Mark Stryker

"Salon Society." Narrated by Bill Manville, with Hank Jones, piano (Roulette R 501). Julius Hemphill, "Coon Bid'ness" (Arista) Both at Encore Records, Ann Arbor, MI

You can hear (sort of) "Sweet Georgia Brown" from this tape on youtube.

Haven’t weighed in on Jamal until now, but for what it’s worth, here’s my view: Jamal is a genius both as a conceptualist and a pianist, yet there are also elements, specifically linear melodic improvisation, that he doesn’t provide at the level of invention that I prefer. To be clear, I am inspired and moved by Jamal’s best work and I think his influence on the wider sound of jazz is as indisputable as it is profound – very few musicians in jazz have put their stamp not only their instrument but wider aesthetic currents. Jamal is in that camp. Still, though I think it’s a mistake to expect him to roar through a standard like Barry Harris – that’s not what he’s about – I still wish the improvisations cut deeper. That’s my taste. I agree with Allen viz. Mailer that bad art can influence great art, but the idea that Jamal represents charlatanism is ridiculous. This topic reminds me a bit of my definition of a wine connoisseur – someone who can say, “That’s an excellent wine; I hate it.” One can hold serious reservations and one can certainly hate Jamal, but to deny him every shred of his artistic integrity, which is what you do when you call him a charlatan, is to wholly substitute personal taste for reasoned analysis. Which is not to say that it’s not a function of criticism to cry “fraud” when it appears – it is absolutely – and, of course, there are always going to be disagreements about who is and who is not a phony and, crucially, which criteria has the greatest bearing in how and why we make that determination. But Jamal as charlatan? I just don’t see how you can defend that position either based on an objective reading of the history or a prima facie hearing of the music. I’ve written about Jamal a few times, and my views are still evolving. But here are some excerpts. Please excuse the repetition of some pet phrases (we all have our licks): About the new box set: Few revolutionaries have made music so friendly. Jamal drew blood with quietly swinging interpretations of standards, his arrangements and improvisations based on melodic and rhythmic catchphrases rather than complex linear inventions. His breakthrough 1958 LP "At the Pershing: But Not for Me," powered by the hit "Poinciana," spent two years on the Billboard charts. But Jamal has always been a wolf in sheep's clothing. He's a conceptualist, whose aesthetic is based on the art of surprise and the play of tension-and-release. His main tools include dynamics, dramatic silence, texture, riffs, melodic paraphrase and a subtle recasting of form through introductions, vamps, tags, key changes and rhythmic contrasts. Jamal's classic trio with bassist Israel Crosby and drummer Vernel Fournier redefined jazz from the inside out. About a 2006 live performance: Nearly 50 years after he first became a sensation in jazz, pianist Ahmad Jamal still has a reputation as a jazz minimalist, vamping till the cows come home, leaving gaping holes of silence in his music and plinking melodies played so high up on the keyboard and so softly that it almost sounds as if the music is evaporating right in front of you. But Jamal, a conceptualist who influenced Miles Davis, Keith Jarrett and countless others, is also a maximalist. Jamal, whose trio closed out Sunday night's performances at the Detroit International Jazz Festival at Hart Plaza's amphitheatre, pivoted incessantly between whispered transparencies and dense explosions of chords, muscularly thumped bass notes and gyrating, almost chaotic densities all over the keyboard that clouded into obscurity the grooves dug by bassist James Cammack and drummer Idris Muhammad. Suddenly, as if flipping off a light switch, Jamal wiped away the debris and the groove reappeared from the rubble. He then rode the beat with some slyly humorous riffing before building to his next barrage. This play of tension and release is Jamal's idee fixe. Every tune Sunday followed a similar formula, from the opening standard, "Time On My Hands," to revivals of his early hits "Poinciana" and "But Not For Me," to simple originals based on nothing more than oscillating intervals and a series of repeating bass ostinatos. The rhythms were generally based on swing or a kind of swampy shuffle that drummer Vernel Fournier invented with Jamal in the '50s and that Muhammad updated with a slightly funky twist. Still, while you know what's going to happen in Jamal's music, you never know when it's going to happen. Jamal, who controls every move his ensemble makes like an auteur, keeps his listeners (and his sidemen) guessing. The emotion in his music comes from surprise. His encore Sunday had so many false endings the music warped into surrealism. Jamal's music is easy to understand but it remains downright mutinous in its absence of melody. He has essentially replaced the linear melodic improvising that governs nearly all jazz with an aesthetic based entirely on dynamics, dramatic silence, theatrical surprise, texture, contrast and riffs. The music can be tedious, self-conscious and excessively splashy, and there were times Sunday when I longed to hear the music ascend to a higher plane of melodic and harmonic development and improvisation. Call me old fashioned. But nobody jogs in place so profoundly as Jamal.

