Doug Ramsey on Jazz and other matters...
A Rifftides reader asked what happened with Bob Belden’s Miles Español video and audio project that I took a brief hiatus to contribute to this summer. It is out as a two-CD set. My essay on the African, Spanish, Caribbean and New Orleans influences that led to Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain, among many other cultural and musical phenomena, is part of the package.
Ron Miles: Quiver (enja yellow bird)
Miles’s playing on “There Ain’t No Sweet Man Worth the Salt of My Tears” draws 21st century Denver and 1928 Chicago close. Some of his flurries of wildness on this album are as daring as the work of any modern trumpeter, but the Bix Beiderbecke lyricism in Miles’s soul extends into everything he plays. With just Bill Frisell’s guitar and Brian Blade’s drums, Miles may seem to be operating lean. No, there is richness in their harmonic inventiveness and rhythmic compatibility. The nine pieces are not officially a suite, but unity of conception runs through the performances. This is a satisfying album.
Heather Masse And Dick Hyman: Lock My Heart (Red House)
With The Wailin’ Jennys and the Wayfaring Strangers and appearances on radio’s Prairie Home Companion, Heather Masse has attracted a following among folk and bluegrass fans. This album of duets with master pianist Dick Hyman discloses the jazz foundation that has long been evident in her singing. Their treatments of Strayhorn’s “A Flower is a Lovesome Thing” and Buddy Johnson’s “Since I Fell For You” are ballad perfection. In their delightful “I’m Gonna Lock My Heart and Throw Away the Key,” she manages to combine Billie Holiday and Marilyn Monroe. Hyman’s accompaniments and solos are reminders that this 86-year-old wonder is one of the most interesting pianists alive.
Miles Davis Quintet Live In Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Vol. 2 (Columbia/Legacy)
This three-CD, one-DVD set finds the trumpeter fomenting even more dramatic change than usual. The first volume in the so-called bootleg series of Davis concert recordings found his primarily acoustic 1967 quintet already tending toward electronic music and rock. Saxophonist Wayne Shorter remains from that band. Here, the transition intensifies. Electric pianist Chick Corea, bassist Dave Holland and drummer Jack DeJohnette accelerate the shift Davis initiated with In A Silent Way. The repertoire is redolent of Davis’s Bitches Brew period. We hear the headiness, excitement and—sometimes—the aimlessness of newfound freedom. The DVD’s superb sound and picture bring the band alive.
Bill Frisell, The Disfarmer Project (La Huit)
Belgian filmmaker Guillame Dero captures the eclectic guitarist Frisell, violinist Carrie Rodriguez, guitarist Greg Leisz and bassist Viktor Krauss in a live performance set to portraits by the 1950s Arkansas photographer Mike Disfarmer. Some of the music was on a 2009 CD mentioned in this Rifftides post. Hearing it in new versions with Disfarmer’s eccentric and vaguely disturbing photos looming over the band is an adventure. Watching interaction and reaction among the quartet increases the fascination. Frisell salts his original compositions with songs by Hank Williams, Arthur Crudup and Cliff Friend.
Paul de Barros, Shall We Play That One Together? The Life and Art of Jazz Piano Legend Marian McPartland (St. Martin’s Press)
The nonagenarian pianist presented de Barros with every biographer’s hope, unrestricted access to his subject’s personal papers and nearly unrestricted access to her private thoughts. He made the most of it, turning exhaustive research and hundreds of hours of interviews into a true story with the sweep of a novel. From the early discovery of McPartland’s musical gift through her wartime service, her ecstatic and stormy marriage to Jimmy McPartland, her growth as a pianist, her deep affair with Joe Morello, and the radio show that made her a national figure, she has had a fascinating life. It makes a splendid read.
Gerry Mulligan and the Concert Jazz Band, Santa Monica 1960 (Fresh Sound)
Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band had three fewer musicians than most big jazz outfits. Its size permitted precision, flexibility and subtlety, yet the band had the power of sprung steel. In this concert from a half century ago, the CJB is as fresh as yesterday. Arrangements by Mulligan, Bob Brookmeyer, Al Cohn and Johnny Mandel set standards to which big band writers still aspire. Bassist Buddy Clark and drummer Mel Lewis inspired Mulligan, Brookmeyer, Conte Candoli, Gene Quill and Zoot Sims to some of the best soloing of their careers. This beautifully produced issue of the complete concert is a basic repertoire item.
When I read the above I was inspired to pull out my paperback of Miles Davis’ Autobiography (with Quincy Troupe) to reread the part (pp. 241-245) about making the “Sketches of Spain ” album with Gil Evans. I’ll bet Doug Ramsey’s essay makes reference to the very interesting comments from Miles there about how bassist Joe Montdragon played Rodrigo’s Concierto for him and said “you can do this”, inspiring Miles (who says he was thinking, “Damn, these melody lines are strong”) to get Gil Evans on board with it, followed by interesting thoughts about things Espanol.* Including about how you should try to notate such music as Gil’s Flamenco Sketch arrangements less precisely and teach the ensemble to play what isn’t there, and trumpeter Bernie Glow’s comment that it had the hardest passages he’d ever read/performed, as notated. Miles goes on to say that most classical players know deep down that they are playing “robot shit”, although they would not admit it publicly ( I disagree, but I do think that in another context Almeida plays the “Concierto de Aranjuez’ guitar part more soulfully than does John Williams). On the date, Miles and Gil had to bring in Ernie Royal and a couple of other jazz players, before the trumpet section could play Gil’s writing loosely enough.
But the part I wanted to reread was on p. 245. Miles remembers that a woman told him of playing the “Sketches of Spain” album for a retired Spanish bullfighter who was raising bulls professionally, and who was reluctant to even listen to the album, because he could not believe an American could understand Spanish culture, especially flamenco music, well enough to perform it authentically. But she got him to hear out the album. When it was finished, the old bullfighter reportedly rose from his chair, put on his outfit, and went out and fought one of his bulls for the first time since his retirement, and killed the bull. Miles said it was hard to believe, but that the woman swore that “he said he had been so moved by the music that he just had to kill the bull.”
My question is this: If she had played him the “Porgy and Bess” album, would the bull have been allowed to survive?
*It does not. The Troupe/Davis book is not a reliable source; witness, for one small matter, Troupe’s misspelling of “Mondragon.”——DR