Posts tagged ‘art blakey’

September 12, 2012

The 50 Greatest Saxophonists…EVER!!! 30-21

Our week-long countdown reaches its midpoint, as we offer you #s 30-21 of the 50 Greatest Saxophonists Ever. And don’t miss a bonus list at the end – Darius Jones‘ five favorite saxophonists! Shall we begin?

30. HENRY THREADGILL. An alto saxophonist of searing intensity, Henry Threadgill is also one of the most imaginative composers on the planet. His early musical history coincides with the mid-’60s inception of Chicago’s legendary Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians; through the organization he met key collaborators such as Muhal Richard Abrams (whose Young at Heart/Wise in Time marked Threadgill’s recorded debut) and Anthony Braxton. Threadgill also soaked up gospel, polka and classical music at an early age, and he soon began dreaming up his own fantastical, stylistically boundless aesthetic, first showcased as part of Air, a collective trio that reconciled ’60s-style free jazz with ragtime. From there, Threadgill’s palette broadened exponentially, yielding a series of unconventional ensembles, including the double-drum Sextett, the two-tuba and two-guitar Very Very Circus, and Threadgill’s current working band, an entrancing sextet known as Zooid. Threadgill continues to double on flute, but his signature instrument remains the alto sax—the mercurial x-factor in his obsessive, micro-detailed sound world. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: The Sextett is Threadgill’s most accessible band, and its dazzling string of ’80s albums is a great place to get acquainted. Rag, Bush and All, from 1989, may have a slight edge on its predecessor, 1987′s Easily Slip Into Another World, but both are outstanding.

29. BEN WEBSTER. A contemporary of Coleman Hawkins and a product of the rich Kansas City jazz scene, Webster lacked the easy expressiveness of some of his rivals, but had a fat, ragged sound all his own, and the ability to sweeten it up when called upon to do so. A stalwart of Duke Ellington’s orchestra for several years, his stormy playing is less known today thanks to a limited number of releases as a bandleader, but he’s well worth exploring for the distinct quality he brought to the instrument. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Some of Webster’s best playing is on hard-to-find live dates from his European years, but Soulville, a 1957 exercise with the Oscar Peterson Trio, is a good a place as any to get into his earthy, rough tone.

28. LESTER YOUNG. Young was a game-changer, his light, floating style a near-total counterpoint to the dominant saxophone voice of the time, the blustering Coleman Hawkins. His crucial recordings were all made during the swing era of the late 1930s toe early 1940s, though his career continued until his early death in 1959. His partnerships with Count Basie and Billie Holiday inspired him to most of his greatest heights, though he made some excellent records as a leader, notably the 1956 album The Jazz Giants, which offers a mix of extended, hard-swinging tunes and brooding balladry. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Count Basie’s Complete Original American Decca Recordings shows you what Young was doing between 1937 and 1939.

27. STAN GETZ. A hugely influential tenor player with an impeccable and extraordinarily beautiful tone, Getz began his career during the swing era of the 1940s, but first achieved major popularity in the early 1950s. A few years later, he began combining jazz with Brazilian bossa nova and had a huge hit with “The Girl from Ipanema,” featuring vocals by Astrud Gilberto. He kept working right up until his death in 1991, rarely losing a step and often making surprisingly challenging albums. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Quintets: The Clef & Norgran Studio Albums, a three-disc compilation of early ’50s masterpieces, cool and lush without resorting to strings, vocalists or other crutches.

26. DON DIETRICH/JIM SAUTER. These two are paired because they’re difficult to imagine separately. As two-thirds of Borbetomagus, they’ve blended free jazz, improv and noise for over 30 years, and while the Borbeto sound is almost instantly recognizable (in the kind of circles where people have heard of this stuff at all, obviously), discerning Jim from Don within the swirling storm can be difficult even for the men themselves. Besides, one of their major innovations—the “bells together” technique, which is exactly what it sounds like—requires two horns to execute. So really, symbiosis and collaboration are the point. But if you must separate them, Jim’s the one with the beard and Don’s the one with the glasses. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Barbed Wire Maggots, originally a two-track LP expanded on CD; like sandpapering your eardrums, but in the best possible way.

