Tommy Flanagan

[Cliff Englewood]

Those of you who receive Hiroshi Tanno's e-mails on Japanese reissues and releases already know this, but Flanagan's Overseas sessions are being reissued once again — this time with the most deluxe treatment I've ever seen from the Japanese market: not one, but three mini-LP covers to accompany the CD. The reason for three? To be faithful to the original release of these recordings as EPs on the Swedish Metronome label, DIW is manufacturing three separate jackets. Now, if they really wanted to be faithful, they could have reissued the music on three 3" CDs! The original covers are indeed classy:

The price tag is hefty — over 3900¥. If someone here decides to splurge, please tells us how all of this packaged! (Um, and you can tell us about the music too. It's one of my favorite Flanagan dates.)

I love Japanese re-issues. :wub:

[Mark Stryker]

I may well have posted this long profile before, so if it's a repeat I apologize. I was fortunate to spend time with Flanagan on a couple of occasions not long before he died. This piece was written in August 2001, just a few months before his death in November of that year. I first saw him play live in the summer of 1988 at Sweet Basil with G. Mraz and K. Washington. My plan was to hear the first set and then wander to another club, but the trio was so note-perfect and beautifully integrated that I ended up staying all night. I came back the following day with a similar plan and again ended up staying the whole night. Cecil Taylor was there one of those nights and I remember Tommy acknowledging him from across the way on the break with a friendly, "Hey, C.T!"

A few years after he died I was talking with Bess Bonnier, a Detroit pianist of Tommy's generation (they were classmates in high school and lifelong friends) and she told me a story that illustrated his dry wit. They were all in a cab on their way to one of Tommy's gigs and his wife, Diana, a very excitable woman who Whitney Balliett once described as a person who moved twice as fast as her husband, was going on and on worrying about how late they were. Finally. Tommy looked at her as they were inching through traffic and said calmly, "We're gaining on it."

A LEGENDARY TOUCH THE DETROIT-BORN PIANIST TOMMY FLANAGAN BRINGS HIS SAGE, SATINY AND SWINGING BEBOP HOME FOR THE JAZZ FESTIVAL

BYLINE: MARK STRYKER FREE PRESS MUSIC WRITER

DATELINE: NEW YORK

Tommy Flanagan descends the steep staircase leading from Seventh Avenue to the Village Vanguard and briefly surveys the empty club before shuffling to the piano. His hands fall lovingly on the keys as if he were shaking hands with an old friend. Flanagan -- one of the greatest musicians ever produced by Detroit and a headliner at the Ford Detroit International Jazz Festival -- first played the Vanguard as a sideman with trombonist J.J. Johnson in the late 1950s. More recently, Flanagan's all-world trios have spent many nights in residence at this hallowed temple of jazz, and he's recorded two exemplary albums here.

But now, in the afternoon stillness, he plays for himself and the ghosts of Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane and the other departed jazz heroes whose photos line the smoke-stained walls of the world's most famous basement. One soft-spoken chord meanders into another until a melody emerges from the mist -- "Gone with the Wind," a 1937 gem that reminds you Flanagan doesn't know every tune, just the best ones. He glides into a walk-in-the-park tempo, improvising fluid ideas ripe with insouciant swing, fine-spun counterpoint and elegant bebop melodies whose single-note lines hang on the chords like Christmas ornaments. Flanagan's lyrical touch is legendary -- each note sounds like a pearl wrapped in silk -- and this is the first topic he addresses when the songs ends.

"My touch comes from listening and trying to get a sound that I had in my head," he says in a gentle voice that rarely rises above a stage whisper. "I never did get much out of playing too hard. In fact, when I thought I was playing too loud, I'd use the soft pedal. I liked that -- you play harder but get a softer sound. I had an old, harsh-sounding piano at home, anyway."

At 71, Flanagan plays like the hippest angel in heaven, seducing listeners through a sublime marriage of grace and guts, swing and sagacity, wit and warmth. It's been two years since he last performed in his hometown -- illness forced him to cancel a 70th-birthday concert at Orchestra Hall last year -- and his festival appearance marks the local debut of his latest trio, with veteran drummer Albert Heath joining bassist Peter Washington.

