BN84175 Herbie Hancock/Empyrean Isles

[chewy-chew-chew-bean-benitez]

1st of all, before the notes start, theres a little tiny musical related note in italics, before which then there is aheader stating the album title in caps, and then it delves into some kind of fantasyland poetry, it is the weirdest bluenote album liners ever-- nora kelly? omg

[brownie]

Nora Kelly also wrote the liner notes for Maiden Voyage...

Same trip!

[chewy-chew-chew-bean-benitez]

oh god! herbie must of been furious! a rare slip up from alfred, lol

[Stereojack]

oh god! herbie must of been furious! a rare slip up from alfred, lol

Maybe the liner notes were Herbie's idea. Do we know who Nora Kelly is? A friend of Herbie's, possibly?

[Mark Stryker]

I have often wondered about Nora Kelly and how she came to write the notes for those albums, and I have always meant to ask Herbie about this directly. Alas, the last time I had the chance, I forgot to bring it up. I'll remember next time. (Also, I'll try and get some clarity on the Tristano debate discussed elsewhere on the board.)

But back to Kelly. Could this be the same Nora Kelly who writes highly regarded mysteries (I haven't read them) and now appears to live in Vancouver? This Nora Kelly was born in 1945, so it's possible, though that would be some pretty precocious writing for someone at age 19 and 20. I have always assumed that if it was not Herbie's idea to have her write the notes it was with his blessing. And if her participation in "Empyrean Isles" came a surprise to him, then he must have dug it because otherwise she surely would not have contributed to "Maiden Voyage."

I've always loved these notes -- part of the total atmosphere of those albums, at least as they were experienced on LP. And, not so incidentally, "Empyrean Isles" is a desert island record for me -- some of the greatest playing by all four of those musicians, but especially Freddie and Herbie, who never sounded better.

Edited November 7, 2010 by Mark Stryker

[JSngry]

it is the weirdest bluenote album liners ever

You haven't read the notes to Unit Structures, have you...

[Mark Stryker]

it is the weirdest bluenote album liners ever

You haven't read the notes to Unit Structures, have you...

Favorite off-the-wall liner note moment: I have a Spanish bootleg LP of Pete LaRoca's "Turkish Women at the Bath" on what appears to be the Dial Disco, S.A. label, though it's released under Chick Corea's name and the title of "Extasis."

The notes are credited to J.M. Costa, with a translated-into-English credit to one Nahuel Cerrutti. I can't vouch for Mr. Cerrutti's Spanish, but his English leaves quite a bit to be desired: Here's the best part (all spellings and grammar sic):

"Armando Anthony Corea was borned in Chelsea, Massachusets (July 12, 1941), son of a trumpeter, he started with the piano at the age of four and when he was nineteen he decides to go to New York probably to find better airs. There he blew up himself hearing Coltrane or Miles Davis in company with wome people that shortly after would give grounds for criticism as drummer Philly Joe Jones or reedman Joe Farrell."

I've always assumed that "blew up himself" was a literal stab at translating the idiom "blew his mind" ...

Edited November 7, 2010 by Mark Stryker

[marcello]

Here they are:

Before the dawn of water is clear and quiet, the small movement of the waves rhythmic it is a stillness in itself. The birds are silent, and the beach is as empty as the sky, except for a few small crabs that poke among the rocks, looking for food tinier than they.

As the first hint of gray suffuses the horizon and imperceptibly lightens the deep black waters, a light wind ruffles the tips of the wavelets, whitening their crests with tongues of foam. Slowly the sand gains life, the grayness of the starry night becoming faintly yellow, a forerunner to the blazing white of noon.

In this empty hour the busy world is shrouded in loneliness. Half-buried cans glint weakly in the diffused light, and as the day grows broader, the whole length of the beach slowly becomes visible, vast and silent, the discarded residue of humanity scarring its desert purity. Metal wastebaskets are dotted over the landscape as far as the eye can see, looking strange and useless, as desolate as gravestones.

A single ship, perhaps on her maiden voyage, her mast a black spike against the sky, hovers near the horizon, until the curving waters sink her sail from view. The sand twinkles in the growing day, but all too soon the sea will break on a shore of people. Gone will be the huge, secret silence, as the masses stream from the city behind, scurrying madly like lemmings to the waiting strand.

But through the land may submit, the sea is yet implacable, changeless, and though the people, deeming themselves brave, tiptoe out from the edge of the land and splash in the shallows, tasting the salt, they can but shiver on the fringes of her mystery. Her vastness remains dark and secret, a misty world of silence and beauty and fluid grace. From the great sluggish sea turtles gliding in slow motion through the depths, to the swift and playful dolphins, jesters and intelligentsia of her kingdom, everything in the sea moves constantly in flight or pursuit.

To us a playground or a symbol of peace, to her creatures the sea is a water jungle, a world of swift life and swifter death, whose silence cloaks a lurking danger. Killer whales, cruel kings of the sea, cruise slowly about, slaying for the love of blood and battle. Sea anemones, beautiful and deadly, wave their tentacles, beckoning small fish to death by poison. Like the land, it is a world where the small and timid must be swift and clever at hiding, where the strong prey on the weak, the weak on those more defenseless than themselves, a world where only the fittest survive.

Ancient tales speak of its beauty and danger, of nameless terrors that lurk in the shadows, awaiting the unwary, of fantastic monsters rearing vast and hideous heads from the depths, crunching ships in tow with one snap of their jaws.

They speak too of the wondrous cities built by men of old under the sea, that appear only once in a hundred years, only to sink beneath the surface again, leaving no trace. Yet in truth, no cities of man exist beneath the sea, and lost Atlantis is but a woman’s tale. The sea yet holds her secrets, and it will be many a long year ere man plumbs her depths, ravaging her beauty, imprisoning her creatures, usurping her throne with a savage hand.

– Nora Kelly

[chewy-chew-chew-bean-benitez]

marcello, you didnt have to do that dude. if you wanted to, but man you typed all that out? im sry

it is the weirdest bluenote album liners ever

You haven't read the notes to Unit Structures, have you...

i haven't read the notes to unit structures, nor heard unit structures, lol

[AndrewHill]

And, not so incidentally, "Empyrean Isles" is a desert island record for me -- some of the greatest playing by all four of those musicians, but especially Freddie and Herbie, who never sounded better.

I 100% agree. What an exemplary record, and a shout-out for Ron Carter too, who along with Herbie, Freddie and Tony, plays above and beyond himself. A shame there are so few records with Freddie in a quartet setting, a place where he really seemed to thrive.

[JohnS]

An absolute favourite of mine too. Superb playing all round.

[mikeweil]

FWIW, Joe Berendt was rather enthusiastic over this use of poetry or prose for liner notes and considered this a high point of creative art crossing borders beyond just music ... I guess he was wild about Debussy's La mer and went crazy about some of his favourite jazz musicians doing impressionist albums about the sea - Wayne Shorter's Odyssey of Iska was on his list, too, and, of course, Maiden Voyage.

[Teasing the Korean]

Typical liner notes of concept/exotica albums, of which MV and E I could be considered examples.

[marcello]

marcello, you didnt have to do that dude. if you wanted to, but man you typed all that out? im sry

No Chewy, I found the liner notes online and just copied and pasted.