That's what I was thinking of, but IIRC he went into more detail somewhere. But then my memory is full of gaping holes and imaginings. I'm sure he has, though I can't put my finger on it this instant. Did find this bit in an interview from some years ago: L: Do you listen much to the piano masters? HG: I don’t listen to much of anything anymore. When I do, I listen to Ahmad Jamal. Lately I’ve been very into him. I heard him four nights out of six at Fat Tuesdays. I was stunned. You can’t put your finger on what he’s doing; he’s very subtle. You get the feeling he’s playing everything and nothing. You’re not quite sure what you heard or what he did.

Some of Hal Galper's views expressed here: http://www.halgalper.com/18_interviews/ahmadinterview.htm

Check out the Pre-Stonewall first graf of this Seymour Krim VV piece: http://www.facebook.com/chrisaschneider#!/photo.php?fbid=431858644354&set=a.98940674354.90321.614794354&pid=5174357&id=614794354 And the last graf has its moments too, especially Krim's final sentence. Larry, The link requires a log-in and I may be the last person on earth who's not on Facebook. Which piece (date) is it? I'll look it up. I've got three of Krim's collection -- what a fascinating writer!

There promises to be a ton of Ammons material in the long-gestating book on soul jazz by Bob Porter, who knows more about Ammons than anyone. I've been mulling an Ammons essay for a while but haven't gotten around to it yet. I've been addicted to his playing forever -- nobody played with more personal expression or feeling than Jug. The marriage of such a virle-yet-vulnerable sound, melodic rhyme, relaxed swing, natural push-pull phrasing, bebop, blues, testifying and vocalized sound in a solo like this one on "Exactly Like You" is just in a class by itself. (From Ammons' best record in my opinion, "Jug," with "Boss Tenor" coming in second.) But with Jug, the whole cultural relevance of jazz, especially in the black community,is just as significant. The corner bar, jukeboxes, etc. Porter told me that in the '60s he knew middle class blacks who planned vacations around Ammons' itinerary, always trying to hear him along the way. His appeal cut across every schism of class and style -- doctors, lawyers, pimps, factory workers, hipsters, squares, beboppers, avant-gardists. A beloved figure and completely original yet essentially ignored by the larger critical establishment, which on the one hand is not surprising since but for his time in the Eckstine band he was never within shouting distance of the vanguard. But at his funeral, both Miles Davis and Ray Charles sent huge bouquets. That says something. Last thought: There's nothing wrong with jazz education that couldn't be fixed by firebombing all the major jazz schools with Gene Ammons records.

I only caught a few segments because of other commitments but enjoyed what I saw, as I did much of the earlier "Baseball" series. One jazz note: As background music to a chapter on the influx of Hispanic players, especially those from the Dominican Republic, somebody selected a larger ensemble version of Kenny Dorham's "Una Mas." I assume it was the contemporary recording by Roy Hargrove.

Larry: Thanks for clarifying your views. "Complicated" probably wasn't the best word choice since I really didn't mean "tough to understand" as much as "there's a myriad of circumstances that can change the equation" -- which is your more cleanly stated point. I do find the topic interesting. Re: Brahms. I don't dispute that orchestration may have been important to him and I would never say he was not competent at it. I would say, despite your point that he was very specific about his choices and that his colors were his colors, that orchestration is still not his greatest gift or critical to the success or significance of his music as it is with other composers. But perhaps this is matter of taste; the fact that I find the symphonic-and-concerto Brahms overly dense and gray (Symphony No. 2 excepted) is certainly my issue not Brahms' or, perhaps, yours. Potato, Potahto and all that. Having said that, I adore the chamber music, the late piano music and the Requiem, partly because they breathe easier and offer a more prismatic palette to my ears.