25. CHARLES GAYLE. A hurricane disguised as a tall, thin old man, Gayle is post-Albert Ayler, post-Pharoah Sanders, even post-music at times. His raw, totally improvised entreaties to God are the equivalent of an Old Testament prophet crying out in the desert, his ever-shifting rhythm sections scuffling and talking mostly to each other as he barrels ahead, mostly on the tenor but sometimes on alto or even bass clarinet, fierce intensity and self-taught but still impressive technique combining into a sound unlike any other free jazz player on Earth, old or new. He also plays the piano sometimes, and isn’t all wild roars—his ballads have a remarkable desolation. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Touchin’ On Trane, where he restrains himself somewhat to pay tribute to the John Coltrane of Interstellar Space and Stellar Regions, backed by bassist William Parker and former Coltrane drummer Rashied Ali.

24. LOU DONALDSON. This funky, bluesy alto player’s been leading bands since the mid-1950s, beginning as a hard bopper (he worked with Art Blakey immediately prior to the drummer forming the Jazz Messengers) and moving in a more soulful, groove-oriented direction at the dawn of the ’60s. His organ-driven dates like Alligator Boogaloo and Midnight Creeper offer thick slabs of funk, the occasional ill-advised cover tune surrounded by one foot-tapping original after another. Some might say a little of this stuff goes a long way, but Donaldson’s got enough of a fan base among blues, R&B and soul listeners that frustrating jazz nerds was likely never a big concern for him. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: The Natural Soul, a 1962 soul-jazz workout featuring trumpeter Tommy Turrentine, guitarist Grant Green, organist Big John Patton and drummer Ben Dixon.

23. JD ALLEN. A sharp, expressive tenor player whose reputation has grown rapidly in recent years, Allen got a slow start as a solo act, releasing two discs in 1999 and 2002 that went nowhere. Following several years as an in-demand sideman, he formed a trio with bassist Gregg August and drummer Rudy Royston that’s made four terrific albums to date. Allen’s compositions are concise, introspective vignettes (2011’s Victory! packed 12 tracks into 36 minutes) that showcase his Coltrane-in-’64 tone and his focused interplay with his bandmates. He can also be heard regularly backing two adventurous trumpeters: in Jeremy Pelt’s quintet and David Weiss’s Point of Departure. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Victory!, the trio’s shortest and/but most potent statement to date.

22. CANNONBALL ADDERLEY. This burly alto saxophonist, who also played soprano in his later years, combined hard bop and soul into a funky, melodic, hard-swinging sound that brought him chart hits (“This Here” and “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy”) and steady work on the road. In the mid-1950s, Adderley and his cornet-playing brother Nat had an unsuccessful band; after Cannonball did a short stint with Miles Davis (he’s on Kind of Blue and Milestones), they formed a new band which carried them through the 1960s. In addition to keyboardist Joe Zawinul, the group featured a second saxophone for a while—first played by Yusef Lateef, then Charles Lloyd. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: The Cannonball Adderley Quintet in San Francisco, a joyful, hard-swinging 1959 live date that includes “This Here.”

21. ARCHIE SHEPP. Shepp rarely gets the credit he deserves for having been an early adapter of avant-garde ideas (he partnered with trumpeter Bill Dixon in 1962), possibly because he figured out early on what he wanted to do with the music and stuck with it. One of the first players to deliberately break with the established hard bop style of the day, he settled into a rich and identifiable groove by combining Afrocentric rhythms and themes with leaping, sometimes extravagant free jazz sax lines. Though he rarely went as far afield as the lines of Ornette Coleman or Albert Ayler, he could not have found a more effective way to deliver his chosen message. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: 1974’s Kwanza, released on Impulse! during a particularly strong period for Shepp, finds him laying some seriously spastic sax cuts over a fierce band as well-versed in Afro-pop and hard funk as jazz improv.

BONUS LIST: DARIUS JONES’ 5 FAVORITE SAXOPHONISTS

DEXTER GORDON. Dexter is my home base. His sense of sound, phrasing, harmony, and attitude as an improviser is so inspiring. It completely centers me when I am lost in a sea of esoteric madness.

