Eric Alexander Anyone?

[Larry Kart]

To answer that Scott Hamilton question, here's another piece from the forthcoming book. ( I do recall one Hamilton album, "Soft Lights and Sweet Music" with Gerry Mulligan, that didn't have the problem(s) I go on about below. Maybe Gerry's presence helped:

In a 1981 review of a performance by Rosemary Clooney, I wrote this about two members of her band, tenor saxophonist Scott Hamilton and cornetist Warren Vaché: "Not so gratifying [as Clooney] were Hamilton and Vaché, relatively young players who began by emulating Swing-era stylists and who have yet to find a personal manner. More disturbing than the revivalistic impulses of Hamilton and Vaché, though, are the ways in which they misunderstand and cheapen the style they profess to admire. Each man presents a surface cosmetic warmth, with Hamilton crooning á la Ben Webster, and Vaché putting a burry, Bunny Berigan-like edge on his tone. But the techniques that Hamilton and Vaché apply in such a haphazard fashion were part of a specific musical-emotional language. To hear that language being trifled with is both musically and morally disturbing."

That review led to a dialogue in Down Beat magazine with critic John McDonough, who saw the desire of Hamilton and Vaché (and that of other young musicians) to work within the stylistic patterns of the jazz past as a very positive development. This was my response to McDonough’s piece:

[1982]

If we were building the ideal jazz musician, we would probably want to make him an innovator. But innovation is not the question here. Instead it is the degree of honesty and understanding with which specific players deal with the music’s past.

First a distinction should be made between those jazz artists who have been inspired by their predecessors (Louis Armstrong’s Swing-era disciples and the host of Lester Young acolytes of the 1940s would be good examples) and, on the other hand, those players whose approach to the jazz past is essentially revivalistic--as the music of Scott Hamilton, Warren Vaché, and many of their contemporaries seems to be. No matter how humbled he may be by his model, the disciple of the first sort doesn’t wish to recreate the music of Armstrong or Young. Rather he hears something in the inspiring artist that speaks to something in him--a musical/emotional message that the disciple wishes (and needs) to expand upon and, as much as possible, make his own. The revivalist, however, regards the chunk of the jazz past that attracts him as an essentially completed act. And often he is drawn to the past of jazz in part because it belongs to the past--because the music speaks of values that seem to have been needlessly abandoned and that the revivalist wishes to reanimate, preserve, and inhabit. Injecting one’s own personality into the music is at best a side issue, the goal instead being to accurately bring to life what is no longer as alive as it once was.

Now jazz revivalism has an intriguing, quirky history; and I would not want to be without the music of Lu Watters, Graeme and Roger Bell, or Dave Dallwitz. But revivalism works best when it deals with styles in which the soloist added color and point while the ensemble remained the dominant force; it runs into special problems when the style being recreated is one that relies on the soloist’s ability to express an individual instrumental personality. Leaving aside the question of whether or not Hamilton and Vaché are self-conscious revivalists, their music certainly is based on late Swing-era styles in which individual instrumental personality was paramount. We love Ben Webster and Don Byas, Buck Clayton and Bobby Hackett not just because their music was beautiful in the abstract sense, but also because it told their stories, revealing something essential about the kind of men they were. And this storytelling aspect of the music was expressed in a very precise musical/emotional language--one in which the individual artist’s tonal and rhythmic inflections (the growls, smears, slides, and so forth) were both his trademark and the means he used to convey his evolving emotional messages. And this storytelling, languagelike aspect of the music has, like all languages, some specific rules of diction, grammar, and syntax.

It is there that I part company with most of today’s more-or-less revivalistic players, whether their models come from the thirties and forties (as Hamilton’s and Vaché’s do), from the fifties (as do those of Lew Tabackin and Richie Cole), or from the quite recent past (as is the case with David Murray). To my ears, these musicians often speak the language they profess to love in a haphazard, inaccurate, even vulgar fashion, making grammatical and syntactical errors in the realm where notes are translated into emotion that are as disturbing as if they had flubbed the changes or turned the beat around. Place a typical Hamilton performance alongside a solo from such a master storyteller as Ike Quebec (or compare a Lew Tabackin effort with something by Sonny Rollins, or listen to David Murray next to Albert Ayler), and one hears countless musical/emotional gestures that have been mishandled or misunderstood, as though the perhaps unwitting emulator were wearing a tweed jacket with candy-striped pants.

