Larry Kart

Ah, yes -- jazz, Jackie Gleason, and Timex. Just the same thing as Pops, right? Does Wynton endorse Swiss Kriss?

Joe, I've heard you play in-person and on record, and you ARE in effect "playing Music of the Future that Synthesizes the Past and Speaks to the NOW." And people genuinely dig it. That's not everything, but how many get even that far?

Hey, Jim: For a host of interlocking reasons -- really good youngish players (who keep cropping up and/or arriving from elsewhere all the time), genuine communal feeling, decent (or better) places to play, affordable housing, etc. -- the Chicago scene that began to bloom in the mid-1990s is getting stronger all the time, or so it seems to me. Of course, you're absolutely right about the "healthy scene" thing; I wouldn't believe this one if I hadn't seen it happen in front of my eyes and if I hadn't had stored in my experience the related but somewhat different healthiness of the AACM scene that took shape here in the mid-1960s. I'm also aware that the interlocking aspect of all this implies a potential fragility -- for instance, if the kind of players who make up this scene or will add to it in the future can't live in Chicago as readily any more because the housing/rental market undergoes a big change, that could be a BIG problem. Likewise if a shift in city regulations or the like knocks out many of the venues where good stuff is happening on maybe five out of every seven nights.

Not to put fine a point on it, and also not to say that Tatro's "Jazz for Moderns" doesn't stand up on purely musical terms, but IMO this is a music that's about (or "about") anxiety -- the notes get fairly specific about the straightened circumstances of Tatro's life at the time (circumstances that arguably were not THAT bad and also were far from unique for someone of his background, era, and artistic inclinations, which is one reason why the mood aspect of this music is affecting to those it affects). And while I know it's a fool's game to generalize from titles, I think that the flat, borrowed from the surrounding culture titles of these pieces may well be speaking to us from the same anxious place: "Dollar Day," "Easy Terms," "Maybe Next Year," etc. As for Graettinger sounding natural to you -- I'll go with "inevitable" and/or "necessary" but natural, whew! This is a music every note of which is designed to say STRANGE. Jim, you must live a colorful life.

You were around then and saw or sensed what I did and what Chris saw close up, right? "Morphs ... what has happened to ... Just the way it is"" suggests a relatively organic development, but all this was pretty much calculated/calibrated, no? If so, that makes a difference. I think back to Brubeck on the cover of Time magazine, which certainly frosted some people's butts because it bore some of the hallmarks of a PR operation. But not only could Paul Desmond really play, and, it could be argued, Brubeck too, their music did speak intensely to the audience it spoke to -- if the Brubeck was during its heyday finally as much a sociological phenomenon as a musical one, it was a phenomenon. But the Wynton thing was about as organic as the "This is your brain on drugs" campaign, though I'd guess you could say it was more effective.

Well, we do have Art Pepper's reading of "Maybe Next Year" on the album "Smack Up," which is a good deal more warm and flexible rhythmically than Lennie Niehaus's on "Jazz for Moderns." But I've always felt that Tatro's writing and the interpretation of it by the guys who play on "Jazz for Moderns" was all of a piece, from several points of view. First, what you hear as "'reading,' not playing," I hear as an ultimately expressive intensity cum tension, though that tension may have been inevitable at the time (and may still be) -- this was HARD stuff to play and, far more so, to solo on; some of the solos were written out by Tatro, and at least one of those, Bob Enevoldson's on "Minor Incident" (not "Minor Intrusion," as I mis-stated above) is among the highlights of the album I believe. Second, perhaps the deal is that this is not really a "players" music in the sense that you have in mind. Also, there's the fact that IMO one these players does play his ass off throughout but in a way that perhaps backs up my sense that this is not really music to blow on -- that player being bassist Ralph Pena, who inhabits his more or less orchestral part (i.e. he's a "section" all by himself) with great taste and intensity. Shelly Manne also is full of zest but also, I'm sure we can agree, too precious at times, in his characteristic West Coast '50s manner. Getting back to the main point you made: Is this supposed to be, or to sound like, "natural" music? I don't think so, any more than Graettinger's "City of Glass" of "This Modern World" were.

I hope so, in time. But then one man's fascination may be another's "foo-foo." The trick with Tatro, I think, is to forget all about the quasi-fugal textures (which mostly I would like to do) and to some degree just accept as given the harmonic "outness" when that's what we have, and instead focus on how these pieces fit together/work themselves out (which will involve some return to the harmonic outness realm at some point, but perhaps from a different perspective). For one thing, Tatro seems to me to be a maker of structures, first, last and foremost, not a guy who wanted to flaunt devices; and those structures have never lost their blend of stone necessity and How did that happen?" mysteriousness for me. Try "Minor Intrusion" in particular.

