I'm often asked where I think jazz is headed and which jazz musicians are pushing the envelope without boring the listener. My answer to the first question is, "I don't know." Until jazz artists start integrating the language of today's diverse music buyers, and jazz fans allow the music to move beyond lighthouse status, the art form may simply languish as live performances of what we've already heard on recordings—only not as good. My answer to the second questions is easier. One exciting new artist who is trying new things is Joe Blessett.
As his new Chillin out in Dark Places shows, Blessett isn't afraid of blending music genres together for sophisticated results or recording what he hears in his head, sidestepping jazz tradition and convention. His new album squeezes soul, gospel, jazz and electronica into a tight space while retaining clarity and cohesion.
In this regard, Chillin out in Dark Places is the jazz equivalent of a lava lamp. I found my ears listening to the music the same way my eyes linger on a lamp's colorful globs drifting upward and downward in slow motion, breaking apart and reshaping to resume the process. This isn't jazz as you know it but an amalgam of influences resulting in a new, busier jazz sound.
What's most remarkable about Blessett is that he plays all of the instruments on the album. That includes the saxophone, six-string guitar, keyboards and bass. He's something of a computer whiz as well, sequencing the sounds of instruments and creating dubs to interact playfully with the acoustic music. He also engineered the session, composed all of the songs and produced.
On Better Days, for example, you hear a Hammond organ, two Fender Rhodes pianos and an alto saxophone supported by a slow steady beat and synthesized strings. On Slayers and Players, there's a piano backed by a saxophone and synthesized banjo sequences plus a big, thick bass.
Some might argue that the music is merely trendy shopping music taken to a new level or smooth jazz with radials. I don't think so. I think that summation sells Blessett short. There's a vision here, a concept, and he brings it together with polish and plenty of surprises.
According to Blessett's press release,
"I create music for my listening pleasure, in a private studio with the help of some great software and a little imagination. Creating my own life's sound track, translating what I see to what I hear. I am a private person who does not feel at home being the center of attention. With that being said, I have no plans to perform live in the immediate future. Maybe one day, but not today."
Again, this isn't jazz the way we know it. And Blessett is a little mysterious (I couldn't find a single picture of him). But it is where jazz needs to be headed. Experimental and risky without stultifying the listener. I'm not sure how many more dollars jazz musicians can expect to take in by cranking out the same stuff over and over again. Blessett is firmly a jazz head whose ears are open and head is wrapped around technology, bringing them into the jazz fold rather than selling out. Works for me.
JazzWax tracks: Joe Blessett's Chillin out in Dark Places can be found at iTunes or here.
JazzWax note: For more on Joe Blessett and his world, go here.
Wall Street Journal alert!Pick up a copy of today's Wall Street Journal for my chat with former Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman, who now fronts the Rhythm Kings in the U.K. If you're a subscriber, go here.
In 1959, a furious race began between two sets of squeaky-voiced woodland creatures. You're surely familiar with Alvin and the Chipmunks, that trio of furry vocalists with sped-up voices who had a thing for pop music. Well, they also had company. There was a bebopping duo known as the Nutty Squirrels, created by Alexander "Sascha" Burland and Don Elliott on sped-up vocals. The result sounded like Lambert, Hendricks and Ross on helium, and there even was a hit—Uh-Oh (a YouTube clip appears below). Saxophonist Hal McKusick told me about them. He was in the studio band along with Cannonball Adderley on the record date.
Here's info from Wikipedia:
"After the Chipmunks' initial success in 1958, plans were almost immediately made to make them into an animated cartoon series. Unfortunately, there were some initial art direction snags (specifically with the character designs) and the show was delayed. This gap resulted in a race between the Chipmunks and an imitative group created by jazz musicians Don Elliott and Alexander "Sascha" Burland, which they called the Nutty Squirrels.
"Both musical groups featured the defining sped-up voices, but the Chipmunks favored popular music while the Squirrels favored jazz, particularly of the bebop variety. Ultimately, the Squirrels made it to television first, in the animated series The Nutty Squirrels Present (appearing in September 1960), but they were not as popular as the originals."