So it’s not just the emulative aspect of these players that is troublesome, because my knowledge (such as it is) of the music that inspired them tells me that they aren’t even good emulators, let alone personal craftsmen. (A question for another day is whether one can be a craftsmanlike disciple of Albert Ayler, Eric Dolphy, or John Coltrane--in the same way that one could, and perhaps still can, be a craftsmanlike disciple of Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, or Don Byas.)

That a number of these young revivalists have been praised, and sometimes hired, by such masters as Buddy Tate, Buck Clayton, Roy Eldridge, Benny Goodman, and Earl Hines, does not automatically settle the aesthetic issues in their favor. It’s understandable that many older players (and those critics who have great affection for their music and may not care that much for later developments) would be cheered to find younger men paying homage to the past, for no one likes to feel lonely and most of us like to be flattered. But even if there were no trace of self-deception in the praise of Hines, Tate, et al., that praise is refuted by their own lastingly vital music, which remains the standard by which their would-be disciples must be judged.

While I certainly wish that there were as many personal craftsmen at work in jazz today as there were in 1935, 1945, and 1955, I believe that the craftsman approach to jazz is, for a number of reasons, becoming harder and harder to sustain. In any case, if jazz is about to turn itself into a largely revivalistic, repertory music--a kind of living museum in which everyone from Johnny Dodds to Albert Ayler is fair game--it seems all the more important to protest when one hears jazz’s glorious past being reproduced in ways that are musically and emotionally inaccurate. To do otherwise would be to admit that we no longer hear the difference.

[Dan Gould]

What a country where someone with no known talent for the music manages to make a living with diarhea of the mouth, crapping on people he doesn't like.

Seriously, what was that, 500 words to say that you don't like people who appropriate the language of an earlier style?

Give me a fuckin' break.

[Chuck Nessa]

You astound me Dan.

[MartyJazz]

  [1982]

If we were building the ideal jazz musician, we would probably want to make him an innovator.  But innovation is not the question here. Instead it is the degree of honesty and understanding with which specific players deal with the music’s past.

First a distinction should be made between those jazz artists who have been inspired by their predecessors (Louis Armstrong’s Swing-era disciples and the host of Lester Young acolytes of the 1940s would be good examples) and, on the other hand, those players whose approach to the jazz past is essentially revivalistic--as the music of Scott Hamilton, Warren Vaché, and many of their contemporaries seems  to be. No matter how humbled he may  be by his model, the disciple of the first sort doesn’t wish to recreate the music of Armstrong or Young. Rather he hears something in the inspiring artist that speaks to something in him--a musical/emotional message that the disciple wishes (and needs) to expand upon and, as much as possible, make his own. The revivalist, however, regards the chunk of the jazz past that attracts him as an essentially completed act. And often he is drawn to the past of jazz in part because  it belongs to the past--because the music speaks of values that seem to have been needlessly abandoned and that the revivalist wishes to reanimate, preserve, and inhabit. Injecting one’s  own personality into the music is at best a side issue, the goal instead being to accurately bring to life what is no longer as alive as it once was.

Now jazz revivalism has an intriguing, quirky history;  and I would not want to be without the music of Lu Watters, Graeme and Roger Bell, or Dave Dallwitz. But revivalism works best when it deals with styles in which the soloist added color and point while the ensemble remained the  dominant force; it runs into special problems when the style being recreated is one that relies on the soloist’s ability to express an individual instrumental personality. Leaving aside the question of whether or not Hamilton and Vaché are self-conscious revivalists, their music certainly is based on late Swing-era styles in which individual instrumental personality was paramount. We love Ben Webster and Don Byas, Buck Clayton and Bobby Hackett  not just because their music was beautiful in the abstract sense, but also because it told their stories, revealing something essential about the kind of men they were.  And this storytelling aspect of the music was expressed in a very precise musical/emotional language--one in which the individual artist’s tonal and rhythmic inflections (the growls, smears, slides, and so forth) were both his trademark and the means he used to convey his evolving emotional messages. And this storytelling, languagelike  aspect of the music has,  like all languages, some specific rules of diction, grammar, and syntax.

