ours who lived on the same street. Tootie Heath was close to my Father. He was my Father’s best man at his wedding in Sweden. Jimmy Heath remained close even though he was on the East Coast. They were both basketball fans. I remember Yusef Lateef coming by and my Father filming him.

Most of his earlier musician friends remained on the East Coast as we were on the West Coast. I did see Marvin Gaye with my father about 8 months before he was killed at a party. I was starstruck by him. He told me he met me in Sweden when I was a little girl.

I met a lot of his friends later in life, generous men like Freddie Hubbard, James Moody and Gerald Wilson. My husband took me to see one of Freddie Hubbard’s last performances at the Catalina Bar and Grill. There was a request for him to play Prophet Jennings but he was unable to play because of the wind it required.

FM: In the fifties, your father was an integral part of the outsider movement of jazz and the arts that turned out to be very influential and he has always lived a very bohemian lifestyle. How was it to grow up with Prophet?

DJB: There was a Bon Voyage party in New York for my Mother and Father when they were moving to Sweden in 1964. They were in love and he had grown weary during the turbulent sixties in New York. My Mother Ann-Charlotte (née Dahlqvist) or Lotta, was a air line hostess for SAS and had sung in a swing band in the fifties. They moved to Sweden in 1964, right after the party. We lived in Sweden and my Mother and Father were instrumental in helping to get their jazz musician friends booked at the Golden Circle. My Father made treks to the States to sell and exhibit his work. At times he loathed the cold and darkness of Sweden and longed for New York. Life wasn’t always easy, especially having to raise a little girl but they made it work. They were a real team. A tragedy that would forever change and completely devastate my Father happened on January 13, 1969, when a plane crashed with my Mother in it. My Father and I were splattered on the covers of Swedish newspapers after the crash. It is still quite hard to look at the clippings.

My Father and I left Sweden in 1972 and moved to West Hollywood. We even had a short stay with Richard Pryor when we first arrived. He continued to paint through the 70’s and 80’s and 90’s. He never remarried. He taught himself how to do astrological charts in the sixties. I still have many of his very detailed charts. He was quite gifted in this area as well and was able to hone in areas that were hidden to most. I encountered several instances where his predictions were stunning. He was a life coach, confidant and astrologer to many people throughout his long West Hollywood residency. Especially during the last ten years of his life. Chaka Khan lived in our apartment complex when she sang with Rufus. She and my father were both Aries and had a fondness for each other.

My Father was utterly devoted to raising me and being a widower and artist could not have been easy. He was very particular when it came to babysitting. He was completely hands on. He was a deft cook, so funny and an extremely deep thinker. In fact we rarely ate meals out. He was quite temperamental at times, which being a sensitive young girl I did not quite understand. I took his impatience to heart but understand so much more now. He was so concerned about being a good parent. The realities of life were not “sugarcoated” for me. He believed in giving it to you straight.

I do not know how we made it but I was always made to feel like a Princess and he encouraged me in my endeavors. I never wanted to disappoint him, which was quite a big weight I put on myself. His candor could bring me to tears but I understand now how fortunate I was to have him so invested. He was a huge inspiration to me and helped shape my love for the arts. He always told me to keep an air of mystery about myself and educated me about the male species. He was a stickler about having good credit and instilled in me that you should try to accomplish something everyday. No matter how small. Even when I moved I lived under a mile away. We spent a lot of time together and as I got older we became even closer. I began to realize a bit late that I could discuss things with him I never thought I could when I was younger. He expressed to me “you sure are cool Pistol” towards the end of his life. Pistol was one of my many nicknames.

(Left: Prophet and Dominique, Jet Magazine 1970)

My Father contracted pneumonia in 2000. We were able to get him to Cedars Sinai after an episode at his apartment. Richard Pryor passed on December 11, 2005. It was a huge blow to my Father. That week he wasn’t feeling well. I attended Richard’s funeral and when I was asked where my Father was, I responded that he wasn’t feeling good. I will never forget the comment that was uttered. “Is Prophet next”? My Father passed the next day. Exactly one week apart from Richard Pryor.

FM: Your father was one of the first Afro-American artists that designed covers for jazz records. Was it something he took particular pride in?

DJB: He did take great pride in the album covers. It was something that came about quite fluidly. He did not seek out work as an album cover artist. He felt it a huge honor to have songs and whole sides of albums dedicated to him.

FM: His work for Dolphy is surrealistic. He painted in other styles as well, right?

DJB: He did paint in many genres. He didn’t subscribe to any style per se. When he started to paint in Detroit he was painting in Pastel Chalks about the life he saw: The “Underworld”, “Drugs”, “The Jazz Life” “The Streets”. Some of his work had an erotic and mystical sense. He was drawn to painting streetscenes, cityscapes, nudes, children, flowers, old people. He was first inspired to paint by an artist in Ohio called “Dollhead”. He admired Rembrandt, especially his extraordinary lighting, and Dali. When he arrived in Detroit he learned about more of the Masters. His inspirations became Van Gogh, Toulouse Lautrec, Modigliani and Maurice Utrillo.

FM: I read that the walls of Sonny Rollins’ apartment were decorated with the paintings of your father. And Cannonball Adderley exhibited them in his home. There were exhibitions in the US and in Europe of his work. But where is his work now?

DJB: That is the big question, where is all the work?