I hate to say it, but it's pretty cool stuff. Who was in the studio band? Don Elliott, Sascha Burland (vcl) acc by Hal McKusick, Cannonball Adderley (as) Bobby Jaspar (fl) Sam Most (fl,ts) Romeo Penque (fl,woodwinds) Sol Schlinger (bar) Al Casamenti, Mundell Lowe (g) Trigger Alpert and (b) James Campbell (d) with strings.
You'll find the Nutty Squirrels' Bird Watching at iTunes and here.
Wall Street Journal alert! Pick up today's Wall Street Journal for my article on architect Henry Cobb and Boston's John Hancock Building [pictured]. The tower's sheer simplicity and geometric humility make it my favorite office building in the world. The tower opened to the general public 35 years ago to the day. I love it so much I traveled with Henry to Boston just to admire it. What can I tell you? I'm crazy about beauty in all its forms. If you're a subscriber to the Wall Street Journal, go here.
Almost forgot—want a taste of the Squirrels?Here'sUh-Oh...
Earlier this month I posted a list of five favorite swinging action-jazz albums. This brassy genre was popular roughly between 1958 and 1963, with the proliferation of TV shows and movies featuring cops, robbers and private detectives. After posting the first list, I received a crime wave of emails calling for more. So, action-jazz albums:
Music From Peter Gunn (1958)—Henry Mancini
Private Life of a Private Eye (1959)—Enoch Light
Music for a Private Eye (1959)—Ralph Marterie
The Swingin' Eye (1960)—Si Zentner
Man from O.R.G.A.N. (1963)—Dick Hyman
JazzWax clip: Think Sy Zentner is just a pop lounge lizard? Not so fast. Dig for yourself...
One of my favorite Anita O'Day recordings (and there are many) is her rendition of Andy Razaf and Eubie Blake's Memories of You. I'm particularly partial to her languid recording of the song for The Gene Krupa Story in 1959.
Here's O'Day in the movie (wait for the priceless line: "Not bad—if you like talent")...
And here's her studio recording of the song for Verve...
From time to time, I open JazzWax to guest posts in an ongoing series called "Eyewitness," which features first-hand accounts of jazz artists or events as seen from a novel vantage point. Today, pianist Peter Boe [pictured in 1980] writes below of an unusual encounter 32 years ago and what it meant to him...
"Back in 1979, I enrolled as a freshman at the University of Oregon in Eugene. At the time, the jazz-club scene in town was active with many great players. The regulars included alto saxophonist Sonny King and his singer-wife Nancy, among dozens of others. There were plenty of gigs for up-and-coming artists as well as established players.
"The late Steve Wolfe, a tenor saxophonist, also lived in Eugene and was an accomplished player and composer/arranger. In 1979, he decided to put together a band, using me on piano along with a few other local players and Nancy singing. We gigged around town pretty steadily for some months.
"Then Steve managed to land a two-week stretch at Michael's Pub in New York—the club where Woody Allen's band eventually played weekly. I was elated but then blown away when I learned that the local bass player on the gig would be Reggie Workman—a hero of mine. [Photo of Woody Allen by David McGough]
"In New York, the gig got underway. We were well received and drew great crowds nightly. Straight-ahead jazz was enjoying something of resurgence then, and you could feel the energy that young people had for the music.
"Three days into the gig, I gained control over my jitters. It was an emotionally charged experience to play in New York, at Michael's Pub, with Reggie Workman. But I soon felt loose, the band was swinging, and Reggie was a dream. His playing was (and remains) like water flowing over smooth stones. [Photo of Reggie Workman by Brian McMillen]
"To top off the whole experience, we received a review in The New York Times by critic John S. Wilson—a very positive one, in fact. He even mentioned me by name! What a thrill. I felt confident, my playing was effortless, and we were in New York.
"On the third night, after a break, we returned to the stage for our final set. As the other musicians settled in before resuming, I shuffled some charts and glanced off to my right. And I froze. I slowly looked to my right again and tried to focus through the lights without staring.
"There, sitting five feet to my right in the second row was Bill Evans—the pianist whose recordings had done more to influence me than any other artist, the man I had listened to alone in my room late at night in the dark, the pianist who, in my youthful enthusiasm I had tried to emulate.