Flanagan's poetic brand of modernism is so universally admired today that it's sobering to remember it wasn't always that way. Until launching the second act of his career in the late '70s, he was a secret to almost everyone but his fellow musicians. Most observers regarded him as a career accompanist. Flanagan's self-effacing personality and his resume worked against him. He spent 14 years as Ella Fitzgerald's pianist, from 1962 to 1965 and 1968 to 1978. (In between was a brief stint with Tony Bennett.) Flanagan recorded sparingly as a leader, releasing zero records under his own name between 1960 and 1975. He recorded prolifically as a sideman, however, appearing on such classic '50s LPs as Miles Davis' "Collectors' Items," Sonny Rollins' "Saxophone Colossus" and John Coltrane's "Giant Steps."

The turning point came in 1978, when a heart attack put him in the hospital for 17 days. He quit smoking, cut down on drinking and gave his notice to Ella. Soon he formed the first in a series of trios specializing in nattily tailored interpretations of exquisite standards and underplayed jazz originals by Thad Jones, Monk, Tadd Dameron, Billy Strayhorn, Ellington and others. Flanagan became a fixture in the New York clubs and recorded a string of thrilling albums, mostly for small European labels. Not until 1998, when Blue Note released "The Sunset and the Mockingbird," did a major American label support Flanagan. By then his brilliance was received wisdom.

"Flanagan's position is less a matter of besting the competition than bringing his powers to a peak where competition is irrelevant," critic Gary Giddins wrote a few years ago. "He's perfected his own niche, a style beyond style, where the only appropriate comparisons are between his inspired performances and those that are merely characteristic."

Flanagan's style is deceptive. He is known for his satin touch, but he can play with a cunningly sharp attack and swings as deeply as anyone. He is a child of bebop and a master of bop's rhythmic displacements, harmonic challenges and the horn-like style pioneered by pianist Bud Powell. But Flanagan's roots also reach back to pre-bop pianists like Teddy Wilson, Art Tatum, Fats Waller, the transitional Nat Cole and the early modernist from Pontiac, Hank Jones -- all pianists with active left hands and refined elan.

"I was first influenced by Teddy Wilson," says Flanagan. "He was a firm player, but he also had a beautiful touch. If that's your first inspiration, you really want to improve on it. In the last 20 years or so my volume has increased. In fact, I had a drummer once who left the group because he said the piano was too loud." Flanagan laughs at the irony. "Imagine that -- a drummer telling the piano player he was too loud."

Michael Weiss, one of the legion of younger pianists who revere Flanagan, points out that a large part of his identity is his pianistic approach to dynamics, attack, pedaling and orchestration. "Each note or chord has a carefully considered sonority, as opposed to a generic kind of voicing," says Weiss. "He might start a melody in single-note lines, then play something in thirds, octaves or full chords. That carries over to his improvising. If he's soloing and ascends to a climax, he'll orchestrate that moment -- put a chord under the melody note to color or accent what he's doing."

Flanagan manipulates the keyboard pedals like a classical virtuoso, employing the sustain pedal to connect his ideas in a smooth legato without allowing his notes to bleed into a puddle. "Sometimes guys just come and watch my feet," says Flanagan. "You know, there's a way of breathing when you use the pedals. It's like phrasing."

Flanagan is a handsome, distinguished man, but he is more frail than in years past, and his clothes hang loosely on his small frame. He has a long face, tender eyes, a sweet smile and wears large round glasses. He lost his hair early, and only a wisp of white remains above and behind his ears. A bushy gray mustache almost hides his dimples. Flanagan does nothing in a hurry, least of all talk. He answers questions in stages, leaving long gaps of silence and looking past his interviewer into an undefined middle distance. Still, when the mood strikes, he is an agile conversationalist with a martini-dry wit.

"Tommy may not say much, but when he does speak, it's the truth," says Weiss.

Flanagan has lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan since the 1950s, for the last 25 years on 82nd Street with his wife, Diana, a vivacious woman whom he married in 1976. Married once before, Flanagan and has three children from his first marriage and six grandchildren. The apartment is tastefully decorated and cluttered with Diana's books -- a former singer, she was a literature major in college and devours fiction, poetry, history, biography and music tomes. A Steinway grand piano stands in one corner of the living room opposite a sitting area by the window. Photos of jazz musicians like Charlie Parker and Ellington are scattered about, along with paintings, including a small landscape by Nancy Balliett, wife of New Yorker jazz critic Whitney Balliett. A framed caricature of Flanagan by the cartoonist Al Hirschfeld watches over the piano.

On this afternoon, Flanagan and Diana nuzzle on the sofa while paging through the recently published "Before Motown: A History of Jazz in Detroit, 1920-60" (University of Michigan Press, $24.95). Flanagan points and smiles at the photos of lifelong friends like Barry Harris, Kenny Burrell, Elvin Jones, the late Pepper Adams and others who were part of a remarkable eruption of jazz talent in mid-century Detroit. Diana squeals at the pictures of her husband working around town as a teenager. "Oh, sweetheart! What a darling you were! I would have loved you!"