My family and I have about eighteen works. Over the years I’ve been doing my best to catalogue his work. So there are paintings spread throughout Los Angeles. Jennifer Pryor (Richard Pryor’s widow) has the large Charlie Parker painting mentioned in the documentary “Omit the Logic”. Berry Gordy, Jimmy Heath, my father’s friend and former journalist Joy Brown and our old neighbors all own paintings. Milt Jackson’s widow owns the portrait of her late husband that he painted in 1960. The latest painting resurfaced a few years ago, when the wife of the late Prestige Records Founder, Bob Weinstock, contacted me on Facebook. She has the painting of Eric Dolphy used for Outward Bound. This was fantastic news.

I have put feelers out to a few other people who I know have paintings requesting photos. My Father had contracts that I have and use to connect the dots but there were many paintings that he did not have contracts for. I once asked my Father how many paintings did he paint altogether and he answered, “I don’t know”. I told him my dream was to find them all and he told me I wouldn’t be able to do it. We’ll see! A multimedia retrospective is the goal.

Dominique Jennings Brandon

Dominique Jennings Brandon (Stockholm, Sweden, 1965) is an actress who is best known for her role as Virginia Harrison in NBC’s soap opera Sunset Beach. Jennings Brandon’s resume includes Se7en and Die Hard 2. She lives in San Gabriel, California.

Take Three with Jasper van Damme

March 23, 2016June 9, 2016 - Francois Leave a comment

“I’m not planning to be a bandleader just yet. I guess I’m still hanging in between the non-conformism that is essential for a leader and the adaptability that comes with being a freelancer. And I’m having great fun doing all those different things,” says 29-year old alto and soprano saxophonist Jasper van Damme. Van Damme is an accomplished, mature musician who concentrated on his playing instead of spending much time writing original tunes. His fiery alto style is heard in numerous groups ranging from big band, Latin, and modern quartet jazz to the crossover jazz of the tongue-in-cheek, highly proficient outfit Tommy Moustache.

Just mentioning the name of Tommy Moustache brings a smile to the face of the unassuming, amiable personality that is Jasper van Damme. Van Damme’s in a band. “I have the experience,” Van Damme laughs. “As a teenager I was in all sorts of groups, like the heavy metal band I stood in front off, shouting at the top of my lungs.”

Good humor combined with a cool alt-rock stage presence is the icing on the musical cake that Tommy Moustache has brought to the fore for the last two years. Tommy Moustache released their debut album Tommy Moustache in 2014 and has kept on playing their idiosyncratic jazz funkrock on a regular basis. Van Damme resists the temptations of honks, squawks and funky licks in favor of a kind of structured buoyancy. It ties the music together.

Van Damme agrees with my description of his style as ‘an interesting contrast between an even, clean tone, kept up in the high register, and an impassioned delivery and eagerness to keep a good story going.’ He loves the way Lee Konitz gracefully constructs solo’s. “Like Donna Lee on that album with Warne Marsh.” (Lee Konitz With Warne Marsh, Atlantic, 1955) Van Damme is also enamoured of Cannonball Adderley’s zest and communicative power. “And I’m wild about Sonny Rollins. His harmonic inventions on the Village Vanguard albums (A Night At The Village Vanguard, Blue Note, 1958, 2CD-reissue, 1999) are stunning and he’s just flying on all cylinders. The Freedom Suite (Riverside, 1958, Read review here) is great as well. I admire the way Rollins takes those short themes on that album and turns them inside out completely. I saw Rollins at The Concertgebouw (in Amsterdam) a few years ago. It was very exciting just to see Rollins in person. At that old age, Sonny Rollins keeps trying to get better. I read that it comes with doubts. It amazes me that a legend like Rollins is also a human being for which not everything works perfectly.”

The first favorite album that comes to the altoist’s mind, however, is Thelonious Monk’s Plays Duke Ellington. (Riverside, 1955) Van Damme often enjoyed the live albums of the Five Spot with the hard swinging tenor saxophonist Johnny Griffin (Thelonious In Action and Misterioso – Riverside, 1958)) but feels that Monk’s more subdued, touching interpretation of the work of Duke Ellington is very special as well. “It’s not only pure, original Monk, but also a relaxed listening experience.”

A style is one thing, to incorporate it into different types of jazz is another. “It’s pretty tough, you know. I adapt continuously, since I’m taking all kind of jobs. That’s because freelancing, apart from a little teaching, is my full-time livelihood. That has been a conscious decision. But now I’m beginning to wonder about my goals. Should I also become a leader with my own bag? That bag should logically involve something instantly recognizable, which, actually, is a bit different than how a freelancer works. I did the Pack Project last year. (Rotterdam’s Pack Project annually sets a talent in the limelight, giving free reign as far as line-up and original repertoire is concerned) It was a very cool experience. But I had to make all the decisions myself. That was really scary!”

Be it as a leader, be it as a busy freelancer, further life experiences will certainly bring new touches to Van Damme’s style. “I’m searching,” contemplates the laid-back saxophonist. “I also play free jazz in drummer Friso van Wijck’s group The Steeplepoy’s Revanger, very complex and cool stuff. It’s very interesting to see how it helps my playing. On the other hand, I’m still crazy about informal, swingin’ sessions. That’s why I love playing in bars or small clubs. You know how you can have those moments of bliss? Well, more than 50 percent of those moments occured in bars. Just playing those good old standards all the time, what a joy…”

Jasper van Damme

Jasper van Damme is a prize-winning saxophonist (Erasmus Prijs, Dutch Jazz Competition and Conservatorium Talent Award) and a sought-after sideman. His resume includes appearances at North Sea Jazz Festival, Concertgebouw Amsterdam and Carnegie Hall. Van Damme currently plays in Tommy Moustache, Benoit Martiny Band, Rumbata Beat Band, Loran Witteveen 5tet, The Steeplepoy’s Revanger, Dutch Concert Big Band and BVR Flamenco Big Band.

http://www.jaspervandamme.com
http://www.tommymoustache.com
http://thesteeplepoysrevanger.com

Take Three with Bruut!