"My immediate reaction was throat-tightening, palm-sweating fear. How could I play with Bill Evans sitting so close, I remember thinking. He was going to hear every nuance, every clam [mistake] and all of my nerves. Not a good place to be emotionally when you're about to start playing.
"But I had to do it. What was I going to do? Walk away? Steve Wolfe counted off the first number, and we hit it. My memory of those first few tunes is dim. I played without thinking—at least not about what I was playing.
"I do remember that right after the second tune, I got up the nerve to glance over to my right again. I could see Bill smiling broadly and applauding. I couldn't believe it. His reaction gave me a great feeling, and I calmed down considerably.
"The rest of the set went off without a hitch, and I played reasonably well for the duration. Bill stayed through the entire set. Frankly, I don't know what I would have done if I had looked over and he had left. I'm sure I may have reconsidered my career.
"After the set, I went to the bar and ordered a drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed that someone tall was nearing me. When I looked up, it was Bill. He introduced himself. I told him I knew who he was and how much he meant to me. He was humble and, in a soft voice, said he was happy to hear that. He was totally affable, and there was a calmness and warmth about him that was reassuring.
"We spent the next hour talking about jazz in general and the New York scene specifically. Of course, I had many questions about specific records, and we even talked about some of his chord-voicing principles. I felt like the most important musician in New York during that hour.
"I asked him how he came to use his trademark rootless left-hand voicings to such a great extent. He told me he eventually realized that playing the root of a chord on the piano was generally superfluous, as the bass player typically had that covered. He said that even when the bass player wasn't playing the root, the listener's ear had a preternatural ability to fill it in. Instead, he said, he began to abandon the skeletal root-7 left hand approach of Bud Powell and concentrated on the upper color tones of the chord. All inside stuff that's the language of musicians.
"Eventually Bill said he had to take off. But before he left, he grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote down his phone number. He asked me to call him to hang out. I secretly hoped this also would include a lesson. Bill also said he was leaving the next day for a series of out-of-town dates and would not return for a couple of weeks. I realized I would be long gone by then, back to Eugene. But I promised to ring him up the next time I was in town. [Photo, from left, of Bill Evans, Francis Paudras and bassist Marc Johnson in Lyon, France, in 1980, courtesy of the Bill Evans tribute site in the Netherlands]
"Sadly, Bill died before I could make it back to New York for our hang [Evans died on Sept. 15, 1980]. When I heard of his passing, I was devastated, like so many other fans and musicians. I still miss him and his music terribly as well as my lost opportunity for a visit.
"I'll never know if I was really as good as Bill Evans told me I was that night at Michael’s Pub. Maybe he was just trying to be nice. Or maybe he saw in me a sensitive person who was trying to break through. What I will remember is Bill's kindness, the enormous feeling of confidence he gave me, and the extension of friendship that continues in my heart to this day. In a box in my room, I still have his phone number on that scrap of paper.
"In the years that followed, my career in music continued. In early '81, I had an offer from my good friend and blues guitarist-singer Robert Cray. He asked me to take the piano chair in his band. I jumped at the chance. This led to a 10-year stint with Robert. While it didn't require much of me musically, it turned out to be a good move. I won two Grammy Awards while with the band and toured the world a dozen or so times. [Photo, from left, of Grammy winners Dave Olsen, Peter Boe, Robert Cray and Richard Cousins by Chuck Pulin]
"After leaving the Robert Cray Band in '91, I moved to Portland, Ore., where I reside today. I play many local and regional gigs, and have started a series at Portland's top jazz club, Jimmy Mak's. It's called East Meets West Meets East, in which my New York City rhythm section (bassist Essiet Okon Essiet and drummer Sylvia Cuenca) and I invite a top artist to appear with us. So far, Eddie Henderson and Lew Tabackin have been guests.
"The series is going very well. All shows sell out, and my intention is to build the series into a regular local event. I also do a great deal of studio session work on a freelance basis, and teach privately. I feel quite fortunate—I've never had to work outside of the music field, which, in the music business must be counted as a blessing. [Pictured from left, earlier this year, drummer Mel Brown, Peter Boe and bassist Chuck Israels]
"I think Bill Evans would be happy with how things turned out."
