Mark Stryker

Sorry to play the role of the board's policman and tattle-tale, but copying and pasting entire articles from any source -- newspaper, blog, whaterver -- is both a violation of copyright law and board rules. Please tease to the story with a couple of paragraphs and then provide a link. If you can't link directly to the blog post, get us to the site and have us scroll. It's the fair, honorable and lawful approach. Thanks

Unlikely that the Mosaic would do a set that would include the late '80s-early '90s stuff, plus the 1974 and 1965 one-offs just because they all appeared on domestic or foreign RCA. Mosaic genearlly likes each package to be more focused, unified, around a smaller period, band or aesthetic. Having said that, you might argue that the 74 record belongs as a precursor to the later sextets. Still, a better bet and an excellent set would be just 1987-91, which would include the five original LPs/CDs. But even that leaves the Waldron-Lacy duet record as a kind of an odd-man-in among the other sextet/quintet records. I wonder if the four ensemble recordings could be squeezed into a 3-CD Select. On a related note, it would be great to have all the duets with Mal Waldron in one place, including the RCA, several great Hat Hut records and, apparently, an early '70s record on Japanese Victor that I've never heard. That would be a killer Select too, but probably tough to lasso the rights from so many sources.

On one of those sweeps through Illinois, that band played Champaign-Urbana, and the Chicago bassist Kelly Sill, a student at the University of Illinois in those days, once told me a story about how Mingus was in Chicago with a night off before the C-U gig so he called the club to find out who was playing and learned that it was the Memphis Nighthawks, which was a '20s style hot-band that was getting some attention at the time with Ron DeWar on soprano and clarinet and the late Steve Jensen on trumpet. http://www.amazon.com/Jazz-Lips-Memphis-Ni...8298&sr=1-1 I wish I could remember all the details of the story, but the highlights include the fact that Mingus drove down that day, loved the group, accidentally started a fire at his table and ended up dancing with pianist Kelly Brand (now Kelly Sill's wife).

I saw this exact band in Detroit about a year-and-a-half ago and it matches this description in every detail. (Though I'd call it post-bop rather than hard-bop.) Anyway, to add one thing I really found interesting. I had previously heard every one of the sidemen in person, except for Grissett, whom I knew from records, but without exception, they all sounded like stronger, more mature and individualistic players in the context of Harrell's band than in any other situation. To me, that says something profound about the strength of the material and Harrell's ability to craft a band in his own image.

Late to the party, but if I had to pick five, here they are in the basic order in which I find myself listening to them: 1. Let My Children Hear Music 2. Black Saint and the Sinner Lady 3. Changes One (plus first side of Changes Two) 4. Charles Mingus Presents Charles Mingus 5. Mingus Ah Um I too have great affection for the Adams-Pullen band and, from this distance, having never heard Mingus live, I might well choose that band as my favorite. There's just something very special about the combination of some of Mingus' most compelling material, the chemistry with those individual personalities, Mingus' maturity and the particular sort of balance of freedom and discipline. That's a band that truly breathes as one. Loose but super locked-in and never spilling over into sloppy. Also for what it's worth, I would probably listen to Black Saint and Changes more than Let My Children (as great as it is), but the latter is my wife's favorite so it gets the most spins at home. I consider myself fortunate to be married to a Mingus fan.

Re: earlier discussions of Asperger's syndrome in this thread: Interesting piece in today's New York Times about various issues surrounding the diagnosis of the condition and its relationship to other forms of autism. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/03/health/0...ml?_r=1&hpw

I have bootleg cassette of Steve Grossman, Tom Harrell, Kenny Barron, Buster Williams and Billy Hart whose origin is a mystery to me, though I recall being told at some point that it was from the Vanguard. Can anyone confirm this or otherwise identify any more details? There are just two tunes: a blues and "Star Eyes." There is no indication of the date.

Just a footnote to this discussion of Jug: I always thought you could solve a lot of the issues in jazz education if you just firebombed all the top schools with copies of "Jug" and "Boss Tenor."