January 5, 2015November 5, 2015 - Francois Leave a comment

Bruut! Noun; brute; bully; (slang) master, dope, heavy, da bomb – ‘brute sneakers, man’ or ‘listen to Wayne Shorter in Free For All, he’s brute!’

I’m sitting on a barstool at a high oak table in the Amsterdam rehearsal studio, the Melody Line. Alto saxophonist Maarten Hogenhuis and bass player Thomas Rolff, one half of Dutch jazz group Bruut!, talk about their career and some of their favourite records. They share mutual preferences. “We’re married, really,” says Hogenhuis. I guess they are. Not only these two longtime friends, but all four members of Bruut!, and happily I presume. Because their seemingly effortless mix of hard bop and boogaloo with surf and rock music is tight and possesses a delicious, big sound. Jazz Crusaders meets Dick Dale. Bruut! dubs their music ‘superjazz.’

Hogenhuis and Rolff grew up in the aftermath of grunge. They bring its raw sensibility to their music, yet jazz remains the core of Bruut!’s style. As far as contemporary, jazz-related influences are concerned, John Scofield’s A Go Go is high on their list. But on top of that list is Benjamin Herman’s Get In, the Dutch alto saxophonist’s 1998 boogaloo album that he recorded with legendary soul jazz drummer Idris Muhammad, organist Larry Goldings and Dutch guitarist Jesse van Ruller. Hogenhuis: “A very famous record for our generation, a sort of Bible! Benjamin has no idea how many of his young colleagues dig that album.”

Rolff: “We were already of the ‘old stuff’, but Get In was an eyeopener. We started out as a boogaloo outfit, which implies a totally different approach than that of a mainstream jazz group.” Is that approach easier? Hogenhuis answers: “We are careful not to play too ‘difficult’, which hopefully benefits our music. Making ‘difficult’ music can be quite easy in fact, but to play ‘simple’ in a meaningful way is a totally different story.”

Hogenhuis’ sing-songy style reminds me of altoist Lou Donaldson, who as Rolff puts it succinctly “came into his own in the sixties while simultaneously holding on to his allround Charlie Parker-style. It became an unmistakably pure mix”. Hogenhuis dwells on some of the Lou Donaldson albums in his collection, like Everything I Play Is Funky: “Those boogaloo and soul jazz records of Donaldson represent true live music for me, creating a vibe. Although I’ve listened to some of them analytically, for inspiration. He has that ‘simplicity’ we talked about, he’s the epithome of ‘less is more’.”

“Yet,” Hogenhuis continues, “as far as my style and influences are concerned, I’m formed by the giants: Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane. I like the production and huge sound of Coltrane’s Africa/Brass and Crescent. Lately I’ve been listening to Live At Newport a lot. It doesn’t include Elvin Jones, because he was trying to deal with his drug addiction at that time. Of course, Coltrane and Jones were almost like one creature and their thing is so ingrained in your system. It’s interesting to hear how Coltrane makes Haynes sound very unlike himself. Haynes never sounded more different than on Live At Newport.”

“Besides his brilliant harmony and interesting phrasing, it’s Coltrane’s rhythm that I dig mostly. His rhythm is so heavy, all-encompassing. His timing is immaculate and goes ‘out there!’ It’s hard to put a finger on. What I’m sure of is that Coltrane has soul in abundance. I’d like to possess that combination of rhythm, timing and soul, but it hasn’t happened so far, haha. I started playing jazz relatively late, from my eighteenth year, and took with me the rhythmic approach of pop and funk. Rhythm is the core, the Bruut!-approach, we start from the groove. Sound is all-important too.”

Rolff: “Take away those two and you’re left with a bag full of shit.” Hogenhuis continues: When talking about rhythm and groove, Hank Mobley should be mentioned. Soul Station is classic. And Workout is one of our favourites. Harmonically and melody-wise, that album is more than ok. But the rhythm and sound are key. It includes the crackerjack Philly Joe Jones and Paul Chambers. And Grant Green’s on it. Like you say, he’s an example of great rhythm. Did you know that he plays the same lick like eleven times in Workout. 11 or 12 times! It’s outrageous! (Hogenhuis hums the melody and Green’s phrases) He goes on and on. Well, it works, right, haha?!”

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There are a lot of classic things that ‘worked’ for these (relatively) young gentlemen. Just before the other half of Bruut! – organist Folkert Oosterbeek and drummer Felix Schlarmann – enters the studio and completes today’s set up, bassist Thomas Rolff recounts his influences. They range from Paul Chambers to Jimmy Blanton. “I’m totally into Ray Brown, though. My dad was an enormous fan of Oscar Peterson. So I’ve heard Ray Brown all through my life. He’s a big influence. A long time ago, I got We Get Requests as a present from Maarten!”

