Mark Stryker

When I last heard him in 2003 at the jazz festival here in Detroit, he was 78 and the life force was astounding. He did his shtick on "Moody's Mood" and "Bennie's From Heaven" and the yodeling, rapping and all the jokes -- still funny stuff no matter how many times you hear it. But when he played it was all biz. I recall a "Sonnymoon for Two" on tenor that was like a great tiger stalking his prey -- an edgy sound and a lot of contemporary dissonance (Jim's 100 percent right about his harmony). My favorite moment of the festival that year was watching Moody backstage before his set, cocking his ear to listen intently to a fine local octet as it played a lushly idiomatic version of "If You Could See Me Now." I remember thinking that here was a guy who played that tune 55 years ago with Tadd Dameron when the ink was still wet. What a hero.

http://www.jazz.com/features-and-interview...h-wayne-shorter

David makes a really valuable point about the CJQ guys writing the influence of Miles' band into the compositions themselves and about the open-ended feel of the music, especially Charles Moore's tunes. (Hadn't heard that he was in France, by the way.) I would note that Miles' guys were already doing this in their originals recorded in the studio by 1967-68, and it's interesting that Moore referenced "Miles in the Sky" (released in 1968) as the turning point for his peers in Detroit because many of those tunes are filled with shifting meters and feels. "Paraphernalia" shifts between 4 and 3; "Country Son" also morphs between 4 (fierce swing and even-8th note sections) and a ballad-like waltz section. The form on "Black Comedy" -- and I'm cribbing here from Belden's liner notes in the Columbia box because this tune is where I hit the wall in my own ability to decipher meters; I get lost every time I hear it; guess that's why I'm a writer -- is four bars of 6 against 4; two of 4/4, one of 5/4 and one of 6/4. It would be interesting to know when exactly the CJQ guys heard "Miles in the Sky" relative to the recording of their two sides. I'll ask Kenny. Re: "A New Conception." I'll certainly concede that the Herbie-Ron-Tony influence is clumsy at times and the totally free passages David mentions were Rivers' aesthetic not Miles' (one of the reasons he didn't last in the band). But just because they don't necessarily have all the tools to pull it off doesn't mean they aren't trying to assimilate the ideas. The point I wanted to emphasize is that this was a really early example of the Miles quintet's influence spreading to young players. After all, it was recorded in Oct. 1966 -- before "Miles Smiles," "Sorcerer" and "Nefertitti" were even released, so the recorded references they would have been dealing with were still the standards records, save "ESP." Plus, none of the originals had yet made their way into the band's live repertoire except for "Agitation." The shit was really moving swiftly in those days. David: Look forward to hearing your recordings of Charles' tunes. Keep us posted.

I can't help but wonder how much of that was really a Miles influence on Rivers? Didn't Williams play with Rivers before playing with Miles? So isn't it possible that there is actually no direct influence? Just a thought. The influence I'm getting at is speficially the way the Galps-Lewis-Ellington rhythm section as a unit emulates the approach of Herbie-Ron-Tony in terms of relating to the soloist and the hide-and-go-seek approach to time keeping.

Charles lives in Los Angeles where he teaches at UCLA (lecturer in ethnomusicology). BTW, he is also interviewed extensively in Ratliff's Coltrane book. Henderson's story is a tragedy. He suffers from mental illness and is a recluse. My understanding is that he hasn't really played since the CJQ disbanded in the '70s, except for a few reunions with the band in the ealry '80s; otherwise, silence. BTW, the drummer on the CJQ albums, Danny Spencer, is still active and playing great on the San Francisco scene. And to second JamesJazz, Kenny is going strong here in Detroit. Those CJQ sides on Blue Note hold up very well -- young firebrands working through Miles' 2nd quintet influence in real time -- a much different proposition than 25-30 years later. On a related note, I think one of the first clear examples on record of the influence of Miles' band is on Sam Rivers' "A New Conception," a quite magical and underrated all-standards Blue Note LP recorded in the fall of 1966. The trio of Hal Galper, Herbie Lewis and Steve Ellington is deep into a break-up-the-time looseness that comes right out of Herbie-Ron-Tony circa "My Funny Valentine," "Four and More," etc. The link is especially revealing because of the parallel standard repertoire. Interestingly, Galper and Ellington were Boston guys (so was Rivers of course) with long relationships with Tony. Don't know about Lewis.

