JazzWax

Sunday Wax Bits

Teddy Charles at the Vanguard. When Teddy Charles walked on stage at New York's Village Vanguard Thursday night, he didn't take off his cap. Dressed in a gray sports jacket and white polo shirt, Teddy went right to work warming up. He pulled four felt-tipped mallets out of a canvas bag and worked them softly over the vibraphone's keys. Then he held two mallets in each hand and gave them a run as well. Teddy has played with virtually every jazz legend, and his albums from the 1950s broke new ground by making the vibes an equal voice in bop, cool and third stream ensembles. He also produced an amazing string of albums for Prestige in the early 1950s.

Teddy's group at the Vanguard consisted of Chris Byars on tenor sax and flute, John Mosca on trombone, Sacha Perry on piano, Ari Roland on bass and Stephen Schatz on drums. The group played four tunes during the first set—Scrapple from the Apple, Walkin', What Is This Thing Called Love and Gigi Gryce's Sans Souci. On the last number, Chris' father James Byars, an oboist with the New York City Ballet Orchestra, joined the group. At first, the addition seemed like an unhip experiment about to go horribly wrong. But Chris on flute, James on oboe and Mosca on trombone offered a warm, breezy backdrop to Teddy's ice-cool vibes. Teddy's still going strong. His playing and ideas were a throwback to an age of jazz craftsmanship and risk-taking. Eventually Teddy did remove his cap. It gets hot under those Vanguard lights.

To read my three-part interview with Teddy from last November, click on Teddy's name under "JazzWax Interviews" in the right-hand column.

Karrin Allyson's Imagina. Last week a friend sent along Karrin Allyson's new bossa nova album, Imagina (Concord). To my delight, Karrin's approach here is both jazzy and authentically Brazilian. Not only does Karrin smartly sing many of the songs in Portuguese and English, but she also has done her homework. Unlike many jazz singers who take a shot at Brazilian love songs, Karrin clearly understands the genre and the level of passion required to deliver the words with credibility.

What's more, Karrin [pictured] has channeled the phrasing of many great Brazilian singers. For example, on one of my favorite tracks from the album, Medo de Amar (Surrender the Soul), Karrin captures the sound of the magnificent Maria Creuza, whose yearning and heartbreak are unmistakable. On Estrada Branca (This Happy Madness), you hear traces of Elis Regina.

To pull off a superb Brazilian album, a singer needs razor sharp intonation to navigate the complex melodies and a natural blase, resigned feel that lets the listener relax. Karrin executes both perfectly and brings a fresh playfulness and charm to these poetic Brazilian masterpieces. It doesn't hurt that the musicians on the date, the production quality and the arrangements—many by Karrin—are impeccable. Brava, Karrin! Imagina is available here and at iTunes.

Sonny Rollins at Carnegie Hall. I have received many emails from readers expressing disappointment about Sonny Rollins' decision not to release a recording of his concert last fall at Carnegie Hall. The concert was a 50-year anniversary tribute to  Sonny's original Carnegie Hall debut, when he played three songs—Moritat, Sonnymoon for Two and Some Enchanted Evening.

While readers of this blog seem to be coming to grips with Sonny's decision not to release the album over what he believes is sub-par playing, many continue to ask why the original 1957 recording hasn't been issued.

According to Sonny's representatives, a recording exists from the Library of Congress—the same recording that produced the Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall CD (Blue Note). Monk and Coltrane appeared at the same concert. Sonny owns the rights to his recording, and it cannot be released without his permission. Sonny only agreed to release it as a companion to the 2007 recording. But since last year's concert isn't being released, Sonny has decided not to release the 1957 recording either. At least for now, though there has been talk of individual tracks being issued for sale as downloads or packaged as part of the new double CD of live material coming later this year. When I know more, you'll be the first to hear about it in this space.

Miles Davis in Paris. Back in November 2007, I wrote here about  "The Rarest Miles," two CDs that I believe represent the best recordings of the first Miles Davis Quintet.

Recorded at the Paris Olympia Theater in March 1960, these discs have always been hard to find and often sell for upward of $50 each. They are spectacular because you hear John Coltrane pulling away from the group musically, leaving Miles somewhat baffled creatively as the audience roars with each tenor sax solo.

Last week, reader David Langner sent along some great news. The recordings are available on one CD from England at Amazon/UK here for what appears to be around $20, if I've done my sterling-to-dollars conversion correctly. Or here for less from third-part vendors.

Roberto Magris. The Italian jazz pianist has a lovely CD out called Il Bello del Jazz here. For a sense of Roberto's rich style, dig his recording of Marian McParland's In the Days of Our Love and other tracks  here.

Cannonball Adderley. Video documentarian Bret Primack sent along a link to the TV show The Subject Is Jazz, which in this installment focused on bop and featured Cannonball Adderley. Go here to watch all 26 minutes of this amazing show.

Bret also emailed a link to his latest video podcast for the CD The Cannonball Adderley Sextet in New York, which has just been remastered by Concord as part of its Keepnews Collection. Go here to see the clip.

I'm proud to say that Orrin Keepnews, in his updated liner notes for the CD, used with my permission a quote from my interview with David Amram last fall.

If you love Latin-jazz, check out The Latin Jazz Corner, a hugely informative and indispensable site written and edited by Chip Boaz, a San Francisco-based bass player. I have not seen another blog on Latin-jazz that's this thorough and authoritative.

Bill Evans. Jan Stevens of the BillEvansWebpages wrote last week to let me know that a recent National Public Radio Jazz Profiles on Bill Evans hosted by Nancy Wilson was among the best radio retrospectives on the pianist he's ever heard. That's quite an endorsement from the e-keeper of the Bill Evans flame. You can download the Bill Evans broadcast for free here—along with a host of NPR Jazz Profiles shows on other jazz artists.

Patti Bown. Doug Ramsey, critic and writer extraordinaire, posted an insightful and moving tribute to the late Patti Bown at Rifftides last week. Bown, who died earlier in the month, was little known to many jazz listeners, save for her recordings on piano with Quincy Jones' big band between 1959 and 1961. As always, Doug paints the full portrait in his complete tribute.

Emily Remler. WFIU's Night Lights host David Brent Johnson recently featured a half-hour program on Emily Remler, the petite jazz guitarist with the big Wes Montgomery sound. Remler died of heart failure at age 32 in 1990 following years of heroin addiction. I remember seeing Remler perform at New York's West End in the mid-1980s and interviewing her in between sets. I recall a painfully shy and passionate musician who was antsy but totally committed to her guitar. Wow, could she play. One of my favorite Remler albums is East to Wes, which can be found at iTunes. To hear David's show, go here and click the big blue "Listen Now" button.

Buddy Rich goes ballistic. Many of you probably have already heard this taped recording of Buddy Rich chewing out his band on the bus for playing "clams"—jazz talk for out-of-key notes. Makes you realize just how good you had to be to play in Buddy's band—and how thick your skin had to be to stay on. Also amazing is how Buddy's ticker survived such tirades.

Interview: Ron Carter (Part 4)

After spending the 1960s playing upright bass in the decade's most musically advanced jazz ensembles, Ron Carter found himself in even greater demand in the 1970s. But jazz tastes were changing. The creeping domination of rock and soul over the music business was sucking the commercial air out of traditional jazz. Clubs faced dwindling audiences and many closed or started booking rock acts. Most record labels transferred or fired in-house jazz champions, leaving jazz divisions woefully under-financed or shuttered. To continue earning a living, many jazz artists embraced fusion, a rock-jazz mix. But fusion wasn't the only path to paying the bills—or sole jazz hybrid.

Sensing that a large percentage of jazz listeners were left cold by fusion's icy music-school sophistication and psychedelic tone, producer Creed Taylor [pictured] started recording, packaging and marketing a warmer jazz-soul hybrid through his CTI Records label. Buyers of CTI albums would be presented not only with a lusher, more relaxed jazz sound but also with high-gloss album covers adorned with stunning full-color visuals by photographer Pete Turner. Given his classical training and close professional relationship with Taylor, Ron recorded regularly for CTI in the 1970s.

In this final installment of our conversation, Ron comments on his dates for CTI Records, the criticism Taylor has received over the years for commercializing jazz during this period, and when he finds the time to listen to recordings of jazz masters:

JazzWax: Was there a rivalry among bass players in the  1960s?
Ron Carter: No, not at all. We were just all sharing the same problem—how to go from point A to point B. And we all complained about the pianos at clubs being out of tune.

JW: Which club had the best piano?
RC: None of them. They were all mediocre, man.

