Larry Kart

I think that in music in general (with obvious historical-stylistic exceptions) and in jazz with particular and arguably unique detail and force, one of the main things is that any one of the four (or more?) parameters -- melody, rhythm, harmony, and timbre --can be transformed into the other(s) tout de suite. That is, what is and/or seems to be primarily or exclusively a harmonic event can be revealad to be a rhythmic one etc., etc. -- and round and round we go. Is Bechet's timbre or Lester Young's a matter of timbre per se, or is it interactive with and more or less inseparable from their rhythmic, melodic, and harmonic acts? In jazz at its strongest nothing is clothing, everything is language and structure. What's the Blues in Jazz? Language, structure or clothing? Language and structure when it's present -- but it needn't be always. Clothing, too, when the blues is being dished up by some b.s. artist.

I think that in music in general (with obvious historical-stylistic exceptions) and in jazz with particular and arguably unique detail and force, one of the main things is that any one of the four (or more?) parameters -- melody, rhythm, harmony, and timbre --can be transformed into the other(s) tout de suite. That is, what is and/or seems to be primarily or exclusively a harmonic event can be revealad to be a rhythmic one etc., etc. -- and round and round we go. Is Bechet's timbre or Lester Young's a matter of timbre per se, or is it interactive with and more or less inseparable from their rhythmic, melodic, and harmonic acts? In jazz at its strongest nothing is clothing, everything is language and structure.

P.S. Can't point to a whole bunch of them off the top of my head --except for some of his lovely solo on "When Lights Are Low" from "Cookin,'" especially the way he gets out of it -- but there are a good many Miles solos from that period that IIRC are very Richard Rodgers-like melodically.

Not exactly, Mark -- or so I think. One needs to look at this historically, in particular at two closely related in time and circumstance periods in jazz -- the time in the mid to late '50s when fairly complicated chord setups were often the thing, as in, say, some of Gigi Gryce's pieces and of course a good deal of West Coast stuff (and actually a lot of Horace Silver, too, much as he dissed the West Coast style) but where some thoughtful actual musicians (like George Russell explicitly, and other figures implicitly, by their practice if not always their words) began to chafe at those setups for two virtually inseparable reasons: That the melodies of such pieces more or less tended to be the top line of the chord patterns, and that the density of the changes turned the improviser into someone running any obstacle course -- that creativity wasn't being furthered here but curtailed. Then ... well let me quote some of what I wrote in my chapter THE AVANT-GARDE, 1949-1967 from "The Oxford Companion To Jazz": 'Reacting to the music of Ornette Coleman, who had arrived on the national scene less than a year before, composer George Russell explained in the course of a June 1960 dialogue with critic Martin Williams that “if there weren’t new things happening in jazz since Charlie Parker, jazz wouldn’t be ready to accept Ornette.... The way has been paved and the ear prepared by rather startling, though isolated, developments in jazz since the ’forties.”.... Russell’s focus in that dialogue was on specific musical issues, especially on the “war on the chord ” that he felt had been going on in jazz since the bop era and that Coleman had taken up in his own way, liberating himself , in Russell’s view, “from tonal centers’’ in order “to sing his own song ... without having to meet the deadline of any particular chord.” ... 'Ornette Coleman’s “daring simplifications” (the term is Max Harrison’s) seem to come from a different world from that of all the avant -garde jazz that preceded it. Coleman was a native of Fort Worth, Texas, and his early music sounds as though the techniques of Charlie Parker were being read backwards until they trailed away into the jazz, folk, and pop music pasts of the American Southwest—from the loping swing of Charlie Christian and Bob Wills’ Texas Playboys to the blues of Blind Lemon Jefferson and Lightnin’ Hopkins. Coleman made pitch a flexible, speech-like entity (you can, he famously said, play flat in tune and sharp in tune ), while the irregular length and shape of his phrases, and their relation to his no-less plastic sense of harmonic rhythm, took on a freedom that seemed to violate jazz’s norms of craft professionalism.... And yet harmony for him would remain an area of intense potential meaning; in virtually every Coleman performance, powerful cadential events can occur. For that reason, his music should not be thought of as modal in the sense that modality was used to describe the music that Miles Davis and Bill Evans began to make in the late ’50s and early ’60s. Modality for these men, and the host of musicians they influenced , essentially was a means of protecting from disturbance a potentially fragile lyrical growth—witness Davis’ remark that “When you go that way [radically decrease the frequency of chord changes and increase their ambiguity] you can go on forever ... [and] do more with the [melodic] line .” But Coleman’s melodic drive and his appetite for cadence were equally vigorous; there was no need for him to curtail the latter in order to bolster the former. What he and his partners wanted was to be cadential when and where they wanted.' [My emphasis.] So we have -- historically and in very short order -- a proliferation of harmonic density followed (causally, it seems ) by a radical restriction of it. And I think that the root of both developments was in good part similar, as different as the results might be -- a disruption in the three-ply (or four-ply) relationship between harmony, melody, rhythm, and timbre. The cause of that disruption? Perhaps just the examples of Bird and Bud, in the sense that their meaningful (extremely virtuosic and often emotionally extreme as sell) organic (even at times seemingly driven) juggling of those parameters was in some fundamental ways beyond what other mortal improvisers could or would be likely to achieve, and that in practice some of those parameters might need to be relatively fixed or rationalized (as in, let's say, the Gryce example) or so significantly and "tastefully" weeded out in a streamlined manner (a la Miles and others) that "a potentially fragile lyrical growth" could in practice grow more securely, could "go on forever." Again, though, see the IMO virtual storm of cadential events that Ornette could summon up within his so-called "free" playing, let alone the music of Cecil, late Trane, Ayler, Roscoe Mitchell, et al., which introduced various and quite different ways to speak than the aforementioned chord-dense and "modal" approaches that followed so closely upon each other. P.S. What makes a melody organic in my view (apart from what may be purely subjective considerations) is not its lack of dependence on a more or less pre-existing harmonic framework that is, when the results are not organic, essentially "filled out." Rather, it's that the relationship among melody, harmony, and rhythm almost always tends to be contrapuntal in the broad sense -- i.e. any of those parameters can take the wheel of the vehicle at any moment, while talking meaningfully and freely to the others. Much as I love Gershwin, Porter, Arlen, et al., in the history of American popular song, I'd give top marks here to Richard Rodgers. That may be why I was so tickled by the fairly recent Ornette concert performance of "Turnaround" (don't recall which album it's from) where he begins his solo with the melody of "If I Loved You," and it sounds like the most natural thing imaginable. (And I think that's not the only Ornette performance of "Turnaround" where he does that.)