—Peter Boe
Want more JazzWax Eyewitness?Go to JazzWax and scroll down the right-hand side to the "Eyewitness" heading. You can access others in this series by clicking on the links.
JazzWax clip:Here's Peter Boe earlier this summer playing Bill Evans Very Early...
Does jazz complain too much? It seems every time I open emails from jazz institutions, they are pleading skin and bones or griping about how little attention is being paid to jazz today. Other jazz advocates are quick to express disdain for arts organizations that don't hand out enough funding to jazz. Or they infer that today's music buyers are lazy and dumb. Eventually, this grousing gets around to trashing rock and pop, blaming them for jazz's slipping popularity and hard times.
But is this steady drumbeat of negativity inadvertently poisoning jazz artists' own view of audiences and stunting the music's ability to stay current? I often wonder whether jazz's inability to attract large audiences isn't partly a problem of its own making. And perhaps it's time for musicians to evaluate their introverted stage style, their allergy to entertaining audiences and general self-centeredness.
Mind you, I'm not advocating that musicians sell-out or tap dance. But couldn't jazz musicians make more of an effort to entice the uninitiated with dynamic and exciting music that actually touches people? Again, I'm not saying that jazz should become something else. But why does so much of it require heavy listening by audiences that just want a thrill?
I was at a rock concert several weeks ago. It was a sold-out event. The opening act was a big-name jazz trio that barely touched anyone emotionally based on the applause. All of the songs performed were rambling originals that were flat, painfully dull and unemotionally performed. When I went out into the lobby, I was surprised to find it packed with chatting people holding drinks who obviously didn't want to take their seats until the main act came on.
So, on stage was a jazz group that had a great shot at winning over thousands of new fans. But instead of thinking about its song list in advance and blowing material that might excite the rather hip crowd—perhaps a jazz version of an Amy Winehouse song, a soul hit or a swinging standard?—the stuff being performed was a bore. The jazz-smart person I was with turned to me at one point and said, "This is why people hate jazz." The remark sounded harsh but it was hard to disagree.
If I could wave a magic wand, I'd make everyone take a course in jazz. Jazz is important music because it awakens your soul, unleashes your inner-improviser, and you wind up thinking about art and possibilities. But I'd also wave the wand again, wishing that jazz would meet the uninitiated halfway.
It's unrealistic today to expect audiences to travel the entire distance to the art form. Shouldn't jazz musicians at least make an effort to excite audiences? You know, bring them in? Make them stand and scream? From my seat, it seemed that the musicians on stage couldn't care less. Another instance of jazz moving around like one of those bulls in Spain with six swords stuck in its side. [Pictured: Lionel Hampton]
Unless jazz musicians make an effort to entertain and excite new audiences, I fear that jazz may be in jeopardy of cooling itself right out of business.
Borrah Minevitch. I'm not advocating that jazz artists do this to bring in crowds at rock concerts...
CD discoveries of the week. Want to blow away friends who think they know their soul? Play them Darondo's Listen to My Song: The Music City Sessions (Omnivore). Chances are those friends have never heard of Darondo (pronounced dar-ON-dough). Darondo was the stage name of William Pulliam, a soul-funk singer-guitarist from San Francisco who recorded in the '70s. This collection was captured at Ray Dobard's Music City Records in Oakland in 1973 and '74. Darondo sounded like Al Green, but with more of a Northern California funky metallic backdrop. It's solid all the way through. You'll find this one at iTunes and here.
Rahsaan Barber's Everyday Magic (Jazz Music City) is straight-ahead late-'60s jazz with contemporary touches. A deft saxophonist and flutist, Barber runs with his ideas but remains mindful of the listener. There's a lot of Wayne Shorter in Barber—his meaty sound and moaning mood. You also hear the haunting influence of Walter Becker and Donald Fagen on these originals. Dig Why So Blue? and Redemption. A beautiful spirit that will touch you. It did me. You'll find this one at iTunes and here.
