The Penguin Jazz Guide (117 page)

ROSWELL RUDD
^&

Born 17 November 1935, Sharon, Connecticut

Trombone

Blown Bone

Emanem 4131

Rudd; Enrico Rava (t); Steve Lacy (ss, perc); Kenny Davern (cl, ss); Robin Kenyatta (as); Tyrone Washington (ts); Patti Bown (p); Karl Berger (vib); Louisiana Red (g, v); Wilbur Little, Lewis Worrell, Richard Youngstein (b); Horace Arnold, Paul Motian (d); Jordan Steckel (perc); Sheila Jordan (v). September 1967 & March 1976.

Roswell Rudd says:
‘It was originally released on Nippon Phonogram only, and remained virtually unknown to the rest of the planet. When the exclusivity expired, I took it around, but no takers until Martin Davidson – my hero! He liked it and ingeniously digitized what remained from quarter-inch audition tapes. Some of the folks particularly responsible for my musical development are with me here: Kenny Davern, Sheila Jordan and Steve Lacy.’

Rudd made his professional debut with Eli’s Chosen Six and, despite his adherence to the avant-garde, his approach always suggests a return to the primordial simplicities of early jazz, using slurs and growls, blustering swing and a big, sultry tone. He made frustratingly few recordings of his own since his work with the New York Art Quartet and Archie Shepp in the ’60s announced a marvellously vivid and unpredictable spirit on an unfashionable horn. The trombone went pretty much out of favour with bebop; along with Julian Priester, Curtis Fuller and Albert Mangelsdorff, Rudd was one of the few significant exponents between the heyday of J. J. Johnson and the emergence of younger voices like Ray Anderson
and Robin Eubanks. He did make some terrific albums, including 1974’s glorious
Flexible Flyer
with Sheila Jordan, but apart from a few appearances with Steve Lacy (mostly playing Thelonious Monk music), Rudd didn’t record under his own name between 1982 and 1996.

The work on
Blown Bone
is mostly from consecutive days in March 1976, with the tight quartet of the first day augmented on the following by extra horns, keyboard and others. The 11-minute ‘It’s Happening’ is almost worth the whole set. It’s a brisk, boppish theme, derived from a suite dedicated to Albert Ayler, and driven along by Little and Motian. Rudd’s opening solo is no mean thing, but it’s knocked for six by Rava’s wryly majestic statement and then by a completely outrageous Lacy solo which seems to use the entire range of the horn, right down to tenorish growls, as well as sucked tones, perfectly controlled squeaks and pure breath sounds.

Sheila Jordan returns for the next two tracks, ‘Blues For The Planet Earth’ and ‘You Blew It’, conventional enough ecological laments redeemed by Sheila’s extraordinary delivery and the free-form accompaniment. A single track from 1967 follows, with Kenyatta on alto, Karl Berger on vibraphone, two basses and percussion. The remainder of the set features a mid-size group. Rava didn’t make the date, but Washington and the ever-exploring Davern are both there, with Bown on electric piano. Bata drummer Steckel is on ‘Bethesda Fountain’ only; on that track, Rudd tinkers with a thumb piano and assorted percussion. The oddity is ‘Cement Blues’, which is basically a vocal feature for Louisiana Red, but a useful reminder of how rooted Rudd was in vernacular forms. By the same token, ‘Street Walking’ is old-fashioned swing, with just a few modern accents thrown in and only marred by the celeste-like tinkle of the electric keyboard.

& See also
The Unheard Herbie Nichols
(1996; p. 612)

CHARLES TYLER

Born 20 July 1941, Cadiz, Kentucky; died 27 June 1992, Toulon, France

Baritone saxophone

Saga Of The Outlaws

Nessa 16

Tyler; Earl Cross (t); John Ore, Ronnie Boykins (b); Steve Reid (d). May 1976.

Charles Tyler said (1981):
‘All music is a call to arms in my view, or at least a call to rise up against the systems.’