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/17/nyregion....html?ref=music

http://freep.com/article/20091008/ENT04/91...usic-to-Detroit Thought the board might like to see a nice story from today's paper about a Detroit hero getting some love and some cash. A nice sound clip with the story too of Marcus playing Thad's "Mean What You Say" with the Tommy Flanagan Trio in 1994.

Given that Hub's on cornet throughout it , strictly speaking , you're left with this adjectival mouthful : "maybe the finest trumpet-like-horn plus rhythm quartet album ever" Well, ok, but a rose by any other name and all that. More seriously, I have always wondered about the veracity of the liners listing Freddie as playing cornet. If that's true, then that is the brightest cornet sound in all of cornet-dom. And to my knowledge, there is no other recorded document of Freddie playing cornet. For what it's worth, the brief introduction to the album in the liner notes, before the Nora Kelly short story, states, "This is a quartet record for trumpet and rhythm section." Bob Belden's notes for the Herbie Blue Note box attributes that introduction to Duke Pearson, who would've known the difference. Or maybe he just made a mistake, or didn't know himself or was speaking generically. Also, for what it's worth, I emailed a good friend and great trumpet player, Jeff Helgesen, in Champaign, Ill., and asked him for some background. Here's what he said. Caution: Lots of trumpet lingo ahead. Jeff writes: "Short answer is, I don't have any reason to doubt the liner notes. Long answer: A cornet (e.g., a Conn 28A long cornet like Thad played at one point) can sound pretty darn bright under certain conditions. I played lead in a big band on a 28A almost all of last year and was burying the section. So not all cornets are created equal. Apparently Freddie played a similar configuration (big bell, wide wrap) Conn 8B, for which there was a long cornet "sister horn." so maybe he was experimenting. What makes it more tricky is that Freddie had a pretty smoky sound even when he played trumpet (at least during that period). Finally, the difference between a cornet and trumpet is a lot less nowadays than it used to be. Modern trumpets are actually somewhat conical in nature, so trumpets and cornets are largely differentiated by the type of wrap they have and the rate of "conicalness." Back to me: Maybe if David Weiss is reading, he can illuminate more specifics about what and why Freddie actually played on "Empyrean Isles."

It was mentioned once earlier, but I can't emphasize enough how unbelievably great Freddie plays on Herbie Hancock's "Empyrean Isles." Maybe the finest trumpet-plus-rhythm quartet album ever, quintessential Herbie, Ron and Tony too and a desert island record for me. A few other dyamite Freddie appearances not mentioned so far: Hancock's "Maiden Voyage," Blakey's "Free for All," Sam Rivers' "Contours."

http://www.amazon.com/Thelonious-Monk-Time...3709&sr=1-1 The book showed up in my office mail today, and while I am presently overwhelmed with deadlines and can't dive into it at the moment, I did take a few minutes to flip through a couple pages and it looks like a monumental piece of scholarship. The specific details about Monk's mental illness and medical treatment in his later years that I happened upon were revelatory. I have no idea about the interpretive thrust of the portrait, depth of musical analysis or any other big picture issues, but if the facts relating to all periods of Monk's life and career are as exhaustive as the quick snapshot that I saw, then this promises to be a landmark.

My understanding is actually the opposite -- that it was Rodney more than Ira who specifically wanted that band to push into contemporary material (modal forms, '60s harmony). Of course, intuitively it makes sense the other way around and that was always my supposition; but in the one interview I did with Rodney (for the South Bend Tribune in the early '90s), he was adament that it was he more than Ira who was the catalyst who set the parameters of the group. (Which is not to say that he was always comfortable in the idiom -- if you can recall the specific interviews mentioned in your post, I'd like to see the way he talks about this.) When I saw a matinee in Chicago at the Jazz Showcase the afternoon of my interview, he was playing with Chris Potter, Gary Dial and the Chicagoans Kelly Sill and Joel Spencer. They played no more than one standard bebop tune per set, plus perhaps one standard ballad. Otherwise, the tunes were almost all Dial originals. Rodney was in great form and sounded very natural to my ears that day in the more modern idiom. He also paced himself beautifully -- he was 63-- keeping his solos short, except for one longer ride each set. Anyway, here are some relevant quotes from Rodney and Dial from that story: Rodney: "I firmly believe that we should continue growing. If you notice, I've got youngsters in my band and have had for the last 12 years. They brought a lot to me; they brought today's music, and I took what was specifically suited for my way of playing. Of course, I learned a great deal from them. I gave them the roots and the tradition and the discipline, and they gave me all of the newness and changes." Dial (who Rodney said was like a son to him) talked about how the trumpeter would come over to his apartment and he would lead him through the material in what were basically informal lessons: "I'd present some material and he would say, 'I like this. I like this. I don't like this.' Then we'd work over it: I'd play the chords on the piano for him and show him, and if there was a specific chord change that was still messing him up, I would maybe write out a little line or a lick or the scale and play it for him until he got it in his ear."