It is there that I part company with most of today’s more-or-less revivalistic players, whether their models  come  from the thirties  and  forties  (as Hamilton’s and Vaché’s do), from the fifties (as do those of Lew Tabackin and Richie Cole), or from the quite recent past (as is the case with David Murray). To my ears, these musicians often speak the language they profess to love in a haphazard, inaccurate, even vulgar fashion, making grammatical and syntactical  errors in the realm where notes are translated into emotion that are as disturbing as if they had flubbed the changes or turned the beat around. Place a typical Hamilton performance alongside a solo from such a master storyteller  as Ike Quebec (or compare a Lew Tabackin effort with something by Sonny Rollins, or listen to David Murray next to Albert Ayler), and one hears countless musical/emotional gestures that have been mishandled or  misunderstood, as though the perhaps unwitting emulator  were wearing a  tweed jacket  with candy-striped pants.

So it’s not just the emulative aspect of these players that is troublesome, because my knowledge (such as it is) of the music that inspired them tells me that they aren’t even good emulators, let alone personal craftsmen. (A question for another day  is whether one can be a craftsmanlike disciple of Albert Ayler, Eric Dolphy, or John Coltrane--in the same way that one could, and perhaps still can, be a craftsmanlike disciple of Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, or Don Byas.)

That a number of these  young revivalists have been praised, and sometimes hired, by such masters as Buddy Tate, Buck Clayton, Roy Eldridge, Benny Goodman, and Earl Hines, does not automatically settle the  aesthetic issues in their favor. It’s understandable that many older players (and those critics who have great affection for their music and may not care that much for later developments) would be cheered to find younger men paying homage to the past, for no one likes to feel lonely and most of us like to be flattered. But even if there were no trace of self-deception in the praise of Hines, Tate, et al., that praise is refuted by their own lastingly vital music, which remains the standard by which their would-be disciples must be judged.

While I certainly wish that there were as many personal craftsmen at work in jazz today as there were in 1935, 1945, and 1955, I believe that the craftsman approach to jazz is, for a number of reasons, becoming harder and harder to sustain.  In any case, if jazz is about to turn itself into a largely revivalistic, repertory music--a kind of living museum in which everyone from Johnny Dodds to Albert Ayler is fair game--it seems all the more important to protest when one hears jazz’s glorious past being reproduced in ways that are musically and emotionally inaccurate. To do otherwise would be to admit that we  no longer hear the difference.

I very much enjoyed the above 1982 response to McDonough. You raise points however that I have always found troublesome when evaluating musicians that I tend to gravitate to or to shy away from. The question of emulation has a time component, in my view. While I love Pres, Hawk and Ben, I generally cannot bear to listen to Scott Hamilton who has synthesized aspects of all three in his playing. Now, what is one to make of a musician who appeared many more years ago than Hamilton such as Paul Quinichette? Here's a musician whom I've never seen criticized in print. He was on lots of excellent dates, yet he wasn't called the "Vice Pres" for nothing - his playing is a complete theft, in my view, of Lester Young's style. How about Barry Harris? I have several dates of his I absolutely love, e.g., LUMINESCENCE, BULLSYE, etc., yet can anyone discern the kernel that is Barry from the stalk that is Bud Powell? I think Quinichette and Harris escape criticism because they appeared in the immediate aftermath of their idols and while the latter were still alive. Likewise, Oscar Peterson is considered a giant (I've never dug him, but that's my taste) yet does he ever begin where Art Tatum (whom I do dig) left off?

You denigrate a few musicians (David Murray, Lew Tabackin) who obviously have been influenced by masters, but who I believe, have developed a sound that is recognizably their own. More importantly, in my view, they have added in some measure to this music we love. (Similarly, I can hear all the Aylerisms in the playing of the late George Adams, but I enjoyed the Adams-Pullen quartet immensely when they were gracing the scene in the '80s). Among contemporary musicians, it's obvious that Dizzy has greatly influenced Jon Faddis (who does nothing for me) and that Rollins and Dolphy have been great influences on Bennie Wallace (who does alot for me).

