Cannonball Adderley Quintet Country Preacher (Capitol 1969)

The hefty stew of boiling groovy thickness and powerful prayer meeting that is The Cannonball Adderley Quintet’s Country Preacher – Live At Operation Breadbasket is the climax in their book of epic live performances it began a decade earlier with In San Francisco and At The Lighthouse.

The Cannonball Adderley Quintet - Country Preacher

Personnel

Cannonball Adderley (alto saxophone, soprano saxophone), Nat Adderley (cornet, vocals), Joe Zawinul (electric piano), Walter Booker (bass), Roy McCurdy (drums)

Recorded

in October, 1969 in Chicago

Released

as Capitol 404 in 1970

Track listing

Side A:
Walk Tall
Country Preacher
Hummin’
Oh Babe
Side B:
Afro-Spanish Omelet
a.Umbakwen
b.Soli Tomba
c.Oiga
d.Marabi
The Scene


The fundamental premise of Operation Breadbasket was equal economic opportunity for the black community. Founded by Leon Sullivan in Philadelphia in 1962 and further developed by Martin Luther King in Atlanta, it negotiated jobs for people in the ghetto and strived to correct the perverse fact that industries sold product in black neighbourhoods but seldom offered decent positions besides menial labor. Boycotting companies was but one of the strategies of the persuasive core of black ministry. King appointed Jesse Jackson as leader of the Chicago department, which fell under the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. (SCLC) Chicago Breadbasket was a success, winning many new jobs. It also became a cultural event, inspired by the weekly Saturday sermons by Reverend Jesse Jackson. Jackson became the national director of Operation Breadbasket in 1967.

It was tangible. There was something in the air tonight. Cannonball, his voice a bit hoarse from a cold, his stomach presumably still digesting a copious meal, is up for the task. The band, simultaneously charged and relaxed, sits at the knees of the Reverend Jesse Jackson, who has provided a focused and fiery sermon, and subsequently is basking in the pleasure of hearing another exciting performance at an Operation Breadbasket meeting, in church in Chicago, and surely the most sizzling to date. The heat is on.

The Reverend, or the Country Preacher (the second tune of the album, Joe Zawinul’s Country Preacher, is dedicated to Jackson), was in full bloom in 1969, as can be heard on the quintet’s album on the Capitol label. Walk Tall is preceded by a spirited bit of sermonizing from Jackson, who can’t help spouting some painful, redeeming truths during his introduction of the band: ‘The most important thing of all is that, not matter how dreary the situation is, and how difficult it may be, that the storm really doesn’t matter until the storm begins to get you down, so I advice to you, the message The Cannonball Adderley Quintet brings to us, is that it’s rough and tough in this getto, a lot of funny stuff going down, but you gotta walk tall!, walk TALL!!, WALK TALL!!!’ Whereupon McCurdy, Booker and Zawinul put down a lurid boogaloo-ish groove, acted upon by the roaring unison brass and reed of Nat and Cannonball Adderley, a perfectly attuned imagination of the cathartic mirror Jackson held forth to the evening’s audience. The eloquent Cannonball, who also puts in a few strong-willed words, and the ambitious orator Jesse Jackson are a challenging match.

It is a match that raises questions too. Ever since the killing of Martin Luther King, Jesse Jackson, candidate for the Democratic presidential campaign in 1984 and 1988, has been a popular but controversial figure, perhaps never more so than immediately after that horrible event in Memphis, Tennessee on April 4, 1968. Although evidence was feeble, Jackson has always maintained the claim that he’d held the dying King in his arms, hence the blood on his turtleneck sweater. The turtleneck sweater controversy was born. A day after the murder of Reverend King, prime national spearhead of the black cause, Jackson appeared in a television show, wearing the bloody sweater and telling his story. King’s wife and close King associates, especially Ralph Abernathy, the former leader of the SCLC, were shocked and a schism in the SCLC and black power movement was a fact. The survivors and successors of the cause are fighting to this day, a shameful page in the story of black unity. Naturally, let there be no mistake, nothing should be taken away from Cannonball Adderley, who participated in the musical and socio-cultural event with the zest and goodwill we’ve come to associate with the amiable alto saxophonist. One keeps wondering though if Cannonball realized that, by embracing Jesse Jackson, the coldshouldering of Abernathy-and-friends was a logical consequence?

