Art Blakey

Lee Morgan Leeway (Blue Note 1960)

- Francois Leave a comment

His (real) way or the highway. 

Personnel

Lee Morgan (trumpet), Jackie McLean (alto saxophone), Bobby Timmons (piano), Paul Chambers (bass), Art Blakey (drums)

Recorded

on April 28, 1960 at Rudy van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey

Released

as BLP 4034 in 1960

Track listing

Side A: These Are Soulful Days / The Lion And The Wolff/ Side B: Midtown Blues / Nakatani Suite

There’s a Kurt Vonnegut meme that’s floating around like a turtle in the high tide. It’s the one (paraphrase, FM) where the writer recounts his wife saying why on earth should he go out buying envelopes while all he needs to do is send his friend an email. Vonnegut replies that there are benefits to going out. He’ll have a chat with the paperboy, hear a song come out of a cab, hear the rustling of the leaves or see a cop on a horse click-clack by. Something to stir the imagination.

Grandaddy speaking, perhaps. But implied deep meaning disguised as cliché, no less. This comes from a man who didn’t want – was unable – to write about the horror of the Dresden bombing at the end of World War II. But Dresden eventually came to Vonnegut, as he, somewhat the Dalai Lama of literature, was fooling around with this and that. Ergo: Slaughterhouse Five.

It’s a bit sad that Vonnegut’s wisdom needs repeating (ironically, through the internet and social media) but it has become all the more poignant and relevant in the overwhelming age of artificial intelligence, virtual reality and the constraints of algorithms. (Not to be confused with the wisdom of slow food, slow traveling, slow fashion, slow sex – admirable efforts but the difference is Vonnegut shared it for free while ‘slow culture’ needs to make a profit)

Let’s read it as a call to arms.

If AI benefits our general health and welfare, let it blossom. Even as an efficiency tool to journalism, what the hell. But ho, ho and ho. Ask questions first. Do we want it to make human journalism disappear? And step back and consider this. Who is behind A.I.? We don’t know who, behind the surface, has access to information and so is actually running the show, yet we give up privacy and “Open” A.I. is making billions. No disclosure. Disclosure first, then we’ll see. Thoughts that better minds work out in depth elsewhere, but it needs reminding.

How do we get from A.I. and algorithm to Lee Morgan? Oh, no problem, listen here. Question. How would you like it if A.I. gets so perfect, having incorporated all Lee Morgan and Blue Note data, that it will be able to produce new Lee Morgan records on Blue Note, seemingly indistinguishable from the real thing. Or make it able for anyone with a laptop to produce ersatz Morgan records. Pro or con? Think hard.

(Mellow D73879: “My violet information brain cell is telling me that they used to play a thing called jazz from 1917 till approximately 2188. There were 4 or 5 people on a stage that banged on goat skins and blew air through copper tubes and there were people called ‘the audience’ that applauded after every song.”

Mellow D11255: “Sounds absurd. Wait a second, let me check my violet information brain cell. Yes, I see. They also pressed black discs from poison and used a diamant needle to send air waves from speakers into a room. Cool, but rather primitive.” 

Mellow D73879: “The freedom of creating musical ideas on the spot, without a safety net. That’s bad. That’s probably where all the trouble started, don’t you think? Wait… Yes, that’s it. Freedom was the cause of chaos and the end of civilization.” 

Mellow D11255: “Of course, that’s easy to say from our point of view. We’ve got our monthly shots of happiness ‘n’ bliss.”

Words aren’t spoken here. Feelings and discussions between the Mellow D’s are transmitted through globs of glutinous slime. Tangible things like earth, eyes, metal, underwear, dirt, aren’t relevant anymore. There are only dimensions and digits.

Mellow D11255: “It seems jazz was connected with what they used to call a culture. First it was used to move your hands and feet. Then it was mainly a thing to be digested by the ear and the intellect. It consisted of sounds – the air waves you spoke of – that reflected the plight of people with brown skin, who were suppressed by people with white skin. What is skin?”

Mellow D73879: “It all sounds positively ludicrous har har har!”)

Listen some more. The record that is pictured above was bought in a record shop in The Netherlands long ago and though this in itself is no big achievement, it is the opposite of letting yourself being swept away in the wasteland of Spotify’s fast food. Record store equates with discovery, Spotify (not downgrading evident advantages) equates with conformity and dulling of the senses. (not least exploitation of artists, other subject)

Not having a monopoly on realness, interchangeable with several other vintage modern jazz records, though a perfect example, Leeway stands for realness on several levels. Don’t you agree Lee Morgan (and Blue Note) is the real thing?