Well, this is certainly more straight-ahead than Our Man in Jazz but both are killin'.

No shit... It's like I said about Wayne in another thread, there's certain players that I get "friendly" with, and for them, I dig checking out wherever they decide to go, because that's what most people I dig do - they move around, always curious, not in a "I Can't Decide Who I Am" type way, but in an "Let Me See What THIS Is All About, It Might Appeal To Me In Some Form Or Fashion, Some Of It". And sometimes where they go ends up being a dead end, sometimes they end up looking but not touching, and sometimes they actually find somethings that open them up a little more to be somebody a little different than they were before. As that pertains to Sonny, well, I remember Larry saying in one of our periodic Sonny Spats a few years ago that he didn't hear any joy in any of Sonny's later work (that's a paraphrase, iirc). And sorry, but that's just....not plausible in my mind. But ok, what can I say other than I hear it, he doesn't. It's just that I find the notion that something like this marks "the beginning of the end" for Rollins is something that I find nothing short of absurd, true only if it's your definition of what "the end" is, and true only if that definition is formed entirely from what you think the world is. Otherwise, there's been a lot of good-to-great music made by the man, and the end is nowhere in sight. Even if it ain't "like it was", it's still good-to-great (and yeah, some duds, too, like you say , you pays your money...) in the "like it is" world, and can't nobody do what Sonny Rollins does in that world but Sonny Rollins. I'm right with you on every point here, even if we disagree on the quality of these particular '75 performances. And speaking of "Alfie," what I love about this '65 trio performance is that he's coming from the "Alfie" perspective in terms of sound, thematic improvising, articulation, rhythmic control and melodic rhyme, but he's still swinging the shit out of I Got Rhythm. In a way, I think it's similar in meaning to the what Miles' quintet with Wayne and Herbie were doing with "Stella" -- taking bebop fundamentals and stretching them in a way consistent with their own histories.

I hear what you're saying re: Work Song -- put another way, he's stripping back to the core values of the soul-jazz minor blues groove. I dig "Work Song" more than the duet and do not think RRK outplays him, especially on a conceptual level, though I can understand that point of view. (Or maybe, Kirk, in the top hat and tux is so far beyond everybody in the layers of irony and role playing that it qualitifes as conceptual art -- swinging conceptual art. How many masks can one man wear and symbolize? But I digress.)

At the risk of pushing this thread further down the rabbit hole of a thumbs-up or thumbs-down on Sonny's post-second sabbatical career, I think his playing on these performances is not inspired at all and, as someone who generally thinks Sonny has made a ton of great music since 1970 and who has heard him play like a God on more than one occassion in this period (and also heard some truly awful sets too -- pays your money; takes your chances) -- the period this show encapsulates is my least favorite of Sonny's, starting with the incessantly cloudy-buzz of his sound. I also don't hear rhythmic treachery here; I hear stuck-in-the-mud spinning, though, again, I've heard treachery in plenty of other performances. Having said all that, the Down Beat show performances en masse are great fun and it's interesting that even as late as 75 we still had jazz on TV in this way. Now, in the spirit of can't we all at least agree on something. Here's Sonny in 1965 with NHOP and Alan Dawson playing rhythm changes. Holy shit -- this makes a lot of other very good musicians sound like children. http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=59...h&plindex=0

