Doug Ramsey on Jazz and other matters...
Before the 83rd anniversary of Bill Evans’ birth fades away, at least in this time zone, let’s listen together to “Gloria’s Step,” a masterpiece from his 1961 Sunday At The Village Vanguard album. The trio, of course, was Evans, bassist Scott LaFaro and drummer Paul Motian.
Evans died on September 15, 1980.
Jeremy Steig, Flute Fever (International Phonograph)
The Rifftides campaign for a reissue of the 1963 debut recording of flutist Jeremy Steig and pianist Denny Zeitlin got underway with this observation in a 2005 post:
On Sonny Rollins’s “Oleo,” each of them solos with ferocious thrust, chutzpah, swing and—one of the most challenging accomplishments in jazz—a feeling of delirious freedom within the discipline of a harmonic structure.
Fifty years after it appeared, Flute Fever remains one of the finest albums of the second half of the twentieth century, regardless of genre. At last, it is a CD, but Columbia ceded the honor to someone else. Kudos to Jonathan Horwich and International Phonograph. The reproduction of sound, packaging and artwork is flawless. This is a basic repertoire item.
Christian McBride Trio, Out Here (Mack Avenue)
Bassist McBride was so accomplished so young, it’s natural that at 41 he is an elder statesman grooming emerging players. Pianist Christian Sands and drummer Ulysses Owens, Jr., are the impressive young members of McBride’s new trio, working beautifully with him in all of the areas in which he excels; rhythmic power, melodic inventiveness and unity of purpose. Highlights: the bone-deep swing in Oscar Peterson’s “Easy Walker” and McBride’s “Ham Hocks and Cabbage” and arco playing of exceptional purity by McBride in Richard Rodgers’ “I Have Dreamed.” Unabashedly in the tradition of trios led by Peterson, Billy Taylor, Ray Brown and Jeff Hamilton, McBride meets the high standard they set.
Ivo Perelman, Matthew Shipp, Whit Dickey, Gerald Cleaver, Enigma (Leo Records)
Perelman, a Brazilian living in New York, is a tenor saxophone virtuoso who does not allow standard jazz operating procedure to dictate his approach. In other words, he plays free jazz. His frequent partner is pianist Matthew Shipp, whom the critic Neil Tesser has identified as Perelman’s “blood brother.” The two record together so often —I count 12 albums in the past two years—that keeping up with them could be a sub-specialty. Enigma finds Perelman and Shipp with no bassist and two drummers, Whit Dickey and Gerald Cleaver. Listeners open to this music penetrate thickets of ideas, emotions and internal rhythms. Rewards for attention and patience are intensity, drama, humor and stretches of surprising lyricism.
Thelonious Monk, Paris 1969 (Blue Note)
Dismiss claims that Monk was a burnt-out case after about 1965. There was already evidence to the contrary in the Black Lion recordings, his work with the Giants Of Jazz and the brilliance of his unexpected 1974 Carnegie Hall concert. Now, there is also this DVD assembled from film of a concert at the elegant Salle Pleyel. Monk still had his stalwart tenor saxophonist Charlie Rouse. His new young sidemen on bass and drums had broken in nicely. Philly Joe Jones was a surprise guest on drums; the resulting version of “Nutty” is priceless. We don’t see Monk doing his bear dance, but he was in good spirits nonetheless, and he played three crystalline unaccompanied encores.
Terry Teachout, Duke: A Life Of Duke Ellington (Gotham)
Teachout takes readers as close as it may be possible to come to Ellington’s thought processes about his music, about himself and about other people. A charming deflector of inquiry into his compositional techniques, his opinions and his motivations, Ellington was his own most closely guarded secret. Teachout applies his formidable research and narrative skills to parallel stories: Ellington’s relationships with family, friends, sidemen, managers and the music establishment; and how he developed himself into the originator of works whose mysteries defy musicological analysis. Passages describing recordings are all but guaranteed to send serious listeners to their music collections. Thus, hearing the evidence can make reading this remarkable biography a long and rewarding experience.
Warren Wolf, Wolfgang (Mack Avenue)
In a succession of vibraphonists that began with Lionel Hampton and Red Norvo, Wolf has come into his own. His new album finds him with one rhythm section of veterans—pianist Benny Green, bassist Christian McBride and drummer Lewis Nash—and another of young musicians from his own quartet. He and the increasingly impressive pianist Aaron Diehl play duets on two pieces. With Wolf on marimba, the two defy categories in variations on the 19th century trumpet chops buster “The Carnival of Venice.” In “Wolfgang” and “Grand Central” (unrelated to the John Coltrane piece of that name) Wolf the composer writes straightforward melodic invention that is also a hallmark of his soloing. His improvisation on “Frankie and Johnny” is a bluesy joy.