JW: Did you like Antonio Carlos Jobim as a person? You recorded on Wave (1967), Stone Flower (1970) and Tide (1970).
RC: He was a lovely man. He was a guy who wasn’t affected by his success. What impressed me most of all: I was a stranger to him. He had never met me before. And he probably had not have even heard the records I made. But after I got to the studio, he gave me a lead sheet. I asked what should I do with it. He said play what you play and we can have a good time. And that’s what I proceeded to do.

JW: Did you enjoy making Wave, which truly is a landmark album?
RC: Great record, man. Urbie Green had a fantastic sound, man. He voices his chords just right, and he listens to the rhythm section. It’s so easy to play with someone like Urbie.

JW: Produced for A&M records in 1967 when Creed Taylor was there, Wave was an early model for CTI. Was recording for CTI starting in 1969 fun? It must have been the opposite of your musical experience with Miles.
RC: I’ve always been fortunate to play good music, so it really wasn’t the opposite of anything. At CTI, you got to see enough of the same players every week. So you knew what their quirks were and what their idiosyncrasies were.

JW: How far in advance did musicians prepare for those sessions?
RC: Most people don’t realize that we often just looked at a lead sheet and made an arrangement out of it. That was a challenge. To make it sound like we were all there at the same time, musically, and that we had all thought out what we were playing pretty far in advance. That was seldom the case, if ever. The challenge was to make it sound polished—but not so much that we sounded like the same set of sidemen put together for specific projects. There were enough great players on all those sessions to make it feel like a working band. That’s what impressed me.

JW: The CTI charts weren’t carefully worked out?
RC: Not by us. Maybe Creed [Taylor] and the bandleader and arrangers did. The rhythm section would go in and see the charts for the first time.

JW: Do you think Creed went too far? Did he make jazz too commercial?
RC: Not at all. The music was beautiful and the packaging is what people desired from the records. They are the most outstanding photographs on LP covers of all time. Pete Turner [pictured] did them. They were outstanding pieces of art. People saw the covers before they heard the music. That encouraged them to hear what was inside—and to keep those records out rather than putting them away. I don’t know how people define commercial packaging. I kind of let that stuff go and don’t worry about it, man. [photo by Doug Kuntz]

JW: What albums on which you’re playing bass are your favorites?
RC: [Laughing] I’m still looking for them.

JW: You must put a record of yours on once in a while and say, “Wow, that’s some pretty remarkable stuff.”
RC: When I do, I always say I missed that note or I wish I could try that again. You have to understand, when I make a disc, I don’t think in terms of, “Will I want to hear this again.” My view is, “Did I play the best I could? Did I help these guys play better because I’m standing here?” If I get that feeling when my day’s over, I don’t have to review my work later to feel justified in being there.

JW: Why is it so hard to hear yourself play on an album?
RC: It’s difficult because I hear things—I may hear a note that’s a little sharp or flat. So many factors go into a recording. Depending on your focus and how complete it is, you are going to be concerned with your intonation, the notes, where you were on the bass, how the instrument sounded, what you could have played differently. I think any artist who’s self-critical and who’s intent on playing better the next time around hears defects that most people don’t call defects, and they disturb him or her—I’m speaking for the music community broadly. I don’t’ get bent out of shape. But when I hear the defects, I wish I had the opportunity to fix them in some kind of way.

JW: Who are you listening now for inspiration or enjoyment?
RC: Enjoyment is a better word. Right now I have on my turntable the Brandenburg Concertos, 1 through 6. Waiting to be played are the Goldberg Variations with Glenn Gould, and But Beautiful, an album I did with Nancy Wilson, Hank Jones, Gene Bertoncini and Grady Tate in 1969. Also, I recently recorded a hip-hop type record about a year ago that was recently sent to me. I haven’t heard it yet but I’m looking forward to hearing how it sounds.

JW: Do you still listen to Oscar Pettiford and the old timers?
RC: When I have a moment. I have them on my computer, so when I’m paying my bills or trying to figure stuff out like how awful the day went [laughing], I’ll listen to all those guys who played without technical advantages—like Pettiford [pictured], George Duvivier, Milt Hinton, Joe Benjamin and Ike Isaacs. All those guys played so great without the technological advantages we have now. Today we have better strings, better recording facilities and better stereo equipment.

JazzWax tracks: In many ways, Creed Taylor's test kitchen for CTI's jazz-soul-pop albums of the 1970s were the successful Wes Montgomery pop-jazz albums he produced at A&M Records in the 1960s. Taylor also tore a page out of Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff's playbook by using a core set of top musicians on multiple dates at CTI and treating album covers as works of art.

By featuring marquee jazz players backed by symphony-sized ensembles and recording a careful mix of pop and soul hits, jazz standards and originals, Taylor succeeded in attracting sophisticated listeners. Adding high gloss covers and magazine-quality photography, the albums were complete audio-visual packages. Ron had recorded regularly for Taylor in the 1960s, so Ron was a natural choice when the number of recording sessions ramped up.

Ron's first date for CTI was on flutist Hubert Laws' Crying Song, recorded in September 1969. Dozens of sessions for the label followed. Perhaps my favorite CTI dates featuring Ron are Grover Washington Jr.'s Inner City Blues, George Benson's White Rabbit (1971) and Body Talk (1973), Eumir Deodato's Prelude (1972), Milt Jackson's Sunflower (1972) and Jim Hall's Concierto (1975).

Because CTI albums are records you love to hate—and hate to love—I'm sure I'll receive e-mails from readers listing their favorites. In fact, enough years have passed that it's probably a good time now to revisit the catalog to hear whether many of these albums are as bad as critics have claimed over the years or much better than we thought.

Interview: Ron Carter (Part 3)

Years of classical music training at Detroit's Cass Technical High School and the Eastman School of Music put bassist Ron Carter on track for a life of symphony work. But after moving to New York to study at the Manhattan School of Music in the late-1950s, Ron found his talents were in huge demand by jazz artists recording increasingly complex music. A torrent  of gigs and record dates with Yusef Lateef, Don Ellis, Jaki Byard, Eric Dolphy and other leading jazz musicians starting in 1960 brought Ron to the attention of Miles Davis, who selected him for his second quintet in 1963.

Today, in Part 3 of our conversation, Ron talks about his years with the Miles Davis Quintet, the artistic importance of Wayne Shorter and his only regret while playing with Miles:

JazzWax: What impact did Miles have on you as an artist?
RC: Miles made me feel that every night he came to play—whatever shape he was in. In pain, late, scuffling. Wherever he was coming from outside the club, when he got to the bandstand I always thought he was playing the best he could at that moment.

JW: How did that affect you?
RC: That was important for me to see. Here was this giant who was going through his physical difficulties, going through his emotional transitions but none of it overcame the fact that he had to play the music with us and play the best he could every night. I feel the same way with my bands now.

JW: How did Miles affect your approach?
RC: It wasn’t Miles himself. It was the music. No one musician can affect four others no matter how well he plays, provided  the other four are equally talented, and I believe we were. Miles simply provided us with a platform on which to experiment. We understood that, given his width and breadth of music. And he found a place where we were enjoying that interaction.

JW: What do you think made that group so special?
RC: I never go there. That’s for historians. Being in the sound, you don’t analyze the speakers. You just enjoy what’s going on. You just hope that historians will be honest enough, and put their biases aside about Miles’ later years, or what they feel about me personally, or Herbie’s success. I hope historians will put all that aside and look at the group as a literal scientific experiment and analyze it on that basis.

JW: Was it exciting for you?
RC: Absolutely. Playing with those guys was always exciting.

JW: Why?
RC: They brought something to the music you can’t find anywhere else.

JW: What exactly in nonmusical terms?
RC: To do that makes it sound easy so let’s not go there. When you explain jazz to a stranger you make it sound like anybody can do it and understand the precepts and concepts. Really, that’s not the case. As soon as people believe they can do it, you feel insulted that they missed the point. So I try not to let them put me in that zone.

JW: Do you re-listen to your Miles Davis Quintet albums?
RC: Only when students ask me what’s going on with them. I avoid them for the most part because I hear choices that I could have made that I wasn’t able to make because I didn’t know what to do with the choices at the time. Now I see the choices more clearly, and I rue the fact that I missed them.

JW: Anything you’d do differently if done again?
RC: I think if I missed anything in those days, Marc, it was the fact that the bass was not amplified. If the bass had been amplified, I could have had more of an impact because I would have been more audible. We were playing in these big 2,000-seat halls with an M-mike and no monitors. I had no real chance to affect the band as much as I could have because we were not sonically equal.

JW: Yet you’re so present on the recordings.
RC: I wish it had been the same way live. But again, I don’t’ feel bent out of shape because the technology wasn’t available to me. I can live with that. The fact is that the guys in the band could hear me enough that I could have an impact. I just wished it had been a much broader reach of sound from the bass to the audiences to 25 or 55 rows back from where we were standing.