Hogenhuis: “I think the greatest thing about We Get Requests is the way it is recorded. There’s a lot of ‘panning’, you can distinguish everything really well. The bass sounds so beautiful, out of sight! That record feels like a warm bath.” Rolff chimes in: “Those cats from the classic era had such an immaculate beat and great sound, which is the essence. All the while, their taste and musicianship was outstanding.”

The foursome that constitutes Bruut! is involved in many other, diverse jazz projects. But not surprisingly, considering their spontaneous aesthetics they have displayed as a unit for four years now, they have a weak spot for live recordings. When asked which hard bop and soul jazz albums drummer Felix Schlarmann favours, he immediately and matter-of-factly answers “Cannonball Adderley Quintet – Live In San Francisco”, the album that raised the level of live recording in 1962 and was an enormous commercial success.

Organist Folkert Oosterbeek, the group stresses, doesn’t really play in an organist’s way. Hogenhuis teasingly asks him: “Do you ever put the needle on a Hammond album?” “Never,” answer Oosterbeek with a grin on his face. Hogenhuis explains that Oosterbeek is a pianist who ended up behind the organ by chance, because the guys wanted him to. “That’s our secret,” Hogenhuis states. “Folkert doesn’t sound like a Hammond organist. And that’s fun.”

“I’m not really conscious of the classic Hammond organists,” says Oosterbeek. “But I know one thing, I don’t wanna play like another Jimmy Smith copy cat.” Hogenhuis explains that the group pushes him to, for example, sound like a guitar or a Farfisa organ, whatever the circumstances demand. “It adds to our colours,” says Hogenhuis, who has the final word of our mid-day talk. “Be not mistaken, there are a lot of great records today. But a lot of jazz records sound clinical to me, because they are recorded in a ‘poppy’ way. It takes the bite out of the music and one misses a unique ensemble sound. And that’s what it is about. It’s what Bruut! strives for in any event, making a fully developed story as far as sound and timing is concerned.”

Speaking of which, we put a lid on it as Bruut! is about to enter the practice room to rehearse and conjure up tunes that might end up on their third album, which is due to be released in Spring 2015. I’m wondering, shouldn’t it be, like some of the illustrious examples mentioned in this interview, a live album?

Bruut!

Bruut! consists of alto saxophonist Maarten Hogenhuis (Maarten Hogenhuis Trio, The More Socially Relevant Music Ensemble, Amsterdam Jazz Orchestra, Krupa And The Genes), organist/pianist Folkert Oosterbeek (Felix Schlarmann Group, Amsterdam Jazz Orchestra, Kogging), double bassist Thomas Rolff (Maarten Hogenhuis Trio) and drummer Felix Schlarmann (Felix Schlarmann Group, Kogging). They started playing their brand of hyperkinetic, retro-but-not-so-retro ‘superjazz’ in 2011. By mistake, as a party organizer introduced them to a hungry crowd as a dance group instead of the mainstream jazz outfit they believed to be. Bruut! was born. They released two albums – Bruut! (2012) and Fire (2013) and have built a repertoire mixing classic hard bop and boogaloo with rock and campy Quentin Tarantino soundtracks. Bruut! successfully toured Japan, Poland, Burkina Faso, Germany, England, South-Africa, Spain, Surinam, Turkey and Belgium. Their third album will be released in spring 2015.

http://www.bruutmusic.com

Take Three with Rob Agerbeek

December 16, 2014July 6, 2023 - Francois 3 Comments

In 1976 Dutch-Indonesian pianist Rob Agerbeek was recommended to tour Europe with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers. Agerbeek had strong doubts. A phone call to friend and drummer Art Taylor was in the making. “I thought, well, they see me coming, yet another local pianist. I resented that. But then Taylor said to me on the phone: ‘Well man, if you don’t take this gig, I will never recommend you again! You’ll have to do this!’” Subsequently, Agerbeek successfully toured with Blakey, painstakingly getting used to the repertoire along the way. Blakey wanted him to stay in the band but Agerbeek politely declined. “I had an office job, you know.”

Typically Agerbeek. The congenial, 77 years old jazz veteran means what he says but the way he tells it betrays a strong dose of dry humor. And whether he’s recounting his versatile solo endeavors as a boogie-woogie maestro and hard bop musician or the gigs he played with Dexter Gordon, Gene Ammons, Ben Webster, Johnny Griffin and Hank Mobley, among others, there’s always a sense of modesty. His modesty is of the healthy kind, mixed with essential but far from boisterous confidence. “I heard great blues sounds on the radio when I was a kid in Batavia (the modern-day Jakarta, FM) from The Bob Crosby Band, Tommy Dorsey and Albert Ammons, Maede Lux Lewis, Pete Johnson. In my college years in The Netherlands, I discovered the Jazz At The Philharmonic series, Oscar Peterson, Sonny Clark and got interested in modern jazz around 1958. I was particularly fond of Horace Silver.”

“Horace Silver is about the blues. Even when Silver’s tunes weren’t formally blues, they were nevertheless imbued with the feeling of the blues. Doodlin’ is a case in point. I particularly like his first album, Horace Silver And The Jazz Messengers. At the same time compositions like these and from other albums were very intricate. The Preacher, Room 808, Strollin’, Cool Eyes. Silver composed in a way that got me thinking: I should’ve come up with such a thing!’ It’s so logical. And steeped in gospel. Why I never had the idea to incorporate Indonesian influences into my music like Silver did with his Cape Verdean background? Well, I just tried to emulate the Americans. Mind you, emulate, not imitate. Naturally, I learned playing jazz that way. I learned a lot from Don Byas in the mid-sixties, harmony, and also to carefully handle the intro and theme and shy away from frenzy playing. But I always wanted to record in my own way. I wrote a lot of tunes. I’m largely self-taught and sharpened my reading skills along the way.”