As if it needs confirmation. But aye! Damn right. Grounded in bebop, Dizzy Gillespie, Clifford Brown, Lee Morgan added his own brand of modernism, a virile mix of fire and a brassy full trumpet tone. He’s a go-getter. Doesn’t fool around, what you see is what you get though he’ll give you a certain margin to move around with your opinions and feelings…

Streetwise. Timbres and accents, slurs and whoops are adjectives of sassy sentences of saucy and sometimes lurid tales he tells. You see him hanging onto the bar rail for dear life, cracking up from laughter. Having a fight with his girl. Making up with his girl. Candy Candy Candy I can’t let you go… 

Candy lived in affluent times, the Korean War was over, the future looked bright, the suburban sprawl developed like a rash on a giant’s body. Neighbors competed against each other with bigger fridges, bigger cars, almost everybody saw Ed Sullivan introducing Elvis Presley, even the overtime workers in Detroit car factories, black and white, the blacks still worse off, always on guard for a racist cop. Morgan talks with a hustler who talks with a bricklayer that is out of a job who talks with a chorus girl whose boyfriend won a lottery and lends a dime to a beggar to hop on the bus to visit a friend in the Sing Sing jail…

It’s all there on his cooperation with Jackie McLean, Bobby Timmons, Paul Chambers, Art Blakey. McLean’s urgent alto sax, controlled passion. Timmons’s classy piano playing, ringing notes, barrelhouse tinges. Rumbling Blakey rolls, the fat Blakey sound! Super tunes, plainly awesome. Courtesy of pianist/composer from Philly, Cal Massey. These Are Soulful Days, unforgettable and beautiful melody, a celebration of life and communal spirit. Nakatani Suite a good contender, kids with mouths like razors playing hide and seek in Chinatown.

Morgan takes McLean’s Midtown Blues by the balls, a hot rod going for the extra mile. Finally, his homage: The Lion And The Wolff.

Yes, the Blue Note guys, Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff. The legendary label, now part of the corporate structure, back then factually a little independent company, was as real and authentic as they came. It nurtured the musicians they believed in (one of the prime BN artists, Lee Morgan, started recording at age 18 in 1956, was into his eighth album with Leeway in 1960, would stay with the company until his untimely death in 1972). Gave them time to rehearse. Music, production, imagery was top-tier.

Still an example for fab contemporary labels like Cellar Music, small wonder.

Blue Note was out there hocking real stuff. Morgan was out there night after night, pouring out his heart, blowing the blues. Jackie McLean too, Bobby Timmons, Paul Chambers, Art Blakey. It’s a realness people crave (again) more and more, a desire reflected by various YouTube channels, podcasts, new record stores popping up or old ones doing fine.

We want realness, we want people with passion sharing obsessions with other people with passion. (We have, in jazz, real cats: arrived figureheads like Christian McBride, Joshua Redman, Dado Moroni, new breed like Emmet Cohen, Sarah Hanahan, Erena Terakubo.) The biggies may have to scratch their heads and wonder if strict adherence to algorithms suffices to keep customers aboard.

We’re desperately trying not to be constantly staring at a tiny screen all the time, developing a swan neck and nearsightedness and hypertension. Erosion of soul, while soul is paramount. Sometimes buying an envelope on a soulful day is all we need.

Lee Morgan
Cal Massey
Lee Morgan envelope

(Lee Morgan; Cal Massey; Envelope)

Listen to Leeway on Don Kaart’s super jazz channel All That Jazz on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hurvE1QmrHo&list=RDhurvE1QmrHo&start_radio=1

Jimmy Smith The Sermon (Blue Note 1959)

- Francois Leave a comment

Mr. Smith goes to New York.

Personnel

Jimmy Smith (organ), Lee Morgan (trumpet), Tina Brooks (tenor saxophone), George Coleman & Lou Donaldson (alto saxophone), Eddie McFadden & Kenny Burrell (guitar), Donald Bailey (drums)

Recorded

on August 25,  1957 and February 28, 1958 at Manhattan Towers, New York

Released

as BLP 4011 in 1959

Track listing

Side A: The Sermon / Side B: J.O.S / Flamingo

One memory fades like the charm of a middle-aged rock singer, the other burns brightly like a torch. It’s like that and that’s the way it is. No matter how inconsequential this one may be, regardless of burned-out brain cells, moth-infested skull, feeble legs, minutes dripping from the sink like blood-red wine drops, this one is vivid, like it happened yesterday. I was young and I was driving on the highway near Antwerp, Belgium on my way home, the night was dark and silent except for the lights and the engine and Jimmy Smith’s The Sermon and ever since that super-swinging piece of organ jazz is road and night music beyond peer.

You dig, right? If there’s a candidate for the penultimate car and night music prize, it’s The Sermon. It’s long, approximately 20 minutes, and the groove, courtesy of Art Blakey’s shuffle and Smith’s bass work, is unstoppable. In fact, Blakey is somewhat the secret weapon here, eschewing his customary thunderous press rolls and concentrating on the beat instead, turning the heat up ever-so-slightly, finally letting loose during the shout chorus. It’s a relaxed but energetic beat that makes the guys at ease and swing with verve and flow. Everything just seems to go on and on relentlessly and before you know it you find yourself in Paris, Texas.