JW: Did all that acoustic work with the Quintet make you a stronger player?
RC: No

JW: How important is Wayne Shorter?
RC: He brought a width and breadth of compositions to the band that we hadn’t played before. It made me feel that I could take a little more risk than I could take with someone else. That’s not to speak of George Coleman pejoratively at all. It’s just that Wayne plays different and in a way that let me try things that were different from the norm than someone else.

JW: Wayne Shorter’s album Speak no Evil is incredible and your work on there is exceptional.
RC: I haven’t heard it in a long time so you’re one up on me.

JW: Was working with Wayne separately from the Miles Davis Quintet a different feel?
RC: No, Wayne is Wayne. Wayne is going to play Wayne wherever he is—it doesn’t’ matter if he’s at my house, or a gymnasium or Shea Stadium. He plays Wayne. That’s why he’s consistently great and comfortable with his point of view. Wayne’s compositions for Miles and for Wayne weren’t very different.

Tomorrow, in the final part of our conversation, Ron talks about his work after 1970 with Antonio Carlos Jobim, his sessions for CTI Records and when he listens to Oscar Pettiford and other bass masters.

JazzWax tracks: Ron's first album with Miles Davis was Seven Steps to Heaven, recorded in April 1963 with George Coleman on alto sax, Victor Feldman on piano and Frank Butler on drums. Ron then spent then next year touring and recording live with Miles and various combinations of the quintet that included Coleman or Sam Rivers on tenor, Herbie Hancock on piano and Tony Williams on drums.

After Ron recorded with Wayne Shorter on Speak No Evil in December 1964, the classic second quintet was in place—Miles, Shorter, Hancock, Carter and Williams. Their first studio date, E.S.P., was recorded in January 1965. Ron's other studio dates with this quintet were Miles Smiles in October 1966, Sorcerer in May 1967, Nefertiti in June 1967, Miles in the Sky in January 1968 (with  guitarist George Benson added on a track), and Filles de Kilimanjaro,  recorded in June 1968 with Chick Corea on piano. Ron plays bass on Miles' Big Fun from November 1969, which included a larger ensemble.

If you listen carefully to Ron's bass work on these Miles Davis albums, you'll hear that his playing is inventive, groundbreaking, flexible, supportive and fiercely independent. If all he recorded during his amazing career were these albums, Ron would qualify for being jazz's most significant force on bass in the 1960s.

But during this period—between April 1963 and January 1970—Ron also recorded with artists on an astonishing number of classics. These essential recordings include Herbie Hancock's Empyrean Isles, Maiden Voyage, Blow-Up and Speak Like a Child; Wayne Shorter's The Soothsayer, The All-Seeing Eye and Schizophrenia; Bobby Hutcherson's Components; Joe Henderson's Mode for Joe and The Kicker; Wes Montgomery's Tequila, A Day in the Life and Down Here on the Ground; Stan Getz's Voices; Lee Morgan's Standards, Sonic Boom and The Procrastinator; McCoy Tyner's The Real McCoy; Paul Desmond's From the Hot Afternoon and Bridge Over Troubled Water; and Freddie Hubbard's Red Clay.

JazzWax quote: I'll let Miles have the last word on Ron during this period, from Quincy Troupe's Miles: The Autobiography (1989):

"When we were up on the bandstand I always stood next to Ron because I wanted to hear what he was playing. Before, I used to always stand next to the drummer, but now I didn't worry about what Tony was playing because you could hear everything he was playing; same thing with Herbie. But back then they didn't have amplifiers and so it was hard sometimes to hear Ron. Also I stood next to him to give him my support.

"Every night Herbie, Tony and Ron would sit around back in their hotel rooms talking about what they had played until this morning came. Every night they would come back and play something different. And every night I would have to react.

"The music we did together changed every fucking night; if you heard it yesterday, it was different tonight. Man, it was something how the shit changed from night to night after a while. Even we didn't know where it was all going to. But we did know it was going somewhere else and that it was probably going to be hip, and that was enough to keep everyone excited while it lasted."

Interview: Ron Carter (Part 2)

Following a rigorous music education at Cass Technical High School in Detroit and the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, N.Y. in the mid-1950s, Ron Carter set his sights on graduate studies in New York. Trained as a classical musician, the bassist had already begun playing jazz gigs, and the pace picked up significantly soon after his arrival in the city. [photo by Judy Kirtley]

Today, in Part 2 of our conversation, Ron talks about his move to New York, his early recordings in 1960 with Ernie Wilkins and Yusef Lateef, the Out There session with Eric Dolphy, and the Miles Davis Quintet (1963-1968):

JazzWax: Why did you go on to study at the Manhattan School of Music?
Ron Carter: They had auditions for their masters program. I knew the school was in New York, where I wanted to be. I didn’t know much about Juilliard at the time. I thought it was kind of an upper class classical school. I knew from the Manhattan School of Music’s brochure that its format was less rigid. Continuing with my education at the school seemed to be the best choice if I was going to come to New York and try to earn a living playing jazz bass.

JW: Did you face similar hurdles at the Manhattan School of Music that you did at Eastman?
RC: The Manhattan School of Music was different, but at first, I was concerned. I had to take the school’s music theory exam because Eastman and the Manhattan School of Music used different symbols and a different language to recognize different chords and progressions. After the test, they put me in Music Theory 1, which was a sock in the head. But I said to myself, "Wait a minute—if this is the only way I can get to go to this school, maybe I need to learn another language." I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to me was, what does it take to get this done.

JW: How was the experience?
RC: It turned out beautifully. I made some lovely people there, I made some great friends, the faculty was warm and appreciative of my talent. I played the first chair in the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra, which gave me an outside endorsement of the talent level I had achieved.

JW: You had a great love of classical music…
RC: Still do.

JW: This love dated back to your early teens?
RC: Again, I’m not sure if schools during that era thought that African-Americans could cut the classical orchestra circuit. There weren’t a lot of them playing in orchestras at the time, there weren’t many of them going into classic conservatories. My concern today is that the schools are turning out kids, both black and white, to play in orchestras but there are no jobs for them. Those guys who already have chairs aren’t retiring. They have great pension plans, vacations, health plans, and so on. Where are the kids going to go? You all can’t form your own orchestra. This is an important concern of mine.

JW: How did you come to classical music?
RC: We played it in school. In classical orchestras, classical string quartets, clarinet quintets. That’s the kind of music I played in those years. I wasn’t the only one. Many kids my age had same passion for classical. Cass Tech was a great program. A classical training gave me a bigger palette on which to work and more experienced people around me to learn the music better.

JW: One of your first jazz recordings was The Big New Band of the 60’s—Ernie Wilkins [pictured below] and his orchestra in April 1960. All the musicians on that date were giants.
RC: Oh, wow, somebody just sent me that album. I hadn't heard it before. That was a great record. I look back at that date and I’m quite surprised, given the status of all those players around me, that they decided that this person who was new to New York basically could have an impact on this recording. I can’t remember the feeling of the date or who brought me in. But looking at the personnel I remain stunned that they considered me capable enough to contribute to the music of the band.

JW: You also recorded Three Faces of Yusef Lateef in May 1960. What did you learn from Yusef?
RC: Oh yes—Hugh Lawson on piano, Herman Wright, Lex Humphries on drums and Yusef [pictured] on tenor and oboe. I had already heard these guys from afar at nightclubs in New York. Playing with Yusef made me realize just how big his sound was. I also learned how intense he was about the music. And everyone followed that level of intensity. Yusef had a way of getting everyone up to that level.

JW: Was it liberating to play on Eric Dolphy’s album Out There in August 1960?
RC: I was already playing music like that with Don Ellis and Jaki Byard. I was already familiar with the avant-garde scene. Eric’s record wasn’t my first encounter. I wasn’t stunned by it.

JW: But you came out of a classical background, where playing music requires certain rigidity. How did you make the switch to a form that was so free?
RC: Ask the creator. I have no answer to that other than it’s out of my hands, so to speak.

JW: You were with the Miles Davis Quintet steadily from April 1963 to June 1968—an incredible period of turmoil in this country. You saw America change through the music.
RC: We weren’t living in vacuum but I don’t know what impact society had on us individually. I think the guys in the group were fortunate to have been picked by a person [Miles] who was able to see individuals who could take the music where he wanted to go. I can remember when JFK got assassinated, when the Birmingham church was bombed—I remember all those things. But saying that events back then had an impact on how the music sounded would be kind of a stretch for the other four guys.

