Doug Ramsey on Jazz and other matters...
This is Charlie Parker’s birthday. If he had lived, he would be 92. I wish that he had taken better care of himself.
Here’s a segment from Ken Burns’ film Jazz.
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.
Bird is forever young. He was jazz’s only real genius — for me, he was the Mozart of jazz. Too bad that he wasted too much of his lifetime with his special addictions. Well, some can’t get enough out of life, they need the extra portion; and so, the candle is burning from both ends.
Happy Birthday, Bird. Your marvelous music will live forever.
Bird Lives!
And every Bird solo is another life.
I have found just bits and pieces about the interracial audience for
bebop in the 1940s. Chan Parker writes about how her friends lived for
bebop, and Jimmy Heath writes about how musicians became involved in
interracial affairs. This audience of young musicians allied
themselves around heroin and Red Rodney describes the drug as the
badge that set them apart from the rest of the world. I have seen this
crowd of bebop fans described as the group that preceded the beats.
Unlike the beats, they seemed to live around midtown Manhattan – like
Gil Evans and Jimmy Knepper. And unlike later generations, it was a
remarkably interracial artistic community – not at all the
bebop-as-black-music conception that has become the favored view of
jazz writers.