Larry (and all).l Here's the review. from that 1988 gig. I copied it from Nexis... JOHNNY GRIFFIN SWINGS SAX AND GIVES JAZZ A LITTLE KICK BYLINE: By Larry Kart, Entertainment writer. SECTION: CHICAGOLAND; Pg. 9; ZONE: C LENGTH: 502 words Writers about jazz often are on the lookout for images that will help to explain the music's magical methods of creation. And Wednesday night, listening to an exceptional set from tenor saxophonist Johnny Griffin, I think I came up with a pretty good parallel. Imagine that you're walking along at a steady pace and kicking a stone as you go-the idea being to keep the stone on the sidewalk, to kick it in such a way that you break stride as seldom as possible, and then, once you begin feeling foxy, to throw in some sly, variant kicks that will test your imagination and physical grace. Those who have engaged in that homemade little game may recall that when things are going well, the stone seems to take on a life of its own-as though its progress down the sidewalk were a thoughtfully exploratory act, and that each time your shoe came into contact with it, the stone would relay news about what it had seen and felt since the last time you'd given it some impetus. Well, the making of a jazz solo has something in common with that process-as Griffin and the rest of his fine band (pianist Michael Weiss, bassist Dennis Irwin and drummer Kenny Washington) demonstrated with particular flair on their version of Billy Strayhorn's moody "Isfahan." Originally part of Duke Ellington's "Far East Suite," the piece was still rather new to Griffin-which is why he had the sheet music for "Isfahan" in front of him and why he let Weiss take the first solo. But as the pianist's ideas unfolded with an appropriate Ellington- Strayhorn blend of romance and wit, one could detect Griffin mapping out the path he would follow during his own chorus-the way a golfer is said to "go to school" on the putt of the man who shoots before him. Or, to return to our original image, Weiss' solo line was serving as Griffin's stone- showing him what the road ahead was like and proposing attractive variations on the more obvious choices of route. That something of that sort was going on could be detected all over Griffin's face, as an especially nice Weiss idea led the leader to raise his eyebrows in bemused pleasure and inspired a preparatory rattle of fingers on saxophone keys. And with what Weiss had played in mind, one could hear how the stone had been neatly transferred from one man to another, with each man giving it his personal stride and spin. Before this, Griffin had begun with an informal Charlie Parker tribute- playing two of Parker's favorite tunes, "Just Friends" and "If I Should Lose You," with a darting grace that was exceptional even by Griffin's high standards. Thelonious Monk's "Coming on the Hudson" was next-written when Griffin was a member of Monk's band, and a piece he plays so well that Monk probably wrote it for him. At once bouncy and mournful, a mood that the whole band evoked, "Hudson" was balanced off by the strains of "Limehouse Blues"-brisk, happy, not a blues at all and the perfect ending to a perfect set.

Oh yeah. For a Harry Partch student, he sounds nothing like him. His (classical) music is a departure from all that minimalism and Asian influence that most folks associate with microtonal music. Kepler Quartet sequenza21 article A Conversation with Ben Johnston The Microtonal Piano music is amazing, a bit different from what others have done with the piano and microtones. Less of the hymnotic drone and more of the abstract splat. Thanks for bringing up Ben Johnston's music -- I adore this music. The Kepler's CD is the first of what I believe is a projected three CDs of Ben's 10 quartets -- a heroic project. Thanks to a Kronos recording from some time ago, the best known is No. 4, a mesmerizing set of microtonal variations on "Amazing Grace." The earlier works are basically atonal and idiosyncratic in their use of avant-garde techniques. The later works return to tonality with more references to the past. I recall the 9th as being particularly warm hearted. All of his music is profoundly human, often witty. Ben was still teaching at the University of Illinois when I arrived on campus in 1981. He retired a couple years later and I unfortunately never got to know him.

"That's the definitive jazz album. If you want to know what jazz is, listen to that album. That has all you'd ever want to hear. It embodies the sprit of everyone who plays jazz." -- Tony Williams. FWIW, " Milestones" has long been one of my two favorite records of all time, the other being Sonny Rollins' "A Night at the Village Vanguard." I play "Milestones" way more than "Kind of Blue" and I wonder if others do too. The latter may be the more important and influential record historically but "Milestones" is a lot more fun and if I could only have one, there's no question which one I'd choose. If "Milestones" turns 50 this year, then "Kind of Blue" turns 50 next year -- get ready for the onslaught of anniversary stories. Ugh. 'Course, I'll probably end up writing one myself. Sigh. Anniversaries are like crack to journalists. Can't break the habit.