"Stand in line," Flanagan deadpans.

He lays the book down on a table and begins to reminisce about his salad days. In 1953, he joined the famous house band at the Blue Bird Inn, working alongside saxophonist Billy Mitchell, trumpeter Thad Jones and drummer Elvin Jones. At the Blue Bird, Flanagan first played with many of the musicians with whom he would later work in New York. "I couldn't have gotten very far without those days in Detroit," he says. "We had good role models. They didn't use that term then, but we had some people we respected who played as well as those people who came into town that we'd go see. We had people like Milt Jackson, Yusef Lateef, Lucky Thompson, Wardell Gray."

Flanagan grew up in northeast Detroit in Conant Gardens. He was the last of six children. His father was a postman, and both parents loved music, especially his mother. Flanagan started on the clarinet at 6, but by then he was already climbing up on the piano bench, imitating the lessons he heard his brother practice. Encouraged by his mother, Flanagan started piano lessons at 10 and still has a fondness for Chopin and Ravel. He got interested in jazz when his brother started bringing home the latest Billie Holiday records, which featured Teddy Wilson on piano.

"I've been living with this music since I was 6 years old," he says.

Flanagan attended Northern High School, where pianists Roland Hanna and Bess Bonnier were classmates. In 1949, after Flanagan backed Harry Belafonte at the Flame Show Bar, Belafonte offered him a gig in New York. But Flanagan's mother thought her baby was too young to leave town, so a disappointed Flanagan stayed put. Then he was drafted and spent two years in the Army. When the orders came to ship out to Korea, he wanted to take the newest music with him, so he stuffed Thelonious Monk's Blue Note 78s into his suitcase. Eventually, Flanagan made it to New York, moving there in early 1956. Outside of music and family, his memories of Detroit are not all pleasant.

"I always wished I'd left earlier," he says. "Detroit started to grind on me. There wasn't much freedom to move around. The police were horrible then. They'd hassle you in your own neighborhood. One night when I was about 12, I was walking by a printing shop where they'd found some subversive material and they stopped me, guns drawn. I said, 'What are you going to do? I'm just a kid.' "

In New York, things moved swiftly. Within a year, Flanagan had subbed for Bud Powell at Birdland and recorded with both Davis and Sonny Rollins. He cherishes the memories: At the first recording session with Davis, he recalls, the trumpeter pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket containing a barely legible sketch of Brubeck's "In Your Own Sweet Way." Davis supplied the chord voicings for the famous introduction that Flanagan plays, but Flanagan devised the rhythm.

Then there was the time J.J. Johnson's Quintet alternated sets at the Vanguard with Jack Kerouac, who would read from his books or extemporize. One night, Flanagan, Elvin Jones and Kerouac -- a world-class drinker -- ended up at Flanagan's apartment. "Before the morning was over, Elvin threatened to kill him," Flanagan recalls. "Kerouac said something outrageous and Elvin took offense. I think I did too, but Elvin was more menacing."

Talked out, Flanagan stands up and slowly makes his way to the piano. Stacks of popular songbooks sit on a nearby shelf, and on top of the piano is a folder of compositions by Modern Jazz Quartet founder John Lewis. The pianist had sent the music to Flanagan for a possible CD before his death in March. Flanagan plays a few enigmatic arpeggios before slipping into the the Jimmy McHugh ballad "Where Are You?" with a fanciful twist of harmony that unlocks a back door to the song. He plays a chorus sotto voce and then a second with more volume, dialogue and emotion. The results are so eloquent that a visitor quickly requests "Last Night When We Were Young" to keep Flanagan at the keyboard.

It's an unusually abstract pop song; Harold Arlen's melody and harmony move in odd patterns. Flanagan hasn't played it in ages, and he watches his hands with a puzzled look on his face, as if his fingers belonged to another pianist. When he gets stuck for a note, Diana, who seems to know as many songs as her husband, softly sings Yip Harburg's mature lyric from the sofa. The music shudders with feeling. When it's over, Diana has a tear in her eye and Flanagan a faraway look in his.

((END))

Edited February 28, 2009 by Mark Stryker

[mjzee]

A beautiful article, Mark; thanks.