I haven't heard the piece, so I can't comment specifically on its success or failure. But I am intrigued by a particular angle of the discussion: the suspicions raised by the fact that Wynton did not orchestrate the piece. Assuming I'm not misreading Larry, the view seems to be that this is somehow dishonest, a form of cheating. But is this always the case? "Let My Children Hear Music," for instance, is for me one of Mingus' greatest masterpieces, but the fact is that Sy Johnson orchestrated nearly all of the record. We rightly think of it as Mingus' music, but there's no question that the brilliance of the orchestration -- which instruments play which notes -- is critical to its success, and the startling flow of texture and color in the music owes a great to deal to Johnson's imagination. I wonder sometimes if Johnson doesn't get enough credit; he didn't write the album, but it wouldn't be as good without him and might not exist. Yet no one would argue that Johnson is Mingus' equal. Part of it, perhaps, are the distinctions between "composer," "arranger" and "orchestrator," and as I recall, there were arguments between Mingus and Johnson in the studio over exactly how credit should be given. I don't think of Gil Evans as a composer as much as an arranger, but the level of invention of the orchestrations and choices he makes shaping other peoples' music absolutely rises to the level of genius. There's a longstanding prejudice that elevates composers over arrangers, but Evans shows the folly of reductive thinking. Certainly, a particular gift for orchestration is a healthy part of the genius for some composers (Ellington, Berlioz, Ravel, Horace Silver) and less important for others (Brahms, many of the Basie arrangers, Steve Reich, Wayne Shorter, although Wayne's recent work with the Imani Winds shows he's come a long way since "High Life" and the soupy orchestral writing I heard in a piece he debuted with the Detroit Symphony in 2000. Of course Wayne's thematic material, development, detailing and harmonic color and movement are always stunning.) Broadway is another interesting case, where the tradition has always been that the roles of composer and orchestrator were separate -- in fact, there may well be a union distinction that reinforced the practice. Maybe somebody with more knowledge of this than I could weigh in. In any case, Stephen Sondheim has never orchestrated his own shows, though he certainly has the chops to do so in a way that some of the classic Broadway tunesmiths did not. A few years ago I covered the world premiere of an opera called "Cyrano" by David DiChiera, the general director of Michigan Opera Theatre and a true civic hero here in Detroit. He had been trained as a composer and he wrote a lovely work in a conservative idiom, not without issues, but generally successful. He did not orchestrate the piece -- given his duties running a major opera company, he didn't have time. But he gave detailed instructions to the conductor who ended up doing the actual pen-to-paper work -- use an oboe for this melody, a wash of winds or horns for that gesture, etc. Yet the orchestrator still was making a lot of specific decisions on his own. I guess my point is that it's complicated. And interesting.

http://news.discovery.com/tech/press-your-cremated-ashes-into-a-vinyl-record.html#mkcpgn=rssnws1

My two cents: I've heard Roy twice in the last three months, once with his own band last week and once in June with Chick Corea, Kenny Garrett and Christian McBride and I could not disagree more with that line of complaint. He sounded amazing both times, completely locked in, listening, having a conversation with the rest of the band. I suppose you could say he's a busy drummer -- he's always been busy -- but to me it's so musical and creative that the word intrusive is badly misplaced.

Billy Higgins once told me (and I'm going from memory from a conversation nearly 25 years ago) that he felt like the secret to his groove on the "The Sidewinder" was that there was really no back beat -- no heavy whap on two and four that locked in the rhythm into a stiff rock 'n' roll feel. Listen to the flowing shuffle effect he creates on the snare drum. As far as terms, I vote "boogaloo," though I think I've used the term "funky boogaloo" in print to refer to this tune and in some cases the term "Blue Note funk" might work as a catch all for all those post-Sidewinder tunes by Morgan, Mobley and others.

The concert was at the Beacon Theatre not Carnegie ... I've only been to the Beacon once; I saw Steely Dan a few years ago from about the 10th row and the sound was ok but not great -- better perhaps than your typical rock show but not as good as you would want for an acoustic jazz show with amplification.

Don't really want to get in a deep discussion about McBride vs. other bass players or a referendum on Ornette's contributions or whether he or Sonny still got it at 80 (your mileage may vary and all that); but I would note that the video (which has already been removed from youtube) was likely shot on a cell phone and the problematic sound quality of the recording, plus the on-stage amplification and the acoustics of the theater surely conspired to produce a jaundiced balance and lack of presence that might be influencing perception. The bass sounded way overbalanced in the mix, drums were distant (I know Roy plays louder than that) and so were the saxophones. Just thinking out loud. Also, regarding Jim's post: I concur.

Fascinating indeed -- Sonny moves into Ornette's world, leaving behind the 12-bar form and I-IV-V-I harmony for extended blowing in the home key of what I assume is B-flat, with chromatic and stepwise forays elsewhere through sequences; and he incorporates Ornette's signature use of major and minor 3rds in building his melodic motifs. Now, somebody needs to post the version of "If Ever I Would Leave You" with Jim Hall from the concert ...

Nate Chinen's review in the Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/13/arts/music/13rollins.html

All of Sonny's concerts these days are recorded for archival purposes -- and have been for years. The more important question is whether Sonny will approve anything for release. Remember, the 50th anniversary reunion with Roy (and Christian) at Carnegie Hall a few years ago was originally planned for release but Sonny wasn't happy with two of the numbers and so the only piece that made it out was "Some Enchanted Evening" on "Road Shows" (though bootlegs of the other two tunes from Carnegie have floated around). As for Roy, he's a freak of nature. I don't think there's ever been any performing musician in any idiom in history who has ever played with greater technical precision, authority and creativity at such an advanced age -- and he's playing the drums! I actually think Roy is literally playing better than ever. I heard him with his own group just five days ago in Detroit and it was so amazing that there are no words. Also, up close, he looks like he's about 55. There was quite a special scene backstage at the Detroit festival during Branford Marsalis' set when Roy was sitting next to drummer Karriem Riggins (35 years old) and both were listening to Justin Faulkner, Branford's dynamite new drummer who is just 19 -- 66 years younger than Roy!