Great thread gang -- peoples' enthusiasms have me anxious do explore music I don't know (Imbrie, Rawshtorne, Bax, Bridge). And Berger rocks ... Re: Rochberg -- his music has never thrilled me either but, historically, as the first big-name American serialist who morphed into a neo-romantic, he became a key figure in helping to topple the hegemony of serialism, paving the way for the post-modern age. The 3rd Quartet (1972) is the turning point. My contribution to the discussion is Leon Kirchner, still underrated but coming on strong, whose four quartets comprise a really profound cycle. The Orion String Quartet is in the process of recording all four, but it's not available yet. Meantime, you can get the first three on this indespensible disc: http://www.amazon.com/Kirchner-Historic-Re...6826&sr=8-2 I heard the Orion play all four quartets in a single evening here last summer and it was one of the great concert experiences of my adult life. Here's how I wrote it up. I don't usually gush this much but it was something else ... LEON KIRCHNER GETS ROYAL TREATMENT AT GREAT LAKES FESTIVAL ORION FOURSOME PLAYS COMPOSER'S 4 STRING QUARTETS BY MARK STRYKER FREE PRESS MUSIC CRITIC June 20, 2007 The Great Lakes Chamber Music Festival traditionally features a concert devoted solely to its resident composer for the year. It's always a treat, but Monday's traversal of all four of Leon Kirchner's string quartets - a 57-year autobiographical arch from 1949 to 2006, with the 88-year-old composer in attendance - was one for the ages. Bristling with a revelatory sense of discovery and thrilling authority, the evening underscored the Kirchner zeitgeist. Neglected for decades, the 88-year-old American composer's uniquely personal modernism is in the full flush of being rediscovered. The Great Lakes festival engaged several Kirchner champions this year, including the Orion String Quartet, whose fiercely committed and polished performances Monday upped the ante even further. The concert was a repeat of the Orion's March program for the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center in New York, where Kirchner's music was celebrated all season. Why Kirchner and why now? Perhaps because his music fills a niche in today's pluralist scene. For listeners who find high-modernist complexity too bullying, minimalism too simple, neo-romanticism too mushy and post-modernism too derivative or affected, Kirchner's tautly argued but communicative music satisfies both the mind and heart. Though a student of Arnold Schoenberg, Kirchner remained an ear composer rather than a system composer. His four quartets balance sinewy textures, pugnacious rhythms and ambiguous harmony perched on the edge of atonality with a lifelong addiction to beauty, intuition and a storyteller's command of tension and release. The String Quartet No. 1 (1949), for example, lurches forward in a tremendous rush of coiled energy, recedes into rhapsodic solos and then splinters into free counterpoint rife with tannic dissonance and aggression. The piece was famously called Bartok's Seventh Quartet by Hungarian violinist Josef Szigeti (Bartok wrote six), but its high-strung carriage also sounds like music born of the atomic age. The Second Quartet (1958) is a masterpiece. Its three movements, played without pause, total 15 minutes and pack a concentrated punch. The music is dense with thematic ideas that grow in tightly organized but never predictable patterns. Textures are thinner than in the earlier quartet, with a darkly hued, almost Brahmsian luminescence hovering in the adagio. Scurrying chromatic lines turn the finale into a dervish. The final gesture, a sweetly tonal chord that turns deliciously sour is typical Kirchner. Scored for string quartet and electronic tape, the Third Quartet (1966) won the Pulitzer Prize in 1967, but it has not aged as well as the earlier works. The bleeps, bloops and blats sound too much like a 1950s version of the future. At Kirchner's suggestion, the Orion Quartet segued directly into the Fourth Quartet, which was written for them last year. The effect was stunning, as the final 13 minutes felt like a homecoming, the composer returning to clarified textures, romantic melody and shimmering harmony. The Orion Quartet brought an intensely focused blend, plangent warmth and technical aplomb to all of the music, alert to the mercurial shifts of mood and expression. They were met with rapturous applause, and in a touching coda, ended the evening by walking down the center aisle to shake the composer's hand one by one.

