Kidd Jordan

[7/4]

June 13, 2008

Music Review | Kidd Jordan

A Sax Man of Distinction and That Vision Thing

By NATE CHINEN

To the extent that the tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan is known in the general jazz world, he’s known as a New Orleans patriarch and educator. Dig deeper and you might also hear about his long, eclectic career as a sideman and his role in inspiring the formation of both the Dirty Dozen Brass Band and the World Saxophone Quartet. But Mr. Jordan, 73, has never made much of a dent as a solo artist, and he still doesn’t have an entry in “The Biographical Encyclopedia of Jazz” (Oxford).

None of which should be seen as a reflection of Mr. Jordan’s prowess, or his prominence among a certain adventurous subspecies of jazz fan. At the Vision Festival, held annually on the Lower East Side, he commands a sort of veneration.

On Wednesday at the Clemente Soto Vélez Cultural Center, the festival devoted a full evening of programming to Mr. Jordan, bestowing what it calls a lifetime recognition honor. And he earned that distinction, playing hard in four ensembles and presiding over a fifth, in a room that might charitably be described as ventilation challenged.

The group that didn’t include Mr. Jordan was a sextet featuring two of his accomplished sons: Marlon, a trumpeter, and Kent, a flutist. Their set, atypical for the festival, involved post-bop standards by John Coltrane and Wayne Shorter. In terms of content and execution, it would have suited a Midtown jazz club.

Every ensemble featuring Mr. Jordan, by contrast, knocked about in the realm of free improvisation. He’s a master of that tradition, one of a handful of saxophonists of his generation to absorb the breakthroughs of his contemporaries Coltrane and Ornette Coleman, not just as a shock but also as a spur. His technique has the capacity to astonish, especially in the altissimo range. But he works to ensure that the technical takes a backseat to the soulful.

That much was clear in the first of his two sets with William Parker on bass and Hamid Drake on drums, the same partners as on “Palm of Soul” (AUM Fidelity), one of Mr. Jordan’s few available albums. During one heated stretch, he engaged in a strident back-and-forth with the violinist Billy Bang; during another, he took the horn out of his mouth and called out exhortations.

He seemed just as committed to a quintet with Mr. Parker, the trumpeter Clyde Kerr, the pianist Joel Futterman and the drummer Gerald Cleaver. His rapport with Mr. Futterman in particular — they have recorded together — was striking. Earlier he had struggled to find the right chemistry with another strong pianist, Dave Burrell.

But the set with Mr. Burrell had also presented Mr. Jordan with an intuitive foil, the baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett. Their dual improvisation kept returning to the substance of a spiritual, with rewarding results.

A similar thing happened in the evening’s exquisite finale: Mr. Jordan locked horns with Fred Anderson, a fellow tenor and former Vision Festival honoree. As on the album “2 Days in April” (Eremite), recorded in 1999, they dug in deeply with Mr. Parker and Mr. Drake. But first there was a conversational prelude, in which the two saxophonists tossed phrases back and forth, rejoicing and rejoindering with a mischievous secret wisdom.

[papsrus]

Sounds like one helluva day. I think the only thing I'm familiar with of Jordan's is "Palm of Soul." ... It always amazes me how these older cats can play and play and play -- not just the physical demands, which surely must be substantial, but the creative demands as well. ... Nice to see he got some recognition.

[7/4]

Kidd Jordan Makes the Vision Festival His Own

By WILL FRIEDWALD

June 13, 2008

http://www.nysun.com/arts/kidd-jordan-make...-his-own/79918/

In New Orleans, there's a venerated tradition of nicknaming younger, hot-shot musicians "kid" — sort of like Western gunslingers. The name often sticks, which is why it's no big deal to address an elder statesman as "Kid" in the Crescent City. Two of the best known of these were actually named Edward: the pioneering trombonist Kid Ory (1886-1973) and Kidd Jordan, who is being celebrated this week at the 13th annual Vision Festival at Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center on the Lower East Side.

In the case of Mr. Jordan, who turned 73 last month, the appellation is somewhat appropriate, since his music continues to convey a childlike sense of wonder. Wednesday was the big night of the six-day Vision Festival XIII, in which the man of the hour played in four different combinations, and a fifth group performed a tribute to him.

