Posts tagged ‘elvin jones’

April 17, 2013

John Coltrane – Sun Ship

coltrane65

John Coltrane‘s Sun Ship is an album that’s tended to fall through the cracks. Recorded in 1965, it was one of the final sessions with the so-called “Classic Quartet” with pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison, and drummer Elvin Jones, but it remained unreleased until 1971. Nevertheless, it’s one of his most powerful albums, and very much worthy of re-discovery—even if the new two-CD set Sun Ship: The Complete Session (Buy it from Amazon; also soon to be available as a 3LP box from Mosaic Records) isn’t the best way to hear the material, at least not for the first time.

The original album contained five tracks – “Sun Ship,” “Dearly Beloved,” “Amen,” “Attaining” and “Ascent.” The title track launches the album with a quick, staccato figure, repeated with slight variation in a way that blurs the line between melody and fanfare. Tyner gets the first solo, dancing across the keys with ferocious energy, and Jones hits his drums like he’s wielding hammers, not sticks. Coltrane’s solo is blisteringly intense, chewing over brief phrases again and again with an almost canine relentlessness, but building up to the shrieks and roaring cries that would be trademarks of his final two years as a performer. From there, the album alternates between uptempo pieces (the title track, “Amen”) and slow, free-form ballads (“Dearly Beloved,” “Attaining”). The final cut, “Ascent,” gives over more than half its running time to a solo from Garrison, before embarking on an incantatory, swinging journey of the type Coltrane and the band perfected on A Love Supreme.

January 25, 2013

Mostly Other People Do The Killing

Slippery Rock (Hot Cup)

by Phil Freeman

slipperyrock

The fifth studio album by Mostly Other People Do The Killing (sixth release overall – the live The Coimbra Concert, their only album not to appear on bassist/bandleader Moppa Elliott‘s Hot Cup label, is a must-hear) differs from its predecessors in a few important ways. First, there’s the superficial: Each of their last three discs (2007′s Shamokin!!!, 2008′s This Is Our Moosic, 2010′s Forty Fort, and The Coimbra Concert) has arrived bearing cover art that’s a direct tribute/jokey reference to a classic jazz album. Slippery Rock‘s artwork is an ’80s-style eyesore indebted to no specific jazz title (though it kinda makes me think of Ornette Coleman‘s In All Languages or Cecil Taylor‘s In Florescence). Secondly, and more importantly, there’s the actual sound of the thing.

The production on Slippery Rock is extremely loud and clear; it’s mixed like a rock album. Kevin Shea‘s drums are explosive throughout, his kick sounding more like John Bonham than Elvin Jones and his thundering rolls across the toms capable of rattling your teeth loose. Elliott is similarly aggressive, throbbing like a whale’s heart right in the middle of the mix. Trumpeter Peter Evans and saxophonist Jon Irabagon are given plenty of sonic space to romp and explore, and they do so at length and in a manner that suggests that while nothing is off limits to either man, the primary goal is fun – for themselves and the audience. A big part of MOPDTK’s strategy is subversion; while they work together extremely well, setting up supple grooves and melodic lead lines, they just as frequently throw unexpected noises at each other, particularly live but also in the studio. As Irabagon plays a smooth, traditionalist solo, Evans will sputter, hiss and squawk at him, or vice versa. Shea will sometimes (as on “Dexter, Wayne and Mobley”) erupt into a drum solo behind the horn players, as they continue blithely on, seemingly ignoring him entirely.

Things are raucous from the get-go, and they get seriously wild on tracks like “Jersey Shore” and “Can’t Tell Shipp From Shohola,” the latter of which starts out as a mournful rubato ballad but eventually erupts into clatter and caterwauling. But no matter how far out the band goes, they always retain a fundamental sense of the blues, which keeps them firmly in the “jazz tradition” in the sense that you could play their music for someone totally un-versed in contemporary jazz and they’d say, “Yeah, that’s jazz.” To my ear, they’re somewhere between Wynton Marsalis at his growlingest and Ornette Coleman. Like every MOPDTK disc to date, Slippery Rock is the sound of four guys who are terrific musicians, but also great entertainers.