So where does all this leave a musician like Eric Alexander? Yeah, it's obvious that Dexter and George Coleman have been profound influences on him. The bottom line for me however has always been, does this guy (or gal) cook and/or does he or she have that nebulous quality called soul? If in my view, the answer is affirmative, then I'm a fan. Consequently, I dig Alexander.

Edited May 20, 2004 by MartyJazz

[Dan Gould]

More disturbing than the revivalistic impulses of Hamilton and Vaché, though, are the ways in which they misunderstand and cheapen the style they profess to admire. Each man presents a surface cosmetic warmth, with Hamilton crooning á la Ben Webster, and Vaché putting a burry, Bunny Berigan-like edge on his tone. But the techniques that Hamilton and Vaché apply in such a haphazard fashion were part of a specific musical-emotional language. To hear that language being trifled with is both musically and morally disturbing."

So, they're not only musical thieves, they're INCOMPETENT musical thieves? What a complete crock of shit.

To my ears, these musicians often speak the language they profess to love in a haphazard, inaccurate, even vulgar fashion, making grammatical and syntactical  errors in the realm where notes are translated into emotion that are as disturbing as if they had flubbed the changes or turned the beat around. Place a typical Hamilton performance alongside a solo from such a master storyteller  as Ike Quebec (or compare a Lew Tabackin effort with something by Sonny Rollins, or listen to David Murray next to Albert Ayler), and one hears countless musical/emotional gestures that have been mishandled or  misunderstood, as though the perhaps unwitting emulator  were wearing a  tweed jacket  with candy-striped pants.  So it’s not just the emulative aspect of these players that is troublesome, because my knowledge (such as it is) of the music that inspired them tells me that they aren’t even good emulators, let alone personal craftsmen.

More verbosity and pomposity, and ever more CRAP. Again, they're "incompetent"? Anyone who has heard Scott Hamilton in the last ten or 15 years knows he has synthesized his influences into a distinctive style.

That a number of these  young revivalists have been praised, and sometimes hired, by such masters as Buddy Tate, Buck Clayton, Roy Eldridge, Benny Goodman, and Earl Hines, does not automatically settle the  aesthetic issues in their favor. It’s understandable that many older players (and those critics who have great affection for their music and may not care that much for later developments) would be cheered to find younger men paying homage to the past, for no one likes to feel lonely and most of us like to be flattered. But even if there were no trace of self-deception in the praise of Hines, Tate, et al., that praise is refuted by their own lastingly vital music, which remains the standard by which their would-be disciples must be judged.

This may be the very worst load of crap of all.

Young musicians (Hamilton had been recording for Concord for about 5 years at the time) are supposed to be judged, at that moment, by how their recordings stack up to the recorded legacy of the legends who hire them?

Forget "self-deception": The hiring of any young musician by a legend is a better stamp of approval than anything the infallible Larry Kart has ever opined about. The fact that Benny Carter made a record with Scott Hamilton (a damn fine one in fact) means more than the verbose bashing of Kart.

[Kevin Bresnahan]

I'm tired of having to "defend" the playing style of guys like Eric Alexander. I'm tired of having to explain why I like his playing style. I'm tired of hearing about how he's doing something that was done before. I dig the guy's playing. Nothing said here or anywhere is going to change my mind.

But c'mon Larry... laying that stuff on a guy's playing after hearing one(!) CD? Don't you think that's a bit unfair? Try listening to a few more before talking about stapling together pieces of cardboard. Try listening to one of his latest CDs like "Nightlife In Tokyo"... very good Eric Alexander but even better Ron Carter. Best I've heard from Ron in a while.

I still think Alexander's best solo on record is on the title track to Robert Mazurek's "Badlands". It very well built with multiple peaks. It reminds me a lot of Wayne Shorter's solo on "Free For All". By the end of that solo, I'm usually whooping it up in the car (and people around me wonder about my sanity).

I prefer young Alexander's version of "Up, Over & Out" to the originator's version and considering that the originator is far and away my favorite Jazz musician, that is saying something.