I arrived in time to hear the climax of Mr. Jordan's quartet with the equally sagacious violinist Billy Bang (plus the drummer Hamid Drake and bassist and festival co-founder William Parker). Of course, a free-jazz performance often consists entirely of climax. Messrs. Bang and Jordan are extreme free players, yet they know exactly how much of the traditional elements of jazz to retain. As a result, no matter how explosively chaotic their music gets, one can always hear something that sounds like a regular rhythm, something that sounds like a tempered note, something that sounds like a melody, something that approximates swing, and something that evokes the blues. Owing to Mr. Jordan's long history in R&B and pop, the tunes and traditions on which the quartet fell back were just as likely to be funk vamps.

Mr. Bang is the latest in a long line of top-tier musicians with whom Mr. Jordan has achieved a remarkable synergy. It's one thing to achieve that on an agreed-upon pitch in the Western scale, but Messrs. Jordan and Bang coordinated their shrieks to the point that their instruments were yelping precisely the same microtone, as if the violin and the tenor saxophone had somehow been fused into a single mechanism operated by two men.

The next group co-starred Mr. Jordan and the pianist Joel Futterman, and it was planned as an outgrowth of the trio that they have led with the drummer Alvin Fielder (which is represented on the "Southern Extreme" album, from 1997). Sadly, Mr. Fielder was too ill to attend, so the group became a quintet with the inclusion of the prolific drummer Gerald Cleaver, Mr. Parker again on bass, and the trumpeter Clyde Kerr. The highlight here was the interplay between Messrs. Jordan and Futterman; while the bass and drums supplied a foundation of time and a kind of harmony, Mr. Kerr's trumpet offered a discernible if abstract melody, and the tenor sax and piano departed for parts unknown.

Mr. Futterman's playing has frequently been compared with that of Cecil Taylor, though it's hard to imagine how anyone could play free jazz on the piano without sounding like him. Mr. Futterman uses a similar technique of random-sounding pounding on the keyboard — a chaotic swirl of notes and pitches that, in a goofy way, sort of make sense. (Regrettably, Mr. Futterman didn't double on sopranino saxophone, as he sometimes does on the trio's recordings.) There were quieter, even lyrical moments, in which Mr. Parker played a skittering arco solo; normally, the use of the bow makes the double bass sound more classical, but Mr. Parker has developed a technique in which his arco playing is even further out than his customary pizzicato. In this music, one relishes every little phrase of conventional melody, much the same way the audience relished every little breeze that wafted through the unventilated theater on Wednesday.

There was a lot of conventional melody in the band consisting of Mr. Jordan's students and progeny, led by his sons, the trumpeter Marlon Jordan and the floutist Kent Jordan. After years of regularly attending the Vision Festival, I never thought I'd hear a bop-centric set built around jazz standards ("Footprints," "Impressions") and the blues. Marlon is a representative member of the power-trumpet school of Freddie Hubbard and Woody Shaw, and Kent soloed eloquently, especially on piccolo, a woodwind rarely heard in improvised music. The quintet was well-propelled by the very versatile Mr. Cleaver on drums, who soloed as if he had been waiting his whole life — or at least the whole evening — to do so. The major disappointment of the set was that Kidd Jordan himself didn't sit in — he's never showed New Yorkers any of his facets other than his avant-garde technique, and I would love to hear what he sounds like playing chord-based bebop.

Mr. Jordan has been a regular player at Vision almost since the festival's origins, but he should have felt right at home at Clemente Soto in another regard: The sweltering heat and heavy humidity in the theater (whatever cooling system they had was decidedly not up to code) must have reminded him of New Orleans. Mind you, this was Wednesday, when the temperature was only in the upper 80s. I can't even imagine what it must have been like the previous night, when it was 10 degrees hotter. A few hardy attendees (dudes, alas) responded by stripping to the waist. Yet at 73, Mr. Jordan was so robust that he flew from set to set without even pausing to change his sweat-stained T-shirt.

[7/4]

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Kidd Stays in the Picture

The MC at Wednesday’s Vision Festival Lifetime Achievement performance for Kidd Jordan introduced the guest of honor by means of analogy: “Basketball’s got MJ. But we’ve got KJ!” Judging from what followed, it’s fair to say that His Airness would be humbled by the comparison. If pro hoops were more like Mr. Jordan’s tone, I might actually give a shit about the NBA Finals.

But let’s put a few things in perspective: Mr. Jordan, who is 73 and plays tenor like a baby trying to be born, headlined four of the evening’s five sets, screamed to heaven half-a-dozen times, at one point MacGyver-ed a sax valve out of a rubber band, and did it all in a t-shirt and jeans. “This guy looks like my grandfather,” my buddy said about twelve seconds before going whoa for the next two hours.

