Larry Kart

I believe Dan's book is due in October from Norton -- maybe 600 pages worth. I'll let everyone know when I find out more details.

McKusick fans might want to check out altoist Allan Chase's two interesting albums on Accurate -- "Dark Clouds with Silver Linings" and "Phoenix." Now dean of faculty at the New England Conservatory (and husband of talented singer Dominique Eade), Chase sounds a good bit like McKusick at times, though he told me that he didn't hear McKusick's music until he'd worked out his own thing and that the player he tried very hard to emulate when growing up was Gary Bartz! Also, don't miss that McKusick on OJC with Paul Chambers, Charlie Persip, and Eddie Costa. It's a little later than and a little different from the RCA material.

If you can find them, check out David A. Himmelstein's over-the-top notes for Booker Ervin's "Setting the Pace" with Dexter Gordon (Prestige). They're a three-act play. I particularly like the reference to Dexter as "the only man in the world who can walk in a sitting position." Dan Morgensterns' notes are usually like having a infinitely knowledgable best friend at your elbow. BTW, a big collection of the best of Dan's writing will be published in the fall.

Relaxin' is more of a "fun" program -- not only is every track fine, but the whole thing flows -- yet and yet Cookin' reaches higher peaks of intensity (e.g. Miles' solo on "When Lights Are Low"). A tie.

K. Oliver's Creole Jazz Band, with L. Armstrong and the Dodds brothers, at the Lincoln Gardens in Chicago in 1922 -- not only because the band was so damn important but also because there's every reason to think that there was a big gap between how the band sounded on the stand and how it sounds on its dim (acoustic) recordings.

Eric -- This paragraph you quote from James Rozzi ("Or, using a lower common denominator, how about this, from a likewise- minded "student of jazz" who grew up in the New York of the 1930s, 40s and 5Os? "I remember going to Birdland and hearing Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. They all had nice suits on. One group in particular had really nice suits on. You know, every time I hear a lot of those Blue Note Records (Blakey was recording for Blue Note at the time), I always envision them in those same suits because they play so fixed and so tight and arranged... Herbie Hancock too, all of them...even though they all play such great solos. Herbie Hancock could have been in the same suit Horace Silver was in... or Bobby Timmons.") not only contradicts what Rozzi quotes from Bob Weinstock and Ira Gitler but also doesn't fit the overall point you seem to be making. That is, the characterization of Blakey et al. by this "likewise- minded 'student of jazz'" fits no contemporary image of so-called East Coast jazz that I'm aware of (certainly not Weinstock's or Gitler's), and it's also factually quite goofy -- as their recordings make clear, the Jazz Messengers and related bands of that time did not, comparatively speaking, play "so fixed and so tight and arranged," quite the contrary. But ""so fixed and so tight and arranged" DOES fit the cliche of what West Coast jazz supposedly was like. Who the heck is this Mr. Rizzo and his "likewise- minded 'student of jazz'"? Neither one knows what he's talking about.

Eric -- This paragraph you quote from James Rozzi ("Or, using a lower common denominator, how about this, from a likewise- minded "student of jazz" who grew up in the New York of the 1930s, 40s and 5Os? "I remember going to Birdland and hearing Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. They all had nice suits on. One group in particular had really nice suits on. You know, every time I hear a lot of those Blue Note Records (Blakey was recording for Blue Note at the time), I always envision them in those same suits because they play so fixed and so tight and arranged... Herbie Hancock too, all of them...even though they all play such great solos. Herbie Hancock could have been in the same suit Horace Silver was in... or Bobby Timmons.") not only contradicts what Rozzi quotes from Bob Weinstock and Ira Gitler but also doesn't fit the overall point you seem to be making. That is, the characterization of Blakey et al. by this "likewise- minded 'student of jazz'" fits no contemporary image of so-called East Coast jazz that I'm aware of (certainly not Weinstock's or Gitler's), and it's also factually quite goofy -- as their recordings make clear, the Jazz Messengers and related bands of that time did not, comparatively speaking, play "so fixed and so tight and arranged," quite the contrary. But ""so fixed and so tight and arranged" DOES fit the cliche of what West Coast jazz supposedly was like. Who the heck is this Mr. Rizzo and his "likewise- minded 'student of jazz'"? Neither one knows what he's talking about.

FWIW, Astrud inspired what may be the second-goofiest sentence in "The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz" -- "Her work often has an economy of melodic line and a steady momentum akin to that of Basie, but its rhythmic drive is often devoid of contours." (Author of the entry is Marty Hatch, otherwise unknown to me.) The goofiest? Without doubt the last sentence of Scott Yanow's entry on Joe Maini -- "He died after losing a game of Russian roulette."

