After jazz emerged—or coalesced—as a distinct form of music in New Orleans in the early twentieth century, it quickly took hold throughout the world. Jazz musicians developed on every continent, even in countries where the spirit of jazz goes against the grain of politics and culture; a jazz community is emerging in China, not an eventuality that Mao Tse Tung is likely to have envisioned.

But for all the music’s wide acceptance abroad, the United States was where jazz flourished. During a decade or more in the 1930s and ‘40s swing and big bands constituted the foundation of American popular music. Several generations still cherish it as a cultural touchstone. Bebop came, stayed, subdivided and left several influential offshoots. In the l950s and ‘60s, rock enveloped popular music and still dominates it. Jazz remains artistically vital, even though in terms of popular acceptance it is tied, more or less, with chamber music.

Four recent books give valuable insights into the development of jazz in widespread regions of the country.

Gary Chen, They Call Me Stein On Vine (Independent)

Gary Chen moved to the United States from his native Taiwan, attended the Berklee School of Music, and met Maury Stein, the owner of the music store Stein On Vine. Stein’s was, and is, a magnet for musicians in Los Angeles. Based on an interview that consisted of nine words between them, Stein hired Chen to work in the store. That was evidently in the early 1970s; the book is hazy on chronology. The first day on the job Chen met Freddie Hubbard, Ray Brown and Lou Levy and was hooked. When Stein died in 1987, Chen took over the store. The book is his life story, casually written in the first person and laced with anecdotes about the eccentric Stein and about the dozens of musicians for whom Stein’s was a virtual headquarters. A few of his stories are good-natured exercises in convolution, but some of the quotes from musicians are priceless.

“You should listen to Stravinsky more,” Wayne Shorter told a young saxophonist visiting from Europe. She played for Shorter and wanted advice.

Arranger Nelson Riddle: “I stole everything from Mozart and Debussy.”

Horace Silver on playing with Stan Getz before Silver left Connecticut: “He would play every tune in all 12 keys. Every chorus he would raise a half step until we came back to the original key. Man, I can’t tell you what a challenge that was for a piano player. But I got my shit together.”

Lou Levy on fellow pianist Cedar Walton: “I can outswing a lot of people, but guys like Cedar, they just got it.”

Gerry Mulligan, upon receiving a compliment from Chen: “Gary, you are a fine gentleman with great taste.”

Chen’s book is an easy, relaxed read that evokes the L.A. jazz milieu during a vital time.

Benjamin Franklin V, An Encyclopedia Of South Carolina Jazz & Blues Musicians (U. of South Carolina Press)

Franklin, an English professor at the University of South Carolina, compiles an encyclopedia with biographies of famous and obscure South Carolina musicians. Leading the parade of the famous is Dizzy Gillespie, followed by Bubber Miley, Eartha Kitt, Lucky Thompson, James Blood Ulmer, Jabbo Smith; bandleader Buddy Johnson and his sister Ella. Franklin’s thorough research also led him to the bassist, singer and composer Jim Ferguson; avant-garde saxophonist Robin Kenyatta; singers Etta Jones and Bertha “Chippie” Hill; Taft Jordan, who played trumpet with Chick Webb and Duke Ellington; and trombonist Fred Wesley, longtime music director for James Brown.

Illuminating an aspect of South Carolina jazz history little known outside the state, several of Franklin’s entries concern boys who were wards of the orphanage founded by Lena and Daniel Jenkins in 1891. Bands of the orphanage gained national recognition in the early 1900s, playing in the inaugural parades of presidents Theodore Roosevelt and William Taft and performing in several European cities. Among alumni of the Jenkins orphanage were trumpeters Cat Anderson and Jabbo Smith. The institution’s impact on music in Charleston parallels that of the New Orleans Colored Waifs Home, where Louis Armstrong learned to play the cornet.

Franklin is meticulous in his research, leaving no stone unturned when it comes to places and dates. This biographical heading is about clarinetist Jimmy Hamilton’s place and date of birth: Possibly 25 May 1917, though possibly ca. 1911 (Dillon, S.C.) S.C. residence: Dillon (probably 1917, but possibly ca. 1911 – possibly ca. 1922 when an encylopedist is that thorough with details of the small stuff, we can trust the accuracy of his major information.

You will find an interview with Professor Franklin here.