Now, sorry to say, I bought and dumped two of the dates he did with Charles Earland, "Unforgettable" and "I Ain't Jivin' I'm Jammin'". I can't stop thinking that the guys were trying for Smooth Jazz airplay with some of the tunes. There's always a good song or 2 but then that shudder hits me and all I can think of is Dave Sanborn. I haven't even tried the others.

I also have to say that while I admire Alexander for giving a master like Cecil Payne a recording date, I don't think Cecil's got it any more. He seems to have trouble pushing air through his bari. Hey, I hope I'm pushing any air when I'm 75, never mind playing a bari sax but I cringe during some of his solos on the dates he plays with Alexander. I rarely play them.

Other favs are Mike LeDonne's "Then And Now", the aforementioned "Power Station" by Michael Weiss and both the Brigandi dates. I also feel guilty that I like the 2 dates Alexander made for the Japanese Alpha label, "Heavy Hitters" and "Extra Innings" (both quartet dates with Mabern, Peter Washington and Joe Farnsworth). Why do I feel guilty? I mentioned the CDs to Alexander between sets one night and he told me he never got a cent from either of those CDs.

Looking back at what I've written, I notice that I don't list any of Alexander's Criss Cross dates. I dig them and I play them but not as often as others. I bet my favorite Criss Cross date with Alexander on it is probably Melvin Rhyne's "Stick to the Kick"... although both Jim Rotondi dates are pretty good. Oh wait! Rhyne's "Aztec Blues" is another good one (have to dig that one out for the morning commute).

Later,

Kevin

[danasgoodstuff]

Dan,

Please try reading Larry's post more carefully: there is so much more to it than just 'I don't like x'. To put it bluntly, thought provoking posts like Larry's are why I participate in this forum; merely grumpy ones like yours [the short, "diarhea of the mouth" one] are not. Maybe you just got up on the wrong side this morning...

Dana

Edited May 20, 2004 by danasgoodstuff

[paul secor]

I'm not really an Alexander fan, but he appears on this KILLER album:

Cookin' With the Mighty Burner

I'm also not an Alexander fan, but I do find that Cookin' with the Mighty Burner is enjoyable whenever I play it.

I have to admit that I haven't heard as much of Alexander's playing other than this and some things on the radio, but what I have heard hasn't blown me away.

I agree with a lot (not all) of what Larry Kart wrote in his posts on this topic, but I can't understand why some people have gotten upset. What he wrote are just his opinions. You can read them, think about them, or ignore them, but why get so carried away about an opinion?

Edited May 20, 2004 by paul secor

[Dan Gould]

Dan,

Please try reading Larry's post more carefully: there is so much more to it than just 'I don't like x'. To put it bluntly, thought provoking posts like Larry's are why I participate in this forum; grumpy ones like yours are not. Maybe you just got up on the wrong side this morning...

Dana

Thought-provoking but wrong.

And unfair (read Kevin's post for another example).

[chris olivarez]

I've read enough of this thread to decide I'll check this guy out sometime in the future. Maybe I'll like him and maybe I won't but I do love to "roll the dice" on people like this.

[danasgoodstuff]

Dan,

Modified post to reflect that your later post and Kevin's, cranky though they are, do at least attempt to address the specifics of Larry's argument(s). And since he was quoting himself, he may v. well have heard more of Hamilton and/or Alexander by now--whether he heard any more in them is another matter. For the record, I've heard only a little of either and don't have any strong fellings one way or the other...but I do feel that way (the Kart/Sngry way) about many neo-soul recordings, including some by guys who were around back in the day. Who was it (Larry?) who said (about Murray?) 'It's like he starts a romantic ballad by yelling "spread your legs"'?

Feeling much less grumpy, hope you are too,

Dana

[JSngry]

Eric Alexander is not evil. That would be Harry Allen.

Seriously, Eric Alexander is a quite good player whose relative lack of individuality and originality is made significantly less obvious by the lack of competition.

Giants used to walk the Earth, especially in jazz. Now it's more like 6'3" guys posing as giants. Not just in jazz, but everywhere in life. Fine enough, it's all relative anyway, but I myself refuse, or am perhaps congenitally unable, to confuse Mugsy Bouges with Manute Bol, much less Eddie Gaedel with Randy Weston.