Forgive the hyperbole. Every set was the best. First up, Kidd teamed with bari-saxophone guru Hamlet Blulett, keys-man Dave Burrell and some dude who exclusively tortured the strings on a prepared piano. Blulett mounted his ax on some sort of stand, and aimed the bell at the crowd like a machine gun. The improvisation veered from caterwauling reed walls to fractured, first line marches on hairline transitions, no percussion required. Burrell’s rhythmic shards nailed the piece to the floor while Jordan’s lines danced lightning-like overhead. When it was all over, I needed a beer to think in English again.

After a break, Jordan returned with descriptively-dubbed violinist Billy Bang, a humongous bass player named William Parker, and Hamid Drake, a man whose drumming makes sex seem boring. Billy dueled the Kidd at center stage, trading, interrupting, hijacking each other’s melodies under the guiding push of the rhythm godhead. This time, I got a really hot bowl of lentil soup to reorient, which was delicious even though I managed to spill half of it onto my pants.

Part three consisted of a Jordan-led quintet: trumpeter Clyde Kerr, Joel Futterman on piano, and percussionist Alvin Fielder in addition to a role-reprisal by Parker and Kidd. The visual dynamic was a riot. Kerr looks like latter-day Marlon Brando, Futterman like a maybe more unhinged Nick Nolte. The pianist kept peering out from under his soundboard and grimacing hellaciously. The music, surprise, surprise, was tremendous. Futterman runs the ivories like Schoenberg wind-sprints, and Fielder, although a more recalcitrant sticker than Drake, grooves so effortlessly as to almost magnetize the exchanges of the other players towards one another. If Kidd and Co. are the current, Fielder is the voltage. It’s always a shock to hear the completed circuit.

It’s a bit unfair to call the next band, a New Orleans-based quintet led by Jordan’s two sons, Marlon and Kent on trumpet and flute respectively, an intermission act, but any 5-song gig of bop standards, no matter how well-played, would sound somewhat tame when bookended by the bouts of anarcho-genius improv that characterized the rest of the engagement. No doubt, the musicianship on display here was masterful: Marlon is a firebrand soloist and marathon drummer Fielder cooked hotter than the buffet crockpot. Still, it’s something of a comedown listening to music you feel you’ve heard before in an evening rife with sounds you’re likely never to hear again.

To close out the performance, Kidd invited longtime associate and fellow tenor Fred Anderson to join him onstage alongside the marathon rhythm section of Drake and Parker. Anderson, six years older than Jordan, wears pants that seem to cover his entire torso and is about as tall as his instrument. He’s also one of the greatest saxophone players in the world, with a tone that sounds like a canyon being carved live in granite. Kidd and Anderson play like conjoined twins in an argument, throwing out a constant stream of sonic point-counterpoint, always anticipating the other’s ducking and weaving. The portrait of the pair is something to behold: Mr. Anderson bends his entire body at a right angle to the floor, beaming riffs directly into the crust. Mr. Jordan, conversely, uses his tenor to stare down the crowd, the cyclops eye of his bell refining the fossil fuel laid down by his partner out of the soil and spitting it back into the air as an electric mist.

The collective age of the performers for this ultimate reunion probably approached the millennial, but their final set made everyone on hand feel as young as they ever wanted to be.

Posted by Ben Lasman at 12:26 PM

[AllenLowe]

I liiike kidd jerden

(left unedited for Dan Gould to correct)

[clifford_thornton]

Too bad that none of the writers discussing Kidd in the press are up to snuff.

[jlhoots]

Too bad that none of the writers discussing Kidd in the press are up to snuff.

At least he's being discussed.

[Joe G]

There was a story about him done on All Things Considered yesterday. I enjoyed hearing him talk about how Albert King "messed (him) up that day" at a recording session. The story about his son's survival of Katrina was pretty harrowing.

[sheldonm]

I went to..and photographed the show....very cool! The place was going crazy....Kidd played with every band during the night with the exception of the one fronted by Marlon Jordan.

Just got back from NYC a few hours ago....will post some of the photos later.

The Fred Anderson and James Spaulding shows last night were excellent as well.

m~

ps....it must have been 120 degrees in the new place they are holding the festival....no ac...not near as much space. Not near as nice as the previous place....in my opinion!