I remember hearing Anderson at Chicago sessions in '57-'58 and thinking that because of his frailty (he had to be helped up onto the bandstand and to the piano bench) it would be a miracle if he were alive in ten years. He's probably outlived almost everyone else on the bandstand and three-quarters of the people in the room. I used to have a copy of the Jazzland LP (it perished in a basement flood) and recall that it didn't come very close to his in-person effect. He was a sound/dynamics/chord-voicing player par excellence -- subtly shifting pastels -- and I recall that the date was set up along more standard "blowing" lines. Someone (don't recall who) once claimed that Anderson was a source for Vanguard-era Bill Evans.

Overton's "Pulsations" is even better than I remembered. His final work, it's stylistically akin to Stefan Wolpe's great Quartet for Trumpet, Tenor Saxophone, Piano and Percussion (1950). It's for chamber ensemble (number of players not specified in the liner notes, but it sounds like about 12 -- maybe five strings [including both arco and pizzicato bass], two woodwinds, tpt., trb., piano, and percussion), lasts 17 minutes, and is based, says the composer, "largely on a strong, steady beat." Though I wouldn't call that beat "steady" by jazz norms, its definitely active at all times (again, akin to to the way Wolpe's Quartet works.) The piece seems more loosely knit than Wolpe's, but I think that was Overton's intent -- I especially like its enigmatic sotto voce conclusion -- and while there are a few moments that smack of the generic gestural modernism of the time, I'd say its a heck a lot more personal and potent than anything I've ever heard from, say, Charles Wourinen. Wish there were more Overton available, though I guess "Pulsations" isn't available now. At least it was recorded.

Hall Overton (1920-1972) was primarily a classical composer (studied with Riegger, Milhaud) who also played decent "arranger's style" jazz piano and was associated with some of the more intellectually inclined jazz musicians of the '40s and '50s (Teddy Charles, Jimmy Raney [both studied with him] etc.) I particularly like the album he did for Jubilee with Charles and Oscar Pettiford, "Three for Duke," which AFAIK has never made it to CD. He also plays on at least one of Raney's early Prestige dates. I have a CRI label LP with an Overton classical work on it, Pulsations." It's dedicated to Monk and is definitely jazz-influenced, though not in any "jazzy" way. He wrote a lot of other things, including an opera based on "Huckleberry Finn," but "Pulsations" is all I've heard. I'll listen again and report back if there's anything worth adding.

There are lots of sides to Shorter at different times, but I'll never get over the bizarre deadpan humor of his work on "Introducing Wayne Shorter" and "Kelly Great" (both VeeJay) -- not only because it's terrific but also because it's pretty much unique ("pretty much" because you could make a case that there's some relationship between this side of early Shorter and the serio-comic late '50s Rollins, even though the results sound very different).

I recall, probably in the '67-'68 range, a visit that Hemphill and other B.A.G. members from St. Louis (including Oliver Lake) paid to Chicago, performing at the Abraham Lincoln Center (I think). Very exciting in itself and also as confirmation of a kinship with A.A.C.M. ways of seeing and doing things.

Two recent discs that I've been listening to a lot -- "One Night in Vermont" (Planet Arts), a 2001 concert recording with Bob Brookmeyer and pianist Ted Rosenthal, and tenor saxophonist Ted Brown's "Preservation" (Steeplechase), a 2002 studio date with Harold Danko, Dennis Irwin and Jeff Hirshfield. Brookmeyer is in top latter-day form on "One Night," and Rosenthal -- an ideal partner harmonically and rhythmically -- is a very tasty, inventive soloist, comparable to Fred Hersch in style perhaps, though he's his own man (at odd times he reminds me a bit of Martial Solal, very witty). The program is all standards. Brown, the 75-year-old Tristano-ite, sounds as fresh as can be -- continuous, utterly spontaneous, soulful improvising -- and Danko really knows how to play with Brown (as he has with Konitz, too), keeping the harmonic palette rather basic instead of drowning the soloist in substitutions but remaining very inventive on that chosen path. Also, Irwin is something else -- like a rock timewise and a deep, non-flashy soloist.

As Bertrand said -- nobody who loves Shorter should miss "The Soul Man." Must have been one of those ideal days in the studio, everyone perfectly attuned to each other and relaxed.

Miles is in great form (at once playing hard and thinking hard about how he wants to play, or so it seems--he's definitely on the move here), Blakey fortunately is close to the mike, and Kenny Drew is really locked in. A strong feeling of that specific wedge of the past, too. A feast.