It’s a sin to spin Smith’s classic tune in broad daylight, though I have to confess that I committed it only last week on a bright and hot summer afternoon. It’s a bit like licking ice cream on the tundra. It was more like listening with the mind instead of the heart although the heart, as usual, comes out on top. At any rate, the reason was that it was about time that Jimmy Smith made his re-entry in Flophouse Magazine. Besides, how pitiful would it be to consciously get into the car at midnight and try to relive that one-of-a-kind experience on the highway? It’s tempting, but fruitless nostalgia. Besides, by 2 AM I’m usually sleeping on both ears and gears.

Among jazz fans, even organ jazz fans, there seems to be a downplaying of Jimmy Smith. They say he may have invented modern organ jazz but played the same stuff for the rest of his career. They say that he was very commercial. To this I say: I never hear you ladies and gentlemen complain about Stan Getz or Oscar Peterson playing the same stuff all their lives. And making good money. Admittedly, we all play favorites. I know guys that detest organ jazz and sneak in the nearest souvenir store every time I threaten to ramble on about it. I know people that love it and prefer the harmonies of pioneer Wild Bill Davis. Me, I have a special place in my heart for Don Patterson and the French organist Eddy Louiss and can conjure up many organ jazz highlights from other organists.

But let there be no mistake, Jimmy Smith is The Source. Miles Davis said he was “The Eight Wonder Of The World”. Better listen when the Dark Prince commences to ra(p)sp. Why? Well, firstly, Smith revolutionized bass playing, adding left hand patterns on the lower keyboard to the foot pedal style, broadening the tonal range and providing room for syncopation. Secondly, he cut down on the bombast of full registrations and slowed down the speed of the Leslie Speaker as well as made full use of the span-new percussive response, while accentuating notes with the expression pedal. This way, Smith created a clear sound that had the flexibility and punch of the horn.

Combined with Smith’s furious Bud Powell runs, the Smith style was a Big Bang. It was hot, propulsive, sinuous, and bluesy to the core. Ultimately, there is befóre and áfter Jimmy Smith and though he probably made too many records, like Sonny Stitt, one can only say that there is only one Sonny, there is only one Jimmy and you can hear the magic on countless occasions. (Part of the magic, lest we forget,  is maestro Rudy van Gelder, who was the first in finding ways to get this modern organ sound across in the studio)

The Sermon is but one example of the Smith revolution – recorded by Van Gelder not in his usual haunt at his parent’s place in Hackensack but at Manhattan Towers Hotel Ballroom –  listen to the bass lines and the bebop phrasing and the punch and the propulsion. The catchy blues theme is kicked off by Smith and Blakey, and it’s already fine like that, Smith’s low-end crunch and Blakey’s light breeze and Smith goes on for a good five minutes with fresh choruses, building a well-balanced, suspenseful story.

“The guys” are, in that order, Kenny Burrell, tenor saxophonist Tina Brooks, trumpeter Lee Morgan and alto saxophonist Lou Donaldson. Some heavyweights paying their dues. It’s interesting, though, that one newcomer, young star Lee Morgan, settles for a range of staccato, vocalized notes, while the other, virtual unknown Tina Brooks, burns through a series of kinetic choruses, endlessly inventive and smooth.

Lest we forget, Flamingo ain’t too bad, and the odd one out, J.O.S., leftover from a session with George Coleman on alto saxophone, typically included by Lion & The Wolff to complete one of myriad Smith discs, is a nice one. But it’s Reverend Smith’s relentless sermon that does the trick. Amen!

Clifford Jordan & John Gilmore Blowing In From Chicago (Blue Note 1957)

- Francois Leave a comment

Upcoming Chicagoans blend effortlessly with mighty New Yorkers for what has become one of the hard-swinging Blue Note classics.

Clifford Jordan & John Gilmore - Blowing In From Chicago

Personnel

Clifford Jordan (tenor saxophone), John Gilmore (tenor saxophone), Horace Silver (piano), Doug Watkins (bass), Art Blakey (drums)

Recorded

on March 3, 1957 at Rudy van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Released

as BLP 1549 in 1957

Track listing

Side A:
Status Quo
Bo-Till
Blue Lights
Side B:
Billie’s Bounce
Evil Eye
Everywhere


Although the title couldn’t have been more straightforward, I have always felt a sense of mystique regarding Blowing In From Chicago. See them coming, black cowboys on horseback, axe in hand, towering over the potholes of Broadway. Of course, in reality, someone drove Clifford Jordan and John Gilmore through the Lincoln tunnel, via the New Jersey Turnpike to one of the prime places of jazz recording history, Rudy van Gelder’s studio in the house of his parents in Hackensack. Benevolent couple, keen and self-willed optometrist-turned-engineer son, who spent more tape that toilet paper.

Blue Note label boss Alfred Lion had coupled the two Chicagoans with stalwarts Horace Silver, Curly Russell and Art Blakey, reunion group of Jazz Messengers. After all, although not strictly a Messenger, Russell had been bassist on Horace Silver’s Horace Silver Trio in 1953 featuring Blakey and on Art Blakey Quintet’s A Night At Birdland Volume 1-3 in 1954 featuring Horace Silver, among other associations with Silver and Blakey in the bop-to-hard bop-period. Jazz Messengers-founder Horace Silver had struck out on his own in 1956, leaving the baton to booming Blakey.