Ben's post is very interesting; lots to think about, especially: "It is much harder to hear organic ideas and execute them in such a complete, clear, and relaxed way that they sound almost as if they were composed than it is to bang out endless permutations of pentatonic cells with sufficiently frenzied fire that it sounds as if the ideas are coming from the very (fiery) soul of the improvisor." OTOH, re-listening to one of my favorite Hancock solos -- on "My Joy" from Hutcherson's "Oblique" -- I just don't FWIW hear much if any "singing" melodies (not that that is in itself a damning thing). What I do here, though -- and to me this raises doubts -- are passages that seem to me to want to be taken as organic singing melodies when they are instead (or so I feel) essentially harmonic patterns strung lengthwise, with the "melody" being determined by/almost at the mercy of the harmonic flow. So what? you ask. Well, one reason that this kind of music-making is not my favorite thing circles back to what Ben said here: "I'm interested in Larry's original point about some fundamental rhythmic divide between bebop (Powell, Flanagan, Harris) and post-bebop (Hancock, Tyner). I'm wondering if this is a similar to Harris's own dismissal of most post-bebop pianists. I'd agree that there's nothing quite like Powell or Parker when it comes to rhythmic punch. I wouldn't agree that any jazz improvisation which lacks this particular flavor of rhythmic vitality is thereby flaccid and uninteresting. Tristano, for one, had different ideas about rhythm, some of which I'd say influenced Herbie's (and Evans's) penchant for detached evenness." To amplify, now that I think about it, in Powell's playing for one, all three parameters (rhythm, harmony, and melody; four if you count attack/timbre) tend to be vigorously interactive at all times; thus, I would think (or argue) the potential organic nature of the evolving whole, because anyone one of those parameters can at any moment step to the foreground/take the lead. (By contrast, thinking of another sort of music, Stephen Sondheim's theater scores seems more or less a-melodic to me because, again, they seem to be essentially harmonic patterns strung lengthwise, with the "melodies" being determined by/even at the mercy of the harmonic flow.) Now the latter part of Hancock's solo on "My Joy" seems quite brilliant to me because there he isn't trying to turn harmonic patterns into what might be called pseudo-melodies. Instead (and I hope this doesn't sound like vague b.s.) Hancock begins to give us landscape of alternately coalescing and opposed harmonic shapes, where melodic flow, organic or disguised, is no longer an issue. The thinking here is virtually Monk-like, though it doesn't sound like Monk, and I think it's really special.

