Late

Kind of on-topic here ... but McIntyre's Stone Blues, if you didn't already get it in the Concord blowout, is currently available from The Bards for $5.99 Carpe diem!

This was an interesting read. Thought I'd share it here. Recollections of Joe Daley by Rich Corpolongo I met Joe when I was 11 years old. My brother Tony had just gotten out of the Marine Corps and went to take music lessons at Rizzo School of Music located in Chicago. One of his theory teachers was Joe Daley. Since I had an interest in playing the clarinet my brother mentioned to me that his theory teacher also taught clarinet and saxophone. My first meeting with Joe was nerve racking. He had a way of looking through you with his piercing eyes. I didn't know how to cope with this musical giant until much later. If there was any question about a certain interpretation of a musical idea Joe would demonstrate it completely on his clarinet—sometimes taking the whole lesson to prove his point. Of course, whenever I would deliberately not practice Joe would be on my case with very hurtful remarks such as: 1) "Why don't you give your clarinet to someone who wants to play it." 2) "You'll never play that horn—you're wasting your money and my time." 3) "Why don't you give it up and just come here every week and we'll talk." 4) "Why not become a baseball player since you are obviously not going to become a musician." His sarcastic remarks would send me home crying. I was determined to prove to Mr. Daley that he was wrong in his judgment and I would play the pants off the exercise the next lesson. This was pretty much the way lessons went until I got to high school. Sometimes he would eat lunch while giving a lesson. In between bites Joe would correct any wrong note or phrase. I'd be playing and hear a snorting or gargling sound coming from behind me, not knowing what would come out next. I started smoking and invariably Joe would ask me for a "square." "Square" was Joe's hip word for a cigarette-since cigarettes were round, "square" was the opposite word. I continued studying with Joe until my Junior year in high school. I had always had an interest in jazz and discovered that that was Joe's real interest also. I switched to tenor sax because it was pitched in B flat like clarinet; besides Joe also played tenor. I went through Joe's entire course of study. At his last lesson he told me that he had taught me everything he knew and that in order to improve I would have to go out and blow as much as I could. I remember inviting Joe to one of my informal jazz gigs assuming that he would probably not come—but he did. He walked in just when I was about to play a solo. I was paralyzed thinking that he would rip my solo to ribbons, but instead he said "sounds good." It was the first time he ever voiced a positive reaction. Many years later my brother told me that Joe's impression of me when I first started was "Tony, your little brother has a very bright future." Joe often recommended me for jobs—sometimes I would even take his place. His confidence started me in the music business and his lectures influenced me to go to college to get a music composition degree. He invited me to play with him with the Chicago Symphony at a children's concert in 1968. We performed a composition by Gunther Schuller called "Journey Into Jazz" about a young trumpet player who grows older and older and better and better, finally making the grade. Joe's group consisted of Bobby Lewis–trumpet, Dan Shapera–bass, Hal Russell–drums, Joe–tenor sax, and me–alto sax. A funny thing happened while we were at Orchestra Hall. In the basement of the hall are lockers with tuning strobes. Both Joe and I were extremely careful to tune as perfectly as we could to A-440 before returning to the rehearsal so that the orchestra players could not say that we were out-of-tune jazz players. We were surprised when we tuned to the oboe upstairs by the variety of pitches that came out of the orchestra. They were so noticeably out-of-tune that Joe looked at me in shock. I rarely saw Joe in the next few years. We would meet on a gig or house party. Then in 1972 came the Mill Run Theatre in Niles. We played a different act every week including Liberace, Danny Thomas, Sammy Davis Jr., Lena Horne, Jack Benny and Tom Jones. One day between shows Joe, Bobby Lewis, and I were in the musicians' dressing room relaxing. The other musicians were out having lunch, drinking or whatever. Joe said "let's play." He played a rhythmic idea which Bobby took it up and developed it. I took hold of the idea and started moving it away from where Joe had started it. Bobby now was following me instead of Joe. Joe stopped abruptly, looked at me in disgust with his piercing eyes and said, "Hey man, you're not doing the thing that me and Bobby are doing." I said, defiantly, "Maybe you're not doing the thing that Bobby and I are doing." My answer broke Joe up and he said, "Wow-ee, you have arrived." Joe realized that I had developed my own voice musically. After that incident Joe and I became more than teacher-student, we were friends in the quest for musical adventures—mainly the Free Jazz movement. During this period Joe was having trouble with his second wife. He was drinking very heavily and needed a place to stay. I offered my apartment. We set up housekeeping and talked about every subject under the sun. One night after a gig we decided to experiment with our voices. We sang a jazz tune with solos one after the other. During one of my solos Joe stopped me and said that I was not making the chord changes. I argued that it was he who was not hearing the correct version of the song. We argued and argued. I told him that he should try my approach before discarding it as un-musical. He said that he would try it on the next gig. The next night after Joe's gig he told me, "Rich, I tried your suggestion. You m— you, you're no student anymore—we're equals". When I started taking lessons with Joe I idolized him (I thought of him as a god), I wanted to play exactly like him. As I got older, I no longer wanted to play like him. His exact words were, "Get your own thing happening, don't worry about criticism, play what you know, and by ear, and everything will turn out alright." Joe was rough with his students. His discipline, direction, and insight into all facets of creative music and the music business are legendary. He always spoke his mind no matter what. He was not afraid to say he was wrong. Although he would never compliment anyone to his face he would lavish praise to no end behind a person's back. On the other hand, Joe never say a bad word behind anyone's back—he would always say it to their face. He rarely showed emotion, although he had a lot of it. He could cry as well as laugh with no fear of who saw it. He was well-respected and feared for his ability, loved and hated for his candor, extremely intelligent, witty and fun to be with. It wasn't until he fell ill that I learned that he thought of me like a son. My father died when I was age 8. Now that I look back on it, I thought of Joe as a step-father. I loved him very much. Joe will live in my memory and the memories of all who came into contact with him. Copyright 1998 by Rich Corpolongo