Lyn Darroch, Rhythm In The Rain (Ooligan Press)

Full Disclosure: I wrote a blurb for Lynn Darroch’s book. This is it.

Lynn Darroch illuminates the rich history of jazz in the Pacific Northwest from the
early twentieth century to the present. Interweaving factors of culture, economics, politics, landscape and weather, he helps us to understand how the Northwest grew so many fine jazz artists and why the region continues to attract musicians from New Orleans, New York, California, Europe and South America. He concentrates on the traditions of the big port cities, Seattle and Portland, and underlines the importance of musicians from places like Wenatchee, Spokane, Eugene and Bend. Darroch has the curiosity of a journalist, the investigative skills of a historian and the language of a poet. His writing about music makes you want to hear it.

The book covers Quincy Jones, Leroy Vinnegar, Bud Shank, Don Lanphere, Thara Memory, John Stowell and dozens of musicians you may not have known about. Darroch makes you want to head for your CD shelves or YouTube. A choice collection of black and white photographs illustrates the book.

John McKee And Mike Metheny, Old Friends Are The Best Friends (Independent)

Mike Metheny is a trumpet player. Pianist John McKee  (1945-1989) ran a lumber business. They grew up together in Lees Summit, Missouri. Their book consists of letters, McKee writing from Lees Summit, Metheny from Boston when he was forging his career in music and from lots of places after it was underway. The foreword is by Mike Metheny’s guitarist brother Pat. The book is not primarily about jazz, although music inevitably is an important aspect of it. Metheny writes to McKee about witnessing the singer Eddie Fisher trying to bolster the ego that is sagging along with his career. The friends have a sometimes lighthearted, sometimes earnest, exchange of letters. They write to one another about the conditions of Christianity, the Republic, about literature, about the television evangelists Jim and Tammy Fae Bakker and sometimes, about music.

Metheny on a jazz club:

Fat Tuesdays is exactly as The New Yorker describes it: a dark and soulful New York jazz room that is so intimate, we trumpet players must be careful not to empty our spit valves onto a customer’s knees. Surprisingly, the crowds were polite and encouraging and the whole experience would have to be considered positive.

McKee on a movie, Martin Scorcese’s The Last Temptation of Christ:

The way I see it, Scorcese has been making this personal-hell, cleansing-fire, final-redemption flick for at least 15 years. The Last Temptation… is merely an unconscious rehash of themes he has been pursuing (or have they been pursuing him?) for years. Scorcese’s Jesus no more resembles the Christ of the historical gospels than Harvey Keitel looks like Judas. (I’ve seen Judas’s high school picture, and you can tell the guy’s a jerk because he’s got that duck tail and he’s givin’ everybody the finger.

It’s not a jazz book. It’s a life book, suitable either for browsing or a long, steady read.

Fred Hersch Trio, Floating (Palmetto)

I’m not sure how this 2014 CD ended up in the holding pen for so long, but I am delighted that it finally called to me from the stacks. With his celebrated keyboard touch and control, the pianist floats even through the trio’s zestful 12/8 approach to “You & The Night & The Music.” In the title tune the twinkle of Hersch’s single high notes contrasts with the relaxed feel as drummer Eric McPherson’s brushes agreeably offset the time. Hersch, McPherson and bassist John Hébert had just finished a run at the Village Vanguard when they went into the studio for this recording. They have, if anything, an even tighter collective aspect than in their 2012 Alive At The Village Vanguard. Hersch’s seven new compositions balance nicely with originals by Dietz & Schwartz and Lerner and Lowe, and with Thelonious Monk’s “Let’s Cool One.”

Autumn 2016 in the inland Pacific Northwest is one rainstorm after another amid the glory of leaves turning color and painting the landscape. Here we see maple leaves outside Rifftides world headquarters.

Among songs that sing the praises of the fall season, Henry Nemo’s “’Tis Autumn” was a sizeable success for Woody Herman in 1941. Other notable performances of the song are on recordings by Nat Cole, Sarah Vaughan, Bob Dorough, Carmen McRae, Chet Baker with Bill Evans and Ella Fizgerald with Joe Pass.

In 1985, on a visit to Sweden, Zoot Sims played “’Tis Autumn” in an informal session with bassist Red Mitchell and guitarist Rune Gustafsson. It reminds us that Zoot played beautifully virtually to the end of his life. He died in March of 1985.