He definitely was conscious of his musical heritage. Prime ambassador for jazz, Cannonball had always been introducing the group’s music in humorous and insightful fashions, the initial introductions ten years earlier on the Live In San Francisco album functioning as a catalyst for soul jazz, or jazz for Chuck Chitlin & Big Mary (Bobby Timmons’ funky This Here the tune that got feet tappin’). In 1969, Cannonball again is the perfect host, elaborating concisely on the content of the compositions and the value of black music. As he succinctly and matter-of-factly explains during his introduction of the roaring 12-bar blues Oh Baby, ‘a soulful excursion into the past, the present AND the future of our music.’ It oozes pride for a truly American art form, a music born out of enslavement, degradation and misery, with a cast of legends that were unfortunately still unknown to most Americans. Perhaps he is not saying it very loud like James Brown, or anguished like Nina “Mississippi Goddamn” Simone, but the message is clear.

However, for the message to be clear, one has to think a bit further. Cannonball talks about black music. Assumingly, Cannonball, a streetwise, genial and intelligent personality, was of the opinion that black music is potentially inclusive, that at least a number of white men/women were able to play black music. One member of his group, Joe Zawinul, comes from Austria. Past member Victor Feldman was praised by Cannonball for his blues-infested skills. Cannonball’s cooperation with Bill Evans for the album Know What I Mean was one of his most gratifying experiences, not to say a major artistic achievement. In Evans’ case, surely Cannonball felt that something very distinctive was added to the music that had its origins in New Orleans. I’m guessing that Cannonball wouldn’t dispute the idea that whites had a distinct role in the development of jazz from the beginning. But he realized that the black experience intensifies the music, and that once you take away the core of jazz – the blues – you’re left with lifeless notes and tones. It was 1969, jazz had suffered blows, rock and pop reigned supreme, obviously Cannonball wanted to keep jazz real, fresh and energetic. Good job too!

By the way, not only the gig, all funk, sleaze, slow drag, tough swing and sparkling Afro-Jazz, is a wonderful exercise in rhythm, even these speeches by Cannonball move with a smooth, danceable beat. This way they have a penchant of seguing into the tracks, of which Spanish Omelet, an Afro-Cuban ‘suite’, is the longest by far, taking up most of side B. Structure-wise, it may not be so interesting, as it’s low on coherent motives, yet it’s the expressive force that somehow makes five parts a whole, from the lilting melancholy of Nat Adderley’s flamenco-ish Umbakwen, the singing, bended notes of bassist Walter Booker’s a capella Soli Tomba, Joe Zawinul’s hard modal funk of Oiga to the uplifting swingbop of Cannonball’s showstopper Marabi. Spanish Omelet is home cookin’, lively chatter in Erotic City, the brooding presence of hard-boiled Romeo, who stands on the corner, unfazed, bleeding from his elbow… It’s this kind of soul fusion (Adderley would delve deeper into bonafide fusion with 1971’s The Black Messiah and 1974’s Pyramid) that reduces the languid Bitches Brew by Miles Davis, recorded a couple of months before Country Preacher, to background music for spliff smokers.

Good news. The rest is just as sizzling. Jammin’ on one chord has seldom been brought to the fore so successfully as during Nat Adderley’s Hummin’. A slow groove built up by very heavy percussion and bass, Nat Adderley plays with the sureness of a customer who ends a bar row and subsequently has couples dancing with his tipsy singsong, spitting, coughing, growling, while Cannonball, on soprano, is like a fellow working the cottage doors with sandpaper, sweat on his back and brows, a couple of hours away from a refreshing bottle of beer. Oh Baby finds Nat Adderley in the limelight again, takin’ care of business singing the blues with a lurid sense of self-mockery.

Zawinul’s Country Preacher, a slow soul tune, is an exercise in tension and release, and the audience goes berserk, not unlike the responses Otis Redding, Solomon Burke, Sam & Dave, Ike & Tina or Aretha Franklin brought about. That’s the piece of land these fellows had staked out for themselves in jazz country. Country Preacher: Live At Operation Breadbasket is expressive, eloquent soul power. It’s pleasantly un-programmatic, possesses a let’s play in the sunshine-ish innocence, yet it’s solid as a rock. It doesn’t come any sleazier and real. A serious party.

Serge Chaloff Blue Serge (Capitol 1956)

A year after the passing of Charlie Parker, the influential bop baritone saxophonist Serge Chaloff delivered his best album, Blue Serge.