The key experience of Tyler’s life was meeting Albert Ayler, with whom he later recorded. Tyler moved to Cleveland in 1960 and became part of the scene there. He moved restlessly around, always following the most interesting musical promises of the moment, but never quite received the recognition that he was due.

The early ESP discs are intriguing but as skimpy as anything in that catalogue. The records didn’t exactly pour out after that, and
Saga Of The Outlaws
is a lucky survival, subtitled ‘a polyphonic saga of the old & new West’. It was recorded live at the legendary Studio RivBea, and unfolds from a clarion in-gathering at the beginning to a pungent vernacular narrative in the middle. The set consists of one continuous performance and the energies flow back and forth between Tyler and Cross, with Reid (a significant figure today) doing much of the supportive work. The basses are muddily recorded, which makes sorting out what each man does rather difficult, but their deep rumble is always redolent of marching feet and galloping hooves and helps give the performance its sense of unstoppable impetus.

DOC CHEATHAM

Born Adolphus Anthony Cheatham, 13 June 1905, Nashville, Tennessee; died 2 June 1997, Washington DC

Trumpet

Duets And Solos

Sackville SKCD 5002 2CD

Cheatham; Sam Price (p). November 1976–November 1979.

Trumpeter (and Cheatham collaborator) Nicholas Payton said (1998):
‘He was just the warmest, sweetest guy to be around, but it was also like talking to a history book. He went all the way back …’

Doc started out in burlesque shows, backing Bessie Smith, but also played with McKinney’s Cotton Pickers and with Cab Calloway, two remarkable crucibles of new jazz talent, before striking out on his own in 1926 in emulation of Louis Armstrong. There were hiatuses along the way, and Doc found himself playing in some strange situations, but he was still working in his 80s and 90s, with a revered weekly gig in Greenwich Village.

Cheatham was one of the most enduring jazz musicians of his time – and his time seemed to span much of the history of the music. He was recording in the late ’20s and his studio work of 60 years later shows little deterioration. He was rediscovered in the ’70s after many years of society band work, and it’s not so much that one feels sentimental attachment to such a veteran, but that Doc’s sound represents an art which died out in modern jazz: the sweet, lyrically hot sound of a swing-era man.

Not until the ’70s was he heard at any length as a leader. An earlier Black & Blue group date with Sam Price is rough and ready, not least because Price’s piano is only approximately tuned, but
Duets And Solos
is arguably his most valuable recording, since it both recalls an earlier age – the format recalls Armstrong and Hines, with rags, stomps, blues and whiskery pop – and sits comfortably in modern sound, with a knowing sagacity as well. Price is fine, and often better than on his own recordings; 12 piano solos fill out spare space on the second disc.

ARNE DOMNÉRUS

Also known as Dompan; born 20 December 1924, Stockholm, Sweden; died 2 September 2008, Stockholm, Sweden

Alto saxophone, clarinet

Jazz At The Pawnshop

Proprius PRCD 9044 / 9058 / 7778 / 7779 4CD/LP/SACD

Domnérus; Bengt Hallberg (p); Lars Erstrand (vib); Georg Riedel (b); Egil Johansen (d). December 1976.

Pastor Kjell Brøgger says:
‘I always believed that statement about jazz being the “Devil’s music” until I heard Dompan playing in a little church in the north. There was praise and sorrow in it, a real link between the physical and spiritual worlds.’

The 25-year-old’s appearance at the Paris Jazz Fair wakened an interest in Swedish jazz. He honed his technique with the Swedish Radio Big Band, but ‘Dompan’’s small-group playing, influenced by bop and Scandinavian folk forms, established a reputation that has lasted for almost half a century. On saxophone and clarinet, he is crisp, light-toned and nimble. ‘Jazz is Melody, Swing and Vitality’, and Dompan’s approach marks a shift away from the dominant bop influence of the early ’50s in Scandinavia. Early records have him sounding
closer to Benny Carter than to Parker in his phrasing, with a wan, meditative quality that frequently refers to diatonic folk themes and hymn tunes. For a time, he performed regularly in ‘sacred concerts’ that combined jazz and liturgical materials.