The many obituaries of Chess Records co-founder Phil Chess correctly note his importance in the record company that that brought attention to blues artists who went on to became famous. Chess died yesterday at 95. The Chicago company owned by Chess and his brother Leonard had on its roster Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry, Etta James, Bo Didley and Howlin’ Wolf, among other blues stars. Leonard shepherded the label’s blues operations. He died in 1969.

Phil took primary responsibility for early recordings of Ahmad Jamal, Ramsey Lewis, Gene Ammons, Roland Kirk and other midwestern jazz artists  attracted to the label.

Miles Davis credited pianist Jamal, a Chess artist, with inspiring him to make greater use of economy in developing his solo lines. “I live until he makes another record,” Davis once said of Jamal. Here’s the Jamal trio in 1958 at the Spotlite Club in Washington, D.C., with his “Ahmad’s Blues.” Israel Crosby is the bassist, Vernel Fournier the drummer.

Andrew Cyrille & Bill McHenry, Proximity (Sunnyside)

Cyrille, a dancer on drums, teams with the intrepid tenor saxophonist McHenry in a succession of duets. Their close listening to one another results in empathy that sustains remarkable quietness, considering that one of the partners is a percussionist. They express their shared sense of jazz rhythm even when—as on “Seasons”—McHenry applies lyricism and tone akin to that of classical saxophonists. Over the subtle insistence of Cyrille’s mallets in “Bedouin Woman,” McHenry contributes to a mood of mystery that sustains through the fade ending. “Drum Song For Leadbelly” is a succession of drum-tenor exchanges on a rhythmic idea. In spirit, symmetry and repetition it, indeed, grows into a performance reminiscent of the great folk and blues artist. Some of Leadbelly’s 1940 recordings with the Golden Gate Quartet (“Pick a Bale of Cotton,” “Yellow Gal”) come to mind. In “Aquatics,” Cyrille plays brushes so softly under McHenry’s ruminations, that the saxophonist evidently feels the suitable response is to blow pure air through his horn. It is remarkably effective. Of the 12 tracks, none runs much over five minutes. The last one—five seconds long—is Cyrille saying, “To be continued.” Good idea.

Izabella Effenberg Trio, IZA (Unit Records)

IZA is the predecessor of the German vibraphonist’s Cuéntame, reviewed here earlier this month. As in the Cyrille-McHenry album, percussion plays a principal role without overwhelming the proceedings. Drummer and marimbist Pawel Czubatka and pianist Jochen Pfister are hand-in-glove with Ms. Effenberg throughout. In “So ist das,” Pfister, and Czubatka on drums, stir up a crescendo that contrasts with the reserve of much of the rest of the album. Ms. Effenberg’s “Meaning of Life” is reassuringly peaceful and bluesy. IZA seems to be available in the US only as a download but widely available in Europe as a CD.

Izabella Effenberg, Cuèntame (Unit Records)

This is the debut album of the Polish vibraphonist and composer Izabella Effenberg, who lives in Germany. The CD brings together an imposing septet of European musicians in a chamber music approach that coalesces elements of jazz, modern classical music and—for lack of a better catch-all term—world music. One impression is of European jazz that has developed in the Nordic countries and Germany over the past half-century. Often attributed to the ECM label, the sound encompasses a good deal of variety.

Still, Effenberg’s ensemble does not float through one boreal mood after another in the manner of many ECM ventures. Indeed, there are passages of mutual improvisation and complexity that suggest Twentieth Century pioneers of modern music such as Charles Ives and Bela Bartók. The quirky opening track, “Dings Bums,” contains allusions to John Coltrane and Horace Silver— just two of the album’s quick side trips into witty allusions that often verge on the subliminal.

Israeli vocalist Efrat Alony is a powerful presence on a number of tracks. In the title piece, she is notably effective with Effenberg’s vibes counterpoint, and then paired with the low tones of clarinetist Florian Trüsbach. On several occasions Trüsbach on alto saxophone and Norbert Emminger playing baritone sax exploit the contrasting ranges of those instruments without sounding as if they’re emulating Paul Desmond and Gerry Mulligan.

Most often, Effenberg integrates her vibraphone into the ensemble, but on “Like A Child,” she employs a violin bow to draw sound from the ends of its keys. Later in the piece, using mallets, she provides silvery commentary to Alony’s lyric as Markus Scheferdecker adds a third voice by way of his double bass line.