[jlhoots]

Those of you who receive Hiroshi Tanno's e-mails on Japanese reissues and releases already know this, but Flanagan's Overseas sessions are being reissued once again — this time with the most deluxe treatment I've ever seen from the Japanese market: not one, but three mini-LP covers to accompany the CD. The reason for three? To be faithful to the original release of these recordings as EPs on the Swedish Metronome label, DIW is manufacturing three separate jackets. Now, if they really wanted to be faithful, they could have reissued the music on three 3" CDs! The original covers are indeed classy:

The price tag is hefty — over 3900¥. If someone here decides to splurge, please tells us how all of this packaged! (Um, and you can tell us about the music too. It's one of my favorite Flanagan dates.)

I love Japanese re-issues. :wub:

In the good old days (last year) i'd have certainly bought this.

Right now that's more than I've spent on CDs in the last 3 months.

I hate this economic meltdown more every day.

[AllenLowe]

I love his playing and he was a nice and very gentle guy - used to complain that Ella Fitzgerald (whom he worked for for a long time) sang the same "improvisations" over and over again -

[Late]

In the good old days (last year), I'd have certainly bought this.

Right now that's more than I've spent on CDs in the last 3 months.

The actual price is 3990¥, which is approximately $40.89 (U.S.) — plus whatever shipping charges come with it. It'll be interesting to see what Dusty Groove charges for it (if they stock it). I'm guessing something like $45.99.

I've had the music for a long time now. Must resist Japanese packaging fetishism! (At that price, it's actually not too hard to resist.)

[jlhoots]

In the good old days (last year), I'd have certainly bought this.

Right now that's more than I've spent on CDs in the last 3 months.

The actual price is 3990¥, which is approximately $40.89 (U.S.) — plus whatever shipping charges come with it. It'll be interesting to see what Dusty Groove charges for it (if they stock it). I'm guessing something like $45.99.

I've had the music for a long time now. Must resist Japanese packaging fetishism! (At that price, it's actually not too hard to resist.)

I know the conversion rates.

$45 is more than I've spent in the last 3 months on CDs.

I'll probably stick with my OJC copy.

[Late]

In the good old days (last year), I'd have certainly bought this.

Right now that's more than I've spent on CDs in the last 3 months.

The actual price is 3990¥, which is approximately $40.89 (U.S.) — plus whatever shipping charges come with it. It'll be interesting to see what Dusty Groove charges for it (if they stock it). I'm guessing something like $45.99.

I've had the music for a long time now. Must resist Japanese packaging fetishism! (At that price, it's actually not too hard to resist.)

I know the conversion rates.

$45 is more than I've spent in the last 3 months on CDs.

I'll probably stick with my OJC copy.

Right — wasn't meaning to instruct. Just talkin' to the board. I'm in the same boat.

[Cliff Englewood]

I've had the music for a long time now. Must resist Japanese packaging fetishism! (At that price, it's actually not too hard to resist.)

This is one of the hardest things to resist, it's such a problem I'm thinking of starting some kind of a 12 step program for it, but when it's one of your favorites.... oh well.... :rolleyes:

Always liked this one;

It's basically this one, with four Thad Jones tracks added;

[king ubu]

Are the four Thad Jones tracks the one from the United Artists album? If so, that may be my favourite Thad Jones small group date! Fantastic one, and to me I think the highlight of the (terrific!) Thad Jones Blue Note/UA/Roulette Mosaic!

(And mind me, much better than most anything ever committed to disc by Donald Byrd... I mean I like Byrd, I'm on record stating that here, I guess multiple times, but Thad in those years, he was just awesome in a small group setting!)

[king ubu]

I love his playing and he was a nice and very gentle guy - used to complain that Ella Fitzgerald (whom he worked for for a long time) sang the same "improvisations" over and over again -

Yeah well, he worked with Ella a tad too long, maybe, no? Too gentle to step out into the spotlight?

One of my favourites of his is the self-titled Bennie Wallace album on AudioQuest - marvellous Flanagan on that one! A good pairing, come to think of it, Wallace with his huge, somewhat old-fashioned sound, works very nicely with Flanagan! (And with the great Lou Levy on "Old Songs", another fine AudioQuest album of Wallace's.)

[Tom Storer]

Thanks for that nice article, Mark!

One of Flanagan's quips that I liked: he'd play a Charlie Parker tune, then look out at the audience and say, "That was bebop. You know bebop, right? It's the music from before the Beatles... and after the Beatles."

A memorable concert I saw in Paris was a tribute to Coltrane, probably X years after his birth or death, don't remember... Flanagan, don't recall the bassist, Jimmy Cobb, and on tenor, George Coleman and James Moody. It was a fabulous concert, with Flanagan reminiscing about Coltrane in between tunes. ("That was John's tune 'Cousin Mary.' He named it after his cousin, Mary.")