The Dave Shank Quintet's Soundproof (Rhombus) also has '60s instincts but has a more gentle approach. Vibist Shank leads a group through originals that remind the listener of Bobby Hutcherson. The group never leans back and always feels as though they are taking risks and stretching for new ideas, floating in and out of modal concepts. Dig the bright energy on Soundproof, Fair or Foul and At Ease. Joining Shank are Barry Miles (piano), Terry Silverlight (drums), John Patitucci (bass) and Mike Migliore (saxophone). You'll find this one at iTunes and here.
Paul Kissaun's Rude Gospel is an unusual Brit-pop album. Restless and eclectic, the singer has created a tapestry of earlier sounds and modern vocals with a dozen original songs. For example, Birthday Boy is a doo wop-soul tribute while Every Little Helps and Coffee Jar are jump boogies. One More Time is a jazz ballad. Art Rich is Elvis Costello meets Chicago. And there's a strong David Bowie flavor throughout. In fact, Bowie Bowie Bowie, my favorite, is superb. You'll find this one at iTunes or here.
Oddball album cover of the week. A great photo of the Mick. But it's hard to imagine what the Yankee slugger would be doing in the recording studio. And actually he wasn't. This shameless baseball bait and switch hitter merely features Mantle's "favorite" pop songs Recorded in 1958, the RCA album includes liner notes by Mantle (or so we're told) and songs by old RCA bands, including Hal Kemp. Two years into the rock era and Mantle is writing about how much he loves music from the '30s and '40s. A left-field pop outing.
Here's 25-year-old guitarist Herb Ellis with pianist Lou Carter and bassist Johnny Frigo. All three were part of Jimmy Dorsey's tight rhythm section in the 1940s. In 1946, they broke out as a lounge act known as the Soft Winds, which lasted a few years.
This image comes from Betty's fabulous collection of photos, sent along by her friend Chris. Betty has donated all of her prints, including this one, to Rutgers University's Institute of Jazz Studies. But since she and Chris also are big JazzWax readers, they wanted you to see them, too.
Want more JazzSnaps? Go to the right-hand column of JazzWax and scroll down to "JazzSnaps" for links.
JazzWax tracks: Back in the late 1990s, Chiaroscuro Records issued a fine album of Soft Winds recordings that featured their music from today and a date made circa 1947. The album is Then & Now: The Soft Winds 1946-1996. You'll find it at iTunes and here.
Wall Street Journal alert! Be sure to read my reviews in today's Wall Street Journal of two superb new albums: Jackie DeShannon's When You Walk in the Roomhere and Johnny Winter's Rootshere.
Organist Johnny "Hammond" Smith isn't as well known today as organists like Jimmy Smith, Jack McDuff, Shirley Scott, Don Patterson and Charles Earland. I'm not sure why. Perhaps his name was too close to Johnny Smith's (the guitarist) and John Hammond's (the producer). Nevertheless, Smith was a high-energy player with enormous soul power and restraint. His recording career roughly divides into two parts—his jazz-soul sessions for Riverside and Prestige in the '60s and his jazz-funk CTI records of the '70s for Creed Taylor. One of his finest Prestige dates was Opus De Funk—an usual album at the time, considering the kind of repetitious material most organists were compelled to record then.
Smith's Opus De Funk was recorded in May 1961 and merged the hot sound of the Hammond B3 with cool vibes and a swinging blues guitar. The musicians on the date were Freddie McCoy (vib), Johnny "Hammond" Smith (org), Eddie McFadden (g), Wendell Marshall (b) and Leo Stevens (d)—sidemen today who also are largely forgotten.
If you were a jazz-soul organist back in the '60s, you likely wound up at Prestige making "chicken 'n' dumplings" recordings. These were albums that showcased mostly funky blues originals that had a down-home feel, with names to match. Occasionally, an organist would get a chance to break out of this mold and record an album of straight-up jazz. But mostly these artists were steered toward the fried stuff because it sold well in Northern urban markets as well as down South—the jazz version of a crossover offering back then.
Interestingly, Smith recorded two albums with the same quintet in '61 that included thick portions of jazz—Opus De Funk and Stimulation, which was recorded three months earlier in February. In later years, the track line-ups were shuffled by Prestige, giving the Opus De Funk release a heavier jazz emphasis while Stimulation captured the blues. The swinging jazz tracks were Opus De Funk, Almost Like Being in Love, Sad Eyes, Shirley's Theme, If Someone Had Told Me and Gone with the Wind.