If you can find it, this is a tremendous survey of Kirchner's works for orchestra, chamber music, voice and solo piano. There are two orchestral pieces, one of which is the essential Piano Concerto: http://www.amazon.com/Kirchner-Historic-Re...8217&sr=8-7 I've posted it before, but if anyone is interested in more about Kirchner, here's a profile from 2007, including a video, that we reprinted the other day after he died. http://freep.com/article/20090918/ent04/90918051

Four great records not mentioned yet: Wynton's "Kelly at Midnight" (Vee Jay), trio wtih Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones -- the track "Temperance" is so swinging it's ridiculous. Blue Mitchell's "Blue' Moods" (Riverside). Quartet with Wynton, Sam Jones, Roy Brooks -- more for the trumpeter (his best record to my ears) and Jones (the bass is really well recorded here and he plays great). Sonny Rollins' "Newk's Time" (Blue Note), quartet with Wynton, Doug Watkins, Philly Joe -- really superb Wynton, especially on "Tune Up" and "Blues for Philly Joe." There's one spot on "Tune Up" where he plays this 4th-based pattern that almost sounds like the music suddenly skips ahead 10 years to vintage '60s McCoy Tyner. He also plays an exceptionally ebullient solo on "Blues for Philly Joe," which, by the way, includes one of my favorite Sonny solos -- a textbook of thematic variation. Not as iconic as "Blue Seven" but a lot more fun. John Coltrane's "Coltrane Jazz" (Atlanatic), quartet with Wynton, Chambers, Jimmy Cobb -- one of the lesser celebrated Coltrane Atlantics, with fantastic piano accompaniment ("Little Old Lady"!) and great solos too.

Maybe it was Gunther Schuller, more than Coltrane, who messed with Rollins' mind? I can't imagine what it must feel like to get up on the stage 100s of times every year before a public that expects to hear no less than some sort of miracle of spontaneous thematic improvisation. Trane had it much easier back then. Everybody pretty much knew what he was going to play, and came to hear that. Sonny did suffer from the paralysis-from-analysis syndrome and he has said it was exacerbated (my word) by having read Schuller's influential piece. But I think the larger point is that it was Sonny who most messed with Sonny's mind, and that has been a constant throughout his career.