HENRY THREADGILL. In many ways Henry is what I am striving to be as an artist. He has a very distinct sound/language on his instruments and as a composer. Henry is so down to earth and unique in his perception of life too. I love how he approaches music like an artist of any discipline. Also no matter how sophisticated his music is it still retains soulfulness. He is a major influence.

MACEO PARKER. Joy and happiness is what I think of when I hear Maceo. That is something I don’t feel from a lot of players. Also his sense of phrasing and groove is unbelievable. His commitment to the music that he wanted to play is also inspiring. You can hear the ability to play anything in his playing. But he chose to play music that makes himself and other people happy. So deep!

THOMAS CHAPIN. Thomas was the saxophonist that got me really thinking about expressing my personality through my instrument. I can’t help but to feel this deep sense of connection to self when he plays. He is totally putting himself out there. No matter the perception or context. Just getting off on himself and the band.

JAN GARBAREK. Patience is what I think about every time I listen to Jan. Totally lyrical. Nothing to prove. Completely allowing the music to unfold in the manor that it wants to unfold. His sound is unbelievable. Plus he is not afraid to just play a melody. Beautiful musician.

September 10, 2012

The 50 Greatest Saxophonists…EVER!!!: 50-41

Welcome to the official Burning Ambulance countdown of the 50 Greatest Saxophonists Ever. The list was determined by means we shall not disclose, though a number of jazz critics and musicians offered their opinions at various points along the way. Clifford Allen, Leonard Pierce, and Hank Shteamer contributed blurbs.

This countdown will be running all week, so let’s get started! Here are #s 50-41.

50. KAORU ABE. This self-taught Japanese maniac died of a drug overdose at 29, but left behind a string of albums, mostly live recordings and mostly solo. He also collaborated with some notable skronk-minded improvisers, though, including guitarist Derek Bailey, trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, and drummer Milford Graves, among others. While he could muster an unholy screech, his command of the saxophone’s dynamic range allowed him to teleport between melancholy, genuinely beautiful melodies and a sinus-clearing, post-Ayler shriek almost instantaneously. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Mass Projection and Gradually Projection, twin live duels with guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi, recorded at a single epic show.

49. STEVE LACY. Most saxophone greats register as part of a continuum, but the rare soprano specialist Steve Lacy always seemed like an isolated point in space. It wasn’t that Lacy cut himself off from tradition; he idolized Sidney Bechet, and he devoted himself to Thelonious Monk‘s music with unparalleled rigor. But Lacy’s mature aesthetic, realized with his Paris-based working band (active in one form or another from the early ’70s through the early ’90s), was sui generis: a blend of Ellingtonian warmth, playful eccentricity and bracingly unfettered experimentation. Lacy’s droll melodies and peculiar, honk-like timbre, as well as his obsession with avant-garde poetry—which inspired the vocal pieces he composed for his wife, vocalist Irene Aebi—helped make up one of the most rewarding acquired tastes in jazz history. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: The Gleam (1987) shows off Lacy’s signature sextet in top form. Another standout is Trickles, a 1976 quartet date that includes longtime Lacy collaborator, trombonist Roswell Rudd.

48. JOSHUA REDMAN. Dewey Redman’s son came out of the gate hyped to the skies, but it wasn’t until album number three, 1994’s MoodSwing, that he started to get interesting. His tone and style couldn’t be more different from his father’s; he’s a descendant of Dexter Gordon, Sonny Rollins, and pre-1960 John Coltrane. But he’s comfortable experimenting with a variety of rhythms, and seems to really enjoy trading ideas with other saxophonists, including Dewey on 2007’s excellent Back East. A strong, middle-of-the-road player, Redman has shrugged off the hype and is now a player consistently worth hearing. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Back East and 2009’s Compass, on which he occasionally fronts a double rhythm section.