To all the Alexander supporters out there, I mean no harm. I mean, Lord knows I like plenty of music and players that are non-gigantic, to put it mildly. The main thing for all of us us is that we like waht we like - some of it for obvious reasons, some for reasons that only we ourselves can fathom. It's good like that.

I have no problem w/Mr. Alexander as a good jazz saxophonist doing extrenmely proficient work - that's what MOST jazz is anyway, the level of true inspiration and such not happening nearly as often as the Romantics would like to believe, although in the Days Of The Giants, the bar was a lot higher (but the bartenders weren't....).

I DO have a problem, however, with him as a leading voice on his instrument, or as a bright star on the horizon, or whatever Great (insert adjective of your choice here) Hope of Jazz, because if where he's coming from (see Larry's comments re:Eric, which I agree with in fact, if not necessarily in conclusion, at least not 100%) is indeed the future of jazz, then the music has changed at a fundamental level from where and what it has been for as long as I've known it, and frankly, I don't think that this new place really holds much interest for me. It's becoming like Disney World - exact replication in all the architecture/buildings/etc, but everything is built, what, at 80% scale(?), so YOU look and feel (and presumably, spend) bigger than you really are. Clever, comfortable, and entertaining but ultimately not as real as what we all know exists, or, at least, existed elsewhere, often on the same real estate.

It's a HELLUVA nice place to visit, but...

Edited May 20, 2004 by JSngry

[Larry Kart]

Dana--The original version of that reply to McDonough's piece did have the "spread your legs" line in it; I took it out for the book version (didn't seem that funny any more).

No, I haven't heard any more Alexander since the '94 vintage EA on that Magnerelli album. I'll try more EA (not that anyone necessarily cares) when, as I said up above, someone who digs him now but understands what bothered me about EA's playing back then can tell me what's changed in him and how. If that sounds snotty and unreasonable, so be it -- life is too short to listen to everyone and everything. About Hamilton over the passage of time, I mentioned that his playing on "Soft Lights and Sweet Music" seemed pleasantly lively and real to me, but not so much that I felt the need to seek him out. Life is too short etc.

Dan--Either I didn't make myself understood well enough and/or you didn't really read what I wrote. Either way, I'm sorry.

Marty--Quinichette is an interesting case. I think about him in couple of ways. One: What happens when I put him alongside guys like Bill Perkins and Richie Kamuca, who also were drenched in Pres and of the second generation? (Though maybe Perkoins and Kamuca were really of the third generation, because they were young enough to have heard and been affected by Getz, Sims, et al.) Whatever -- do I hear genuine, distinctive invention from all three of them, even in their most Pres-drenched modes? (I think so.) Two: Quinichette is an older cat, b. 1916 -- only seven years younger than Pres and almost a decade older than most first-generation Pres disciples (white or black). Obviously Q imbibed his Pres whole, but he was out there playing professionally with name outfits in the late '30s (though his strain of Pres is more the Post-Basie Pres in tone and articulation, no?) Sure, Q sounds a good deal more like Pres than the clearly Pres-affected-to-some-degree Budd Johnson did, but their cases might be somewhat similar (all three with Southwest links), with Q just catching a very intense case of the Pres virus. Three: Somehow the fact that Pres referred to Quinichette as "Lady Q" rings a bell with me. Yes, Pres used the "Lady" tag a lot, and I certainly don't assume that this means anything literal about Q's personality, but I'd bet any amount of money that he was a guy who spoke in Pres' language because Pres spoke to something deep in him. And even then, is it really that hard to tell them apart? If I ever mistook one for the other, it was probably thinking for a moment than Pres of a certain vintage was Q, not the other way around.

[JSngry]

Dana--The original version of that reply to McDonough's piece did have the "spread your legs" line in it; I took it out for the book version (didn't seem that funny any more).

First the last line from the ISKA revie, now this. Are the WORKTIME liners gonna be "lost" too?

You're saving material for a sequel, right?

[jlhoots]

Since I'm feeling contentious tonight, I essentially agree with Kevin & Dan.

I think I said this a while back on some other thread that one of the active participants in this one had a major role in - opinions are like ********, everybody has one(sorry for the cliche).

While (I guess) some opinions are more valid than others, in the end (after almost 50 years of listening) it still boils down to what makes your day as an individual listener.