Agerbeek puts the needle on his 1975 album Keep The Change. A vibrant bag of straightforward hard bop. The title track incorporates the bounce of classic Blue Note hits like Lee Morgan’s The Sidewinder and Hank Mobley’s The Turnaround, tunes that drummer Billy Higgins blessed with his indomitable, swinging beat. “I worked with Hank Mobley, you know.” Agerbeek played with Mobley in 1968/69. “The Flip was recorded during that period. I was invited for that session. But Alfred Lion had already hired another pianist. (Vince Bededetti, FM) So that slipped through my fingers. Hank had initially invited med. He said, ‘yeah, you have to record, you will be the piano player if you want.’ But it didn’t fell through.”

“Before the invitation, I had been playing with Mobley for about a year. In Rotterdam, Paris, including Art Taylor. Mobley’s form was excellent, really. He had his problems but was a very nice, likable character. I like Soul Station best, and Funk In Deep Freeze from Hank Mobley Quintet. Hank Mobley actually didn’t really blow, instead his breath went through the horn like ‘swhoosh’, you know what I mean! Beautiful.”

Halfway through our conversation, while Agerbeek gives an account of his recordings with saxophonist Harry Verbeke and Billy Higgins, we both suddenly start to laugh. As if Agerbeek reads my mind he chuckles: “It is amazing, right?! I played with so many of these Americans. Talking about it brings back memories… Ben Webster, Willis Jackson, Arnett Cobb. A lot of it came about through my management. And through Paul Acket, (the founder and organiser of the North Sea Jazz Festival, FM) of course. He asked me to accompany those guys, like Frank Foster, Clark Terry, Cecil Payne. I’ve done twenty-three editions of North Sea. All during the years that I worked at the social insurance office, ha!”

One of the most pleasant meetings Rob Agerbeek had with American jazz legends is chronicled on All Souls, a 1972 live album of The Rob Agerbeek Trio with Dexter Gordon. “My producer gave me some alternate takes. I thought, Jesus, did I really play that way? One of my sons said: ‘Dad, you played different back then, tougher.’”

“I toured with Dexter Gordon and Gene Ammons in 1973. Often I used to loosen up before the show started, playing a boogiewoogie tune. One time Gene Ammons bent over me, saying: ‘Hey there, you’re playing my dad, right!’” (boogie woogie pianist Albert Ammons was Gene Ammons’ father) Agerbeek laughs. Then, matter-of-factly: “I really thought he was a good saxophone player. He also played on some his dad’s tunes and struck me as a unique player as early as that. He was steeped in r&b but close to bebop. That album on Prestige with Tommy Flanagan and Art Taylor is very nice.” (Boss Tenor, FM)

Art Taylor seems to be the thread that links together Agerbeek’s forays into hard bop jazz. I’m curious as to whether Agerbeek ever noticed anything about Art Taylor’s anger towards the music business and supposed racial bias, as comes across in Art Taylor’s book of interviews, Notes And Tones. “Indeed, the one that I knew best certainly was Art Taylor. And Johnny Griffin as well. I never noticed anything about Taylor being angry about how things went in the music business. He usually called me for gigs from where he lived in Luik, Belgium. What I do remember is that Taylor always complained that Thelonious Monk didn’t like him. Monk would confuse him: ‘What’s with that big moustache, Art? Trying to be Mr. Charming, um?’ This really bugged Art!”

“I regularly shared rooms with those American guys. With Johnny Griffin among others, whom I worked with for three years mostly in Germany. Never again, man. That certainly takes some doing. My my, either they talk till you drop or keep you awake snoring.” Agerbeek imitates the sleeping ‘Little Giant’, Johnny Griffin. It sounds like a giant, drunk caterpillar.

“But they paid me some nice compliments. Griffin said that I had a good blues feel. I guess it’s because of my background in boogie-woogie. Guys that I learned a lot from and admired very much, Frans Elsen and Rob Madna, pointed out the feeling of the blues in my compositions. Well, I’m not going to say this of myself. If they do, I’ll accept that. Art Taylor introduced me to McCoy Tyner in Norway in 1973 and said: ‘Oh, he’s a motherfucker on piano, you should meet him.’” Agerbeek continues in charmingly laconic fashion. “Dexter Gordon recommended me as an accompanist. Can you imagine Gordon, such a tall man, pushing me forward in crowds. I would usually hesitate to plug myself, but in situations like that, I went along with it. I guess you could say I was a lucky-so-and-so. Carried by the wind, so to speak.”

“Do I regret that I didn’t cross the ocean to join Art Blakey when opportunity knocked? No, not really. How long would I have lasted, one year? Then you’re sacked and you have to start from scratch back home.”