47. KEN VANDERMARK. A Chicagoan with a mechanic’s haircut, Vandermark’s powerful tenor (he’s a multi-instrumentalist, but the tenor is his primary and best-known horn) has burst out of records by groups as disparate as the Flying Luttenbachers, his own DKV Trio and Vandermark 5, and Peter Brötzmann’s Chicago Tentet. He’s also made solid friendships/partnerships with important players on the Scandinavian free jazz/improv scene, collaborating frequently with players like drummer Paal Nilssen-Love, reedist Mats Gustafsson, et al. His sound is muscular, blustery, capable of high-powered skronk but also firmly committed to melody and swing, and tunes. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Fred Anderson/DKV Trio, a 1996 collaboration that showcased the modern Chicago sound at full power; Double or Nothing, a partnering of the DKV Trio with AALY Trio for some extended clatter ’n’ blare.

46. MATANA ROBERTS. A Chicago-raised alto player who’s making quite a reputation for herself as a composer and conceptualist, Roberts first came to many listeners’ attention as a member of the jazz-funk-rock conducted improvisation ensemble Burnt Sugar. As a leader, she combines a biting, fierce tone on the horn with a broad artistic palette, a need to tell larger stories and present multi-media shows rather than just collections of tunes, and a willingness to hire any kind of instrumentalist she feels will help her get her point across. Roberts is a woman who recognizes no external limitations on her creativity. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Roberts’ latest album, Coin Coin Part One: Gens de Couleur Libres, is the first stage of an intense multi-part journey into history: hers, her family’s, and America’s. It’s also astonishingly beautiful and emotionally affecting music.

45. TIM BERNE. Quick-witted and sharp of tone, this master of the alto and baritone saxes leads acerbic, urban bands that blend R&B grooves, extended compositional forms, and stinging barbs of noise via keyboards or electric guitar. A former student of Julius Hemphill, Berne’s music combines the earthy and the abstract into something totally unique. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Fulton Street Maul, an out-of-print Columbia release(!) featuring Bill Frisell on guitar, Hank Roberts on cello and Alex Cline on percussion—almost the same instrumentation as Hemphill’s Dogon A.D.

44. DEWEY REDMAN. Probably best known for his partnerships with both Ornette Coleman and Keith Jarrett in the 1970s, Redman made more than a few brilliant albums under his own name, too. His tone was one of the most piercingly human in jazz; he frequently sounded like tears were going to start leaking from the horn’s bell, but he could also leap and squawk with the best of the free players, and he was every bit as willing to explore sounds from across the globe as Pharoah Sanders or Don Cherry. A major voice not always recognized as such. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: All the mid ’70s Jarrett albums, plus his own Tarik, recorded in Paris in 1969 with Art Ensemble of Chicago bassist Malachi Favors and drummer Ed Blackwell. And don’t sleep on Momentum Space, his 1999 three-way collaboration with pianist Cecil Taylor and drummer Elvin Jones.

43. JOHNNY GRIFFIN. A hard bop tenor player originally from Chicago, Griffin is notable for his brief tenure with Thelonious Monk (check out the twin live albums Misterioso and Thelonious in Action), but he also had a decades-long solo career including albums on Blue Note and Riverside in the 1950s. His hard-charging style (for a time he was known as the world’s fastest saxophonist) was oddly well-suited to Monk’s lurching compositions, while on his own he combined fierce and swinging blues with a furrowed-brow tenderness on ballads. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: A Blowin’ Session, a tremendous 1957 Blue Note album on which Griffin more than holds his own against John Coltrane and Hank Mobley, with Lee Morgan on trumpet, Wynton Kelly on piano, Paul Chambers on bass and Art Blakey on drums.