I like this album a lot. Just listened to it last week, and will have to spin it again. Jeffrey actually plays alto clarinet on it — but, alas, no solos on that horn. Dennis O'Toole (or O'Tootle, as he's also referrred to in the liner notes) isn't the greatest drummer. He tends to drag things down from time to time, but, if memory serves, he was one of Moffett's students ... and it certainly was a generous offering from mentor to student to record! It's interesting to hear Ware in this setting, and Moffett's one vocal track (the era withstanding) isn't that bad. The first track, though — that's the one to play over and over. Very hip.

The AMG write-up, by one "Blue" Gene Tyranny, is actually pretty interesting: A mostly self-taught composer, Louis Hardin was born in Marysville, Kansas on May 26, 1916. The family eventually moved to Wyoming, where his father, who had been an Episcopalian minister, opened a trading post at Fort Bridger, and had two different ranches. Young Louis went to school in a log cabin in Burnt Fork, Wyoming, and fished, hunted and trapped. Later, he rode a horse to school in Long Tree, a cattle community. He wrote that his first drum set " ..at the age of five, was a cardboard box". He also went with his father to an Arapho Sun Dance, where he sat on Chief Yellow Calf's lap and played the buffalo skin tomtom. Later, in 1949, he played tomtom and flute at a Sun Dance held by the Blackfoot in Idaho. The constant "tomtom" beat became incorporated in many of his later pieces, such as the complex canon for marimbas "Wind River Powwow: arapa-host, arapa-home, arapa-hope". He played drums in Hurley High School in 1929, and there he lost his sight in his early teens when a dynamite cap exploded. He studied music and finished high school at the Iowa School for the Blind, and in 1933 studied braille at the Missouri School for the Blind in St. Louis. "I write all my music in braille. When I write for orchestra, I do not write scores any more, but just write out parts, for the score is in my head and just writing out the parts cuts the time and cost in half ... anyhow, if my pieces were ever in demand, a score to each could be made from the parts. I call this process ' intracting ', as opposed to the opposite, having a score and 'extracting' parts from it. From the braille I dictate every slur, tie, expression mark." It is then written in pencil by another person, read back and corrected, then inked in by another person - " .. double trouble ". Hardin lived in Batesville, Arkansas until 1942 when he got a scholarship to study in Memphis. However, he mostly taught himself ear training and other musical skills and theory from books in braille. In the fall of 1943, he came to New York and met Artur Rodzinski, Leonard Bernstein, and then Toscanini. In a legendary story, Hardin made to kiss Toscanini's hand " ... whereupon he pulled it away, saying,' I am not a beautiful woman ' ". Hardin began using the name Moondog as a pen name since 1947 in honor of a dog "who used to howl at the moon more than any dog I knew of". His music, constructed of direct musical gestures and built mostly from pure modal themes expanded by sophisticated counterpuntal techniques, would now receive the avant-garde label of "minimal" or pattern music but this sound has characterized his music since the late 1940's, and is thus a precursor of this postmodern compositional style. In New York, Moondog began to meet legendary jazz performer-composers, such as Charlie Parker and Benny Goodman, and to incorporate jazz inflections as well as humorous philosophical couplets and environmental sounds into his recorded compositions - the early recordings on the Prestige label in 1956 - 57 contain brief pieces such as "Up Broadway / The impressions of Moondog as he passes Birdland and the Palladium up the great White Way ... (a) Broadway and 52nd St. The Jazz Corner of the World. A dog trot in 1/4 time ... (b) Broadway and 53rd St, the Afro-Cuban Corner of the World - A bumbo in 4/4 time ..." and a duet for the whistle of the ocean liner the Queen Elizabeth and a bamboo flute. Moondog also sold his printed music and records as well as performed on the streets of Manhattan. His music truly expressed a universal vision with the best of American musical sensibilities. Moondog passed away on September 8th, 1999 in Germany at the age of 83.