To quote yourself back at yourself, "You're just wrong." Yeah, that happens. I live with it. If being "in the moment" meant that everybody was being their own proactive self all the time, there would be no such thing as interaction. No. Being the reactor is every bit as much a part of being in the moment as being the proactor, perhaps even more, because if an action does not cause a reaction, was it really an action? Glad we cleared that up. BTW, leaving aside the slight tinge of irony in your "Glad we cleared that up," can you see how it's kind of annoying to be lectured about obvious aspects of jazz performance/creation? Sure. Can you see how it's also kind of annoying to have to respond to something like "So he's in the moment except when he's not? Gotcha."? Yes, but my next words were "Also, to be serious..." which implies that before I was kidding, no?

If being "in the moment" meant that everybody was being their own proactive self all the time, there would be no such thing as interaction. No. Being the reactor is every bit as much a part of being in the moment as being the proactor, perhaps even more, because if an action does not cause a reaction, was it really an action? Glad we cleared that up. BTW, leaving aside the slight tinge of irony in your "Glad we cleared that up," can you see how it's kind of annoying to be lectured about obvious aspects of jazz performance/creation?

To quote yourself back at yourself, "You're just wrong."

Mark -- Yes, to the Bill Evans qualities, but for me there were at least three versions of Bill Evans, and I admire the first two -- 'New Jazz Conceptions"-"Everybody Digs," and then "Portraits in Jazz" through the first Vanguard recordings. After that, not so much or at times not at all, though the last stuff from the Keystone Korner ("The Last Waltz," right?) is often lovely --can't take the latter-day Vanguard recordings. As someone who knew him well once said, after the first Vanguard recordings there were three further phases of Evans -- Heroin Bill, Methadone Bill, and Cocaine Bill, though Heroin Bill began before the first Vanguard recordings (see the cover of "Explorations"). Jim -- "Herbie from this time is always in the moment. It's just that he sometimes takes his time to survey what that moment is before contributing to it." So he's in the moment except when he's not? Gotcha. Also, to be serious, Herbie surveying things as an accompanist is to me rather different in effect that Herbie surveying things as a soloist. I can handle a good deal of surveying from a player in the latter role if I feel there's a sufficient pay off -- strong musical material emerges that couldn't have emerged otherwise. With Herbie in a solo role, I often feel that his "surveying" pauses and ponderings just don't lead to much. To me, a classic case of a sometime surveyor where the surveying can have a big payoff would be Duke Jordan. When Duke ponders/takes his times -- e.g. on his great trio recording of "They Can't Take That Away From Me" with Blakey and Percy Heath -- the results can be overwhelming. And then there's the probably all-time surveyor, at least some of the time -- Monk.

Mark -- I feel I was wrongish in that review in pointing so much toward Coltrane (pianists are by and large pianists, no?), and certainly I was off about McCoy, whose finest work was yet to come. Herbie the accompanist with Miles et al. was something else, but I admit to never having been that interested in most Herbie piano solos (an exception would be one track on that terrific Blue Note Bobby Hutcherson quartet album with Albert Stinson and Joe Chambers) because they so often seem to ... I don't know, rather pre-determined and "glassy" to me. The concept, so to speak, and the execution seem to separate; not much sense of in the moment (but I can see where that might be a partial goal on his part). The electronic Herbie is a whole other ballgame, I would say. P.S. OTOH, about McCoy, weren't the glories to come in good part because he stepped away from his version of patterned glassiness and became much more rhythmically and harmonically turbulent and in the moment? (Albeit, in later McCoy rhythmic and harmonic turbulence were essentially one.)