42. IKE QUEBEC. Tenorman Ike Quebec came out of the Coleman Hawkins school, a throaty and keening player who, while a “man without a country” among the modernists of the early 1960s, nevertheless was a major asset to Blue Note. He was one of the slightly older players who encouraged Alfred Lion to record the new music of Thelonious Monk, Elmo Hope and Bud Powell in the late ’40s (Quebec had recorded with Tiny Grimes and J.C. Heard for the then-fledgling label). Incidentally, his cousin, altoist Danny Quebec West, recorded with Monk on the pianist’s 1947 Genius sessions. Quebec had an impressive run between 1959 and 1963, working with Sonny Clark, Bennie Green, Freddie Roach, Grant Green and Milt Hinton over six albums as a leader and a handful of jukebox singles. 1961’s Heavy Soul (with Roach, Hinton and Al Harewood) is the first of these records and probably the strongest of the bunch, Quebec velvety and wide-open across a spry rhythm section on the opening “Acquitted,” but it’s on the spectral ballads that he and the vibrato-heavy Roach stretch out into gorgeous, taffy-like and unhurried brilliance. Both sandblasted and caressing, Quebec has one of the most affecting tenor tones I’ve heard, and it’s no wonder that his art embodied the soul-jazz mainstream saxophone to an unhurried “T.” ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Heavy Soul and the two-CD set The Complete Blue Note 45 Sessions.

41. JEMEEL MOONDOC. A veteran of the New York loft jazz scene who saw his rhythm section pilfered by his former teacher, Cecil Taylor, Moondoc has one of the most recognizable alto saxophone sounds around: an amalgam of Ornette Coleman’s bluesy crying with the sharp edge of Jackie McLean and the ferocity of 1960s “fire music” free tenor players. His band Muntu made crucial albums in the late ’70s and early ’80s, but it wasn’t until he returned from economic exile in the mid ’90s that he truly got his due. ESSENTIAL LISTENING: Muntu Recordings, a three-disc NoBusiness box that gathers rare 1970s material; New World Pygmies, a 1998 set of duos with bassist William Parker, on Eremite.

Come back tomorrow for #s 40-31!

July 2, 2012

The Unit: Cecil Taylor In 1978

by Phil Freeman

[This essay appears in the latest issue of Burning Ambulance, available physically and digitally from Lulu.com and for Kindle from Amazon.com.]

In the 1960s, pianist Cecil Taylor formed and recorded a variety of groups—trios, quartets and expanded ensembles were heard on albums like Nefertiti, The Beautiful One Has Come, Unit Structures, Conquistador! and Student Studies, as well as the early sessions for the Candid label later released as The World of Cecil Taylor, Air, Jumpin’ Punkins, New York City R&B and Cell Walk for Celeste. The blare of horns against the thunder of his piano and various rhythm sections’ lurching, sprinting attempts to keep up was wildly exciting. But in the decade that followed, Taylor seemed less interested in organizing bands than in hitting as hard and at as great a length as possible. The early 1970s found him recording and performing solo much more often than as the leader of a group—Indent, Solo, Silent Tongues and Air Above Mountains (all among his greatest works) are all unaccompanied piano performances, while Akisakila, Spring of Two Blue J’s, and Dark to Themselves each feature bands of varying size (a trio, a quartet and a quintet, respectively). These groups were undoubtedly assembled with care and rigorously rehearsed prior to the gigs documented on the albums, but it seems clear Taylor wasn’t interested in leading an ensemble at that time.

In 1978, though, he not only formed a band, he took it into the recording studio (something he hadn’t done since Conquistador!, a dozen years earlier) and on a European tour. The Cecil Taylor Unit of spring and summer 1978 is not only one of the pianist’s most vital ensembles, it’s also unique in its instrumentation, and its development of a collective identity makes it a rarity among his groups. The four releases by this sextet—its self-titled debut; 3 Phasis; and the live albums Live in the Black Forest and One Too Many Salty Swift and Not Goodbye—are among my favorite Cecil Taylor albums, and the subject of this essay.