BTW, I like Heavy Hitters too.

Disclaimer - I've never met Eric Alexander or heard him in person. It's just that several of his CDs give me listening pleasure. Very subjective, but so what.

[Pete C]

I'm in agreement with Larry on Alexander, Hamilton, and Vache. Since he wrote those pieces they've all gotten better at what they do, but what they do hasn't gotten any more interesting.

I'd be interested in whether the Alexander fans have heard much Tony Malaby, and what they think of him. That, guy, IMO, is one of the most exciting younger tenors around.

[Larry Kart]

Jim -- The "Worktime" notes are in the book. Or do you mean that I changed the way they end? If so, I thought that the old concluding sentence or two didn't work anymore because they played sort of lamely off something that Martin Williams once wrote that I'm sure almost no one remembers. Anyway, the new ending seemed decent, and I don't think it's a case of me pretending to say something then that I couldn't have said then.

[Nate Dorward]

I think the problem isn't with whether Alexander (or Hamilton or...) is a good player--it's just that the hype starts to get built up. A couple years back I was sent an Alexander disc for review--the title was Summit Meeting I think--& what was really depressing about it was the liner notes with players like Mabern & George Coleman anointing Alexander as a genius, when he's just tossing their own stuff back at them in a slicker form. It was an OK disc but had a macho vibe that I didn't have much time for (& it did contain an inexcusable cheesing-up of a Coltrane tune).

[MartyJazz]

Marty--Quinichette is an interesting case. I think about him in couple of ways. One: What happens when I put him alongside guys like Bill Perkins and Richie Kamuca, who also were drenched in Pres and of the second generation? (Though maybe Perkoins and Kamuca were really of the third generation, because they were young enough to have heard and been affected by Getz, Sims, et al.) Whatever -- do I hear genuine, distinctive invention from all three of them, even in their most Pres-drenched modes? (I think so.) Two: Quinichette is an older cat, b. 1916 -- only seven years younger than Pres and almost a decade older than most first-generation Pres disciples (white or black). Obviously Q imbibed his Pres whole, but he was out there playing professionally with name outfits in the late '30s (though his strain of Pres is more the Post-Basie Pres in tone and articulation, no?) Sure, Q sounds a good deal more like Pres than the clearly Pres-affected-to-some-degree Budd Johnson did, but their cases might be somewhat similar (all three with Southwest links), with Q just catching a very intense case of the Pres virus. Three: Somehow the fact that Pres referred to Quinichette as "Lady Q" rings a bell with me. Yes, Pres used the "Lady" tag a lot, and I certainly don't assume that this means anything literal about Q's personality, but I'd bet any amount of money that he was a guy who spoke in Pres' language because Pres spoke to something deep in him. And even then, is it really that hard to tell them apart? If I ever mistook one for the other, it was probably thinking for a moment than Pres of a certain vintage was Q, not the other way around.

Thanks for responding. You evidently created quite a firestorm here which I guess is the order of the day in today's world.

No, I've never had difficulty telling Pres and Vice Pres apart, but I always thought it was ironic that when Pres complained of everyone trying to sound like him, the one that most emulated him (Quinichette) escaped criticism. Rather he was, as you say, referred affectionately as "Lady Q" by the master himself. In fact, Getz as the most successful pupil of the Pres attack, bore the brunt of Pres's criticism (in the critical opinion of that day) yet IMO Getz was then and increasingly became even more so, a highly original player.

Where does all this lead? Well, I'm always reminded of a conversation I had with Sam Rivers back around '76 when he said about the state of jazz, "it's all been done". Most of us cherish our Bird, Trane, Rollins, Blue Notes, etc., for very good reasons which I won't bother to state. But, as we live in the here and now, we continually search for the contemporary player who strikes a chord. Finding the player who reflects the spirit of the times we live in and who does so, in an aesthetically pleasing way, is what I find most challenging.

[Tom in RI]

What a great thread. Its this kind of thought provoking back and forth that makes this place so interesting. I wonder sometimes if a lot of the musicians I listen to are more concerned with creating great and lasting art or just trying to make a living. On Scott Hamilton, I felt he was too derivative earlier in his career. Still, it was his desire to play in an older style that got him noticed, and I have always felt that Scott's affection for the music is real and not at all contrived. I have seen him play in the last couple of years and I think he has really grown into a convincing artist.