[AllenLowe]

7/4 has no opinions -

[jlhoots]

As Clifford Thornton notes, these articles are all garbage; we can start our superior discussion, as I'm sure has occurred in the past. What precisely was the point in copying these articles en toto and pasting them here? That the original poster has little to say is obvious but as someone who has worked for many newspapers in her life, while I'm not a fan of any of the publications in question, I must note it's not right to take away "clicks" from the periodicals who are assigning these pieces, however poorly. I need another martini to feel inspired but I'm sure there's an analogy to be made with Organissimo material where sure, publicity is OK but you'd prefer it be in the original context, although I know there aren't any ads here. (Like I said, another drink and I'll be there.) It's imperative too I disagree with the statement "at least he's being discussed." Did you ever consider, Sir or Madam, it's precisely these awful discussions that repulse people from jazz in general? Most of the dullards who won't notice it's garbage won't take the next step anyway (buying a cd, concert ticket, t-shirt, bobblehead doll) and the more engaged readers who might not yet be "hep to the rebop" are unlikely to bother thinking this is what the music is like as well. (Which it sometimes is, true, but not as often as the lousy writing suggests.) Perhaps 7/4 has his own opinion to share?

Palm Of Soul & 2 Days In April are excellent.

I own & listen to both.

You, otoh, are a little unpleasant.

Hope you had that next martini.

Who would you have preferred to write about Kidd Jordan?

In fact write it yourself, get it published & I'll read it too.

[7/4]

Perhaps 7/4 has his own opinion to share?

I've heard the first two sets and loved 'em. Too bad I can't make the journey in from Neu Jersey these days, I miss NYC.

.

[Hot Ptah]

"otoh"-- is that Japanese? My facility with the language isn't what it could be, alas, so I don't understand your meaning. Likewise, I don't understand why you'd willingly ingest garbage writing as above, like a sick cat licking up its own puke. Mr. Clifford Thornton, surely an Authority, sees it and, disregarding for now the fact that it's Bad Business to copy and paste whole articles like that (why not just post the link, or excerpt the interesting passage), recognizes that mere filling of the page does not, in fact, Uplift The Race, or Race Music. As for my own accomplishments in the media, mixed-media and playing Medea in my Community Theater, that seems irrelevant to the dullardness already on display.

What, Sir or Madame, might your qualifications be to assert even my unpleasantness?

I've been reading Organissimo for years now and am a great admirer of some of its posters, as well as the band that sponsors it. To be candid, my good man, you have not ever distinguished yourself amongst them except as a Moderate Enthusiast on one end and, as here, the Community Scold the other. This is just one woman's observation, mind you, but why are you trying to restrict the views of others? Jazz criticism needs more expression, not less, and the hot fuckin' shit!! enthusiasm that such rhetoric is born of. Otherwise, it will continue to devolve to the point its nearly at already, a Faculty Recital of the Hummel Trios in Room 6B in the Arts Building. That's not the worst possible ending but nor is demonstrative of a genre likely to renew itself indefinitely.

If you care to ignore my posts in the future, please let us know, I love it when people do that: I'm ignoring this!

As for Kidd Jordan, Clifford Jordan, Duke Jordan, Louis Jordan, even Stanley Joran if you like to Make A Jazz Face Here, all comment and opinion is welcome, from anyone, as long as they mean it.

I like your Organissimo name, Chauncey Morehouse. It inspired me to read more about the jazz drummer, Chauncey Morehouse. I was surprised at how he was still active well into the 1970s.

Chauncey, you have lurked here for years and developed opinions about some of the posters. Are there any posters who have truly impressed you in a positive way?

Edited June 17, 2008 by Hot Ptah

[paul secor]

"otoh"-- is that Japanese? My facility with the language isn't what it could be, alas, so I don't understand your meaning. Likewise, I don't understand why you'd willingly ingest garbage writing as above, like a sick cat licking up its own puke. Mr. Clifford Thornton, surely an Authority, sees it and, disregarding for now the fact that it's Bad Business to copy and paste whole articles like that (why not just post the link, or excerpt the interesting passage), recognizes that mere filling of the page does not, in fact, Uplift The Race, or Race Music. As for my own accomplishments in the media, mixed-media and playing Medea in my Community Theater, that seems irrelevant to the dullardness already on display.

What, Sir or Madame, might your qualifications be to assert even my unpleasantness?

I've been reading Organissimo for years now and am a great admirer of some of its posters, as well as the band that sponsors it. To be candid, my good man, you have not ever distinguished yourself amongst them except as a Moderate Enthusiast on one end and, as here, the Community Scold the other. This is just one woman's observation, mind you, but why are you trying to restrict the views of others? Jazz criticism needs more expression, not less, and the hot fuckin' shit!! enthusiasm that such rhetoric is born of. Otherwise, it will continue to devolve to the point its nearly at already, a Faculty Recital of the Hummel Trios in Room 6B in the Arts Building. That's not the worst possible ending but nor is demonstrative of a genre likely to renew itself indefinitely.