Happy reunion, success guaranteed. How did Lion come up with the idea of getting Jordan and Gilmore into the recording studio on March 3 in 1957? Likely at the advice of Johnny Griffin. Griffin had recorded his Blue Note debut album Introducing Johnny Griffin in April 1956 and had been high school mates of Jordan and Gilmore at DuSable in Chicago under the tutorage of famed teacher “Captain” Walter Dyett. Blowing was Jordan’s first session for Blue Note. The same year, he reappeared as co-leader (John Jenkins, Clifford Jordan & Bobby Timmons) and leader (Clifford Jordan, Cliff Craft).

Surprise pick John Gilmore is best known for his long association with Sun Ra from 1953-93. The Summit, Mississippi-born Chicagoan predominantly played clarinet in Army bands from 1948-52 and subsequently joined the Earl Hines band on tenor in 1953. One of the figureheads of Sun Ra’s quirky and esoteric big ensemble realm, Gilmore rarely recorded in the small ensemble format.

However, a closer look reveals that Gilmore delivered high-quality, original contributions to small bands, Blowing being the excellent starter. After a long silence, Gilmore added his tenor flavors to Freddie Hubbard’s The Artistry Of Freddie Hubbard (1962), McCoy Tyner’s Today And Tomorrow (1963), Elmo Hope’s Sounds From Ryker’s Island (1963), Paul Bley’s Turning Point (1964), Art Blakey’s ‘S Make It (1965), Andrew Hill’s Andrew (1964) and Compulsion (1966), Pete LaRoca’s Turkish Woman At The Bath (1967) and Dizzy Reece’s From In To Out (1970). His versatility is striking. He’s at home in the post-bop environment but also excellently contributes, clipped phrasing and off-beat developments of motives and all, to avantgarde recordings, notably Hill and Bley. His playing on LaRoca’s Turkish Woman is very powerful and in sync with the drummer’s exotic concept.

No doubt, certainly after all these years where Blue Note has become synonymous with jazz, Blowing is his best-known small band recording. In the liner notes, Joe Segal mentions that both Jordan and Gilmore were influenced by Lester Young, Don Byas, Lucky Thompson, Gene Ammons, Dexter Gordon, Charlie Parker and Sonny Rollins. On another record, namely Johnny Griffin’s Blowing Session, Leonard Feather simply classifies Jordan and Gilmore as respectively influenced by Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane. At that phase in his career, Jordan, who would become the revered creator of such original works as Glass Bead Games, surely professed a preference for the Rollins sound and style. But Gilmore and Coltrane? In 1957? Seems unlikely and seems more likely that Gilmore was influenced by the above-mentioned cats that blew in from elsewhere or simply came from Chicago like Gene Ammons.

The early 1960s is another matter entirely. Sources like the Coltrane bio Chasin’ The Trane and Coltrane’s interview with Frank Kofsky in 1966 reveal that there has been mutual influence between Gilmore and Coltrane. They met at Monday night sessions at Birdland in 1960, where Gilmore teached Coltrane techniques to reach high notes and Coltrane showed his tenor colleague the ropes of unique harmonies. It is well-known that Coltrane was inspired by Sun Ra. Reportedly, Coltrane had listened extensively to Gilmore, whose playing style on Ra’s records of the late 1950’s directly influenced Coltrane’s new direction of his Chasin’ The Trane recording. It is much harder to pinpoint the influence of Coltrane on Gilmore, which Feather, in his revised 1970’s edition of the famed Encyclopedia of Jazz, reluctantly admits. It’s much more difficult to push the Little Man Influences Little Big Man story down people’s throat than vice versa.

So much for jazz influences and jazz popes, here it is March 3, 1957, stormy weather of swing, a couple of hip tenors aboard the Blakey Boat, captain Art, helmsman Horace and boatswain Curly delivering the goods of a well-documented classic. As producer and writer Michael Cuscuna wrote in the liner notes to Blowing’s 2003 CD reissue, the balance between tunes is perfect, the set being divided between hard swinger (Chicagoan John Neely’s Status Quo) and Latin-tinged tunes (Jordan’s Bo-Till) that are based on familiar changes, contemporary standard and minor-key blues (Gigi Gryce’s Blue Lights and Jordan’s mellow Evil Eye), typically keenly structured Silver original (Everywhere) and major-key bop romp (Charlie Parker’s Billie’s Bounce).

Admirably unperturbed by the gusty winds of Blakey, Jordan and Gilmore acquit themselves very well, Jordan employing a smooth tone and semi-lazy beat, Gilmore working with a harder sound and vertical, dynamic lines. The secret of Blowing’s success, could it be anything else, lies in the presence of Art Blakey. Ever heard a sizzling ride beat as in Status Quo? Ain’t no status quo! Major sea changes in the time frame of merely 5 minutes, incited by furious rolls and tacky rimshots, right on the dot. Blakey’s intro of Billie Bounce, too, is unforgettable and, lest we forget, followed up by sustained, hard groove. It also features a long, fervent solo by Silver.