"People Time," the 2-CD duet album with Kenny Barron recorded about three months before Getz died in 1991, just kills me. Getz's melodicism is so extraordinary -- every phrase as natural as breathing, and the pair just seems to float so ebulliently through the swinging tunes. I'm fond of the late records with McNeely, but for me nothing compares to the depth of expression on "People Time" ... Speaking of "Captain Marvel," if you haven't seen this, go now: http://youtube.com/watch?v=v5u747pBucM Larry, I'm extremely jealous that you saw this band live around the same time ... I'd love to see the rest of this tape. I remember reading a story in Down Beat around 76-78 and somebody -- maybe Stan's wife? -- said something that always stuck with me, that (paraphrasing) Stan and Miles were the youngest 50 year olds in jazz. Jim: I haven't heard the CD of "Captain Marvel." Your comment suggests a new mix or radically changed sound from the LP. Can you elaborate?

Well, I didn't start this thread as a thumbs up or thumbs down referendum on Cosby, and I'm staying out of it. I thought the tale was funny and was especially interested in what the context of the telling says about the relative place of jazz in the culture. However, I will add one thing in response to Debra's comment. I don't think jazz was presented at all as Dr. Huxtable's eccentricity or as a museum piece. In fact, the best part of the show as it related to jazz was that the music was seen not as weirdly exotic but simply as part of the everyday life of these people and ingrained into their culture. Cliff's father had been a professional trombonist. The family often went to hear jazz in clubs. The names of musicians like Miles Davis came up organically in dialogue. Theo had a poster of Wynton Marsalis in his room. I recall Cliff one time singing a big chunk of "Moody's Mood for Love." Etc. One of the great moments in the whole series actually was a spot at the end of one program when Cliff and Claire dance romantically to Coltrane -- "Dear Lord" if memory serves. The music is never named and nobody makes a big deal out of it. It's just there in the center of their home, as it is for many.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPgcQydWWeE Was sent this wonderful clip today -- Bill Cosby telling a long story about trying to sit in with Sonny Stitt as a kid. Beyond the hilarious story -- and Cosby's hilarious storytelling -- I was struck by how hip you could be on a talk show in those days, especially on Cavett's show. Dig how Cosby warns him before he starts the story that it might be too inside for the room and Cavett's response is to go ahead, and then he takes about 8 minutes to tell the whole story. MS

http://freep.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID...030514/1035/ENT Oliver Knussen's name has come up on the board occassionally in passing, mostly in admiration I recall, so here's a link to a story we ran about him today in the Detroit Free Press. He's conducting a fabulous program this coming weekend with the Detroit Symphony -- Stravinsky's "Fireworks" and "The Fairy's Kiss" with Knussen's own "Flourish with Fireworks" and his Violin Concerto with Leila Josefowicz, who just played it in Chicago with Esa-Pekka conducting. The concerto is a terrific piece; you can get it as a download from the DG website. Anybody have memories of hearing his music live (or, alternatively, hearing him conduct)? MS

In the mid '70s my middle school band played at a jazz festival in Fort Wayne, Ind. with Woody's band as the guest. There were individual instrument clinics during the day and Frank did the one for saxophonists. What I remember most was that he was adamant that the best thing we could do to improve our sound on saxophone was to take up the bassoon. Any double reed instrument would do, he said, but especially bassoon. At 13, we thought the advice (and him) were among the weirdest things we had ever heard.. I mean, we could barely play the saxophone and here he was telling us to take up the bassoon. Anyway, it was only much later that I began to understand what he was surely getting at -- since a double reed instrument is played with a "double lip" embouchure you have to have your diaphragm-breathing-air column together or you can't produce a full sound or stay in tune. The idea is to transfer that air column to the saxophone, where many players bite down too hard on the top of the mouthpiece, constrict the air flow, cause intonation problems and don't produce a full or even sound in all registers. I had a saxophone teacher once who suggested practicing double lip for the same reason.