JW: What about for you?
RC: I never try use the bandstand for a political platform. I’m pretty verbal, and if you ask me a question I’m happy to tell you off the bandstand. I’m not sure I agree that you can listen to a band and interpret their motives during the fact and certainly after the fact. People can analyze all they want to, but I’m not sure I buy that concept that music is an international language. I’m not there yet. For me, I like to think I’m able to separate the politics of life from the ongoing conflict from the bandstand. By conflict, I mean we all have ways to hear a tune. We have to decide whose view is most relevant and whose view is going to take us someplace else. So did external events affect my music at that time? I like to think, broadly, no. But realistically we live in a society where we play what we feel. Broadly speaking, again, I’m sure it had an impact. But I don’t think JFK’s assassination made me play the blues any more seriously.

Tomorrow, Ron talks about his years with the Miles Davis Quintet, his one regret, why he rarely listens to his own music, and Wayne Shorter's influence on jazz.

JazzWax tracks: Ron's first jazz recording was Stompin' at the Savoy in March 1957 for Verve Records with Phil Woods, Kenny Burrell and Grady Tate. You can find it on a CD called Jazz-Club: Bass.

His first major session was Ernie Wilkins: The Big New Band of the 60's, a strong outing recorded in March and April 1960. The Wilkins arrangements remain strong and are so skillfully written that the band sounds three times larger than it is. Given who was on the date, it's no wonder: Clark Terry, Richard Williams, Charlie Shavers on trumpets; Henderson Chambers on trombone; Earle Warren on alto sax; Zoot Sims, Seldon Powell and Yusef Lateef on tenor sax; Eddie Costa on vibes; Walter Bishop, Jr. on piano; Kenny Burrell on guitar; Ron on bass; and Charlie Persip on drums.

This recording appears on Ernie Wilkins: The Everest Years, which combines The Big New Band of the 60's with Here Comes the Swingin' Mr. Wilkins. The CD can be downloaded at iTunes or purchased here. It's one of my favorite big band albums from the period. Listen as Ron, just 23, keeps huge time for some of the best jazz players of the day.

After a record date with Charlie Persip in April (Charles Persip and the Jazz Statesmen) that included Freddie Hubbard, Art Blakey and Philly Joe Jones, Ron recorded Three Faces of Yusef Lateef in May, a powerfully spiritual album for Riverside. Next came Howard McGhee's Dusty Blue in June and Eric Dolphy's Out There in August.

Ron's 1961 album Where? for Prestige with Eric Dolphy, Mal Waldron, George Duvivier and Charlie Persip is being released by Concord Records as part of its Rudy Van Gelder remaster series on April 1. The CD will be available here.

From that date forward until his first date as a member of the Miles Davis Quintet in April 1963, Ron recorded almost monthly with virtually every jazz great of the period, including Johnny Griffin, Kenny Dorham, Milt Jackson, Wes Montgomery, Benny Golson, Gil Evans, Bobby Timmons, Bill Evans and Cannonball Adderley.

Interview: Ron Carter (Part 1)

The history of the acoustic jazz bass starts in the hands of hard-charging 1930s swingers like Jimmy Blanton, John Kirby, Moses Allen and Walter Page. The band bassists were followed in the 1940s by boppers Oscar Pettiford, Curley Russell, Tommy Potter and Nelson Boyd. Next were the cooler, more "cerebral" 1950s bassists Ray Brown, Charles Mingus, Percy Heath, Paul Chambers, Milt Hinton, George Morrow, Doug Watkins and Scott LaFaro. Then in the early 1960s, Ron Carter transformed the upright instrument from metronome to equal creative partner.

Ron's discography is astonishing. Some estimates put his number of recording sessions at 3,500, though Ron playfully questions that number. Ron's range is equally impressive. He has been the rhythmic rock behind leading avant-garde artists such as Jaki Byard, Don Ellis, Eric Dolphy, Miles Davis and Wayne Shorter, and set the stage for the fusion bassists who followed. But Ron also has played on three Antonio Carlos Jobim albums, a majority of the polished CTI Records of the 1970s, and even albums by hip-hop artists.

Ron, 71, graciously made time in his busy schedule to chat with me about his formative years, his work with the Miles Davis Quintet between 1963 and 1968, and his many albums for CTI. In Part 1 today, Ron talks about growing up in Michigan, his love of classical music, and the challenges he faced during his early musical training:

JazzWax: I've read that you have appeared on 3,500 albums—many of them jazz classics. It may be easier for us to talk about the six albums you didn't record on.
Ron Carter: [Laughing] Six? I think it’s more like four. Seriously, though, I’m not so sure about 3,500 albums. Journalists like to blow that number up. It’s probably more like 2,007.

JW: Your range is amazing—from Eric Dolphy’s Out There to Astrud Gilberto’s Misty Roses.
RC: Wow, most people don’t know about that Gilberto record [Beach Samba (1967)]. That was a great date. There was a rumor that her boyfriend or husband at the time was working for the CIA, and a lot of the guys on the session were afraid that the CIA was monitoring them.

JW: What was it like growing up in Ferndale, Michigan, in the late 1940s, and why did your family move to Detroit when you were 12 years old?
RC: My father found a job as a bus driver in Detroit and the only way he could get the job was by moving to Detroit [pictured in the late 1940s]. It wasn’t a big move, though. There’s a street that separates the two cities. We were living in heart of Ferndale, two blocks from my high school. I had finished my first year of school in Ferndale and already had my entrance audition at Cass Technical High School. So I didn’t get too bent out of shape with the move.

JW: How was Cass Tech?
RC: Great. At Cass Tech, you could major in anything. You could major in music, mechanics, home economics, design or anything you wanted to. It was one of the earliest schools where you had to audition to get in. A lot of great musicians were there, and many continued in music. It was an environment that made growing essential if you wanted to stay in the school. I auditioned on the cello.

JW: Why did you pick the cello?
RC: The music teacher at Cass Tech had brought all these instruments out to the school in her car and said they were available to us to start a little orchestra and to take lessons. She said we should choose the instrument that would suit us as best as we could play it. She played the cello and I loved the sound of it. So I chose the cello.

JW: After Cass Tech, you enrolled at the Eastman School of Music. What was the most important lesson you learned there?
RC: Don’t let discouragement become your focus. At Eastman [pictured], I felt I wasn’t getting the kind of interest I should have been getting. I thought there were opportunities that should have been presented to me that weren’t because I was an African–American. Sometimes they’d put notices up on the board for auditions for major orchestras. It seemed to be common knowledge around the school that the openings were available and that auditions were taking place. But somehow no one got around to telling me to look at the bulletin board or that there was something there that I might be interested in.

JW: Were you good enough?
RC: At the time I was the best undergraduate student player in the school. I felt that given my unstated status, I should have been at least informed so I could decide whether or not I wanted to audition for different orchestras. I felt that because I wasn’t kept in that loop, it wasn’t the fair thing to do to me. I think if I had not maintained that focus, I wouldn’t have gotten out of that school in one piece.

JW: How did you change your feelings of resentment?
RC: It wasn’t resentment. I just couldn’t understand why fair wasn’t fair. I had followed all the rules. I practiced diligently. I got good grades. When the school formed the Eastman Philharmonia—a student-pro orchestra featuring the cream of the crop at the school—there were six or seven other bassists to choose from. They decided I would be first chair on bass. That certainly counted for something. I didn’t just take a chair and sit down. There was a process, and whatever that process was, it was decided that I would be first chair with the cream of the crop. I thought that would have been enough to get me in the loop. At the time, I thought everyone knew about the major opportunities but me, and I didn’t think that was OK.

JW: How did you keep this from overwhelming you?
RC: I thought I played well, and I didn’t care what they thought. I mean, of course, I cared, and it did matter. But I wasn’t going to let their view of my talent and my viability as a fulltime classical player affect me and my thoughts about what I could do on the instrument and what the instrument offered.

JW: But how did you change your thinking?
RC: I was comfortable with my view of myself, and I was making a few jazz gigs so I wasn’t actually starving. I just felt that their way of looking at me was their view, not mine. I have students who come in for lessons now, and the books they use have numbers under the notes. This is the editor’s view on the best way to play different passages. I tell my students to cross out the editor’s numbers and to find their own path through the passages. Now my students will learn to be confident in their view of the approach and their choices, not someone else's. Back then I simply told myself that the school had its view of my ability, but it was their view, not mine. So I was OK with that,.

Tomorrow, in Part 2, Ron talks about his move to New York, his recording sessions with Ernie Wilkins, Yusef Lateef and Eric Dolphy, and the impact of the 1960s on the Miles Davis Quintet.

JazzWax tracks: Ron has played with classical orchestras around the world and recorded several classical albums, including one featuring his own transcriptions and arrangements of Bach chorales and cantatas. His classical albums include Ron Carter Plays Bach here,  Afro-Classic here. Brandenburg Concerto here, the Classical Jazz Quartet Play Rachmaninov here, Mouth Music here and Meets Bach here.