Just trying to establish exactly how "around" Ornette actually was and whether he could have had any significant impact on Sonny deciding to leave the scene in April 1959. The discography is just one convenient measure for establishing a timeline; more important, surely, would be contact with live performances, but Ornette literally wasn't heard on the East Coast until the summer of '59 at Lenox and then in November at the Five Spot. He certainly didn't become a cause celebre until after Sonny retreated to the bridge. But the core question becomes: Did Sonny hear Ornette previous to the sabbatical? As it happens, he did, according to an interview I've just come across. Apparently, they practiced together some on the West Coast, which is fascinating and something I didn't know. Sonny's answers here are interesting. Perhaps some will read competitiveness into his words, though I read them more as setting the record straight in an honest, thoughtful fashion. Still, intriguing stuff. I'm willing to concede that maybe Sonny heard in Ornette's playing a degree of abstraction that he himself was striving for and, pace Jim's earlier posting, his inability to realize these ideas to his satisfaction was a contributing factor to the frustrations that led to the first sabbatical. But that is very different from the idea that he was so shook up by Ornette (and Trane) that the only way to deal was to step away -- I still don't believe there's enough evidence to support that position. Anyway, the interview was with a Victor Schermer for All About Jazz in 2006, who asks Sonny specifically about Ornette: The full interview is here http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=23853 but here is the relevant exchange: AAJ: So let's talk about Ornette Coleman, who I believe was a big influence on you. Now, frankly, a lot of listeners don't understand Ornette's music, can't relate to it. SR: Well, first of all, Ornette didn't just influence me—I was a big influence on him as well. It was mutual. Ornette definitely came up with some revolutionary ideas, but I was on the scene before Ornette. I met Ornette on the West Coast. We used to go out and practice together. Then, when he came to New York, he caused a sensation with his group, with Don Cherry and Billy Higgins and all those guys. Ornette put out a record on Atlantic on tenor saxophone, and everyone who heard that record said, "Hey, man, that sounds like Sonny Rollins!" AAJ: That's really true—I heard that recording. SR: Of course that would go against conventional wisdom and might be considered heresy. Ornette is supposed to be completely original, but he was actually influenced by guys like me. But, that being said, I certainly have a great deal of respect for Ornette's playing ... I may sound a little resentful with Ornette because he said in a big newspaper interview that I was one of the guys who was anti-Ornette. But that was untrue. But there were musicians who were straight ahead players and so on who were antagonistic to him on account of his different approach. But I wasn't one of them. I was kind of mad at Ornette for saying that at the time. What Ornette did I think was to play more in phrases and not use so much of the chord structures, which a lot of guys depended upon. So if you're playing a standard like "Night and Day," Ornette wouldn't use those chord structures that were the basis of what most guys were doing. And he also didn't play standards, but mostly his own material, which was based more on phrases than on actual harmonic structures that had been used up to that point. AAJ: He changed the whole face of jazz. SR: I think he changed things to a great degree. Let's say this. He was certainly able to link himself to do something different in a medium that had its own rules and regulations. He was able to become a leader and a bright light in a jazz medium which had already been established. I'd go that far. Everybody doesn't play like Ornette, and some listeners like him and some don't, but that's just the way it goes. What he does is respected. It has merit. But not everyone went in that direction. John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis weren't doing what Ornette did. He did what he did, and it was valid, and it was different.

Nicely expressed, thanks. (Side note: I don't actually know the 1968 bootlegs. Who's on them and what's the best way to get them?)

This also troubles me with the slippery chronology and the assumption of causal influences. "Ornette is around -- Sonny knows Paul Bley" How much did Sonny know about Ornette and had he even heard him on record or live by the time of the first sabbatical and would what he possibly have heard been radical or strong enough to make him quiver in his boots? Ornette's first record, "Something Else" was recorded in early 1958 and released later that year. The second Contemporary album was recorded in early 1959 and wasn't released until after Sonny's retirement has begun. "The Shape of Jazz to Come" isn't recorded until May (after the sabbatical has started); Ornette doesn't come east to the Lenox school until the summer of 1959 and his quartet doesn't open at the Five Spot until November 1959, seven months into Sonny's sabbatical. Even if we assume that Ornette had made his way onto Sonny's radar by early 1959, it's hard to imagine anything Sonny might have heard (say tracks from "Something Else") that would have made him question his own aesthetic relevancy. Also, do we know when Sonny and Paul Bley got to be friends, because for this to play any role before the sabbatical, it would have had to have been after Paul worked with Ornette, but before spring 1959 and then Bley has to be telling Sonny, "There's a cat on the west coast that's going to make us all old-fashioned." What did Sonny know and when did he know it becomes important in making conjectures about motivation.