Seems to me that the big "problem" with late Trane ("problem" is in quotes because IMO it is a problem from one point of view, but may not be from another, or from others) has to do with this (to quote from something I wrote): "In 1961, Coltrane said, 'I admit I don’t love the beat in the strict sense, but at this phase I feel I need the beat somewhere.' By 1965, it had become clear, in the words of his biographer Lewis Porter, that Coltrane 'no longer wanted to swing' but rather to play over 'a general churning pulse of fast or slow.' Here, too, the example of Charlie Parker may have been crucial. While Coltrane was regarded by his peers as perhaps the most forcefully swinging soloist of his time, he could not, within a metrical framework, approach Parker’s dauntingly transcendent rhythmic acuity." Nothing wrong with abandoning (or stepping aside from) the metrical framework IMO -- and you can argue that this was for some players at that time an absolutely necessary, logical step. The problem (or "problem") is, when you step away from the metrical framework, what (in specific musical terms) do you have left? What Cecil Taylor or Albert Ayler or Roscoe Mitchell or Evan Parker had left was IMO more than enough; no one could say that Taylor's or Ayler's or Mitchell's Parker's musics (each different from the others) weren't brimful of urgent rhythmic information. In late, post-metric Trane, though, where is the meaningful rhythmic information? Is it there, but I can't hear it? Or is that the weight of the music is being placed in other realms, and if so, where and how? Over the years, I've come up lots of "yes" and "no" and "I don't know" answers (and with lots of examples to back up how I felt). But I don't have an answer that feels right and probably never will.

If you need another tenorman, Clifford Solomon, who can be heard on Tadd Dameron's "Fontainebleau."

Paar's blend of smarminess, rampant insecurity, megalomania, and corny sentiment always made me throw up. I remember at the time feeling that his advent and the grip he established on a goodsized portion of the American public was an ominous sign -- of what, I can't say for sure, but I'd bet that a lot of really nasty stuff in the world of celebritydom/entertainment could be traced back to his example.

Another clue as to what the problems/limitations of some Collectables releases might stem from. Today I bought the John Lewis Golden Striker/Gunther Schuller Jazz Abstractions compilation because my copy of JA went missing some years ago. Comparing the Collectables Golden Striker to my clean old (but mono) original LP was a shock. The CD was harsh, blare-y, almost airless (the original sound edged over in that direction -- that was often Atlantic's house style, as I recall -- but not like this) and lacked low- and high-end definition. Then in the liner notes I saw "special thanks" to two record stores that specialize in o.o.p. jazz, Rochester, N.Y.'s The Bop Shop and Pittsburgh's The Attic. That suggests that the GS tracks (maybe the JA ones too) are dubs from LPs, probably because, even though the stuff is licensed from Atlantic, the original tapes were victims of Atlantic's famous warehouse fire.

Also, among players whose honking made them famous -- don't forget Flip Phillips. It was the battles between Phillips and Jacquet that made Jazz at the Philharmonic a big success. Much of the JATP audience was waiting for the honks, and when they came, so did the audience. Or so it sounds.

In the name of historical accuracy, the primordial honker in terms of influence (though of course he was much more than a honker) was Lester Young. See p. 49-50 of Lewis Porter's fine Young bio. Porter notes that Young probably picked up the device from Jimmy Dorsey, who used it on record as early as 1930, "but Young was the one who influenced hundreds of other jazz players to adopt it." Porter also is precise about what a honk is: "Normally one approaches the lowest register of the saxophone cautiously, using a controlled embouchere and a moderate air flow to minimize the contrast with the middle register. The honk is a conscious exploitation of that contrast. The player loosens his embouchere and speeds up his air flow."

About Coltrane maybe getting hung up/confused during his solo on "Nita," the part I mean is the approximately five-second pause he takes beginning at 3:55. At that tempo five seconds is a pretty long time. I'd be curious, if I'm right, what the specific source of his confusion/indecision might have been.Did he lose track of the form? The changes? Or perhaps it was that he realized at that moment that the idea that was in his mind/fingers probably wouldn't fit. Of the other soloists (Byrd, Burrell, Silver) the one who sounds most at ease with the piece IMO is Burrell.

Seems to me that Coltrane gets a bit hung up/hesitant/confused (along the lines brought up in Jim Sangrey's post) on his own piece "Nita" on "Whims of Chambers." As Lewis Porter says in his Coltrane bio, "Nita" is a pretty complex structure for blowing, in terms of both form and harmony.

Bought the Hasaan album back then and have always loved it. The Elmo Hope relationship that Chuck mentioned is definitely there, but I also hear a strong kinship to Herbie Nichols (even if Hasaan didn't hear him much or at all) because the typical Hasaan and Nichols performance doesn't give you a tune first, then improvisation on the tune feel -- it's like the piece itself is omnipresent, a la the great stride players, but with a modern, semi-fractured sensibility that grows more fractured as Hasaan elaborates on the initial design. Admittedly, in Hassan's case, this can border on the oppressive/obssessive at times (which IMO is never the case with Nichols, with all his wit and humor), but I assume that's who Hasaan was. BTW, the Hasaan album is essential for Max admirers--he plays his ass off on it.