Machito's Kenya—in Concert

Back in February I blogged about Kenya, a 1957 album that in my opinion is one of the most exciting Latin-jazz albums ever recorded. So imagine my surprise w hen I received an email two days ago from drummer Bobby Sanabria telling me he was recreating the entire album in an upcoming concert. Bobby played in Mario Bauza's big band in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and Bobby's albums have been nominated for Grammy awards. And like me, Bobby is a passionate Kenya fan.

The free "Kenya Revisited" concert will be held on April 1st at 7:30 pm at the Manhattan School of Music's John C. Borden Auditorium. The concert will be recorded, and there are plans for Jazzheads Records to release it on CD. Bobby says the concert will feature newly transcribed and enhanced arrangements of the album's 12 songs, and that four of the musicians from the original session—Candido Camero, Ray Santos, Pedro "Puchie" Boulong and Eddie Bert—will be attending. Candido will even be a guest soloist.

I spoke with Bobby yesterday about Mario Bauza and Kenya—as well as the origins of Afro-Cuban jazz and its influence on jazz musicians over the years:

JazzWax: Why is Kenya so significant?
Bobby Sanabria: Because it re-affirmed Machito's importance in the history of Afro-Cuban music and jazz itself. In the late 1950s, Kenya helped re-establish Machito and Mario Bauza as the genre's founders and its most profound practioners. With the inclusion of Cannonball Adderley [pictured] and Joe Newman, the album demonstrated Machito and Bauza's clear ties to the serious jazz community. Unfortunately jazz writers of the day missed the boat and didn't make the connection.

JW: You played in Mario Bauza’s [pictured] big band in the late 1980s and early 1990s. What was that like?
BS: It was amazing. Most people aren’t aware that Mario is the father of Afro-Cuban jazz. He was the genius who first combined jazz arranging techniques and jazz soloists with authentic Afro-Cuban rhythms. He did this in the early 1940s with his brother-in-law, the vocalist Frank “Machito” Grillo. Dizzy Gillespie often gets credit for the invention of Afro-Cuban jazz, but Dizzy himself has said publicly that Machito and the Afro-Cubans under Mario's musical direction were the first.

JW: Mario and Dizzy knew each other well, didn’t they?
BS: Since the mid-1930s, I believe. Mario got Dizzy into the Cab Calloway [pictured] Orchestra in 1939. Many people think Mario Bauza came to the U.S. from Cuba in the late 1940s. Not so. Mario joined Chick Webb’s band as a trumpeter starting in 1933—before Ella Fitzgerald joined. In the late 1930s, Mario played with Don Redman, Noble Sissle and Fletcher Henderson before joining Cab Calloway’s orchestra in 1938. This is the Cab band with Dizzy Gillespie, Chu Berry, Milt Hinton, Cozy Cole, Doc Cheatham and so many other jazz greats. Mario Bauza was a jazz legend before he was an Afro-Cuban jazz pioneer.

JW: Why is Mario a key jazz figure?
BS: Mario could play jazz on many instruments. For example, on Chick Webb’s Stompin’ at the Savoy from 1936, Mario plays the clarinet solo and then a trumpet solo. Benny Carter was so impressed when he heard that Mario played both instruments that he started to do the same. Mario would occasionally send Benny as a sub with Chick Webb when he wanted to go see Yankees, Dodgers or Giants games instead. Mario loved baseball.

JW: Did the other musicians in Mario’s band in the late 1980s understand who he was?
BS: Not really. Many of the musicians knew he was an old timer but they didn’t realize how big a giant he was. You know how it is. Musicians tend to be self-centered. But I’ve always had a historical perspective of the music. When I got in the band, I knew of Mario’s importance to jazz and Latin music history. I used to pinch myself all the time. I couldn’t believe I was there, playing with a living legend who contributed so much to the history of the music.

JW: Did you meet Dizzy Gillespie?
BS: I performed with him on many occasions. Dizzy used to appear with us in Mario's Afro-Cuban Jazz Orchestra. He loved Afro-Cuban big band jazz. Dizzy was in his element when he played with an orchestra like ours behind him. In 1992, we played an 80th birthday tribute concert to Mario at New York’s Symphony Space. Dizzy was the guest soloist. At the rehearsal, Dizzy brought in the original arrangement of Manteca. The parts were clean but looked old. At the top, it said, “Arrangement by Walter Gilbert Fuller.” I asked Dizzy if it was the original chart. Dizzy just laughed and said, “Yeah, just don't lose it. It's the original copy."

JW: What did the drum part look like?
BS: There wasn’t much of a part. Just bar lines and a few breaks. Back in 1948, most jazz drummers knew absolutely nothing about authentic Latin rhythms. The drum part was just a sketch, with the kicks that you hear on the original recording and the switch to swing for Big Nick Nicholas' tenor solo. If you listen carefully to  the original recording of Manteca, you’ll hear Teddy Stewart, the drummer, play what can be considered an early rock beat. At that time, drummers had no idea how to play Latin rhythms. There also was a lot of animosity between the jazz players and the guys who could play Latin rhythms.

JW: Did this cause tension between those who could and those who couldn’t?
BS: When Dizzy brought Chano Pozo [pictured], the original composer of Manteca, into the band in late 1947, Chano wasn't welcomed by the best of the players.

JW: How so?
BS: Well, Chano didn't speak English, so it was hard for him to communicate with the other musicians. He also didn't really understand the swing feel inherent in jazz. His complete musical existence had been Afro-Cuban music—like the Son and rumba. He'd get turned around sometimes in a tune. Dizzy would have to sing the melody of Good Bait to him to get him back on track. Ray Brown quit Dizzy’s big band in September 1947 because he didn’t dig that Chano Pozo was in the band. Ray couldn't understand why Dizzy wanted to connect with his West African roots through Chano.

JW: This happened quite a bit in bands back then, and the clash wasn't always over culture.
BS: Yes, that's true. I think Ray's reaction was similar to Buddy Rich’s when Frank Sinatra joined Tommy Dorsey. Buddy joined Dorsey with the belief that he would be showcased. Then Frank came along, and Buddy resented having to just keep time on ballads and other songs that Frank was singing. It must have been difficut for both Chano and the rest of Dizzy's rhythm section. You're talking about people who didn't understand Afro-Cuban rhythms or culture, and Chano did not understand jazz. It also had a lot to do with Chano increasingly being featured as an attraction. That's when Ray left and Dizzy brought in Al McKibbon, who was much more curious about Afro-Cuban rhythms and loved the music and culture.

JW: What's the first authentic Afro-Cuban jazz song?
BS: Mario Bauza's Tanga, which he wrote in 1943 and recorded that same year. Bauza had a rhythm section made up of congas, timbales and bongo along with a bassist playing typical Afro-Cuban tumbaos—repetitive patterns. It was unlike anything jazz bass players had played before with piano montuno ad-libs that also were not known by the mainstream jazz public. This song  was authentic Afro-Cuban music fused with jazz. Not the hit and miss attempts made by jazz bands in the past to sound Latin. The original 1943 recording can be heard in the movie Bugsy. You see the record and the label just before it drops onto the turntable.

JW: What was Mario Bauza like to work with?
BS: When we rehearsed, he was a gruff guy. You’re talking about someone who played with every legend, recorded with all the big bands in the 1930s and used to play poker with Jelly Roll Morton [pictured]. I know this because when we played once in Germany, Cab Calloway opened up for us. Afterward, Mario and Cab were sitting around talking about old times. Mario said, “Remember how Jelly used to cheat at poker?" Mario had a temper, that’s for sure. But it was well deserved. He had experienced racism in the U.S. and in Cuba, and overcame it in both places. But he was also demanding because he wanted the band to exude excellence.

JW: So why did Machito form a band—not Mario?
BS: Machito and Mario formed the band together back in 1939. It was a partnership. But Mario didn’t like to be out front. He was more reclusive and comfortable being behind the scenes directing the band and supervising the arrangements. So Machito, who was the band's vocalist and outgoing, took on that role. Remember, back then, if you were the front man of a band, you had to have an entertainer’s personality. That role suited Machito perfectly.

JW: What moved you to pay tribute to Machito’s album, Kenya?
BS: I had heard the recording when I was younger and always loved it. But you need to know the backstory. Tito Puente had recorded Puente Goes Jazz in 1956 and Night Beat in 1957 for RCA. Both recordings featured the arrangements of A.K. Salim. Morris Levy, the head of Roulette Records, wanted to copy some of the success RCA had with these Latin-jazz albums. Since Levy used to book Machito and Tito in his club, Birdland, he asked Mario Bauza and Machito to record a Latin-jazz album using A.K. Salim to write some original tunes and arrangements while Mario and Rene Hernandez, the Machito Orchestra pianist, would co-write and arrange the rest of the material. The only tune that was not arranged by Bauza, Hernandez or Salim was Chano Pozo's Tin Tin Deo, which was arranged by the lead tenor saxophonist in the band, Ray Santos.

JW: So there was a rivalry going on.
BS: Absolutely. By 1957, Machito was considered an elder statesman and many listeners and dancers had taken his group, the Afro-Cubans, for granted. Upstarts like Tito Puente and vocalist Tito Rodriguez [pictured] were the hot artists on the scene. So Levy enhanced the band with jazz heavy-hitters like Joe Newman, Cannonball Adderley and Eddie Bert. When the album came out, it was more powerful than anything the orchestra had done in some time. When the public at large and musicians heard the recording, they realized that Machito and His Afro-Cubans were not only the founders of the Afro-Cuban/Latin-jazz movement but also its prime exponents and a force still to be reckoned with.

JW: How did the idea for your Kenya Revisited concert come about?
BS: I had played some of the music when I was a member of the Mario Bauza Afro-Cuban Jazz Orchestra. We used to play tunes like Wild Jungle and Kenya. But the music of the entire album had never been completely compiled and had never been performed in its entirety. Over the last few years, I started re-constructing it by assigning the charts to Joe Fiedler [pictured], who plays lead trombone in my own band. The first re-construction he did was Blues a la Machito, then Kenya and the rest. I had Joe beef up the harmonies, and he also added intros and outros, some in a completely different feel than in the original pieces. But we always retained the integrity of the original tune.

JW: Give me an example.
BS: In Frenzy, Joe added a saxophone soli and a section after the original vamp with a chord sequence to feature the lead alto. Holiday has a section in 5/4 time. Very creative treatments of the pieces. Two of my former students at the Manhattan School of Music who play in my big band—trumpeter Andrew Neelsey and baritone saxophonist Danny Rivera, I assigned them to re-work some of the other pieces, which they did in incredible ways. I also added some of my own touches to all the pieces, like featuring the trumpets and trombones with plungers and special effects as well as some stop-time rhythmic devices. The result is not a carbon copy or nostalgia but a re-working of a masterwork that pays tribute to this legendary album and the Machito orchestra. That's why we've called the concert "Kenya, Revisited."

JW: Why now?
BS: Last year I realized we were coming up on the album’s 50th anniversary, December 1957. Each semester I put on a concert at the Manhattan School of Music [pictured], where I’m a professor and direct the Afro-Cuban Jazz Orchestra. When the school asked me what would be the spring semester's theme, I told them about Kenya and they loved it. I'm very fortunate. Any one of the young people in this student orchestra could sub in my own big band. They are the most talented group of students I have ever taught, and there's not doubt in my mind they will all be a major force in the jazz world.

JW: Will there be a recording of the concert?
BS: Yes, and there are plans to release it on the Jazzheads Records label, which released my 2007 Grammy-nominated CD, Big Band Urban Folktales. The plan is to donate a percentage of the sales to set up a scholarship for Latino students in the jazz department at the Manhattan School of Music.

JW: Who’s in the band?
BS: The entire band is made up of Manhattan School of Music students in the jazz department. They are fire-breathing dragons. Justin DiCioccio [pictured], the department head, has to be given credit for that. The high standards he has set at the school have produced these talented young people.

JW: Who’s still around from the original recording?
BS: I believe the surviving members are percussionist Candido Camero [pictured, right], trombonists Eddie Bert and Santo Russo, saxophonist Ray Santos [pictured] and Pedro "Puchie" Boulong. Candido will be a guest soloist at the concert. Eddie, Ray and Puchie will be in the audience, which should be exciting for the audience, the students and for the Afro-Cuban jazz legends.

JW: Did Mario and Ray tell you any stories about the original Kenya recording date?
BS: Yes, they told me it was Morris Levy’s [pictured] idea to record the album. Levy also spared no expense in terms of getting the music recorded. Mario told me he had decided to name it Kenya because Kenya had just received its independence in East Africa. Although Afro-Cuban rhythms are rooted in West African culture, Mario said, "Africa is Africa and freedom is freedom." They recorded the album in three sessions. Back then the musicians union would let you record only up to four songs per four-hour session, which is why there are 12 tunes on there. On some of the vinyl re-issues, there are other tracks with Herbie Mann and Johnny Griffin. For years many people thought these were outtakes. In fact, those tracks are from another album recorded afterward called Machito: With Flute to Boot. But probably the biggest surprise is that two songs are mislabeled—even on the newly issued remastered CD. Wild Jungle is actually Frenzy, and Frenzy is actually Wild Jungle. I know this from playing the charts with Mario Bauza. He told me they were switched by mistake.

JW: What’s your ultimate hope with the Kenya concert?
BS: That the people who hear the music, especially the young ones, will understand how incredible this music is and what they have been missing out on. This is not museum music or nostalgia to be fondly remembered by listening to a so-called "old record." [Dizzy Gillespie and Mario Bauza pictured]

JW: What's the take-away?
BS: I want everyone to know that this uniquely American music is part of the jazz tradition and that it's at the core of the rhythms of rock, funk and r&b. It's important that people know that Mario Bauza, Tito Puente, Chico O'Farrill and many others were a major force in the development of jazz—not just Latin music.

JazzWax tracks: Kenya is available as a download at iTunes or as a download and remastered CD at Amazon here. The CD, Machito: With Flute to Boot, is out of print and is selling for about $80 used.

Grant Stewart: Young at Heart

Last fall I went out to Brooklyn to hear tenor saxophonist Grant Stewart record his new CD, Young at Heart (Sharp Nine Records). Afterward, producer Marc Edelman asked me to write the album’s liner notes. Considering that Ira Gitler wrote the notes to Grant’s previous album, I couldn’t resist.

What hits you immediately about Grant’s playing is his big, bossy, take-charge sound. On up-tempo songs, Grant reminds you of Sonny Rollins’ attack and phrasing. On ballads, you hear hints of Dexter Gordon and Coleman Hawkins.

But Grant’s no clone. His sound is distinct and unmistakable. He just happens to listen extensively to significant jazz recordings and is always on the lookout for hidden gems. Which is why he sounds so exciting and why he is in such demand as a sideman these days. He captures the spirit of jazz legends but still manages to remain himself.

Young at Heart is out today, and the performances are just as impressive now as when I heard them in the engineer’s booth last fall. The song selection is sophisticated—ranging from Elmo Hope’s Roll On and Duke Ellington’s Serenade to Sweden to Antonio Carlos Jobim’s Modinha and Peter Bernstein’s Jet Stream. And the playing by Grant, Tardo Hammer (piano), Joe Farnsworth (drums) and Peter Washington (bass) is superb.

I checked in with Grant last week:

JazzWax: You packed so many different moods and tempos into this CD. Is there a theme?
Grant Stewart: Not really. These are just tunes I like to play. The songs I record are songs I'm playing in clubs. I pick them based purely on the way they sound. In the case of Young at Heart, producer Marc Edelman heard it at the end of The Front, a film he was watching, and brought it to me. The group tried the song and it worked. If I really like a tune, I’ll figure out a way to give it my touch.

JW: Just when you think Young at Heart is going to be a ballad, it springs into a medium tempo bouncer.
GS: I always want take the listener by surprise.

JW: Actually, that’s true about all of the tracks—each one has a twist.
GS: We chose some pretty tricky tunes—Elmo Hope’s Roll On, Neal Hefti’s Repetition, the ballad You’re My Thrill, just to name three. They all are fairly challenging, bar-wise. My original, Shades of Jackie Mac, has a normal form but includes Giant Steps chord changes at the end. 

JW: What do you mean "challenging, bar wise?”
GS: Many people just assume a jazz musician picks a tune and starts improvising. But behind the scenes, it’s more complicated than that. All musicians are used to playing in certain keys and favor certain movements on their horns. So some songs may not feel comfortable. Think in terms of exercise—if you play one sport, you’d be accustomed to one set of physical movements. If you had to play another sport, you’d have to learn different physical patterns. It’s the same with improvising. Most songs share a similar form. But in some of the odd-form tunes that I chose for Young at Heart, it was like having to learn a new movement for a different sport.

JW: Is this true of You’re My Thrill? I notice you slowed the ballad down a bit.
GS: That’s a good example. You’re My Thrill isn’t your average standard. Many musicians don’t even blow on it because the song doesn’t lend itself to improvisation. The song doesn’t fall into regular patterns.

JW: How did you come to the obscure Elmo Hope tune, Roll On?
GS: I recorded it first in Paris back in 2005 on bassist Nicholas Rageau’s album, Made in France. I love the song's complexity. I wanted to give it a different spin here.