Made 63 years ago, Blowing In From Chicago remains an unbeatable record, perfect kick start of the day or evening, like a strong and hot cup of Portuguese espresso.

Julius Watkins Julius Watkins Sextet (Blue Note 1954/55)

- Francois Leave a comment

Nobody swung on the French horn like Julius Watkins.

Julius Watkins Sextet - Vol 1

Julius Watkins Sextet Vol. 2

Personnel

Julius Watkins (French horn), Frank Foster (tenor saxophone 1-4), Hank Mobley (tenor saxophone (5, 7-9), George Butcher (piano 1, 2 & 4), Duke Jordan (5-9), Perry Lopez (guitar 1-4, 6, 8 & 9), Oscar Pettiford (bass), Kenny Clarke (drums 1-4), Art Blakey (5-9)

Recorded

on August 8, 1954 and March 20, 1955 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Released

as BLP 5053 in 1954 and BLP 5064 in 1955

Track listing

Linda Delia
Perpetuation
I Have Known
Leete
Garden Delights
Julie Ann
Sparkling Burgundy
B And B
Jordu


Jazz soloists on the ‘awkward’ French horn are scarcer than the four-leaf clover. The two biggies and pioneers of modern jazz are Julius Watkins and David Amram. Amram came on the scene at the legendary Five Spot Café in The Bowery in New York City in the mid-fifties and at 90-years old looks back on a career as indigenous player and composer in jazz and popular music. Julius Watkins, born in 1921, unfortunately only went as far as 1977. Regardless, the Detroit-born French horn player must’ve looked back with pride. His legacy is impressive.

Need a French horn? Call Julius. He’s omnipresent as soloist and part of big ensembles. To give you an idea, Watkins was associated with Milt Jackson, Oscar Pettiford, Thelonious Monk (Monk, Thelonious Monk & Sonny Rollins), Donald Byrd, Quincy Jones, Miles Davis (Porgy & Bess), Gil Evans, Dizzy Gillespie, Clark Terry, Randy Weston, John Coltrane (Africa/Brass), Johnny Griffin, Tadd Dameron, Art Blakey, Charles Mingus, The Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra and McCoy Tyner. Watkins co-led The Jazz Modes with tenor saxophonist Charles Rouse from 1956 till ’59.

Isn’t it wonderful how jazz musicians managed to incorporate such oblique European instruments as French horn? I love the sound of the instrument, bittersweet, silk and satin, like thin air, like the voices of angels that have slept off their wining and dining. The horn is lovely supportive to big ensembles, providing a soft landing for the crackling brass of trumpet and trombone. It was like wax in the hands of Julius Watkins. His fluidity on the instrument was virtually unparalleled. His sound is rich and flexible, varying from cushion-soft reveries to tart calls to arms. You hear those stories about how classical music pros from the big symphonic orchestras were stunned to hear what kind of unbelievable stuff legends like Louis Armstrong coaxed from their instruments and imagine many will have been fascinated by the efforts of Julius Watkins. See what Julius was able to do with the horn in this YouTube excerpt of his hand-muted solo with Quincy Jones in 1960. Fantastic.

Watkins recorded his leadership debut on Blue Note in 1954 and ’55, two 10 inch records that were belatedly repackaged on CD in 1995. At least to my knowledge Blue Note did not re-release the sessions on the new 12 inch format soon afterwards, as it usually did with their 10inch platters like the New Stars New Sounds LP’s. Am I right? Anyway, the sessions consisted of top-notch hard bop with the cream of the crop, the first session featuring tenor saxophonist Frank Foster and drummer Kenny Clarke, the second session featuring Hank Mobley, pianist Duke Jordan and drummer Art Blakey, all of them underlined by bassist Oscar Pettiford. Pleasant surprises are provided by guitarist Perry Lopez and pianist George Butcher.

The highlight of the first session is Linda Delia, which takes us down to Mexico on a beat that’s as lively and fulfilling as the smile of a baby, engendered by Kenny Clarke’s masterful finger strokes and rolls, and includes a brilliant, clattering entrance by Watkins, who sustains the jubilant feeling with a diversity of sunny colors. Guitarist Perry Lopez, a kind of mix between Kenny Burrell and Jimmy Raney throughout the two sessions, is especially cool. All-rounder Frank Foster is another asset of this top-notch BLP 5053 record.

BLP 5064 beats this to the punch, though, Blakey unusually forceful with the brushes, Mobley’s smooth sound blending particularly well with Watkins’s sweet and sour stories, Duke Jordan laying down some of his most urgent and pleasantly bouncy lines of that era. Here, amongst the sultry Garden Delight and an early version of Jordan’s instant classic Jordu, the sprightly boppish Sparkling Burgundy stands out, a title that couldn’t have been more appropriate. This band pops the cork with some bubbly, captured beautifully by the legendary Rudy van Gelder, at that time still working from the living room of his parents in Hackensack, New Jersey.

Killer sleeve of Vol.2 as well.

Cannonball Adderley Somethin’ Else (Blue Note 1958)

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Can’t you hear those rustling autumn leaves?