After the jump, a video for the track “Yo, Yeo, Yough”:

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!

February 27, 2012

Interview: Erik Deutsch

by Phil Freeman

Erik Deutsch is a keyboardist whose last two albums, 2009′s Hush Money and the brand-new Demonio Teclado (available tomorrow), put him in a pretty fascinating space, somewhere that’s part soul-jazz, part rock (he covers Neil Young‘s “Don’t Let It Bring You Down” on the new disc), and part Donald Fagen. A track like “Funky Digits,” also from Demonio Teclado, can sound startlingly like something Steely Dan might have included on Pretzel Logic. He’s got a real feel for the blues, too; Hush Money featured some stinging guitars—”Black Flies” featured a sputtering, grimy solo by Jonathan Goldberger that recalled Marc Ribot‘s work with Tom Waits in the mid ’80s.

It’s not all raw funk and bluesy roar, though; Demonio Teclado, released on Deutsch’s own Hammer and String label, also includes soft, murmuring ballads like “Creeper,” a showcase for trumpeter Jon Gray. Of course, the searing guitars are back, too, particularly on the Neil Young cover, which has all the melancholy power of early Crazy Horse. Deutsch has put four tracks online so listeners can make up their own minds; enjoy!

Here’s the transcript of a brief conversation we had a few weeks ago.

I heard Hush Money and liked it, and I like this one, too—the band is different on this one, so tell me why you changed between records. Was it never a working band?

You know, that’s part of it. It was a working band in that we did shows in New York City, but that band never played as a full band outside New York. And for touring and even playing in the city these days, economically you’ve gotta make hard decisions. And that band was just too big to drag around, in general. The band also wasn’t really functional as a bar band, which is the reality of New York—a lot of times, you are playing in places where people are talking; it’s not a concert setting all the time. So it kind of came to me that, one thing I wanted to do was to have a band that could function in a bar setting, a band I could bring on the road. Of course as soon as I start making records, I want to—I love big sonic power, so I start adding stuff and it still ends up being a sextet or whatever. But it’s a band that can work as a quartet, I’ve been on the road a number of times now with bass and drums, Ben Rubin and Tony Mason, and Jon Gray on trumpet. So as a quartet it’s great. We’ll do a tour in Colorado as a quartet with Glenn Taylor on steel guitar, so it works as a trio, quartet, quintet, it’s part of the switch. And the other thing is, just moving to New York, you meet so many great musicians, you make new friends, and I’m just so into the musicians here, I want to play with all of ’em. So it’s fun to switch it up.

The material for this record—was it all written in a burst, or was there stuff you had sitting around?

Usually the way I work is when I make an album, there might be one or two songs left over, so let’s say—like, “Funky Digits” was a song I wrote before I recorded Hush Money, probably about a month before, but I kinda decided it just wasn’t gonna make that record. And then in that next year following the release of Hush Money, as we played the songs from the album, the songs then get to be one, one and a half, two years old, which for me is too long. So in the year following the release of Hush Money, when I was touring around playing those songs, I was actually writing all new songs. That’s kinda been my process, so in that year, I wrote all those songs for Demonio, most of ’em, and then I went in to record it, maybe threw one in at the end, and the same thing—maybe a couple didn’t make it, and by now I have another whole batch of new songs. I have another record right now, and I’ll start touring with these Demonio songs, and then I’ll probably get sick of those and we’ll make a new record.

Was there one piece you wrote that sort of consolidated the album in your head, like ‘OK, this is the kind of album I’m making’?