John Litwack and I used to go see him with his trio when they passed through Paris. Total class. I have a copy of "Sunset and the Mockingbird" signed by Flanagan, Washington and Nash!

[John L]

John Litwack and I used to go see him with his trio when they passed through Paris. Total class. I have a copy of "Sunset and the Mockingbird" signed by Flanagan, Washington and Nash!

Those were the days!

[Peter Friedman]

The article by Mark was excellent. It brought back many memories of the times I have seen Tommy Flanagan. I grew up in Detroit and had the great fortune to develop an interest in jazz in the 1950's when so many great players were living in The Motor City. Tommy was one of them and I quickly became a major fan of his playing. From about 1953 till he left for NYC in 1956

I saw him play numerous times. In later years I have seen him play at a small private concert in Toronto, at Bradley's in NYC among other venues. I even recall seeing him play with the Oscar Pettiford Big Band in NYC at (what I think was) Town Hall in about 1956.

My collection of Tommy Flanagan's recordings as both leader and sideman is close to complete. On my shelf there are also a large number of private recordings by Tommy that I have acquired over the years.

One of the great things about Tommy's playing is how well it fits with such a diverse range of musicians. He sounds great with Sonny Rollins, Pee Wee Russell,Gerry Mulligan,Budd Johnson, Miles Davis, Coltrane, Coleman Hawkins, Roy Eldridge, Benny Wallace, Kenny Dorham, Milt Jackson, Joe Newman,Johnny Griffin, Zoot Sims, Dizzy Gillespie, Benny Carter, Gene Ammons, Illinois Jacquet, Phil Woods,Buck Clayton, JJ Johnson, Pepper Adams,Stanley Turrentine, Jimmy Heath, Booker Little, Scott Hamilton, Art Pepper, Thad Jones, Kenny Burrell, Donald Byrd, J.R. Monterose and many many others.

[georgez]

Listening to the OJC of The Cats right now, and started thinking about Flanagan. In some ways, he reminds me of Roy Haynes: impeccable taste, a refined touch, and not always a prominent profile when it comes to discussing improvised music. He is certainly a master, however.

Sometimes I hear Flanagan's playing as a contemporaneous extension of Hank Jones's ideas. What do you think?

Any special affection? Any particular albums that are favorites? (I imagine there could be a lot to list.) I'm also interested in reading what you all think about his contributions on Giant Steps.

[fomafomic65]

I love the late Flanagan best.

Just tonight I was driving to work, listening Jeff 'Tain' Watts' cd 'Megawatts'. The awesome performance of Kenny Kirkland here reminded me of the magnificient Flanagan's soloing on Giant Steps (Enja). That exciting sense of everlasting swing, relax/tension with endless ideas... Not frequent to be heard like that, in my limited knowledge. Flanagan was The Master. I love his late Enjas like Giant Steps, Thelonica and Let's; my jazz piano masterpieces.

[trpt2345]

The last fifteen years or so of his life Tommy was at the pinnacle of jazz piano. The trio with Peter Washington and Lewis Nash was perfect, so swinging. All the recordings mentioned are fabulous; if all you know of his work is Saxophone Colossus or Giant Steps there's SO much more.

[Late]

Been paying attention to Flanagan on All Day Long and Burrell's Prestige 7088. Refined, but so damn hip. Sometimes it's a lot of fun to listen to a record not so much for its solos, but for the comping (of the pianist). I'd forgotten I started this thread ... ten years ago.

[Gheorghe]

As many others, I own very much material with Tommy Flanagan as a sideman, but don´t have dates where he was the leader. But that´s mostly my own fault, since I don´t buy very much piano-trio.

I´d like to mention a lesser known date, it´s maybe the only occasion Flanagan recorded with Miles in a Studio: The 1956 date from "Collector´s Items" (Weird Blues, No Line, In You Own Sweet Way). I particularly like the stuff Flanagan is playing on that date, especially his lovely solo on the medium tempo "Weird Blues"

But I heard him as a trio unit live in 1985. It was one of those big festivals we had then, with almost everybody...... Miles, Astrud Gilberto, Pharoah Sanders, Jackie McLean, Lou Donaldson, Jimmie Witherspoon, Charlie Harden, the MJQ........, everybody ......., and a Tommy Flanagan Trio , really great with nobody less than George Mraz and Art Taylor. They really cooked. I think it was the best trio I ever heard......