Cannonball Adderley - Somethin' Else

Personnel

Cannonball Adderley (alto saxophone), Miles Davis (trumpet), Hank Jones (piano), Sam Jones (bass), Art Blakey (drums)

Recorded

on March 9, 1958 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Released

as BLP 1595 in 1958

Track listing

Side A:
Autumn Leaves
Love For Sale
Side B:
Somethin’ Else
One For Daddy-O
Dancing In The Dark


Hyperbole may not be a strictly postmodern disease – as a matter of fact it all kind of started with the headlines in the Hearst papers in the 1930’s – but it is prevalent in the contemporary media-saturated society, excepting serious journalism. Perhaps I’m not entirely free from guilt. Most of us have our personal favorites that are in dire need of canonization. We live in a world of so-called ‘classic’ records. However, few records were instant classics in their lifetime. For instance and for various reasons, Duke Ellington’s Ellington At Newport (on the strength of the stellar 27 choruses of Paul Gonsalves during Diminuendo In Blue), Miles Davis’s Kind Of Blue, Dave Brubeck’s Time Out, Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz, Lee Morgan’s The Sidewinder, Herbie Hancock’s Head Hunters and Pat Metheny’s Still Life (Talking) are regarded as bonafide classics nowadays and though they were recognized as special back then, there was some lag time involved. Usually, as far as game-changing art goes, the dust needs to settle down. No doubt, it needed to settle down in Ornette Coleman’s case.

Cannonball Adderley’s Somethin’ Else is a classic record, one of those “100 must-hear records”. It also arguably is, like Ellington’s Newport and Morgan’s The Sidewinder, a classic on the strength of one tune, Autumn Leaves. In its time, it was regarded as exceptional. A.B. Spellman typified it as “near perfect”, a record with “not a wrong note nor throwaway song in its grooves.” That, regardless of the sublime highlight Autumn Leaves, is very true. One of the great things about Somethin’ Else, which paired Cannonball Adderley with Miles Davis, Hank Jones, Sam Jones and Art Blakey, is the consistent high quality of playing and a vibe all of its own. Hard to describe, easy to feel. Organic.

Big boost for Cannonball. The alto saxophonist from Tampa, Florida had joined Miles Davis in 1957, favoring the request of the Dark Prince over the invitation from Dizzy Gillespie. He had disbanded his quintet with Nat Adderley, who did not begrudge his big brother’s decision. After all, their stint in the roster of EmArcy had not been a financial pleasure. Cannonball was frustrated by EmArcy’s lack of support.

Not only was financial security and musical interaction with Miles Davis a boost, the pairing with John Coltrane, who had returned to Davis’ group after kicking the habit, proved influential for Cannonball. Following a series of performances that enabled Cannonball and Coltrane to perfect their ensembles and indulge in spirited battles, the band record the eponymous Milestones in February and March – March 4 saw Cannonball contributing to Dr. Jekyll and Sid’s Ahead. Afterwards, Cannonball hurried to Bell Sound Studio to fulfill his obligations to EmArcy and record Cannonball’s Sharpshooters. Busy day. Then came March 9 and Somethin’ Else. Busy week. This period eventually was a stepping stone to the Miles Davis masterpiece Kind Of Blue in 1959. And 1959 was the year that Cannonball signed with Riverside. His association with the emphatic label boss Orrin Keepnews reunited the Adderley brothers and gave the genial alto saxophonist the widespread recognition that he so well deserved.

So yeah, Somethin’ Else. Somethin’ else… Ain’t that the truth. Lovely vibe. It seems Cannonball was thoroughly affected by Miles Davis, maestro of economy and restraint, sideman on this date but omnipresent and the one that allegedly turned on Alfred Lion to the idea of recording Cannonball – “Is this what you wanted, Alfred?” is the raspy voice of Davis coming through the mic at the end of the title track. Davis had found a good mate in Hank Jones, Mr. Elegance, who hadn’t recorded with the trumpeter since a 1947 Aladdin session of Coleman Hawkins. And Blakey’s adjustment to Davis is sensitive, while not without steadily increased intensity. Balance and propulsion.

It was a great idea to contrast Davis’s handling of some of the melodies – muted lyricism – with the ebullient and unrestrained variations of Cannonball – delicious side streets and blues-drenched note-bending. How everyone is focused on the big picture, all nuance, delicacy and seemingly casual, lightly spicy swing, is marvelous. This is the overriding asset of the title track, which boasts swell interplay between Davis and Cannonball, the Nat Adderley 12-bar blues One For Daddy-O and the ballad Dancing In The Dark, which puts the leader in the limelight.

Autumn Leaves is every jazz musician’s wet dream. Everybody had a hard year. Everybody had a good time. Everybody had a wet dream. Everybody saw the sunshine. And everybody with an ounce of feeling in his gut feels the autumn leaves falling. This tune is the essence of the feeling that you want to present as a gift to the listener. You want the invited to succumb to a dream state and these guys are the combined epitome of transmogrification. They make sure that you softly land on a cloud. No, not even land. You are weightless, float in space.