The group consisted of Taylor; alto saxophonist Jimmy Lyons, his creative foil from 1962 to his death in 1986; trumpeter Raphé Malik; violinist Ramsey Ameen; bassist Sirone; and drummer Ronald Shannon Jackson. Malik, originally from Massachusetts, had played with Frank Wright and the Art Ensemble of Chicago in Paris in the late 1960s, during the great free jazz migration from the US to France that gave the BYG label the majority of its catalog. He met Taylor in the early 1970s, and first appeared on 1976’s Dark to Themselves, alongside Lyons, tenor saxophonist David S. Ware and drummer Marc Edwards. Sirone, born Norris Jones, was from Atlanta, and arrived in New York just in time for the first flowering of the free jazz scene; he recorded with many major players within that milieu, including Albert Ayler, Pharoah Sanders and Marion Brown, for sessions on ESP-Disk and Impulse!, and was one of the three co-founders, along with Leroy Jenkins and Jerome Cooper, of the violin-bass-drums trio the Revolutionary Ensemble. Jackson, a transplanted Texan, was another highly regarded player on the New York out-jazz scene; prior to joining Taylor’s group, he had backed Albert Ayler and been the original drummer for Ornette Coleman’s Prime Time—he can be heard on Dancing in Your Head and Body Meta. Ramsey Ameen is the odd man out in the band. He made his recorded debut with the group’s April 1978 studio sessions, which yielded both the self-titled album and 3 Phasis, and seems to have retired from music sometime in the 1980s. And yet his contributions to this group are crucial, serving as a bridge between avant-garde jazz and 20th Century chamber music. Indeed, if you choose to view bridging that distance as the ultimate purpose and greatest success of this band, as I do, then Ameen is the indispensable man, the one without whom the whole project would collapse.

March 26, 2012

Miles Davis In The ’80s

by Phil Freeman

[The following is the text of a paper I delivered at the 2012 EMP Pop Conference in New York last week, under the title "From the Corner to Carnegie Hall and Beyond: The Urbanization of Miles Davis 1972-1991." Thanks to all who attended.]

I think On the Corner might be the most important album Miles Davis ever released. Naturally, when it was released, critics hated it. One of the most infamous reviews came from Down Beat. It read, in part, “Take some chunka-chunka-chunka rhythm, lots of little background percussion diddle-around sounds, some electronic mutations, add simple tune lines that sound a great deal alike and play some spacey solos.” If you’re not a jazz nerd, you might be thinking, “Wow, that sounds awesome,” but you would be wrong. Here’s the thing, though: Subtract the bit about spacey solos and couldn’t you be describing the Bomb Squad in the late ’80s, or Timbaland in the late ’90s? You can hear hints of half the important developments in black music of the last 40 years on that record.

It wasn’t until the 2000s that On the Corner finally got its due. In the booklet for the 2007 boxed set The Complete On the Corner Sessions, percussionist Mtume, a member of Miles’ band from 1972 to 1975, said, “Sometimes some music has to wait for a new generation of listeners; we had to wait for a new generation of critics to come along before On the Corner got true respect.”

On the Corner was received the way it was because Miles Davis was still regarded as a jazz musician in 1972. In fact, he’s still seen that way today. The entire second half of his career is regarded as a weird, vaguely shameful tangent, rather than as an important development unto itself. This is willful blindness, basically, rooted in market forces and status anxiety. Because the more you look at the landscape of mainstream black pop culture at the time, the more sense On the Corner makes. Between the beginning of 1971 and June 1972, the month On the Corner was recorded, Earth, Wind and Fire put out their first two albums; Sly and the Family Stone released There’s a Riot Goin’ On; Isaac Hayes put out the soundtrack to Shaft; and Funkadelic released America Eats Its Young. These are records that combine hard, gritty funk with complex orchestrations and ambitious production techniques, and On the Corner fits much better with any of them than it does with jazz. But the jazz industry, and its adjunct, the jazz press, continued to insist on ranking Miles Davis with the players of the 1940s and 1950s like Art Blakey, Dizzy Gillespie and Sonny Rollins, all of whom were still making bop-rooted music and playing standards on stage.

But On the Corner is much more than just a funk record. Musically and symbolically, it’s a complex, multilayered statement about New York City and Miles Davis’s place within it, and it kicks off a two-decade stretch of engaging with, and impacting, contemporary black pop culture in ways he’d never done before.

First of all, the album sounds like New York. The rhythms are funky, but they’re constantly interrupted by jarring noises. A percussive rattle here, a squiggly saxophone line or a stab from a keyboard there. It’s like when you’re sitting in an apartment, wondering if the siren you just heard is part of the movie you’re watching or not. The combination of instruments—electric guitar, keyboards, percussion from India, Africa and Latin America, sitar, and horns—is like walking down a Manhattan street and hearing six languages in as many blocks.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 47 other followers

%d bloggers like this: