Alto saxophonist Dave Schildkraut didn't record a bad album. Except perhaps his own leadership session, at the tail end of his recording career in 1979. By then, he sounded coarse and tapped out. But if you look through his discography and listen to the recordings, the New York jazz sideman managed to draw only aces. There isn't a dud in the bunch. Not even a slightly sub-par jazz recording.
Schildkraut's sound was routinely and somewhat unfairly compared to Charlie Parker's. His alto playing was edgy, bluesy and seamless, but his sound really was his own. His solos were confident and poetic, so Bird became the default comparison when Schildkraut was praised. Which is why so many great New York players recruited him for their sessions—to add his key ingredient.
To quote bassist Chuck Israels' recent email to me:
Dave made relatively few recordings compared to his contemporaries, and by the time I got a chance to play with him, he was a shadow of his former self. From what pianist Bill Triglia told me (I didn’t know Schildkraut well), he was a shy guy who just couldn’t tolerate the competitive world. Like Gigi Gryce, he was not constitutionally built to live comfortably in it. [Photo above of Bill Triglia]
Yet Schildkraut was special. I can listen to Art Pepper and like what I'm hearing once without wanting to hear it again. Schildkraut is rewarding over multiple listens. And lacking the dramatic comeback story of some jazz musicians who struggled with drugs, Schildkraut's quality and contribution are hardly known today.
I tend to agree with Chuck (and send him a special thanks for nudging me to give Schildkraut a full listen). But the Pepper comparison may be apples to oranges. Pepper recorded a long list of leadership albums, some great and others disappointing, while Schildkraut was a sideman offering us only bursts of his soul.
It's rather puzzling that someone as gifted as Schildkraut was never championed by a producer who could have coaxed him into a studio to record leadership albums. Not once. Little is known about him other than his saxophone recordings. From my research, it does seem there were struggles with mental illness, which surely would have left hm emotionally erratic and withdrawn. Dave Schildkraut dropped out of the jazz scene in the early 1960s and died in 1998. I have no idea what he did during that long period of time.
Fortunately, I have virtually all of Schildkraut's recordings, minus his many road recordings in the early 1950s with Stan Kenton. Schildkraut's discography is here. To give you a sense of his sound, here are 11 of my favorite tracks that feature his masterful alto saxophone solos:
Here he is with Miles Davis playing Solar in 1954...
Here's Schildkraut on George Handy's A Tight Hat, from Handyland USA in 1954...
Here he is behind Tony Bennett, on one of the singer's hippest albums, Cloud 7, soloing on I Can't Believe You're in Love With Me, in 1954...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Gone With the Wind, arranged and conducted by Pete Rugolo, in 1954...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Chuckles from Oscar Pettiford's Basically Duke, in 1954...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Cool Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, on Ralph Burns's Jazz Studio 5, in 1955...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Blue Beetle from Eddie Bert's album Like Cool, in 1955...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Phil Urso's P.U. Stomp, from Buddy Arnold's Wailin' album in 1956...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Tiny—Not Ghengis, on Tito Puente's Puente Goes Jazz in 1956...
Here's Schildkraut soloing on Strictly Confidential from Sam Most's Plays Bird, Bud, Monk & Miles in 1957...
And here's Schildkraut soloing on A Night in Tunisia in 1961, on Live at Clifton...