Nice reminder, Doug. (My wedding anniversary also, coincidentally.) Anyone who appreciates the music that this trio created should read “Jade Visions: The Life and Music of Scott LaFaro”, by Scott’s sister, Helene LaFaro-Fernandez. The reader will learn much from this marvelous book and understand why Scott became such an incredible bassist, and how he influenced Evans (a notion not always mentioned in writings about Evans). You did review this book when it came out, Doug; I will add that it has increased my appreciation of this trio’s work, which I previously would not have thought possible.
Incredibly, inexplicably beautiful, still —always something new that one can appreciate. Truly, the gift that keeps on giving. Thanks Doug.
Thanks Doug. I could listen to it 1000 times (and probably have). Timeless and pristine.
Be sure to visit The Bill Evans Web Pages, Mr. Stevens’ invaluable site.
Thanks for reminding us of the great man’s anniversary, Doug. — Mr. Stevens delighted all of us when he posted Bill’s probably only recorded vocal on … “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”.
This was so hilarious, because it showed us a quite unknown, musically mostly hidden side of the pianist:
Humor.
Here it is again:
Sigh. My kind of music.
Thanks for the memories, Doug. That poignant picture of a gaunt Bill Evans (used on the Village Vanguard album cover) hangs in my home office. Whenever I’m playing some of Bill’s beautiful music—especially stuff like “Gloria’s Step”—it always catches my eye and reminds me of his enormous talent, and the depth of jazz music’s loss.
The Bill Evans “compatible quotations” are almost at the level of “Gloria’s Step”. The seriousness of Bill’s pursuit of truth and beauty are so evident in his spoken thoughts, as in his music. Even in his verbal humor, as in the Santa Claus take: “Take two? You guys better get this, because I’m only gonna do this ONCE!” Thanks for this remembrance of Bill Evans.
Re the rarity of overt humor in Evans music:
I got a Japanese CD of Trio 64 with all the alternate takes of “Little Lulu”. Especially in the way he does the little composed ending, Bill seems consciously funnier with each successive take. Check it out.
On August 14, 1962, Bill was in the studio with Shelly Manne and Monty Budwig, to make Empathy. Check out the episode at the end of “With a Song in My Heart”. Peter Pettinger calls it a “freak-out”. To me it sounds like cosmic humor of a species related to Thelonious Monk serio-comedy.
I read somewhere that in that period, when Bill had friends over for dinner, he would sometimes do a comedy routine at the Chickering piano. He would gravely and slowly play the melody of a traditional tune, pausing to reharmonize each successive melody note in such a stark contrast to the previous harmonization that it became inexpressibly hilarious. To be a fly on the wall when he had the likes of Jim Hall and Paul Desmond over!
Gloria’s Step on the stairs, such joy. And Bill Evans only gets better with every passing year.
All of the “Little Lulu” takes are also in the 18-CD Complete Bill Evans On Verve box set issued in 1997, now out of print and selling for as much as $900 US, but available for less than $200 as an MP3 download. To see the list of tracks, go here. When it was issued, the packaging of the massive collection became an object of amusement, even ridicule, because the CDs are housed in a metal box that resembles a military ammunition case. It is a challenge to open and handle, and it is subject to rust. Reviewers warned prospective buyers to get tetanus shots. The contents, however, are no joke. In addition to Evans’ well-known established trios, the set includes stimulating encounters with Manne, Budwig, Peacock, Gary McFarland, Jim Hall, Stan Getz, Elvin Jones, Philly Joe Jones, Jack DeJohnette and Claus Ogerman, among others.
Also re Bill Evans verbal and musical humor:
I am hoping one of your readers will be able to describe Bill Evans’ reaction to the recording engineer, at the very end of the absolutely timeless three sessions, that Sunday at the Village Vanguard, right after the second take of “Jade Visions”. I guess its Orrin Keepnews who says, Bill, we have 30 seconds of tape left…what Bill says and plays in reaction is unforgettable. And Victor- Borge- level funny. After he plays out the thirty seconds, Bill speaks in his comedy voice to the little privileged Village Vanguard audience ( which is already appropriately amused):”You’re laughing? You’re gonna be laughing when we ISSUE that!”
And the snippet of course was finally released decades later in the boxed set, after that Sunday has become so quietly monumental and eternal.
In the words of Gene Lees, its like a love letter to the world from some eternity’s prison of the heart.
That is not Orrin’s unmistakeable voice. It is most likely that of David Jones, the engineer.
I’m convinced that Verve boxed set with its atrocious packaging was the ultimate collision of horrible design meets horrible marketing. I haven’t listened to the whole set (dumb, I know), because every time I peel back that rusty lid I get nervous. Thank goodness they manufactured the CDs with care, and the booklet, while nearly impossible to read without a magnifying glass and infinite patience, contains some wonderful transcribed conversations with fellow Evans musicians. Great stuff….if you can find it, people, beware the rusty box. It was silver when I bought it, now its an oxidized hunk of junk. A great epic hunk, mind you, and I”m glad i have it…but one of the dumbest packages ever made during the Era of the CD.