If you care to ignore my posts in the future, please let us know, I love it when people do that: I'm ignoring this!

As for Kidd Jordan, Clifford Jordan, Duke Jordan, Louis Jordan, even Stanley Joran if you like to Make A Jazz Face Here, all comment and opinion is welcome, from anyone, as long as they mean it.

I like your Organissimo name, Chauncey Morehouse. It inspired me to read more about the jazz drummer, Chauncey Morehouse. I was surprised at how he was still active well into the 1970s.

Chauncey, you have lurked here for years and developed opinions about some of the posters. Are there any posters who have truly impressed you in a positive way?

Can anyone who "lurks" for years be trusted? Sounds almost like a stalker mentality.

[AllenLowe]

well, there's more to it than that, as the real Morehouse was actually from Chambersburg - still wondering when we met, I think it's just another wild fantasy of yours, but stick around, you're livening the place up - stalk all you want - and be not so defensive, boys -

[Hot Ptah]

One thing that really annoys me is when a song is going through my head and it just won't leave. Right now I've got one:

In a cavern, in a canyon,

Excavating for a mine,

Dwelt a miner, forty-niner....

[jlhoots]

What a relief.

I now have 2 posters on my ignore list.

I believe I'll stick around.

BTW, someone doesn't know what "otoh" signifies???

Edited June 18, 2008 by jlhoots

[7/4]

What a relief.

I now have 2 posters on my ignore list.

I believe I'll stick around.

BTW, someone doesn't know what "otoh" signifies???

on the other hand

[catesta]

Take An Old Cold 'Tater-- Oh, don't tempt me! Let's just say nearly everyone has certain merits and that, in my years of reading the O, the only people I truly dislike are those who regularly seek to silence, or excessively mediate what is a laudably open forum of self-expression AND discussion of a wide variety of topics. I'm an old line Anarchist, so most the politics here don't apply to me, and it seems that part of the board brings out the worst in people, reducing them often to "party"-bound caricatures of their fleshier selves. The "I'm going to ignore x/y/z" people strike me as rather absurd too; just do it, instead of scolding those who seek to communicate. All that said, as a Cougar (or, really a Xavier Cougar, in honor of the prison, i.e. Catholic high school I attended here in the States, after my family left Manchester), a few my all-time Organissimo fantasies include

* Dumpy Mama-- where the soul of the ring modulator never dies

* Clifford Thornton-- he should have seen me during the years I didn't shave my pits

* Elder Don Clementine-- I live in the bluegrass belt, darlings, and despise Emmylou Harris too, and I feel no "sisterhood" with this corporate creation of a "woman and artist" at all. Gillian Welch, however, is another matter, and Ricky Skaggs might be on the DL (allegedly) but his records are always pretty good, if you have to hear them, as I often do here in the bluegrass belt.

* Jon Abbey-- just for pissing people off and having the guts to put a uniquely evolved aesthetic into action; I don't often need to listen to his label's music but, when I do, I'm glad there's someone in the U.S. I can get it from.

* Porcy Dio-- the best thing to come out of Italy since peak Rocco Siffredi

Look fellas, when you get to be my age (I'll be 64 in a couple months), it doesn't hurt to lust so, although my Xavier Cougar fantasies don't apply here, I'd

* drink with Chuck Nessa

* dance with Jaime (pronounced as in the Spanish, Hi-May) Sangria

* debate African-American vernacular music with Magnificent Goldberg

* hire Organissimo as my (third) wedding band

* eat pizza with Allen Lowe

* mock cultural critics-manque with Larry Kart

And, really, too many others to name!! Please don't take offense if I've excluded anyone, or, conversely, if my affections-- especially that Cougar growl-- seem untoward. I do like to watch the fur fly, so I'd probably mix-and-match Dan Gould and AKAnalog in there somewhere too, with Ghost of Miles guest referee.

In any case, I'm happy to spread the Gospel According to Chauncey Morehouse, so thanks for asking, Tater.

(Paul, you are a sly old dog, I know, so I take no offense here in the peephole.)

I didn't make the cut?

There should have been an ice cream category.

Edited June 18, 2008 by catesta

[AllenLowe]

what? no Jeffie Dahmer?

[catesta]

Does he post here?

[7/4]

Under a different name.

.

[catesta]

Oh great, now I will be suspicious of everyone, including you.

[7/4]

uh oh...

now the walls have eyes...

[Guest I'mdrooling]

look, I just like to bury my mistakes -