I don't think we can know, because Wynton the "face of jazz" was quite a creation on the part of many people over the years, a feat of social engineering the likes of which I haven't seen otherwise in my lifetime. For one thing, the backing aspect, which I think was many-sided and complex, would be repeatable only if you began with similar human interest/status factors that wqould be difficult if not impossible to repeat -- well-spoken, polite youthfulness; jazz plus classical credibility or the like; the sense of an art that was artistically worthy/noble but commercially beleagured and thus in need of a young Lochinvar, etc. For another, once Wynton "the face" attained that position, while the game was not over (it could still have blown via scandal, gross inepitude, you name it), the whole structure that had placed the face there now had a deep vested interest in supproting him in that position, if only to verify the good judgment of the important people and the process in which all had participated/were participating. Which, again, is not to say that Wynton isn't doing a whizbang, hands-job as JLC's CEO, as far as that goes.

This fits in neatly with a point a friend who's a talented NYC-area hornman/bandleader/composer/arranger once made to me about one of the downsides of JLC for musicians who are not a part of it. Used to be, he explained, that with his recordings and press clippings he could in most years arrange a month-long-or-so regional or multi-region tour for his ensemble of venues like Harriman Jewell that have non-pop concert series that are not exclusively classical. There are lots of such places and series out there in America, and while it required some savvy, plus much planning and effort, on his part, my friend explained that it worked out quite well for everyone. Then along came JLC, and that market went to hell. First, the presenters by and large were themselves not that savvy about jazz; provided with the surefire JLC brand, that spot on their series roster was automatically filled to their satisfaction; no one else need apply. Moreover, and this is where it really gets insidious, supposing a series has in prior years budgeted enough for jazz to present more than one such concert. Well, the price for the JLC Orch, or any JLC offshoot ensemble, is several times the price of my friend's band (five times more, I think he said) or, he assures me, any comparable ensemble or visiting artist -- say, Bob Brookmeyer leading a good nearby college big band through his most recent charts after having having rehearsed them for a few days. Thus, not only does JLC hog the gigs, its jacked-up premium fees virtually eliminate the chance that any other jazz artists will perform at such venues, because thry've placed this year's budget for jazz entirely in JLC's pockets.

Of the ones I have, the Teschemacher (Marty Grosz) and the Norvo (Don DeMichael) have especially interesting notes.

I admit that my use of "frontman"was looser than it should have been. I was thinking of the connotations of Ms. Schiff's phrases "It's a dog and pony show" and (of Wynton) "Nobody sells it better," and also of Chinen's saying of Wynton's "big idea" that it was "first articulated to him by Mr. Murray and Mr. Crouch". I was not thinking of the article's evidence that Wynton is a very hands-on chief administrator at JLC.

You make it sound like he's the jazz version of Ronald Reagan: he doesn't know any of the details and could care less about them, but he's a great salesman. Dan: I understand what the point of the article is -- that Wynton, as you say, "for better or worse, became the face of jazz, and that this "is the basis of his position at JLC." To me, though, that's kind of weird circular thinking, a la the teenage girls who once told sociologist David Reisman (he of "The Lonely Crowd") when he asked them why they were buying a Top Ten recording, "We like it because it's popular." One would hope that the person who becomes the face of jazz would also be an aesthetically important figure. I don't think Wynton is, but as the article points out, that may be (I think sadly and even dangerously) beside the point -- "dangerously" because the JLC edifice does seem to require that Marsalis be (or be regarded as) an aesthetically important/central figure as well as a hands-on administrator. (If he is not such a figure, what of the tenets of the "gospel of jazz" that JLC "propogates ... through its educational wing" and that Wynton's music is, one assumes, felt to exemplify?) BTW, about that "face of jazz" thing. Assuming that we were both around at the time, do you feel that Wynton's becoming "The Face" was a relatively natural or a highly engineered development? It was the latter IMO.

Interesting that this page one Arts & Leisure piece by Nate Chinen never once, as far as I can see, raises the question of, or even mentions, the aesthetic value of Wynton's own music, which you might think would have to be the rock on which this whole edifice must rest. Or is it that, as the piece more or less implies at times, Wynton has really been a frontman all along. E.g. "'It's a dog and pony show," said Ms. Schiff [chairwoman of the JLC board], who often bring Mr. Marsalis on fund-raising calls. 'Nobody sells it better.'"

But when did Johnny Richards have hair?

Fats Sadi? The young Rodney Dangerfield?

To really appreciate what made MF unique, I think you need to hear his vintage Kenton stuff -- things like "What's New," for example, rec. 1951, where his playing borders on delerium. The Roulette band of the late '50s and early '60s was a fine, hip, gutty outfit, but those early Maynard things were flat-out insane. In that vein, there's a very good Johnny Richards album (if you have taste for Richards) from 1956 on Bethlehem, "Something Else," where the trumpet section includes MF, Pete Candoli, and Buddy Childers (plus, I think, Stu Williamson and Shorty Rogers). The three lead men (in effect) work very well together, but when Richards wants to show how much more MF has left in the tank, it's kind of astonishing.