Finally ordered my first Moondog disc today. I don't know what took me so long ...

There's supposed to be an unissued live Cornell University date with Eric Dolphy in the band that Sue plans to release. No telling when that may happen, however. The Japanese reissue of Mingus at Monterey is fairly affordable through Hiroshi Tanno. If you have 13 Pictures already, though, I'd say it's not an essential purchase. The anthology, in my opinion, has the best track from the set ("Meditations on Integration"). The sound on that track (from the anthology) is comparable to the Japanese reissue as well.

No kidding — good news for those silly cover art purists! (I include myself in that batch.)

I love Gomez' playing on Bill Evans' Montreux set with Jack DeJohnette. Did Gary Peacock ever sub for Carter in that Miles band?

I kinda wish they'd stuck with the original black-and-white cover. Still looking forward to the music!

These discs (especially Vol.s 1&2) are great for people who "don't get" jazz. 20-something females also seem to like to dance to this stuff — never a bad thing.

Felser — if you like most of the tunes that are on that compilation, you'll probably like the Eddie Gale stuff. The two selected tracks do have vocals, but they're ensemble vocals ... not like the vocals on United States of Mind. Gale isn't the strongest of trumpet players, but his two records on Blue Note (reissued by Water with great sound) communicate a lot of power — some very impassioned playing on those records. Gale's wife does get some solo vocal features on those records, but she's a fairly good singer. Overall, and at the price, the Gales on Water (Blue Note) are definitely worth checking out. They represent an interesting angle from the period: somewhere between Strata East sessions of the time and Horace Silver's and Bobby Hutcherson's later Blue Note work — perhaps with a dash of Sun Ra ... and the lightest sprinkle of Earth, Wind & Fire?

Here's the full track listing: Disc: 1 1. Phantom - Pearson, Duke 2. Black Rhythm Happening - Gale, Eddie 3. Black Heroes - Hutcherson, Bobby 4. Hey Hey - Hill, Andrew 5. Psychedelic Pi - Smith, Lonnie 6. Emperor - Byrd, Donald 7. Riot - Hancock, Herbie 8. Sweet Pea - Shorter, Wayne 9. Soul - McLean, Jackie Disc: 2 1. Message From The Nile - Tyner, McCoy 2. Slow Change - Hutcherson, Bobby 3. Acid Pot Or Pills - Silver, Horace 4. I Have A Dream - Hancock, Herbie 5. Illusion - Hill, Andrew 6. Peace - Silver, Horace 7. Psychedelic - Morgan, Lee 8. Slow Drag - Byrd, Donald 9. Fulton Street - Gale, Eddie Just drop "Soul" from Disc 1, and add a Grant Green tune (which one?), and it really is "Righteousness"!

I think I have most of those tracks, but that actually looks like a good compilation!

I ordered this one with the Mingus UCLA set, so I won't be getting it until after the 26th! (And, while I was at it, I had to throw in Baker's Broken Wing and Hutcherson's Happenings.) The end of the month will be good over here ...

Philly — I'd go with one of the recs that Bentsy and Nate are suggesting above, and then I'd get one of her ECM sessions. That way, you could have at least two discs of hers representing both "faces." Additionally, if you like Anthony Braxton, that's another good avenue to explore Crispell's work. Braxton's quartet with Crispell, Gerry Hemingway, and Mark Dresser is heavy duty. Their stuff on Hat and Leo is top-notch.