Serge Chaloff - Blue Serge

Personnel

Serge Chaloff (baritone saxophone), Sonny Clark (piano), Leroy Vinegar (bass), Philly Joe Jones (drums)

Recorded

on March 14 & 16, 1956 at Capitol Studio, Los Angeles

Released

as T-742 in 1956

Track listing

Side A:
A Handful Of Stars
The Goof And I
Thanks For The Memory
All The Things You Are
Side B:
I’ve Got The World On A String
Susie’s Blues
Stairway To The Stars
How About You?


Parker’s redefinitions of the jazz language represented nothing less than an earthquake and certainly also bedazzled Serge Chaloff, who was born in Boston in 1923 from parents who were music teachers, with father Julius serving as pianist in the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Chaloff, who passed away in 1957, came up through the groups of Boyd Raeburn, Woody Herman (as part of the acclaimed Four Brothers reed section of the Second Herd), Georgie Auld, Jimmy Dorsey and Count Basie. His other influence beside Parker was baritone sax pioneer Harry Carney, longtime member of the Duke Ellington Orchestra. Both influences shine through on Blue Serge, Chaloff’s album that’s appropriately named after Duke Ellington’s composition, with a nod to the very blue Serge. The influences are incorporated into Chaloff’s remarkably fecund style, a style that locks tight with the alert, cookin’ Philly Joe Jones, the big-toned Leroy Vinegar, all-round bass class act and particularly exquisite as a ‘walker’, and Sonny Clark, master of long, horn-like lines and varied rhythmic placement.

Hi-level company: Jones on the brink of his defining role in the First Great Quintet of Miles Davis, embryonic vistas of Cool Struttin’ in the background of Clark’s mind, no other horn except baritone, Chaloff pulling it off as a distinct voice and stylist with graceful fluidity on the baritone saxophone, a feat that speaks volumes about the man’s authority. Chaloff’s sinuous, propulsive lines dance through a set of fast bop, ballads and medium tempo swingers on familiar changes. He’s a captivating balladeer that speaks to a lover both with sweet, breathy whispers and husky, sardonic, slightly vibrating comments on the one hand, a virtuoso who travels with deceptive ease through fast-paced burners on the other hand.

And whether it’s the loping tempo of A Handful Of Stars or the quicksilver pace of Al Cohn’s The Goof And I, instead of being led by it, Chaloff directs the flow of the quartet. Blue Serge is such an excellent session because that conductive quality is a talent that Chaloff shares with Clark, both possessing acute melodic rhythm and effortless flow. The mark of great players, particularly coming to the fore in receptive surroundings, and a mark we perhaps most of the time grasp intuitively, then finding it a marvel.

Chaloff was a major innovator on the baritone saxophone, paving the way for Cecil Payne, Pepper Adams and modern-day greats like Gary Smulyan, but his reputation is hampered by a concise discography, the direct result of the man’s addiction to drugs and the resulting struggles of maintaining proper work relations. Allegedly, Charlie Parker advised his disciples time and again to stay away from the stuff, most of the time to no avail, certainly in the case of Chaloff, a notorious user and rebel rouser. How tragic that, once Chaloff kicked the habit in 1957, having returned to his native city of Boston, he was diagnosed with spinal cancer and passed away on July 16. Regardless, Chaloff left us a magnificent piece of bari playing that is still fresh after all these years.

Henry Cain The Funky Organ-ization Of Henry Cain (Capitol 1967)

Hardly getting into the deep groove the title promises, organist Henry Cain’s The Funky Organ-ization Of Henry Cain instead is a carefully crafted soul jazz album produced by the legendary David Axelrod.

Henry Cain - The Funky Organ-ization Of Henry Cain

Personnel

Henry Cain (organ), Tony Terran (trumpet), Fred Hill (trumpet), Plas Johnson (sax), H.B. Barnum (sax, arrangements), John Kelson (sax), Howard Roberts (guitar), Arthur Wright (guitar), Jerry Williams (vibes, percussion), Gary Coleman (vibes, percussion), James Bond (bass), Earl Palmer (drums), Oliver Nelson (arrangements)

Recorded

in 1967 at Capitol Studio, Los Angeles

Released

Capitol 2688 in 1968

Track listing

Side A:
The Way I Feel
Respect
Sunny
Why? (Am I Treated So Bad)
Lonely Avenue
Dead End Street
Side B:
Shake A Lady
Precious Memories
Critic’s Choice
I’m On My Way
Horror Scope


Not only did engineer Rudy van Gelder shaped the sound of modern jazz, he also created the canvas for the gritty, groovy strokes of the organists in the sixties. Starting with Jimmy Smith in 1956, subsequently with a slew of others, Van Gelder succeeded to tame the overpowering Hammond B3 beast, bringing to the fore clear lines and a crisp and crunchy overall sound. As regards to small ensembles, it became the blueprint for other engineers and producers, provided they figured out how the wizard of Englewood Cliffs came to his surprising results. By all means, larger RVG-led productions weren’t less challenging. Jimmy Smith’s Verve LP The Cat, produced by Creed Taylor, engineered by Van Gelder, is but one example of Van Gelder’s flexible attitude towards larger bands that visited the famed studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey.