Rob Agerbeek

Rob Agerbeek (Batavia, Indonesia, 1937) is one of the grand seigneurs of Dutch jazz and has been a prolific recording artist and performer on European stages since the early sixties. He is a self-taught musician and well-versed in both boogiewoogie and modern jazz. Agerbeek became an admired accompanist to a host of American legends that toured and/or lived in Europe in the sixties and seventies, notably Gene Ammons, Art Blakey, Don Byas, Johnny Griffin, Dexter Gordon, Hank Mobley and Ben Webster. Thereafter, the versatile pianist surprised audience and critics when he switched to traditional jazz in the eighties, joining the Dutch Swing College Band. His discography includes Homerun, Beatles’ Boogies, All Souls (with Dexter Gordon), Keep The Change, Pardon My Bop and On Green Dolphin Street (with George Coleman).

Here’s Rob with Dexter Gordon

Here’s The Chair Dance from Homerun

Here’s a wonderful rendition of Albert Ammons’ Tuxedo Boogie

Take Three with Benjamin Herman

August 10, 2014January 18, 2016 - Francois Leave a comment

Our ears have been attuned to alto saxophonist Benjamin Herman’s suave and spirited jazz hodgepodge for more than two decades now. Nearing the age of 47, Herman resembles a vital and frisky thirty-something. The sharpest dressed man in the contemporary Dutch jazz realm brings with him a bag full of experience. His field of work has become uncommonly diverse, ranging from modern jazz to film scores and hiphop collaborations. Herman’s latest release, Trouble, is characterised by a cinematic atmosphere, courtesy of the altoist’s airy and warm sound and the dazzingly seductive crooning of pianist/singer Daniel von Piekartz. Curacao is one of its standout tracks. It is known territory for the bandleader, as he dives into the hard-swinging vibe he has created so regularly over the years with his hi-voltage octet and big band New Cool Collective.

It’s the kind of fertile terrain for tasty food Flophouse Magazine would kill for as well. Like Art Blakey and the indomitable drummer’s Live At Bohemia 1 & 2. According to Herman, it’s an essential album for both jazz lovers and pro’s. Certainly because of the interaction between the vociferous Blakey and his sidemen, including two of the most underrated horn men of their time, trumpeter Kenny Dorham and tenorist Hank Mobley. “Mobley has such an utterly cool aura. He wasn’t commercially successful and his heavy drinking was an obstacle. Ended up living in a subway station, really sad. A shy fellow as well. All this aside, Mobley is the supreme musicians’ musician. I know a lot of people who put him on top or their list because of Mobley’s tone and deft, understated swing. Listen how Blakey spurs him on. Mobley isn’t overpowering and creates something fresh in every chorus.”

Herman likes Lou Donaldson for that kind of story-telling quality as well. He does a fair and pretty hilarious impersonation of his fellow altoist. Recounting a story Branford Marsalis told Herman’s collaborator Joost Patocka – a story about a night when Donaldson teasingly commented on a couple of live Marsalis blues tunes – Herman imitates the renowned soul jazz veteran’s raspy, high-pitched voice: “You call that a blues? You want me to get my saxophone?! I’ll tell you what a blues is!” Herman is quick to point out Donaldson’s undisputable bop credentials. “The man was on par with Clifford Brown in Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers. And his judgement is justified! He is so good with the blues. I really like those boogaloo records he did in the late sixties. His timing and ability to tell a story are striking. It’s never about virtuosity or playing to the public’s ear. Instead, that ear follows the natural swing he brings. I really would like to play like that. It’s in the back of my mind while performing.”

Herman’s comments on John Coltrane suggest the legendary tenor and soprano saxophonist hasn’t only been in the back of his mind, but dead centre in its front row as well. His choice of the album Coltrane Sound is a surprise. It has been under the radar ever since it was released in 1964, four years after it was recorded during the iconic My Favorite Things-sessions. It boasts a couple of originals that rank among ‘Trane’s finest, Liberia and Equinox, as well as some challenging interpretations of standards. Herman whistles the melody of The Night Has A Thousand Eyes. Before delving into Coltrane’s multi-harmonic inventions, Herman remembers the shock the tune gave him when he was sixteen. “That strange note in the solo; I learned what it was, but I kept thinking, what is this, what is it doing there? I started hearing other things and my whole jazz perception was changed.” After all these years, Herman still stares transfixed into space. And take note that the album sounds came out of a Sony Walkman. “Yeah, man. On the other side was Miles At Newport. Spotify is a nice tool for discovering new music, but tape sounds much better!”

The biggest part of our get-together is devoted to the vinyl wonderland of Sonny Rollins. It’s the Live At The Village Vanguard albums 1 & 2 the altoist has been wild about for a long time. “How did I get there? Well, once I was on the road with (drummer) Han Bennink and he put this album on in the car. He could sing it, note for note. Including the bass and drum parts! Everybody who can play checked it out. Standard procedure. At least for me, about dealing with harmony and playing on the melody. And, furthermore, about approaching your fellow musicians, how to interact.”

Herman has similar feelings about Saxophone Colossus and other vintage early Rollins albums, but the twin sessions at the Vanguard remain his favourites. “They represent true transitional phases for jazz improvisation. It builds on the bebop idiom, informing it with fresh ideas. Obviously, it is largely made up of bebop classics or standards that’ve received famous bebop treatments by Parker and the like.”

“Take What Is This Thing Called Love and the way Rollins approached the first part – the diminished, minor fifths. Extremely interesting, the way he uses differing harmony there. Furthermore, the interaction between the trios is outstanding. Especially where Elvin Jones is involved. Besides, a good evening of Rollins constitutes pure bliss; the way he briskly goes on and on is unparalleled. I usually don’t like long live cuts, but I like these ones. A historic moment, really, the Village Vanguard gig.”