[Dan Gould]

On Scott Hamilton, I felt he was too derivative earlier in his career. Still, it was his desire to play in an older style that got him noticed, and I have always felt that Scott's affection for the music is real and not at all contrived. I have seen him play in the last couple of years and I think he has really grown into a convincing artist.

Thank you, Tom, that is exactly my point-Hamilton has grown beyond his influences and crafted a personal style. He communicates personally; he just happens to use the language of an earlier style.

And I for one have never heard him muff up the syntax!

[jlhoots]

I'm in agreement with Larry on Alexander, Hamilton, and Vache. Since he wrote those pieces they've all gotten better at what they do, but what they do hasn't gotten any more interesting.

I'd be interested in whether the Alexander fans have heard much Tony Malaby, and what they think of him. That, guy, IMO, is one of the most exciting younger tenors around.

I like Malaby on the Pavone led disc Orange on Playscape.

[Kevin Bresnahan]

If we're talking about Eric Alexander and a "personal style", well, I can "hear" Eric Alexander just fine. In fact, just this morning on the way into work, I was spinning Mel Rhyne's "Tenor Triangle" which features Alexander, Ralph Lalama & Tad Shull. I could tell which tenor was Eric in every tune. He has a way of starting a note with a vibrato but he "blows through it" (best description I can come up with) so it sounds like a slight bend in the notes. He also likes a quick up & down waffling note that he gets into nearly every solo. The waffle note is also what he seems to stick with when he emulates he teacher George Coleman during his attempts to play with circular breathing techniques (which, just like Coleman, almost always brings down the house when seen live).

I guess I just don't get the argument against a guy playing in an older style. Look, Dexter, Mobley, Hendu... these guys are all dead! If a young(er) guy like Alexander can't play in this style without being called a copycat/soul-less player, than this style will totally die. No one will play that way. I like going to shows that Alexander plays. One For All #@%$ing smokes! I have yet to got to a gig with any of these guys and left feeling that I saw a bad show. I like the style of music he plays. Is that so wrong?

Now, lastly, without stirring it up too much, I worry when "soul-less" is used in describing the playing of guys like Eric Alexander, Scott Hamilton and Harry Allen. Soul music is generally associated with black musicians. Obviously, these guys are white. Is there maybe some preconceived bias at work here? It's been suggested before with Getz, Marsh, Zoot and Konitz et al. I would like to think everyone is color blind when it comes to music but it just seems weird that this keeps coming up again & again. I was once told by a white drummer that the Jazz world has blatant reverse discrimination. He said he was blacklisted (no pun intended) from a few dates strictly because he was white. Could this be part of the problem?

Later,

Kevin

[JSngry]

Not for me. Not at all.

Hell, I dig Brian Wilson, George Jones, AND Warne Marsh.

Not too crazy about Elton John, though.

[MartyJazz]

Now, lastly, without stirring it up too much, I worry when "soul-less" is used in describing the playing of guys like Eric Alexander, Scott Hamilton and Harry Allen. Soul music is generally associated with black musicians. Obviously, these guys are white. Is there maybe some preconceived bias at work here? It's been suggested before with Getz, Marsh, Zoot and Konitz et al. I would like to think everyone is color blind when it comes to music but it just seems weird that this keeps coming up again & again. I was once told by a white drummer that the Jazz world has blatant reverse discrimination. He said he was blacklisted (no pun intended) from a few dates strictly because he was white. Could this be part of the problem?

Later,

Kevin

As one who pleads guilty to using the word "soul" in previous notes to this thread (and I like Eric Alexander, BTW), I never mean it in a black-white context. To me "soul" simply connotes an honest feeling that is so palpable, it is pleasurably conveyed in the playing (be it blues, ballad or just straight ahead playing) of whoever I'm ascribing that quality to. Words are unfortunately inadequate to describe what I mean, but definitely race has nothing to do with it. For example, when it comes to alto playing, for my taste, Frank Strozier has more "soul" than does Bobby Watson, Jackie McLean more so than does Phil Woods, etc.