JW: That’s a tough tune.
GS: Very. Elmo Hope's [pictured] Roll On isn’t an AABA standard. It has an odd number of bars—15 for the first half and 10 for the second half. It also goes through a bunch of key changes—starting in G, then to A-flat, to F, to D minor, and then to G major. At the end it goes up to A major. You’d never know the tune is that complex by listening to it. But ultimately the complexity is why it sounds so interesting.

JW: Repetition was an interesting choice.
GS: That’s a tough tune, as well. The reason it sounds so interesting is it’s “through composed.” It never repeats a phrase. You have to play it straight through without anything familiar to hang on to. We added a turnaround so we could take multiple choruses. I was influenced by Bird’s midnight recording at Carnegie Hall.

JW: What’s the story behind your original, Shades of Jackie Mac?
GS: I wrote the song last summer when I was down in Brazil. It’s based on the chord changes to Sweet Georgia Brown. When I was running it down, the sound of the melody line reminded me of something Jackie McLean [pictured] would play.

JW: You seem to have a different level of intensity on this album than previous outings.
GS: I don’t know. I’m different every time I record, every time I pick up the horn. In the year between Young and Heart and In the Still of the Night, my last CD, I’ve changed. If I had recorded Young at Heart two days later, it would have had a completely different sound. My playing is always at a consistent level, but my moods will be different from one day over the next.

JW: Do you listen to yourself play?
GS: From time to time I tape myself playing at Smalls on Tuesday nights in New York and listen back. I do this to make sure I'm not developing any bad playing habits and to make sure certain things are coming off. But I don't do it too often.

JW: Why not?
GS: My feelings about my playing aren’t necessarily factual. There’s a whole inner game going on with music or any performance. It’s not a good idea to listen to yourself play too much. You wind up hearing things you don’t like and then you try to avoid them the next time. Or you hear things you do like and try to recreate them. That mind game takes away from what’s really important—the creative side.

JW: So thinking critically about what you’re doing will spoil the unconscious effort?
GS: I think so. The way the brain works is funny—if you say don’t do something, the mind is like a little doggie and instantly will try to do it. Also, you wind up trying to re-create something that already happened, which can ruin the spontaneity. I try to listen to myself sparingly and non-critically.

JW: Your sound seems to pay tribute to Sonny Rollins, especially on up tunes.
GS: Definitely. Sonny is a huge inspiration. I have totally imitated Sonny in my learning process and try to get what I can out of him while remaining myself. Even if you try to copy a great player you’re always going to leave your mark on it. I tell my students, if you pick a great musician as your teacher and you imitate him, you don’t really have to worry about sounding too much like him. You’re going to bring your own personality to the playing. You just need to choose someone who has enough there that you can take a piece off. In Sonny’s case, his sound and delivery are perfect.

JW: What is it about Sonny’s playing, technically, that’s so appealing?
GS: He has the perfect eighth-note feel. And rhythmically he has a part of Bird that no one else has, which is what attracts me to him. Bird had complete control of the inner rhythms of the lines, allowing him to turn the rhythm around within the line. Sonny seems to have that as well. Sonny’s sound also taught me to be fearless in the lower register.

JW: You’re playing with a terrific group on this CD.
GS: Tardo’s an incredibly creative pianist and harmonically inventive. His comping and solos are great. He’s my favorite piano player around today. When you’re playing with drummer Joe Farnsworth, he pushes you to play up to the next level. He has a thing in his playing called “tipping,” where he creates a lot of forward motion. There’s no slacking. You have to rise to the occasion. Peter Washington is a fabulous bass player. A rock. He makes you sound so good. He always picks just the right notes.

JW: Who's the woman on the cover?
GS: Angelica, my girlfriend. She’s an opera singer—a mezzo-soprano. She’s a beautiful singer. She’ll be appearing in the chamber opera The Rise and Fall of the First World by Michael Kowalski in New York this fall.

JW: What’s next for you?
GS: In April I’ll be touring in Spain with trumpeter Jim Rotondi [pictured] and bassist John Webber. Then I’m going to Japan with tenor saxophonist Eric Alexander, pianist Harold Mabern, drummer Joe Farnsworth and bassist Nat Reeves.

Grant's picks: Among Grant’s favorite Sonny Rollins’ albums are Work Time, Freedom Suite, Sonny Rollins and the Contemporary Leaders and Three Little Words. Grant also listens extensively to two tracks off Sonny Side Up—The Eternal Triangle and I Know What You Know.

Two other influential albums are Sonny Stitt’s End Game and Charlie Parker’s Complete Pershing Club Sets.

For phrasing, Grant listens to Ella Fitzgerald (“She sings the melody of songs as they were written, and in perfect pitch”) and Tony Bennett from the early 1960s (“Tony has a lot of character in his voice—he’s sensitive but still belts it out”).

JazzWax tracks: Young at Heart is available as a CD and Amazon download here. Grant playing Roll On on bassist Nicholas Rageau’s album, Made in France, is available at iTunes.

JazzWax video clips: You can view five different clips of Grant playing excerpts from Young at Heart here (click on the link, "Sounds from Smalls: Videos").

Grant's gigs: Grant plays most Tuesday nights at Smalls in New York. He will be leading a quintet at New York's Smoke on May 9 and 10 with Ryan Kisor, David Hazeltine and Joe Farnsworth.

Top 10: Charlie Parker Tribute Albums

Charlie "Bird" Parker died 53 years ago today in the Stanhope Hotel apartment of Pannonica "Nica" Koenigswarter across from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Nica was a fabulously wealthy patron of jazz, and Bird was recovering from an illness there when he died.

Rather than dwell on Bird's death or write at length about his recordings and influence, I thought I'd simply showcase my favorite Charlie Parker tribute albums. Here they are—in order:

1. Supersax Plays Bird. Originally released in 1973, this album features five top-rank saxophonists—Med Flory and Joe Lopes on altos, Warne Marsh and Jay Migliori on tenors and Jack Nimitz on baritone—playing the transcribed solos of Parker. The charts were by Flory and bassist Buddy Clark. Supersax recorded quite a few albums over the years, but Plays Bird was the first and only one with the right level of intensity and muscle. To see what independent sellers want for the out-of-print CD, go here.

2. Sonny Rollins Plays for Bird. Rollins captures Bird's feel on the first side of this October 1956 album and pays homage on the second side with a medley of tunes identified with Parker. In addition to Rollins' deep performance on tenor, Kenny Dorham is on trumpet, Wade Legge is on piano, George Morrow is on bass and Max Roach is on drums. It's available at iTunes or here.

3. The Max Roach 4 Plays Charlie Parker. This album was recorded in December 1957 and is one of the rare instances where you can squarely compare and contrast the improvisational ideas of tenor saxophonist Hank Mobley and Sonny Rollins. Though Rollins doesn't play on this piano-less album, Dorham, Morrow and Roach do—virtually the same lineup that appeared on Sonny Rollins Plays for Bird recorded a year earlier. It's at iTunes or go here.

4. Stitt Plays Bird. Recorded in January 1963, Stitt was joined by Bird piano alum John Lewis, guitarist Jim Hall, bassist Richard Davis and drummer Connie Kay. Stitt was both enamored and disgruntled about his life-long comparison to Parker. While the similarities between Bird's alto sound and Stitt's were unmistakable, Stitt regularly and half-heartedly tried to shake the connection—but  never raised too much of a fuss. Why bite the sound that feeds you? The album is at iTunes and here.

5. Roy Haynes: Birds of a Feather. This tribute to Charlie Parker, recorded in March 2001, features Kenny Garrett on alto, Roy Hargrove  on trumpet, David Kikoski on piano, Dave Holland on bass and Roy on drums. I like this album because Garrett and Hargrove have just the right Bird and Miles Davis groove, and Roy, Bird's final studio drummer, pulls out all the bop stops. It's at iTunes or here.

6. Charles McPherson with Strings. This November 2001 tribute to Bird's string sessions of 1949 and 1950 and features the other alto saxophonist most often linked to Parker's sound. McPherson played the Parker alto parts in the Clint Eastwood-directed movie, Bird (1988), and the string arrangements here provide McPherson with a smooth backdrop for his restless horn. It's at iTunes or here.

7. Joe Pass: I Remember Charlie Parker. This is probably the gentlest Parker tribute album of all. Pass recorded it solo on acoustic guitar in February 1979. Many of the songs Pass chose were recorded by Bird with strings and orchestra. It can be downloaded at iTunes or Amazon, or purchased here.