Herman is not about to leave the room before mentioning the great bebop innovator, Charlie Parker. And in particular, the alto saxophonist’s Live At Storyville album, which is cut from a 1953 radio show. “It sounds remarkably well, considering the context. And Bird’s great on that album. Incredible, that late in his career, shortly before he died. It’s so vital and flowing, it’s crazy!” Herman also mentions the avantgarde Karma album of Pharaoh Sanders, as well as a few more obvious influences on his style, such as Eddie Harris’ Mean Greens, Hank Crawford’s From The Heart, and Jackie McLean’s Let Freedom Ring. Hard to pull back out of your desert island bag is what I figure.

The emphasis of our interview has been mainly on tenor saxophonists. Altoist Benjamin Herman attests to the logic of this outcome. “I’ve listened to tenorists, mostly, apart from Charlie Parker, obviously. As a listener, I’m like a lot of other people, the tenor saxophone is the predominant reed instrument. Naturally, I love the alto, but I understand it might be harder to digest. It can be a nervy son of a gun!”

“Having said this,” Herman goes on, “alas, we haven’t had the chance to talk about Johnny Hodges…”

Benjamin Herman

Ever since he came on the scene in the mid-eighties, alto saxophonist, composer and bandleader Benjamin Herman has been a constant, prolific force in the Dutch jazz landscape. With small formats as well as his octet New Cool Collective, Herman has built an eclectic resume of jazz infused with soul, Latin, free form and other assorted exotic tinges; a mix that speaks to both jazz aficionados and the general public. Open-minded to other fields than his core business, Herman has collaborated with film directors, hip-hop artists and writers. He received the VPRO/Boy Edgar Award in 2006 and has been working and touring around the globe regularly. Herman has worked with such diverse artists as Misha Mengelberg, Remco Campert, Paul Weller and Idris Muhammad.

http://www.benjaminherman.nl

Take Three with Arno Krijger

May 21, 2014May 31, 2022 - Francois 1 Comment

It takes some power of adjustment when coming upon that grittiest of instruments, the Hammond organ, in a clean-cut suburb such as Tilburg’s Reeshof quarter. But I guess I’ve been brainwashed for romantic ends by jazz club visits and countless smoky record covers. Because, naturally, the organ has come a long way from dinky burlesque theatres and a downgrade by the jazz police to an appraisal by keen, broadminded critics and folks alike and worldwide recognition as an instrument fine-tuned for modern jazz as well as rock, pop and soul.

The home studio of Arno Krijger, one of Europe’s vanguard organists, harbours two Hammond organs. Amidst various musician’s tools and a dusty, vintage Gretsch drumkit, the big case of a Hammond B3 organ looms large in the centre of the room. Adjacent to that is a Leslie speaker and against another wall resides a C3 organ, which Krijger has used to spice up the interview explaining to me the difference between the hard bop of Jimmy Smith cum suis and the type of avantgarde jazz Larry Young brought to the fore and which is a dominant influence on Krijger’s work. Both styles sound fine by me and the point has been made clear in, successively, bluesy and refined manner.

Seated at a big desk 42-year old Krijger, who prefers his day-off, casual outfit instead of his common, smart, modern stage regalia, opens iTunes. Up pops a classic Jimmy McGriff album.

SPITTIN’ AND PUFFIN’

FM: Aha, Live! That’s Where It’s At.

AK: For a big part, it’s a sentimental choice. It’s linked to my youth. I’m raised on McGriff, Rhoda Scott, Milt Buckner. This album was in my father’s collection and I put it on again and again. We had two organs at home, one electric, which I toyed with as a kid, and one with valves. I started playing on that one and then I thought, wait a minute, now I’ve got that raw McGriff sound!

FM: When the question is raised in a discussion between me and a jazz lovin’ pal or acquantaince which organist is nr. 1 as far as ‘screamin’ is concerned I always end up with McGriff. How did he get that sound?

AK: Well, you know, every organ has a different sound. I think McGriff’s possesses an inherent edge. Whether he plays soft or hard, there’s always a level of overdrive. But that’s not all. The room and acoustics play a part. My organ has a relatively clean sound, but sometimes I’m playing in a club where I have to be careful not to let my organ heave all over the place, so to speak. It also depends on the volume. Then there’s the setting of drawbars and such.

FM: All About My Girl kicked my ass.

AK: That organ’s spittin’ and puffin’! It’s pretty nifty, you know, considering the simplicity of the material, with just a few chords to play with. It has a good sound, good timing. Impeccable groove music, all tunes are cookin’. A number of things go wrong, though.

FM: Really? Tell me.

AK: Well, there’s When Johnny Comes Marching Home. After that march-bit, they change to swing time, but the drummer keeps on marching for a few bars.

FM: A bit silly. But we don’t mind a few minor mishaps, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand.

AK: That’s right. It’s a live album, of course. There are a couple more, nevertheless, I remember the one in Georgia On My Mind, particularly. The bridge is messed up, twice. Listen here, McGriff is struggling with the chord structure, it seems he’s trying to regain his posture. (After a pause) Listening to it right now, I’m thinking McGriff probably used the foot pedals. You see, usually those guys play bass with their left hand, but on ballads, that are slower and have longer notes, they sometimes use their feet. I think McGriff is not used to it, that might explain the unease.