No, I don’t think there was one piece—”Funky Digits” started it out, and “Getting Nasty,” the opening track, although it’s a cover [of an Ike Turner song], it also kinda set the tone for where I’m heading with the band. And those two songs I did perform when I was touring, doing the Hush Money songs, as well, so they were in the set list early and I think they kinda set the tone of what I wanted to do. I wanted a groove band, a little bit more of a bar band. Of course, my songs, I don’t pretend that they’re generic, they always have a journey to them, and I hope there’s an intellectual quality to them, but I kinda built off those first two and came up with the album. It all started from there.

The intellectual quality you talk about—Hush Money kinda reminded me of Steely Dan or Donald Fagen’s solo albums.

Okay! I like it. I’ve heard that before actually. And that’s a neat comparison—I can dig that. We all hear so many things, and we all have so many influences these days, that it’s a natural instinct to compare, you know, a little bit of that, a little bit of this, and it’s fun to make those connections. People have said the fast shuffle on “Funky Digits,” that’s a real Steely Dan kind of thing. I’ve heard that a whole bunch of times. And Tony Mason is definitely a Steve Gadd fan. I would say that’s one of his biggest influences, top five easy. And that’s where you get the sound of a band a lot of times—someone might say, ‘That sounds like Led Zeppelin,’ well, that could be just because the drummer sounds like John Bonham. ‘Oh, it sounds like John Coltrane,’ because the drummer sounds like Elvin Jones. A lot of times you hear it from that drum chair, and with Tony playing those Steve Gadd kind of grooves on those songs, that’s probably where some of that comes from.

Hammer and String, that’s your label? This is a self-released album?

Yeah, Hammer and String is just my website, it’s a name I picked out ten years ago. Mark Galleo, my buddy who played drums on Hush Money, he came up with it, ’cause he built my website, and he said, ‘Do you want your website to be your name? Or it could be something else,’ and I’ve always liked that idea and I’m glad he gave me that idea. So yeah, I’ve self-released this. I’ve looked into labels, but just didn’t have anyone dying to put out the record and didn’t feel like giving up everything to try and put it somewhere that it wasn’t meant to be.

Especially since labels can agree to put something out and then wind up sitting on it for years—I mean, these days, I’m getting records from labels that were recorded in 2007. I can only imagine how insane that must drive musicians.

Yeah, I would be really sick of my music if it was that old and just coming out, you know? I would love to be part of a label family; I just haven’t found the one that’s the right fit. And in some ways I feel like one of the most important things about putting out these records, maybe the most important thing for me, is to make sure it gets out into the world and gets noticed. And the best way for me to do that is to do it myself, I think. To own it, to be able to give it to lots of people, to sell it for what I want to sell it for, a reasonable price, and to be able to hire my own publicist who I think is really gonna care about the music.

So how much time do you spend on the road in a given year? How many gigs are out there these days?

Well, for me it’s about half the year, but it’s not so much my band. It’s more working as a sideman.

Who do you play with?

Well, last year was a lot of—last year was a real mix. There was some Steven Bernstein, Theo Bleckmann was in Europe for a CD release tour, I was in Europe with Jessica Lurie, Shooter Jennings, Rosanne Cash, and then I was in Spain. I work a lot in Spain, I was with a Spanish band in Barcelona. Working with my band in Colorado and California, with Scott Amendola—a pretty wide range. This year it looks like it’s gonna be over a hundred dates with Shooter.

So you’re his touring keyboard player?

Yup, and we’re really close friends. I helped him put together the new band, which is all New York guys, all friends of ours, and I played on both the records that will come out this year. I’m really, really proud to be part of that band and to support Shooter. He’s amazing.

That’s cool. It seems like there’s a generation of young, interesting country guys now—him, Jamey Johnson, Hayes Carll

Yeah, I think so, Shooter’s thing is Triple X, and to explain it from his perspective, it’s for artists who are too country for the rock stations and too rock ’n’ roll for country radio, and there’s a lot of ’em. And I can really relate to that, cause that’s what my music is like. It lives in between the genres, for sure.

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