In this hour of music, there are many more rewards than reveal themselves in one listening. Recommended.

“How can you stand that music all day?” my wife asked the clerk at our favorite seafood market.

“Oh,” the clark said, “You don”t like The Beach Boys?

That’s not the point, is it? Whether the music is by The Beach Boys, Bill Evans, Bach (unlikely), Bartók (more unlikely) or The Beatles, does a store have the right to impose its taste—or lack of it

Is it legal for a store to force its musical taste—or the lack of it—on customers who shop with it and increase the company’s bottom line? Of course it is. Piping in music is legal, and there are plenty of marketing consultants whose studies claim that nonstop music in stores drives up profits.

Is it good business? Not all stores think so. With feedback from its staff and customers, last summer the British chain Marks & Spencer decided to eliminate background music. It switched off the music at 300 stores.

A spokesman for the chain said,

We’re focused on putting the customer at the heart of everything we do. This decision is the result of extensive research and feedback from our customers and colleagues.

Reacting, an anti-noise group called Pipedown, issued a statement:

M&S remains the UK’s biggest chain store, a national institution. So this is a great day for all campaigners for freedom from piped music. Millions of customers will be delighted by this news. So will thousands, probably tens of thousands, of people working in M&S who have had to tolerate non-stop music not of their choice all day for years. Now we can shop in peace.

A web search turns up no evidence of a similar movement in the United States. We can all hope.

Around midweek, I accepted a last-minute freelance offer that was too good to refuse. It had an impossibly short deadline, which I am likely to meet. The assignment involved a lot of listening, research, note-taking, phone calls, more listening and more research. It is why Rifftides has been more or less on hold for a few days. The Rifftides staff just wanted you to know that we have not abandoned the readership. The project is expected to appear later this year. Assuming that I am given permission to do so, I’ll post a heads-up. As for the illustration above, rest assured that the work left no opportunity for couch time and generated no dark thoughts.

Work is nice if you can get it.

This is how co-host Renee Montagne of National Public Radio’s Morning Edition opened one of the program’s hours this morning.

We’re kind of blue. Miles Davis died 25 years ago today.

It came as a shock to realize how quickly that sizeable amount of time has passed; and a comfort to know that a major creative musician, recognized in a casual comment, is a part of the fabric of the nation’s, and the world’s, culture. Ms. Montagne’s reference to Davis’s best-known album suggests that listening to it again is always a good idea. Whether you are about to have lunch in Shanghai or get out of bed in Copenhagen, here is the complete 1959 Kind Of Blue with Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Bill Evans, Wynton Kellly, Paul Chambers and Jimmy Cobb.

To comment on a post, open it, then scroll down until you see Leave A Reply. Enter your comment in the box and click on Post Comment. We welcome your comments and observations

To communicate with Rifftides about something other than a post, put your cursor on ABOUT in the box above the name Rifftides. From the drop-down menu, choose CONTACT. Let us know what’s on your mind.

There are so many options that it is difficult to know what to bring you today to observe the great saxophonist John Coltrane’s (1926-1967) 90th birthday. Among Coltrane’s hundreds of recordings and videos, no doubt everyone who listens to him has at least one favorite. The Rifftides staff has chosen two. In the spring of 1957 Miles Davis had fired Coltrane from his quintet because his heroin habit was causing problems on and off the bandstand. A month or so later, Coltrane stopped using heroin. By March of 1958, he was back with Davis and into what critic Ira Gitler indelibly labeled his “sheets of sounds” period.
Our first choice is from the spring of 1958, when Coltrane seened to be enjoying life. The enjoyment was apparent in his playing. Recording as a leader for the Prestige label, he included “Rise ‘N Shine,” a tune that went back at least two-and-a-half decades. This is unlikely to be mistaken for Paul Whiteman’s hit 1932 version. Is there repetition of phrases in Coltrane’s solo? Yes, but his exhilaration more than compensates. The band is Coltrane; Red Garland, piano; Paul Chambers, bass; and Arthur Taylor, drums.

In the early 70s when I was anchoring at Channel 11 in New York, I took a film crew (remember film?) to Lincoln Center to do a feature about the Giants Of Jazz, the group with Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, Sonny Stitt, Kai Winding, Al McKibbon and Art Blakey. Let’s set the scene with a piece written by Monk and introduced by Gillespie on the band’s 1971 world tour.