I almost sold Storyteller a while after I'd purchased it, but I'm glad I didn't. I'm listening to it right now — expressive, but subtly expressive stuff. I like Peacock a lot better with Crispell than Helias (though I think Helias is great in other contexts), which is one of the initial reasons I thought about dumping it, but, the more I listen, the more I hear Motian stepping up without Peacock on board. Interesting how the dynamics between a group can effect such change. I personally think nothing ever was, anyway is by far Crispell's best record on ECM, and I'd credit that to Annette Peacock's compositions — so much more tension in the playing on that record, but tension spread over a lot of space and quiet, not the tension one hears (or feels) in Cecil Taylor's playing. When I heard Crispell live (promoting Amaryllis at the time), her set, which was solo, was entirely in her "free" context. I wondered what audience members who weren't familiar with her playing thought. Did they buy Amaryllis afterward? I didn't see many copies moving off the sales table. To be fair, the set was supposed to be a trio outing, but Peacock had to pull out at the last minute for health reasons. I thought, wow, it's going to be a duo concert with Paul Motian ... but he decided not to show either. (I still enjoyed the concert.)

I've purposely not been listening to Ellington in preparation and anticipation of this set. I even went a little crazy and sold all the discs I owned that contained this material. Now it will be (um, kind of) like owning this stuff for the first time! I think I'll even purchase a pound of Ethiopian coffee beans for the occasion of the set arriving. Then, when I open the box set, the first scent it will experience (because of course Mosaics are living, animate things) is freshly brewed coffee.

Clifford — I don't know definitively about Kenyatta's actual name. I'm going to assume you're right. But check out this Google search: http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&ie=...rince+Haynes%22 Weird. Now I have to track down The Girl from Martinique. Sounds like something I should hear.

I was just trying to steer the conversation back to the album in question (— not a drop of offense taken, Guy!). As for Herbie's organ playing, I agree with what ep1str0phy wrote — it does fit in well with the second part of that album. Still, maybe because of the recording year or because Hancock ostensibly preferred acoustic music at the time, I always find it a little surprising, and in a good way. I wish there more samples of it, but it seems really a one-off. I bet if Larry Young happened to have heard that track from the record at the time, it made him smile.

Anyone like his playing?

Like a trooper, dumb or sincere, I payed full price for every West Coast Classics title, partly because I couldn't find them on sale anywhere, and partly because I actually thought: "If Blue Note's going to reissue this stuff, I'm going to give them my money." (Tries to verify memory ...) Wait a minute — I did buy two of them on sale through Dusty Groove. Still, it's good to own the whole lot, and I'm glad they could make an appearance. I have a friend in SF who only casually likes jazz, and he bought the Cy Touff title on my recommendation and loves it. Now ... back to Hutcherson's Components. What do you guys think of Herbie's organ playing?

Thanks, Ronald. I must have misspelled Kullhammar when doing the search -- I guess? Anyway, I suppose now we have two threads. Has anyone checked out his most recent recording?

I thought there was a thread on this guy already, but the search function didn't bring anything up when I tried it. At any rate, Jonas used to post, way back in the day, on the BNBB. I knew he was a tenor player, but I had no idea how accomplished, or how relatively young, he is. To my ears, when it comes to contemporary tenor players who favor "hard bop" or "post hard bop" or however one might label more mainstream playing, Kullhammar is hands-down one of the best playing on the scene today. And he's only 28! For one, he absolutely nails Sonny Rollins ... let's say circa 1963 — but, more importantly, it's not just that his playing can imitate such a difficult-to-imitate master, it's that he can freely, and unabashedly, infuse his own sense of "soul" (or passion, or enthusiasm, or what have you) into his music. The result, to put it simply, is a lot of fun, and sometimes quite inspiring, music. Check out his stuff on Moserobie (distributed by Dusty Groove). I'd personally recommend this one as a great starting point: Some wailing big band charts on this set. Even better, the diversity of tunes (up, ballad, medium, even quasi-boogaloo) is especially attractive.

White Lightning — if you don't already have this one, it's definitely worth seeking out: This one sets the bar high for arranging. I only wish that it might be remastered again for compact disc reissue. Right now, the sound is only so-so. The music, however, is amazing.

That makes sense ...