I don’t play it too often these days. But when I do, it all comes back, I can dream McGriff’s version and I’m unable to inject much of my own style into it. So much expression, rough settings, beautiful vibrato!

UNITY

FM: Larry Young’s Unity is a whole different ballgame.

AK: At conservatory pupils often go through a phase of wanting to play more daring things. It worked like that for me. So in comes Unity, wow!

FM: It’s regarded as a classic now. What’s unique about Larry Young and Unity?

AK: Well, it’s harmonically complex, it’s challenging. You know, it’s a coincidence really that Young is an organist, he probably would’ve played that modal stuff on any one given instrument. He’s less an organist than, say, Jimmy Smith.

FM: Young has a horn-like approach.

AK: Indeed. He plays scales, but not for the sake of complexity, but for the sake of wanting to create meaningful, exciting music.

FM: Without the experiments of John Coltrane and McCoy Tyner Larry Young wouldn’t have become the Larry Young of Blue Note fame.

AK: Sure. And he incorporated the whole tone scale that Thelonious Monk favored, you know. He’s a ‘modern’ organist.

Incidentally, Krijger’s iTunes list spews out Monk’s Dream, one of three Woody Shaw compositions on Unity, which is a mesmerising duet between Young and drummer Elvin Jones.

AK: Listen here, near the end. There’s that string of fast toodle-do’s. That’s the use of whole tone scale. He also incorporates it into his solo’s, of course. What a duet, they complement each other beautifully. Elvin Jones typically pushes and pulls, it has that rumble and incomparable juggling with time and tempo. Larry Young is like that, too.

FM: It’s intense.

AK: Yeah. And Young’s sound is clean and quite similar throughout his career. I think his Leslie speaker is almost ‘off.’ Young’s not in a circus, doing tricks. He eschews the desire of putting your feet on the ceiling combining high C’s with that Leslie speaker, and stuff like that.

What I figure Krijger also puts across in so many words is that Larry Young was an organist particularly keen on interacting with his fellow musicians, instead of merely functioning as a leader in front of a backing band. Naturally, Young was uniquely gifted to do so and indeed a lot of his groups sound utterly ‘together’. A look at some of Young’s colleagues during his Blue Note period, and beyond, is evidence of his standing and affinity: Elvin Jones, Grant Green, Joe Henderson, Woody Shaw, Bobby Hutcherson, Lee Morgan, Tony Williams, Miles Davis.

AK: He’s been a big influence. There aren’t too many organists that took Young’s approach to heart. Larry Goldings –whom I admire greatly – and Sam Yahel are cases in point.

I like to do different things to avoid boredom and, hopefully, improve. Some stick with one thing and become very good at it. That’s ok, too. But it’s not my bag.

PLAY THEM BLUES, BOY!

On the subject of organ jazz and Krijger’s place in the pantheon of the B3’s possibilities, the organist shows a relaxed yet serious demeanor. In his voice one can hear the drive of a seeker. Privately, Krijger is a good-natured, playful guy. Discussing his soul jazz past, a fair dose of that comic sensibility rubs off. A sensibility that, once a punchline comes in sight, is flavoured with a bit of hillbilly accent from the Zeeuws-Vlaanderen region he hails from. It could be that I’ve contaminated my interviewee. I’m from that southern part of The Netherlands as well.

AK: It took me a long time to shake off the desire to satisfy people with the usual organ jazz tricks. How it went was, I started with the intention to come up with something original, but then at the end of the gig succumbed and threw in some ‘burners’. Which, if it’s not your thing, is definitely not ok, of course.

Back then, whenever I was in a club with that organ, usually somebody in the crowd shouted: ‘O yeah, some Jimmy Smith tonite! Play them blues, boy!’ Which I would answer with, ‘yeah, well, we’re going to do something else.’ ‘Ah, come on, Jimmy’s the King!’ ‘Yeah, but…’ Haha!

Seated at the C3 organ, Krijger discusses another organist he likes, Melvin Rhyne, mostly known for his association with Wes Montgomery. Krijger is enamoured of Rhyne’s swinging, relaxed flow on albums such as Portrait Of Wes. Rhyne’s style is less adventurous as Larry Young’s, but distinctive for its continuous stream of valuable statements and just as devoid of unnecessary lacy embellishment. Krijger demonstrates Rhyne’s sound on the organ. It has to do with a minimum of pulled-out drawbars that create a sober sound and the plucky, ticky sound he gets from putting on the percussion button.

A brief but insightful object and history lesson. Arno Krijger is, to paraphrase a title of one of Larry Young’s other enduring albums, really ‘into something’.

Arno Krijger

At ease with a variety of styles, it is through his front-line organ jazz approach that Hammond-organist Arno Krijger (b. Terneuzen, 1972) is mostly known. High in demand, Krijger has worked and recorded with Jesse van Ruller, Billy Hart, Toine Thys, Stefan Lievestro, Rolf Delfos, Dick De Graaf, Joris Posthumus, Nueva Manteca and James Scholfield among others. He currently is a member of trombonist Nils Wogram’s Nostalgia Trio. A full-fledged organ buff from his childhood days, Krijger is nowadays not only appreciated for his Hammond keyboard skills but also for his exceptional foot pedal technique.

http://www.arnokrijger.nl

Here’s Arno Krijger celebrating the music of Oliver Nelson

Here’s Arno Krijger with Nils Wogram Nostalgia Trio

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