Here's a long piece about Feldman by composer-critic Kyle Gann: http://www.artsjournal.com/postclassic/200...ciency_fel.html

I did some fun listening over the weekend to some early Juilliard recordings and tried to flesh out the details of the discography. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a good discography online. I have in my files about half the Juilliard's complete Columbia/CBS/Sony discography in the form of a 12-year old fax from some publicity guy with Sony/Juilliard, but for some reason it cuts off with the letter "M," which is really a drag. Anyway, I was a bit off in my previous reference to the Juilliard's time with RCA. It started earlier than I remembered, in 1957, with the Mozart and Haydn recordings (before Korff was replaced by Cohen as second violinist), and seems to have lasted into 1962. The Dvorak/Wolf RCA has a 1964 copywright date on the back of the jacket, but it must have sat in the can for a couple years. It is certainly true that by 1963, the quartet was back with Columbia because I have a Mozart "Haydn" box from that year that was recorded in 1962 and released in 1963. I've got some Mendelssohn (1963) and Schubert from around this time as well, though, interestingly all of these were issued on Epic rather than Columbia Masterworks. Anybody know why that might be? I also wondered why the split with Columbia happened in 1957 and have thought that aside from the obvious answer (money), it may have had something to do with the Juilliard's desire to record standard repertoire and the fact that Columbia had long been committed to the Budapest String Quartet in Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, etc. For the first decade or so of its existence, the Juilliard was really known as a contemporary music group. Its first recording project was the Bartok cycle, which was issued in 1950, and it was followed by Second Viennese recordings of all four Schoenberg quartets, plus Berg Op. 3, Webern Op. 5 and other new stuff by Milhaud, William Bergsma and surely others. Since the first RCAs were Mozart and Haydn and the quartet started what appeared to be the germ of a Beethoven cycle, perahps the standard rep. issue had become a source of conflict with Columbia. On the other hand, there's a fabulous 1953 LP by the Juilliard that couples Mozart's No. 20, K. 499 and No. 21, K. 575. But then, maybe that was just a one-off to prove that the Juilliard could play mainstream literature as well as the contemporary stuff. Maybe nobody cares about this stuff but me, but I find it interesting. Here's something else: The back of that Mozart LP lists some previous Juilliard recordings and one is the Ravel with a catalog number of 2202; another is the Berg "Lyric Suite" (2148). These appear to be 10-inch LPs. I've never seen nor heard these and they've never been reissued to my knowledge. Some Googling turned up the Ravel for sale but not the Berg. Anybody know anything more about these recordings? Obsessively, MS

That ealy '60s Debussy/Ravel is a m.f. -- maybe the finest edition of the Juilliard at its absolute peak. RCA reissued it late in the LP era in its digitally remastered Legendary Performers series at midprice. It's still my favorite recording of these works. There were just five years or so in the early '60s when the Juilliard was signed to RCA and those LPs are are all stunners -- there's an incredibly intense Beethoven Op. 131; the Carter 2nd/William Schuman 3rd; Schubert "Death and the the Maiden"/"Quartettstz"; Haydn Op. 74, No. 1/Op. 77 No. 1; Mozart K465 and K387; and the Berg Lyric Suite/Webern Five Pieces Op. 5 and Six Bagatelles Op. 9. (The Berg/Webern has a great cover: sky blue background with the four guys in tails seated and standing and Bobby Mann looking lean and a bit like JFK.) Update Friday morning: I left out two LPs. There's also a Beethoven Op. 95/135 and a Dvorak, Op. 61/Wolf, "Italian Serenade."" I've had fun collecting all of the LPs but I've also taken the plunge on a couple of the Testament CDs -- the Beethoven Op. 131 coupled with the Schubert Death and the Maiden; the Berg/Carter/Schuman -- and nobody who invests will be disappointed. I wish this edition had recorded the entire Beethoven cycle, especially the Late Quartets, but by the time they got to it for Columbia in the mid and late 60s, Carlyss had replaced Cohen. That said, I adore that first Beethoven cycle for its mix of guts and insight, plus enough beauty when they need it. By the time of their last remake in the early 80s (live at the Library of Congress I believe) the later problems that Larry mentions are in evidence. But I will say that on a good night in concert (or good day in the studio), the later Juilliard could still bring it. With some trepidation I just bought a LP box of the Mozart "Haydn" quartets recorded in the early '80s and was pleasantly surprised to hear just how supple the ensemble sounds; some of the Juilliard grit is still there but in a soulful way. Sorting out all of the records is too daunting at this hour, but its worth mentioning that the early '60s Bartok cycle (with the Cohen line-up) remains incomparable. It's a crime that it's not available domestically and hasn't been for eons, but I'm pretty sure you can get it as an import. When I worked in a classical record store in Champaign in the mid '80s you could still get it as a 3 for the price of 2 LP box. The Juilliard's early '50s mono LPs (the first complete Bartok cycle on record, yes?) are a gas too. More raw, less settled and less sweeping than the later versions; sort of like Bird's first Now's The Time as compared to the great remake on Verve. The final digital Bartoks by the Juilliard late in the game on Sony have the same issues as the later Beethovens. God, I loved this quartet in its prime. Larry's got it right -- it's a heterogeneous blend in which you can hear all of the individual parts and personalities of the players without sacrificing a basic ensemble unity, along with that fierce rhythmic energy and edge and the interpretive imagination they bring to the notion of a composer's intent. The balance of individualism and ensemble is a truly American approach, and in many ways analogous to a jazz band. There are other great quartets no doubt and of those that came of age in the Juilliard's early years, the Hollywood remains especially underrated -- that group is another passion of mine. But the Juilliard is special. Bobby Mann is a particular hero, even with the sound and intonation problems that came up late in the game. Somebody once called him the most important American-born chamber music player ever and I think it's a pretty fair statement. When he finally retired (at 76 or 77), I wrote a story about him in which I quoted Juilliard cellist Joel Krosnick comparing him to Larry Bird. Mann was never the most naturally gifted violinist in terms of flawless technique or opulent tone, but through hard work, intellect and sheer force of will he transformed himself into a world-class musician. Bird was similar said Krosnick. "Can't run, can't jump, slow, but he scores 26 points a game, 12 assists, 13 rebounds and his team wins the NBA championship."