To the first point, I have no doubt that Sonny heard Trane with Monk in 1957 and Miles in 1958 and took serious note; I'm objecting to the reductiveness of the argument that Trane so messed with Sonny's mind that by 1959 he had to take a sabbatical. In the New Yorker piece, Freddie Hubbard is quoted about this period as saying Sonny was playing so powerfully you couldn't believe it and that he scared other tenor players to death. Further, having played with both Trane and Sonny at this time, he says that Sonny was definitely the strongest. To the self-doubt issue, yes, people are complicated, but they also change a lot, and Rollins the human being of the 50s is not the same as in the 60s, 70s and beyond. Just so I'm clear, I don't necessarily view self-doubt in heroic terms or deny that a kind of insecurity came into play at certain times, but I'm less sold on the jealousy angle, particularly as it relates to the sabbaticals.

I think we need to be careful with the notion that the sabbaticals in particular were inspired by Coltrane's emergence as the dominant tenor player. First of all, the chronology doesn't make sense. Sonny "retired" in the spring or very early summer of 1959; his last recordings are the bootlegs from Europe in March. Trane was rising fast but I don't think the evidence is there in any way to suggest that he had eclipsed Sonny in terms of public, critical or peer-group reputation. Sonny's sabbatical essentially started at exactly the same time that "Giant Steps" was recorded in April and that record wasn't even released until 1960; "Kind of Blue" was recorded in March and released in August. Trane didn't form his first quartet until spring 1960, at which point Sonny had been off the scene for a full year. Now, once Sonny came back on the scene, it was a different story, with Trane and Ornette in full glory and representing the cutting edge. Sonny clearly was searching for ways to reconcile his bebop roots with the avant-garde -- hiring half of Ornette's band, "Our Man in Jazz" and vacillating wildly between repertoire and concepts. These years 63-64 may represent a crisis of some sort, though they produced some incredible music, along with episodes of frustration. By 1965 I think he was really back in a more comfortable pyschological place both with himself and his music. That begins to change I suppose around 1967-68, leading to the second sabbitical, though I think the issues here really had more to do with personal stuff rather than purely musical directions, though there was bound to be a relationship between the two. Sonny's own comments about his first sabbitacal have been consistent through the years, focused on the notion that he distrusted his own press clippings, felt dissastisfied with his playing and thought he was letting down his audiences and wanted to study music and his horn more and get away from the rat-race, etc. The self-doubt that has shadowed him ever since seems to date from this period, but at least initially I don't think it anything to do with feeling that suddently the vangaurd of the music had passed him by. By the way, there is a good discussion of lots of this in Stanley Crouch's long New Yorker profile of Sonny from four years ago. There are no links and you have to be subscriber to access it. .

That clip is probably from the Copenhagen '65 video available on the Jazz Icons Rollins DVD. Marvelous trio set with NHOP and Aln Dawson. Here's a brief taste -- on fire! This is exactly the Sonny I was thinking about when I mentioned having to choose just one period of his playing.

Apropos of this comment, I would add that, personally, if metaphysics allowed me to choose any period to hear Sonny live on a good night, it would unquestionably be in the mid '60s. I am deeply glad too, hearing the rising consideration for Rollins' work of the '60s, his last great, major period of creativity. Often -and mainly in the past, maybe- this 'middle' period has been overlooked because of the masterpieces in the previous decade, the hystorical collaborations he had (Davis, Silver, Monk, Roach etc.) and maybe because it gets close to the fusion years, the lower inspiration Rollins' music showed (it had to happen one day) in the '70s, after the second rertire from the musical scene. The merit of Sonny's playing since the second sabbatical has been much debated here in other threads, but since I'm quoted above I want to say for the record that while I think that Sonny's greatest playing came in the '60s and this is the period I would choose if I could only choose one, I would not at all characterize those years as "his last great, major period of creativity" with the implication that all that came after represents a period of decline. The later work is far more inconsistent to be sure and there are various other issues, especially with the recordings and the quality of certain sidemen, but it is still great. A different kind of great, but great nonetheless. At times genius great. To cite one example, the opening track on "Road Shows" -- "Best Wishes" (Tokyo, 1986) -- contains some of the finest, most explosive and sheer authoritative playing on every level that Sonny has ever produced. What I really want to hear is the rest of that particular concert.

Apropos of this comment, I would add that, personally, if metaphysics allowed me to choose any period to hear Sonny live on a good night, it would unquestionably be in the mid '60s.