Autumn Leaves hadn’t been interpreted in this way before and the idea of weightlessness is likely what was intuitively brought in by Miles Davis, who at the time was inspired by Ahmad Jamal, harbinger of seemingly ephemeral but meaningful harmonies. A five-note piano-bass intro is the bedrock for a dramatic Spanish-tinged brass and reed introduction, starting point for the plaintive melody by Miles Davis, underscored by Blakey’s subtle brushes. You feel satin cloth. Hear mice nibble. Then there’s Cannonball’s sermon, a merging of sleaze and clarity. Wonderfully dynamic. Of many colors, in the slipstream of Davis. Blakey switches to snappy sticks, till the return of Davis, who makes his mark with an extreme minimum of notes, one magenta, one pigeon grey, one slightly left from crimson. Hank Jones is last in line, and Mr. Elegance also prefigures the recurrent five-note figure with a stately a-capella bit. Lastly, the tune ends on a steadily slower tempo, Jones jingling modestly, Davis putting in a few cautious notes. Briefly, you savor the mystery of nature, are at peace with mortality… the autumn leaves gently fall on moss, fungi, kipple.

You don’t want it to end.

Max On Wax

- Francois Leave a comment

BOOK REVIEW – MAX BOLLEMAN

Max Bolleman

At the start of Max Bolleman’s career as studio engineer in the early ‘80s, impresario Wim Wigt requested him to bring 30.000 dollars to Rudy van Gelder in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. A stupendous amount of cash for the Timeless All-Stars of Cedar Walton and Bobby Hutcherson, among others, which Bolleman had to smuggle through customs and airport security stacked in his socks and underwear. The dumbfounded one-off runner eventually made the delivery and could not resist to “accidentally” take a peek under the piano, curious for the answer to the burning question of how the legendary RVG recorded the sound of the piano. RVG saw what happened and, to put it mildly, was not amused.

It is one of many entertaining anecdotes in I’m The Beat – De korte beentjes van Art Blakey (Art Blakey’s short legs, FM), Bolleman’s memoirs of his career as studio engineer from 1981 to 2009. Finally came around to reading Bolleman’s book from 2015. Well worth it.

Max Bolleman (1944) started as a drummer in the early ‘60s. He played with Louis van Dijk and Harry Verbeke and led his own groups Suite Four and Soul Max. Bolleman made notable appearances with Don Byas, Dexter Gordon, Clark Terry and René Thomas.

Running a business as optometrist – a profession he coincidentally shared with Van Gelder – Bolleman started working as engineer in his hometown of Monster, South-Holland in his home Studio 44. He eventually was engineer on more than 1500 sessions, mostly for Timeless and Criss Cross, the label of the late Gerry Teekens, another passionate self-made man with whom Bolleman developed a close relationship. “These guys from Holland” earned an outstanding reputation in New York, where Bolleman also regularly worked.

Max Bolleman - I'm The Beat
Rudy van Gelder & Max Bolleman
Art Blakey - Studio 44
Freddie Hubbard - Studio 44
(From l. to r: I’m The Beat; Rudy van Gelder and Max Bolleman; Art Blakey & Freddie Hubbard at Studio 44)

I’m The Beat expresses the viewpoint that being a studio sound engineer is a grossly underrated tightrope walk with circumstances that not only requires skills and exceptional ‘ears’ but also a fair amount of psychological and social adroitness. Blood, sweat and tears. Generally, jazz musicians are a sensitive and headstrong lot – sometimes under the influence or, in the case of black musicians – awkward but with sound reason – anti-white. Perhaps it is the typically level-headed nature of the Dutch that makes them meet these demands exceptionally well. Furthermore, Bolleman does not hide his love for good-old fashioned analogue production, which requires risk-taking and improvisation, as opposed to the ‘fix and polish it with Pro Tools’ mentality of digital engineering. The Bolleman Sound equated with high-quality production, an acclaimed sound that induced many a musician to gasp that “everybody talks about the sound instead of my album.”

Bolleman’s tale reads like that of a kid in a candy store. He recounts many satisfying sessions with Dizzy Gillespie, Clark Terry, Chet Baker, McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Raney, Joe Henderson, Woody Shaw, Phil Woods, Tommy Flanagan, Kenny Burrell, Eddie Harris, Kenny Barron, Willem Breuker, Brad Meldhau, Chris Potter and many more. At times, his memories are dryly comical: panicky chain-smoking Japanese producers, Al Cohn making crossword puzzles between tunes ánd solo’s. At times they’re downright hilarious: Freddie Hubbard being chased out of the studio with a knife by percussionist and wannabe trumpeter Jerry Gonsales, brass player Malte Burba recording three-feet long alphorn plus the sound of his well-balanced farts. And endearing: Bolleman being carried on the shoulders by one of his greatest heroes, the 64-year old Elvin Jones, happy with how the session turned out.

Then there are the short legs of his other big hero, Art Blakey. Good story. Great book.

