Chuck Israels on Hampton Hawes

July 22, 2021

Chuck Israels on Hampton Hawes

In May 1965, pianist Hampton Hawes recorded an album of mostly standards with bassist Chuck Israels and drummer Donald Bailey. The album was Here and Now, an extraordinary session for the Contemporary label. Seven of the eight songs were recognizable by most people picking up the album in stores, but the execution was anything by standard. Hampton, Chuck and Bailey sail into each song with fresh energy and determination to rock the canoe, so to speak. For example, Hawes and Chuck solo off each other for most of Fly Me to the Moon and What Kind of Fool Am I? and they turn The Girl From Ipanema inside out. It's a beautiful, invigorating recording, largely because all three players are so special and work together perfectly.

The tracks are Fly Me to the Moon, What Kind of Fool Am I?, The Girl From Ipanema, Hawes's Rhonda, Dear Heart, People, Chim Chim Cher-ee and The Days of Wine and Roses.

For Chuck, the album was sandwiched between his work in the Bill Evans Trio. The Evans group had returned from an extended European tour in February and March of '65, and then recorded The Bill Evans Trio With the Symphony Orchestra recorded for Verve in September.

Here's what Chuck told me about the Hawes date:

Even though Bill was successful, the trio wasn’t working all the time, so I had time to explore other opportunities. At the time, I was in Los Angeles working as a famous folk singer's music director. That was a frustrating, almost depressing experience because of her habit of singing every song as if the lyric was, “Listen to my beautiful voice.” Her voice was beautiful, and she’d achieved her success by depending on it. But it didn't suit songs we took on.
[Photo above of Chuck Israels in 1965]

I don’t remember how I ran into Les Koenig in L.A., but as soon as he knew I was going to be there for more than a day or two, he set up the recording session with Hamp. It was my impression that what interested Les and Hamp was the juxtaposition of the way I played with Bill against how Hamp played. If they hadn’t encouraged that, I might have been a little less adventurous and more supportive of Hamp on the session in a more conventional way. In any case, whatever I was doing seemed to please both Hamp and Les. And playing with Donald Bailey was magically uplifting. [Photo above of Lester Koenig by Ray Avery/CTSImages.com]

As far as the session, I do remember that Contemporary Records' studio where we recorded was filled with LP boxes. I recall Hamp and I discussed the harmonies for "What Kind Of Fool Am I?" Hamp was interested in the ones I had come up with while playing the song with Bill. We mostly used them. Hamp was friendly.

I was just starting to get to know Donald, who would later become a good friend as well as musical colleague. I know I was glad Les had included him on the date. Several years earlier, while attending Brandeis, I was at the Jazz Workshop in Boston listening to Herb Pomeroy’s quintet when Floyd “Floogie” Williams, a Boston drummer who’d been playing with Lionel Hampton’s band, ran in. [Photo above of Donald Bailey by Francis Wolff (c)Mosaic Images]

He grabbed me by the shoulder and said, “Chuck, you’ve got to come hear this genius drummer.” He took me across the street to hear the Jimmy Smith Trio with Donald playing drums. I remember being quite surprised, because I had no idea that Floogie had paid any attention to me or my bass playing—or why he assumed (correctly, it turned out) that I’d understand how extraordinary Donald’s playing was.

So, when Donald turned up on the Hawes date in '65, I was already looking forward to playing with him. Donald was unique. His playing had so much variety—so much going on quietly and subtly, generating commentary and enthusiastic lift. Yet all this activity never covered up what others were playing. He always had the appropriate dynamic, from a whisper (or even silence) to a roar, in perfect connection to the emotional shape of the music. Some of us were lucky enough to have had the chance to make music with him.

Hamp is, of course, the better known musician, and I enjoyed playing with him. But I didn’t get to know him as well as I got to know Donald. Donald didn’t like flying, so when I invited him to spend 10 days with us recording and teaching at Western Washington University, he took the long train ride from where he was living in Emeryvlle, Calif. Donald stayed with us in our home, and my family all loved him.

Those are my memories—not so much about Les and Hamp, both of whom I wish I’d taken more initiative with and gotten to know better. By the way, someone transcribed the piano and bass parts from "Fly Me To The Moon." Here it is...