Horace Silver's Opus De Funk here receives one of the finest treatments of the song, excluding Silver's own original recording, of course. The vibes takes the lead at first, with the organ and guitar supporting. But as the song progresses, Smiths' organ chords bleed through and raise the temperature, with the electric guitar hitting a moving groove.
The album's two originals by Smith should be standards today, but they're little known: Sad Eyes and Shirley's Theme. If Someone Had Told Me places the organ, vibes and guitar in tight, swinging unison, while Gone with the Wind features a shuffle beat, setting up brisk, spirited solos by all three instruments.
Smith's recordings as a leader and sideman throughout the decade veered toward blues-gospel material that sold well among jazz-soul fans. Given the over-supply of blues-funk recordings being cranked out by organists on Prestige, it's a shame that Smith didn't have additional opportunities to go beyond the bump and grind. But at least we have Opus De Funk.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Johnny "Hammond" Smith's Stimulation and Opus De Funk combined on a single CD (Opus De Funk) here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Johnny "Hammond" Smith's Sticks an' Stones, one of the blues tracks. Though a jazz-funk offering rather than a swinger, you'll at least be able to hear what the organ sounds like with the vibes and guitar...
Urbie Green is easily one of the smoothest and most lyrical trombonists of the '50s and '60s. He's also among the most prolific. From his days with Gene Krupa in the late 1940s until his last recording in 1997, Green was on an astonishing 603 known jazz recording sessions, according to Tom Lord's Jazz Discography. This doesn't include dates for movie soundtracks or television. By contrast, trombonist Jack Teagarden was on 507 dates and trombonist J.J. Johnson was on 355. Tommy Dorsey? He was on 1,153 dates. One of Green's finest early '60s sessions was The Persuasive Trombone of Urbie Green.
Recorded in February 1960, the album featured Nick Travis, John Bello, Don Ferrara and Doc Severinsen (tp), Urbie Green and Bobby Byrne (tb), Gil Cohen (b-tb), Hal McKusick (as), Rolf Kuhn (as,cl), Eddie Wasserman (fl,ts), Pepper Adams (bar), Dave McKenna (p), Barry Galbraith (g), Milt Hinton (b) and Don Lamond (d). On half the tracks, Gene Allen (bar) and Nat Pierce (p) replaced Pepper Adams and Dave McKenna.
This session was recorded for Command, a label started in 1959 by Enoch Light and George Schwager in Harrison, N.J. The line was marketed to early audiophiles—code at the time for guys who liked "bachelor pad" music. Command was big on the exaggerated separation of stereo tracks to create a highly dynamic range. Albums appeared in glossy, high-quality gatefold covers with explosive abstract designs. Interestingly, Command was one of the first companies to use 35MM film for master recordings instead of magnetic tape. The recording band on film held more informationand was superior for improved fidelity.
Persuasive Trombone was the 15th album issued by Command, and the first of many that Urbie recorded for the label in the 1960s. What makes this particular album special is the hip swinging arrangements, the band's knot-tight attack and Green's rich swinging horn. Unfortunately, the back of the original album was devoted to text rattling on about the album's technical data rather than who wrote the arrangements. According to Tom Fine, who pulled the original album, the charts were by Bobby Byrne and Lew Davies.
There are plenty of surprises. The first track—At Last—opens with an I Can't Get Started intro but then kicks into a mid-tempo swinger. There's fine piercing solos by trumpeter John Bello on Prisoner of Love, Dream and other tracks. The album ends, interestingly, with a simple and beautiful working by Green of I Can't Get Started.
Throughout his career, Green's appeal rested with his ability to sing beautifully through his trombone. He employed a velvety tone and a breathing technique that erased any evidence of taking a breath. Notes seemed to pour from a pitcher, and Green somehow managed to move effortlessly up and down along the surface of melodies like a cue ball on marble.
This album is sultry and seductive and yet still swings without bringing down the house.