8. Bud Plays Bird. This Bud Powell album was recorded in October 1957 with George Duvivier on bass and Art Taylor on drums. It's uneven in places, but you get to hear one of bop's pioneers giving Bird's catalogue a full 88-key workout. It's at iTunes or here and here.

9. King Pleasure: Parker's Mood. Although this is a track, not an album, the vocalese pioneer Clarence Beeks (King Pleasure) recorded in December 1953 what easily is one of the greatest tributes to Parker. King Pleasure's words were set to Parker's magnificent blues solo and oddly told the story of Parker's return to Kansas City to be buried. Parker, who was still alive at the time, was said to have been amused by Pleasure's in memoriam take. If you want this track, be sure to buy the right one. The original has much more grit than the commercial version recorded in 1960. The original is available at iTunes and here.

10. Lalo Schifrin: Firebird Medley. This, too, is a track, not an album. But the 10-song Parker medley set to strings recorded in January 1995 is expansive, running just over 14 minutes. It includes Paquito D'Rivera on alto, Jon Faddis on trumpet, Ray Brown on bass, Grady Tate on drums and the London Philharmonic. To hear this track, iTunes forces you to download a five-disc Schifrin box called Jazz Meets the Symphony. Or you can buy Firebird here.

JazzWax video clips. In 1988, Supersax appeared at the North Sea Jazz Festival. Go here to see the group play Just Friends. While the version of Just Friends on Supersax Play Bird is much tighter and stronger, this gives you a taste of the reed arranging.

And if you're a Charlie Parker with Strings fan, you must download a video clip here of alto saxophonist Francesco Cafiso recently performing Dancing in the Dark with an orchestra playing what appears to be the transcribed original Joe Lippman arrangement. (Let the Italian page translate; then look at #2 in the right-hand margin and click "download video.") Cafiso's album is available here.

Adam Rudolph: Dream Garden

Long-time readers of this blog know that I don't often venture beyond the 1940s and 1950s in my posts or album recommendations. I have nothing against jazz recordings made during the rock era. I just find that jazz during the 15 years after World War II was and remains exceptional. I also find that the quality of the music for the most part dropped off considerably once business interests made it impossible for jazz and jazz artists to succeed on a grand scale. 

But occasionally, I come across a new release that is exciting and fresh. One such example is Dream Garden, from percussionist Adam Rudolph [pictured up top] and Moving Pictures, his octet. Dream Garden isn't jazz in the traditional sense. Nor is it fusion or free jazz. It's not even World music (whatever that means). Adam's music is more liberated than free jazz, much more dynamic than fusion and it brings the world back home. Through complex rhythmic patterns and brilliant instrumentation, Dream Garden is a vibrant collage that's soulful, edgy and refreshingly spiritual. [Top photo of Adam by Noureddine El Warari]

Many of the album's instruments and rhythms are from Bali, Cuba, Ghana, Haiti, India and Morocco. Each of Adam's compositions is culturally rich and strongly rooted in American improvisational jazz. A world traveler, Adam [pictured] has recorded since 1974 with Don Cherry, Rufus Reed, Yusef Lateef and many other spiritual expressionists.

Dream Garden opens with Oshogbo, which features an intricate combination of drums, horns and guitar that summon up West African landscapes and culture. To make this tune even more exciting, Graham Haynes' cornet has a late-period Miles feel weaving in and out of the drum patterns.

Twilight Lake is a soft, slower song featuring Adam, Hamid Drake and Brahim Fribgane on percussion; Steve Gorn on bansuri bamboo flute, and Shanir Blumenkrantz on sintir—a three-stringed Moroccan bass.

Happiness Road picks up the pace again, and you hear a new set of complex rhythms led by an instrument that sounds like a xylophone with a chest cold. Throughout the tune, we hear Gorn playing a joyous penny whistle. Cousin of the Moon is a balmy composition featuring a series of flutes and Ned Rothenberg on reed instruments.

Perhaps my favorite composition is Vision of Pure Delight, which has a Brazilian rain forest feel, while Spectral and Helix return to Ghanaian beats. All three songs are positively hypnotic. On Helix, Kenny Wessel's guitar is featured over a thick bed of percussion. The Sphinx incorporates Middle Eastern musical traditions, while Walking the Cure offers yet another mystical African beat. This album's personality shifts constantly and is like a fascinating dinner party guest.

In some ways it's unfair to talk about Dream Garden in terms of tracks, since the CD really is a concept album or global suite meant to be heard from beginning to end. Which is exactly how I've been listening to the album for the past two days. Dream Garden gives you a taste of the world's exciting musical rhythms.

After about 15 listens, I became so enthralled by the CD that I had to give Adam a call yesterday to learn more about the thinking that went into Dream Garden:

JazzWax: What were you trying to achieve here?
Adam Rudolph: I’m trying to express sincere feelings and thoughts to the listener through the music. I'm also trying to create a way for individual musicians in the group to be able to deeply express themselves and share these expressions with the listener.

JW: It's very free music, yet you never turn off the listener. That's some trick.
AR: [Laughing] I think people who like what we've done have come to realize that music comes from something greater than music. Music is about the expression of the musician’s heart and about touching the listener's emotions. I hope we've done that.

JW: It's difficult to categorize the music on this album, except to say that it's like spending time in dozens of intense cultures.
AR: You've touched on an important point. Our music isn't about one type of music. It's simply an expression with many different forms, textures and moods. Don Cherry put it best when he said, “Style is the death of creativity.” I am striving to remain free, artistically.

JW: Yet there's something familiar about your music. It's exotic but it doesn't alienate.
AR: What I try to do in each composition is zero in on an emotional color and utilize that color in ways that allow it to radiate forth. In Middle Eastern music, it's called “tarab”—this aesthetic lifting. When a musician is open to the music's source, in tune with the instrument being played, and free to express ideas and feelings, then the audience is going to feel that, and that energy comes back to the performer. This circle of energy then lifts the whole experience. My group, Moving Pictures [pictured], is communicating in the realm of vibration.

JW: Vibration? That's an interesting concept. Your music certainly vibrates with a special energy.
AR: Exactly. All music vibrates as it moves through the air and touches us, because we are vibrating, too. That's why music can be so powerful. Vibration is the combination of motion and color, or rhythm and harmonics. I think about rhythm in terms of math, language and dance. Max Roach [pictured] said along with the evolution of harmony, there has also been evolution in the approach to rhythm. My music is simply another attempt to take a step forward in that same journey. While my music may sound different, it's really the same approach that existed back in the 1940s and 1950s.

JW: How so?
AR: We are dealing with the same musical elements in an improvisational context. In performance, as in life, we don't know what's going to happen next. That's what makes both so exciting. My group is simply reflective of our experience here in this time period.

JW: So you have Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk in mind when you compose and play?
AR: Parker and Monk each created their own prototype in music that was reflective of their life experience. It's our responsibility to do this, too. To me, the tradition is to develop your own voice in the music. My experience was growing up on the South Side of Chicago in the 1960s. But I also have lived in Ghana and have traveled to many other foreign countries. So my experience includes all of that.

JW: There are so many percussion instruments running at once on your album. Then a trumpet will come in, followed by electric guitar or a wooden flute. It's so wild and peaceful.
AR: In Western music, there’s a tradition of linear theme and development. In African or Javanese music, for example, it’s not only about theme and development but also about layers of sound that can be heard vertically—what I call an "audio syncretic music fabric." That's what you're hearing.

JW: How did you absorb so much from so many different cultures?
AR: I have tried to cultivate a fundamental openness and humility. I have a real curiosity and respect for what I see and hear, and I try to absorb what I learn and experience. When I moved to Ghana in 1977, I was 21 years old and wanted to study drumming. Learning the music itself turned out not to be the most important thing about that experience. There were so many drum traditions there, I knew I could never master them all. So I began to look at the underlying ideas and principals and went deeper into how the music was organized. It was a profoundly transforming experience.

JW: It sounds like Ghana has had a big impact on your art.
AR: Definitely. Even more profound for me was seeing the connection between art and life. I realized during my stay that music grows from the ground up—that is, from the cosmology of the culture itself—in any environment. Then it moves into the attitudes, approaches and cultural functions. But the starting point for music and rhythms is the earth and nature. That's true in all cultures.

If you appreciate the feel of polished wood, the strong smell of aging leather and the taste of exotic food, you'll find Dream Garden just as sensual. If you dig jazz from the 1950s, I also think you'll dig this CD, since it, too, comes with tremendous passion, soul and craftsmanship. In Adam Rudolph's world, artistic influences come from every corner of the globe. Exciting stuff.

JazzWax tracks: Dream Garden, from Adam Rudolph's Moving Pictures, can be found here. For more information about Adam, Moving Pictures and the octet's upcoming concert appearances, go here. For Adam's YouTube channel, go here.