A few initial first-person accounts: http://www.artsjournal.com/jazzbeyondjazz/2010/09/sonny_the_sax_king.html http://runningthevoodoodown.blogspot.com/2010/09/and-how-was-your-friday-night.html http://thejazzsession.com/2010/09/10/review-sonny-rollins-80th-birthday-concert/ http://barcelonajazzfestival.blogspot.com/2010/09/sonny-rollins-at-beacon-theatre-ii.html

Not sure if it's been mentioned on the board or not, but there's a new posting of the Cecil Taylor Quintet at the 1965 festival -- with Bill Barron, Jimmy Lyons, Henry Grimes, Andrew Cyrille. Three tunes: "Steps," "Unit Structures," "Tales (8 Whisps)" Total of nearly 50 minutes. Just listening to the opening of "Steps" and it's pretty incredible.

When I interviewed Joe in 1996, one of the questions I asked him was how he felt about his current success -- he was then riding the Verve contract and resulting exposure to the biggest paydays of his his career -- especially in light of the fact that so many of his former colleagues like Kenny Dorham had been tragically under appreciated during their lives. The angle at which he came at his answer surprised me; I'm going from memory here as I haven't listened to the tape of that interview since it was done. But he essentially talked about how some guys really didn't want to be famous or created situations that in effect kept them underground, or perhaps more underground than they needed to be. He was clearly not talking about himself -- he liked flying first-class and dug the bread, though he said if it all went away tomorrow he'd still be getting up everyday and working on his music, just as he had during all those years when not many folks other than musicians were paying attention. I interpreted his answer that he was specifically talking about K.D., but I didn't follow-up, because I didn't think it was germane to the wider context of the interview. Still, interesting.

In 1993, Joe told USA Today the following about BS&T: "Here you had a jazz-rock group and they didn't have any black faces. I was going to do a lot of writing, which was not necessarily going to be commercial. There was so much money, I was driven to rehearsals in a chauffeur-driven limo. They would go into the studio and live there for two months. I was used to recording in two days." The USA Today reporter, James T. Jones IV, then interjects in a quick summary that's surely reductive: "That, along with the band's numerous personnel changes, led him to leave after six months."

I guess I would add that pressure to conform does not always produce insecurity -- it's not a straight line. In fact, it can produce the opposite, an increased stubbornness to stick to your convictions, and Joe, as much as any musician of his generation, marched to his own drummer for his entire career. Here's an in-depth 1991 interview that doesn't directly address the issue but does paint a larger and interesting portrait of Joe's personality and includes reflections on his early days. http://www.melmartin.com/html_pages/Interviews/henderson.html

I didn't read the quote as a reflection of insecurity, that is, an admission that he felt he wasn't living up to bebop standards. Rather, I read it more as a statment that he didn't completely relate spiritually or emotionally to pure bebop and not until Coltrane did the music hit him deep in his soul. Detroit was a bebop town -- Barry Harris was still the leading guru in town when Joe was in college -- and Joe once said he felt like a man alone listening to Ornette when he was here. (He also told me that studying Hindemith, Stravinsky and Bartok at Wayne State helped keep his ears open and was one reason that early on he related to the experiments of both Coltrane and Ornette.) Of course, it's possible that he harbored some insecurities, but he sure didn't play that way. In fact, one of the things that's so amazing was that he was so in control of time, articulation and harmony that he could at any moment shift from abstract, slippery phrasing that obscured time and form to laying down a row of swinging 8th notes that was so Right-On-The-Money it could put to shame Sonny Stitt. That's one of the things that I love most about his playing. Allen: Do you know the source for that quote? I'd be curious to see the context.

Joe was not a particularly "loud" player in person, but being the master of the instrument that he was, he could still project his sound to where it could be heard anywhere in any room (under "normal" circumstances, of course). Projection & "volume" are subtly different but very real parts of sound production...there's guys that will be loud as hell when you stand right next to them, but you go out 15-20 feet and there ain't hardly anything there. Other guys, you can hear a triple-pianissimo at the back of a huge auditorium. It's the latter group that have really mastered the whole airflow/support/embouchure thing. We've been down this road in past threads, so just to quickly repeat a salient point about Joe's volume: It's one of the things that allowed him to play so rhythmically loose and with such extraordinary flexibility. It's nearly impossible to play some of Joe's signature flickering and swirling shit, or at least have it make the same effect, if you're trying to blow down the house. I was shocked at his volume the first time I heard him live but it was also a revelation because I immediately understood a lot more about how he manifested his concept. And as Jim says, volume is not at all the same thing as projection.