Actually, in elevators in Chicago there were actual guys playing Fender Rhodes.

The letters column exchange: Robert Budson: "In his review of Herbie Hancock's latest album SLAC, Larry Kart demonstrates his complete lack of sensitivity to and understanding of Hancock's playing. "To say that 'Hancock depends on harmony at the expense of melody and rhythm' is absurd. The type of playing Hancock has emphasizes melody and rhythm, not harmony. Kart mistakes a novel approach to voicings and the harmonic structure of a tune as a whole as a dependence on on harmony. Rather, [Hancock] uses this approach as a means to enhanced melodic epression. Instead ofa never-ending barrage of changes, H. uses fewer changes spread out over a greater space. When a player must improvise over a harmonic structure that is constantly changing, it is only logical that there must be some loss in improvisational creativity. So much of the melodica variation stems from the changing harmony itself. If the listener's mental set is tuned into 'changes,' there may indeed be little 'melodic interest.' as Kart observes, since the type of variatgion he is expecting simply is not going to happen. "The most unforgivable criticism of all, though, is when Kart accuses H. of lack of rhythmic variety because of the 'evenness with which he plays his lines.' Playing eighth-note lines evenly is a difficult and important accomplishment that all instrumentalists strive for. It is sa facility which frees a player to be rhythmically inventive, not which hamper him. To break up the rhythm and play choppy lines are two different things. I have heard many critics speak of the rhythmic complexity of H.'s lines ... and one important factor which ensbles him to do this is his unsurpassed ability to play eighth-note lines evenly. "I hope that the next time Kart listens a H. side he does not listen with his mind in a Barry Harris bag burt rather criticizes the playing within the context rather than criticizing the context itself." My response: ".... 1) I deon't think I'm insensitive to H.'s music since I've enjoyed his playing in other contexts. 2) The use of fewer changes spread out of greater space does not by itselfg uarantee freedom foom harmonic dependence. If a player is harmonically oriented, fewer changes may only hamper him. 3) The ability to play eighth-note lines evenly is a valuable tool but only a tool. It's what you do with the tool that counts. 4) My mind is not exclusively in a 'Barry Harris bag.' I mentioned Harris because the comparison seemed fruitful. I admire all kinds of pianists, from Eubie Blake to Cecil Taylor." P.S. That "If a player is harmonically oriented, fewer changes may only hamper him" is an incomplete and/or semi-askew thought. What I meant is that if you're thinking harmonically by and large and the changes are relatively evanescent and spaced out, you may mostly get "melodies" that are evanescently spaced-out harmonic shifts. See IMO a whole lot of the piano playing in so-called "modal" jazz. You said this in 1968? Yes -- "anticipates" as in "anticipates what I think the Muzak of the 1970s will be like." Here's what the Muzak of the 1970s ended up sounding like: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiyUbjEuOc4 I'll submit for the moment to your superior knowledge, but I seem to recall a fair amount of sub-Hancock playing in elevators at one time or another.

You said this in 1968? Yes -- "anticipates" as in "anticipates what I think the Muzak of the 1970s will be like." Did Tyner redeem himself for you with Expansions and the Milestone recordings? Absolutely. And with a lot of live performances, too.