Henry Cain, a gospel-drenched bluesy player, would certainly have been a proper candidate for a Blue Note session in the early sixties. However, The Funky Organ-ization Of Henry Cain-session from 1967 is the organist’s only album as a leader in the sixties and beyond, up to his albums Cain’s Able and Something Another from the nineties. Cain, native of Indianapolis, Indiana (although there’s no recorded evidence, it seems likely that Cain has met fellow Indy citizen Wes Montgomery somewhere along the city’s illustrious strip of clubs, Indiana Avenue) performed with his trio The Three Souls for five decades. He moved to Los Angeles in the sixties, quickly turning into a seasoned accompanist. Cain performed and recorded with Della Reese, Bobby Bryant, Dinah Washington, Oliver Nelson and Howard Roberts. (Both Nelson and Roberts are featured on Cain’s album, the former providing arrangements, the latter guitar accompaniment) Cain is a notable, bop-bluesin’ contributor to pianist Jack Wilson’s outlandish album on Vault, The Jazz Organs. Henry Cain passed away in Las Vegas in 2005.

The musical equivalent of an armored brick mansion that could use some fresh air but nevertheless fails to hide a series of charming ornaments, the densely orchestrated, richly detailed The Funky Organ-ization Of Henry Cain seems perfectly suited for the sun-tanned, happy-go-lucky Californian audience: the Axelrod treatment, markedly different than Van Gelder’s. Marked by expert musicianship, Axelrod benefited from hiring part of the Wrecking Crew, the legendary, loose-knitted group of studio musicians, many of which had a jazz background, that provided the background for countless hits and albums of the classic pop and soul era, including Sonny & Cher, Frank and Nancy Sinatra and The Beach Boys. The VIP’s of the Crew (or how the group was called initially, The Clique or First Call Gang) are drummer Earl Palmer, bassist Jimmy Bond, saxophonist Plas Johnson and guitarist Howard Roberts. Jimmy Bond’s plucky, cocksure bass (credited officially as James Bond, no gun intended…) is best likened to another L.A. studio legend, Carol Kaye.

Soul (Otis Redding’s Respect), soul jazz (John Patton’s The Way I Feel, two tunes known from the Cannonball Adderley Quintet, Why? (Am I Treated So Bad)) and Nat Adderley Jr.’s I’m On My Way; not a coincidence, both tunes were featured on the quintet’s album Why? (Am I Treated So Bad), produced by Axelrod in March, 1967), r&b (Doc Pomus’ Lonely Avenue) and pop (Bobby Hebb’s Sunny) and a couple of original compositions: all tastes are catered for. But a hit wasn’t in the stars. So what, you can’t have it all, it’s 2017, fifty years after the fact, LSD is a long-forgotten pastime like the lost art of letter writing, thus why bother about the fact that Henry Cain didn’t score a hit? He did make an interesting album, so the best option might be to let the wicked winds of the world fly by your turntable and to settle down in your easiest chair, relax and put on a newly acquired copy of The Funky Organ-ization. Best option, no streaming equivalent yet. YouTube comes to the rescue, click above and below on the examples.

The fast take of Sunny reveals careful preparation, from the hot interlude that signals a modulation to the slightly dissonant sax and trumpet voicings. While Precious Moments and the Oliver Nelson tune Critic’s Choice are pedestrian, Axelrod’s Dead End Street is a tacky tune with a good, probing groove. It includes crisp breaks, as does Ray Bryant’s Shake A Lady. Double time rhythm splices the soulful line of Cain’s Horror Scope in half. The Way I Feel is Cain’s natural habitat. The division between sections of ensemble, brass/reed and guitar/bass/drums by the other arranger of the album, H.B. Barnum, is very effective. All the while, Henry Cain’s fleet, churchy lines scream for attention. Because for all The Funky Organ-ization’s radio-friendly message to Muscle Beach, it’s evident that you may take the maid from the village but you can’t take the village from the maid.