JazzWax note: Tomorrow (Thursday) I will be the guest of John Greenspan—esteemed host of Good Morning Jazz on KSFR-FM. The show is broadcast from sunny Santa Fe, N.M. John will be spinning platters, and we'll be chatting about Sonny Rollins, Tony Bennett, Dave Brubeck, Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson. When: 10:30 a.m. (MDT)—or 12:30 p.m. New York time (EDT). You can listen from anywhere in the world on your computer by going here and clicking "listen live" in the upper right-hand corner. See you then!
JazzWax tracks: The Persuasive Trombone of Urbie Green (Command) can be found as a download at iTunes and here.
JazzWax clip: How good is Urbie Green on this 1960 hi-fidelity disc? Here he is on I Had the Craziest Dream. That's Hal McKusick's alto behind him throughout...
And here'sAt Last with the I Can't Get Started setup...
It takes a lot of courage for a pianist to take on Bill Evans. It requires even more courage for that pianist to overdub himself recording Evans' songs. After all, any pianist who would attempt such a thing would be asking for a ton of trouble. Evans fans are pretty particular, passionate and protective of the late pianist and have a low tolerance for intruders. Unless, of course, a pianist paying tribute to Evans actually pulled it off. Alan Pasqua does just that on Twin Bill: Two Piano Music of Bill Evans.
But let's back up. I generally don't care for Evans tribute albums. My feeling is Evans aced everything he recorded, and the last thing I generally want to hear is someone else's interpretation of his definitive versions. So I was already suspect when I spied Pasqua's album title.
Next is the double-decker gimmick. Evans recorded three albums in which he overdubbed himself using multitrack recording techniques—Conversations with Myself (1963), Further Conversations with Myself (1967) and New Conversations (1978). So the fact that Pasqua was trying to pull off something akin to Yet Even Further New Conversations seemed a bit galling—like breaking into a museum and putting your feet up on an exhibit's furniture.
Flipping the CD over, I noticed that the track list included Take Me Out to the Ballgame, Vindarna Sucka Uti Skogarna and Grace—songs that Bill Evans never recorded. Now, I thought, we were into appalling territory. This would be our museum chap breaking out a tuna sandwich.
Furiously tearing open the plastic, I slipped on the CD, fully expecting to hit eject after about eight bars into the first track. But a funny thing happened on the way to the trash. I actually loved what I heard.
Pasqua manages to pull off his triple play by employing crystal clear reverence for Evans and his lyrical space-swing technique. These tracks aren't ape jobs, in which a pianist does his or her best to sound as though they are playing Evans transcriptions. Instead, they are solid, reverential interpretations that live inside Evans' style and soul.
From Very Early and Gloria's Step to Nardis and Interplay, Pasqua delivers a full, lush Evans tribute. In his overdubs, Pasqua focused less on attempting the complex, fairy-delicate musical dialogues that Evans pulled off in his Conversations albums. Rather, Pasqua wisely uses the overdub to give this music heft and dynamism, always mindful of Evans' sensitivity and style.
As for Take Me Out to the Ballgame, it actually works. Evans, of course, wasn't above vamping children's songs or radio jingles. He had great fun recording Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Little Lulu and the WNEW Theme in the '60s. Pasqua plays Ballgame as a waltz, and darned if his harmony choices don't sound like Evans himself. Pasqua leaves the listener feeling as though the master himself were sitting at the keyboard, his head bent over, his eyes closed. [Photo of Bill Evans in 1965 by Roberto Polillo]
Oh, one more thing. Pasqua bravely left himself open on yet a fourth front. Did I mention that this is a solo album?
Who is Alan Pasqua? The pianist played with The New Tony Williams Lifetime and recorded with Bob Dylan. He wrote the CBS Evening News theme and currently is chair of Jazz Studies, Associate Professor, at the University of Southern California. More at Wikipedia.
JazzWax tracks: Alan Pasqua's Twin Bill: Two Piano Music of Bill Evans (BFM) can be found at iTunes and here. You can hear his Evansized Take Me Out to the Ballgamehere.
JazzWax clip: Here's a clip of Pasqua's Highway 14 from his 2005 album, My New Old Friend...
Marc Myers writes frequently on music and the arts for the Wall Street Journal. He is author of "Why Jazz Happened" (University of California Press). In 2012, JazzWax was named the Jazz Journalists Association's "Blog of the Year."