Chet Baker - Cool Cat
Kenny Barron - Green Chimneys
Joe VanEnkhuizen - Back On The Scene

Plenty of good places to start listening to Bolleman records, if you’re not already familiar with them. I, for one, am not done yet. I always loved the Chet Baker records on Timeless. Pure late career Baker, not always consistent but captured by Bolleman at his most intimate. Also the way Bolleman recorded piano trios is excellent. And I remember being surprised by the underrated Dutch tenor player Joe VanEnkhuizen – currently a top-notch accordion player – and former bandmate of Bolleman. Scroll through the Timeless and Criss Cross catalogue and feel your way from there.

Max Bolleman & Herbert Noord

I’m The Beat – of De Korte Beentjes van Art Blakey; Mijn Bestseller.nl, 2015.

Max Bolleman - I'm The Beat

Pictures: Bolleman archive.

Buy Sounds, the English translation of I’m The Beat, here.
And the original Dutch version on Bol.com here.

Art Blakey Just Coolin’ (Blue Note 1959/2020)

- Francois Leave a comment

NEW RELEASE – ART BLAKEY

Another one from the vault of Blue Note, hurray! The buoyant, invincible swing of Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers infuses Just Coolin’, a 1959 session with the classic frontline of Lee Morgan and Hank Mobley.

 

Art Blakey - Just Coolin'

Personnel

Art Blakey (drums), Lee Morgan (trumpet), Hank Mobley (tenor saxophone), Bobby Timmons (piano), Jimmy Merritt (bass)

Recorded

on March 8, 1959 at Rudy van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Released

as BN 64201 in 2020

Track listing

Tracks:
Hipsippy Blues
Close Your Eyes
Jimerick
Quick Trick
M&M
Just Coolin’


Shelving excellent sessions was second nature to Blue Note boss Alfred Lion. He undoubtedly had his reasons for ignoring Art Blakey’s session of March 8, 1959. On the strength of Just Coolin’, unearthed by ace producer Zev Feldman, Lion’s reasons could hardly have come from a musical viewpoint. Just Coolin’ is top-notch Blakey: hip tunes, hard and fluent swing, fiery and tasteful contributions by Lee Morgan, Hank Mobley and Bobby Timmons.

What else then would’ve been Lion’s considerations? After the unexpected hit record of Moanin’ in early 1959 Lion shelved the drum-oriented Drums Around The World session of November 2, 1958 – released in 1999 – and instead released the equally percussion-heavy session of November 9 as Holiday For Skins Vol. 1 & 2 in June 1959. Skins, furthermore, consisted not of Blakey’s successful working band but featured Donald Byrd, Ray Bryant, Art Taylor, Philly Joe Jones and Ray Barretto, among others. Presumably, the “drum” sessions were specifically stimulated by Blakey. Presumably, Lion was looking for a follow-up to the popular Moanin’ album. He put the Messengers in the studio in March not long after they had returned from a tour in Europe.

But instead of releasing that session, Lion chose to go for a live recording of April at Birdland, released as At The Jazz Corner Of The World Vol. 1 & 2. Not a bad idea, Blakey’s preceding live records, Live At Birdland and At Club Bohemia, had been good sellers, capturing The Jazz Messengers at their spontaneous best. Perhaps Lion was challenged as well by French RCA, which released Au Club St. Germain Vol 1, 2 & 3 early in 1959, beating him to a punch. Most of all, I think Lion trusted on his intuition, looking for another good Blakey seller. And Jazz Corner, showcasing Blakey as genial jazz ambassador and his Messengers as exciting young bloods, did sell properly. Lion had to make choices for his complete roster of artists all year round. He shelved the excellent November ’59 session of Africaine (released in 1981) at the expense of Big Beat. Flooding the market is of no use.

Even if you’re prepared for Blakey’s big beat, hearing his band in full bloom is still an exhilarating experience. The session is restored beautifully, coming at you as if the Messengers are playing in your room. Four tunes, Close Your Eyes, Mobley’s Hipsippy Blues, M&M and Just Coolin’, would appear on At The Jqzz Corner Of The World. Timmons’s Quick Trick and Jimerick (unknown composer) are previously unreleased tunes. Jimerick is especially noteworthy, an uptempo cooker with a jump blues-feel and catchy stop-time theme that showcases bright, energetic solo’s by Timmons, Morgan and Blakey.

Just Coolin’ is vintage Messengers, Blakey pushing the band at paced mid to up-tempos with driving shuffles, typically driving his men through hard bop avenue with the Blakey Press Roll and various lush and greasy accents and rim shots. Perhaps the records lacks an epic tune and perhaps there’s one tenor sqeak too many, but how the elegant and classy Mobley has always maintained both drive and his cool in front of Blakey is one of the joys of this particular line-up. Morgan is all chutzpah, grease, fire. At times, his notes deliriously dance on the changes, solidly landing on their feet, which combined with Morgan’s bright and brazen tone is a very gratifying experience.

The Jazz Messengers were about honesty, blues and what Mobley alluded to in his quote of a famous, emblematic Ellington piece during Close Your Eyes. There’s plenty of that on Blue Note’s latest “vault” release.