John Campbell is a hugely underrated pianist and he plays his ass off on Vol. 29, including a supersonic, swinging, bracingly melodic and rhythmically flexible bebop romp through "Just Friends" that opens the concert in which he oscillates between C and G-flat every half chorus. "Emily" is the other standout track, which alternatives between 3 and 4 and also has more key change twists. Both ideas descend from Bill Evans but it's way past imitation here. Full disclosure: He's a friend, but this is the kind of playing that should make better-known pianists nervous. I don't think the records he's made, with the exception of this one, capture the excitement he can generate live. http://www.amazon.com/Live-Maybeck-Recital...976&sr=1-11

I should check out those records again -- always a fascinating experience to go back to music that you loved very early, before you really knew anything, and see what your current ears tell you.

Not to hijack this thread from Pete Condoli, but http://www.jaycorre.com (but of course) seems to indicate he's living in Hollywood, Fla. (suburban Lauderdale-Miami). Corre was pretty much the first tenor saxophone soloist I got to know since my first jazz record at age 10 was Buddy Rich's "Big Swing Face" and Corre is the featured tenor man. I've got all of those old World Pacific sides by Buddy's band but haven't listened to them in a long, long time. I recall Corre's sound as deep and warm and his melodic concept sort of out of Stan Getz but very muscular.

EDC: I apologize if you find my reasonableness intimidating, but we all resort to our strengths in the heat of battle, and, besides, I'm hoping to hone my skills enough to become a member of the board's elite. This is one of those disagreements in which I think much of your position can be best characterized by paraphrasing Ben Franklin's epithet for John Adams: You mean well for your country, are always an honest man, often a wise man, but sometimes, and in some things, absolutely out of your senses. I won't dive back into the fray at this point, but I will note that, leaving aside the recorded evidence, I've seen Herbie live several times in various contexts the last seven or eight years and only once was it out-and-out disappointing (a meandering night with Hargrove, Brecker, et. al.), and a trio concert with Kenny Davis and Gene Jackson contained some of the most daredevil piano playing I've ever heard (speaking of color and texture ...) I'm not saying that one great night absolves all, but if you heard what I heard, you would have dug it. Jim: I see what you're driving at re: harmony/texture, though I'm not sure the line is always clear. When Herbie is inspired I think that what often happens is that he starts abstracting the harmony in a functional way and then "breaks free" into purely textural ideas that extend and/or mask form.