That probably was Fredrik Ljungkvist. He's blond and Swedish.

How so did Vandermark do this? I wasn't there last night, but IMO Dave Rempis is a much better saxophonist.

I know what you mean. I was pretty much in shock myself as it unfolded and terribly anxious not only on Hawkins' behalf but also on Dan Morgenstern's -- not only my boss at the time but also, I think I can say, my friend. Dan, who knew Hawkins well, and having been assured by Hawkins six weeks before that he'd love to do the show, was shocked by his appearance when he got off the plane in Chicago...well, read Dan's account in Chilton's book; it jibes with what I recall. I can only add that my numbness and despair at what was unfolding over those several days was transformed into something else by the unexpected necessity of getting Hawkins from downtown Chicago to the airport in such a way that both his physical well-being and, if possible, his dignity would be preserved. I think it was.

Yes, Chilton's is a detailed account (the extended quote from Dan M. sounds just like him) but the stuff I'm quoted as saying there is not quite what I said to Chilton; for some strange reason, he turned my words into British-ese in spots, e.g. the phrase "normally I'm diffident about officaldom" -- who could SAY anything like that? Whatever, what I hope to write someday would be part of a larger project about personal anecdotal encounters with musicians -- some of them (i.e. the musicians) well known, others hardly known at all, the common theme being, How does someone who loves and whose life has been fundamentally shaped by the music (that would be me) manage or not manage to hook up in reasonable decent human terms with the people who actually make the music? Don't think that any of what I have in mind to say would be embarrassing to anyone, except maybe myself, and a fair amount of it I hope would be amusing. Actually, now that I think about it, the real common theme here would be the (frequently comic) failure, in my own experience, "to hook up in reasonable decent human terms etc." And I'm assuming that I'm not unique in this. The taking Hawkins to the airport episode would be, as I felt it then and still feel it, the main exception to this.

I'm not saying that Hawkins' having wanted to play settles the issue of whether the broadcast should have been aired (or I suppose even been allowed to proceed in the first place with him playing a role in it). I just wanted to make it clear that Hawkins was a willing, even willful participant (his fierce pride was like a blast furnace) and that no coercion, cajoling, etc. took place.

Just to add to the fun, here's an excerpt from a Jazz Times "Before and After" session: Dave Holland Big Band "Bring It On" from Overtime on Dare2. Antonio Hart, Mark Gross, Chris Potter, Gary Smulyan, saxophones; Robin Eubanks, Jonathan Arons, Josh Roseman, trombones; Taylor Haskins, Alex Sipiagin, Duane Eubanks, trumpets, flugelhorns; Steve Nelson, vibes; Billy Kilson, drums; Dave Holland, bass, composer. Recorded in 2002. Misha Mengelberg's Comments: Oh, Dave. I know Dave. I've played with that guy, and he's not a bad bass player. He should be forbidden to do anything himself. He should act on the impulses of other people. He's a sideman. That's what he's good at. He is the bass player who should be given a task in life, not one who should invent his own stories. Larry Applebaum: He leads one of the most successful groups in jazz. Mengelberg: But what does the most successful group in jazz mean? Those are the groups I never listen to. It's not very commercial, but it has a tendency to commerce that is undeniable, I think. And it's not fun at all. It's antifun.

How could I have not mentioned Randy, an old friend and as nice a person as he is a fine trumpet player and composer. I especially recommend his new big band CD "The Subway Ballet" (Evening Star) and his "Inside Out" (Nagel Heyer), with notes by yours truly. And Bix is the man inside the box.

It wasn't an interview (though there might have been some interview material) but a half-hour (I think)Chicago public TV performance on April 19, 1969, by a band of Hawkins, Roy Eldridge, Barry Harris, Truck Parham, and Bob Cousins, followed the next day by a performance at the North Park Hotel by the same band. Hawkins was in alarming shape, and Dan is well aware that some people felt the show never should have been run, though others have felt otherwise. I do know that Hawkins wanted to play on both occasions; I was there. I also was deputized to take Hawkins to the airport for his flight back to New York on the day after that the North Park performance -- an experience I'll never forget and that I hope to write something about some day. There's an account of all this in John Chilton's "The Song of the Hawk," pp. 385-7.

You Must Be -- I was a bit bemused at the time by the "flower child" aspects of some of what Wayne was saying here -- in particular by his apparent willingness/desire to more or less cede to the Berkeley/Haight Ashbury kids the right to confer value on his music. From where I sat at the time -- given my perhaps inordinate tendency to think that jazz alone can and should confer value on itself and my suspicions about the Berkeley/Haight Ashbury crowd -- this seemed to me to be a bit silly and maybe even dangerous, especially given that Wayne was no kid at the time (age 34-35 in 1968). Also, what no transcript can convey is the tone of Wayne's voice as he went on about the Davis Quintet's reception at that Berkeley concert. It was darn close to to Sally Field's famous "You like me, you REALLY like me" Oscar speech.