MY DB review (10/17/1968 issue, p. 22) was of both "Speak Like a Child" and McCoy Tyner's "Tender Moments." The former in fact I gave **, the latter ** 1/2. An edited version: "The second wave of post-Bud Powell pianists has problems. Cecil Taylor threatens them with irrelevancy, while the best of their immediate predecessors -- Barry Harris, Tommy Flanagan, etc. -- seem on the whole to make better music. "The reason for the relative failure of men like Hancock and Tyner lies, I think in their dependence on harmony at the expense of rhythm. Coltrane's middle-period playing provided them with an extended range of harmonic possibilities, but they have been unable to produce a music of similar emotional impact. "Some of their difficulty stems from the nature of the piano. The instrument cannot produce the contrasts in timbre and dynamics, the intense focused sound, that give variety and weight to Coltrane's harmonic explorations. Also, Coltrane used harmonic explorations as a means toward an expressive end. His pianistic disciples seem to have mistaken the means for the end. "Hancock is a puzzle. He is generally good and sometimes excellent accompanist, but his solo work here is dull. In the notes to the album, Hancock speaks of creating "simple, singable melodies" and "sacrificing the vertical for the horizontal structure," but his playing seems to consist of one harmonic pattern after another, strung out [horizontally] in single-note lines. Melodic interest is rarely apparent, and the evenness with which he plays his lines doesn't allow for much rhythmic variety. "The music might still work if the harmonies were explored with a sense of surprise, but the shifts from one harmonic color to another soon become predictable.... "Hancock's 'bluesy' playing on First Trip sounds like updated Billy Taylor. On the two ballad-like pieces, Speak Like a Child and Goodbye to Childhood, the rhythmic impulse almost disappears, and the playing anticipates the Muzak of the 1970s.... "Tyner is more successful, etc..... Quite a little know-it-all I was, but having just listened again to SLAC, I'll stand by a good deal of the above, though not the blanket encomium to Harris and Flanagan (I could have chosen far more wisely and widely) or the idea that Cecil was making anyone irrelevant. BTW, this review sparked an angry/thoughtful reader's letter in the 12/12 issue, to which I replied. I may type out the exchange later on if there's any desire for that. Speak like a child or forever hold your piece.

I'll check. I've picked up a lot of Wilson vinyl lately.

I've always thought that cover design was damned cool - and the music inside it just as good. I reviewed "Speak Like Child" for Down Beat when it came out and gave it a mere two-and-a-half stars! Seemed rather bland to me. Have you listened to it more recently and, if yes, has your opinion changed? No, haven't listened recently. Will do soon. P.S. Don't have time right now to find (if I even can) and type out my ancient review, but that sense of blandness IIRC had to do mostly with the music's lack of rhythmic and harmonic and timbral interest (IMO of course). But then in those areas one man's relative lack of interesting material can be another man's sublimity. You may have been wrong but still pretty impressive given that you were probably only 12 years old at the time, right? No -- 26 or 27. I'm edging up on 70 now.

Enlarge what, you say? Stop yourself.

Damn -- I talked to him about six weeks ago re: Don Joseph. What a nice man, and he was as alert as could be. Always liked his music, too.

Very belatedly have been getting into Wilson some lately (I know ... stop yourself), and this one so far is the most remarkable -- fine Jimmy Jones charts, Wilson, utterly relaxed, is in exceptional, soaring voice, and often she adopts a long-meter approach to the songs that swings like a MF. Check out "Dearly Beloved" for example. Also the poured-into-that-dress photo of Wilson on the album cover is quite something (click to enlarge): http://www.cduniverse.com/productinfo.asp?pid=7226179

I've always thought that cover design was damned cool - and the music inside it just as good. I reviewed "Speak Like Child" for Down Beat when it came out and gave it a mere two-and-a-half stars! Seemed rather bland to me. Have you listened to it more recently and, if yes, has your opinion changed? No, haven't listened recently. Will do soon. P.S. Don't have time right now to find (if I even can) and type out my ancient review, but that sense of blandness IIRC had to do mostly with the music's lack of rhythmic and harmonic and timbral interest (IMO of course). But then in those areas one man's relative lack of interesting material can be another man's sublimity.

@ David Ayers -- What's an "expository" music? And what's a 'non-expository" one? I don't get the distinction or even how the terms would apply to music.

I've always thought that cover design was damned cool - and the music inside it just as good. I reviewed "Speak Like Child" for Down Beat when it came out and gave it a mere two-and-a-half stars! Seemed rather bland to me. No -- make that "quite bland."

Rolling on the floor laughing = ROTFL

Not sure, but I think confirm. I'd emphasize the at times over-the-top, romantic, cinematic "sweep" of Anderson's conception, which then certainly leads to specific pianistic things, but I feel that the "sweep" is in the lead here. Check out the compilation's Vee-Jay material first. Something similar certainly can be found in John Young's playing, but there it's essentially impish, not willing to proceed nakedly to the point of near-delerium, as Anderson sometimes is.

You need to check out that new Chris Anderson reissue on Fresh Sound.