Here he is, though, in his most successful setting, a two-day club date recorded
in extenso
, and playing in the best and most sympathetic of company. Remarkably, the original
Jazz At The Pawnshop
, now available complete with the addition of later volumes from the residency, sold more than half a million copies, almost unbelievable for a record of Scandinavian bop. Sticking to the original LP, it kicks off with a rousing version of ‘Limehouse Blues’ that thanks to Hallberg’s altered chords – the pianist is immense throughout – takes on an unexpected new direction. ‘Jeep’s Blues’, ‘Take Five’, ‘Oh, Lady Be Good’ and ‘Stuffy’ suggest that this is a something-for-everyone record and the suggestion isn’t unwarranted; one doesn’t shift half a million units of hard and noisy abstraction. We are unprepared to criticize
Jazz At The Pawnshop
for popularity, or to imply that it’s a lowest common denominator approximation of bop. It is a genuinely fine record. A later ‘Mood Indigo’ is perhaps the cut-out-and-keep track, but we retain an affection for the very first disc and for most tastes it will suffice.

JAN GARBAREK
^&

Born 4 March 1947, Mysen, Norway

Tenor and soprano saxophones, other instruments

Dis

ECM 827408-2

Garbarek; Ralph Towner (g, 12-string g); wind hp; brass sextet. December 1976.

Saxophonist Tommy Smith says:
‘The wind harp that is featured on
Dis
was perched on the side of a cliff top to allow the wind to penetrate the strings. I love this eerie and haunting sound that captures the true nature of nature without any special effects.’

Garbarek is one of the best-known, and certainly one of the most easily identified, improvising musicians in the world. His high, keening saxophone, with the familiar ECM reverb, has acquired an international resonance and has exerted as strong an influence on a generation of horn-players (Tommy Smith not least) as Michael Brecker’s. If you know it is Garbarek, it will evoke Nordic landscapes; if not, it can suggest anything, desert or tundra, the wastes of Africa or northern steppes, and it’s music that has turned up on more than a few wildlife and travel soundtracks. Few artists of his stature have stayed loyal to a single record label throughout their careers, to their mutual benefit. With the release of the early-music project
Officium
in the mid-’90s, Garbarek followed Keith Jarrett into immense crossover success.

Like so many Scandinavian musicians of his generation, Garbarek studied and played with George Russell, was a member of Jarrett’s European quartet, and also recorded with Karin Krog. For most of his career, though, he has been a leader, moving into areas remote from jazz at some periods – Nordic vernacular music, early music – but always returning to that spring for refreshment. After a half-dozen albums for ECM, including the beautiful
Afric Pepperbird
and the unexpectedly funky
Witchi-Tai-To
, Garbarek and Ralph Towner, another of the label’s stars, created an album that for some sums up the chimerical ‘ECM sound’. Few modern jazz records have been as thoroughly plundered for soundtrack cameos as
Dis
. The copyright kickbacks notwithstanding, it’s a beautiful album, quintessential Garbarek pitched against a wind harp (recorded at the top of a fjord, with the winds from the North Sea gusting in), guitar and a softly articulated brass ensemble. It established a style which the saxophonist was to return to many times, spells and riddles on soprano saxophone (and wood flute) and a deep, mourning tone that drifts over the rhythm. Hearing it in fragments does little justice to its consistency and thoughtfulness. Though it lacks the
obvious apparatus of a jazz record – themes, solos, a ‘rhythm section’ – it has a powerful improvisatory presence that strikes deep with each fresh approach.

& See also
Twelve Moons
(1993; p. 575)

DICK WELLSTOOD

Born 25 November 1927, Greenwich, Connecticut; died 24 July 1987, Palo Alto, California

Piano

A Night In Dublin

Arbors ARCD 19241

Wellstood (p solo). February 1977.

Dick Wellstood said (1979):
‘I love them all, but maybe Fats [Waller] is my idol for the way he took so much really terrible material – and in some terrible places – but made something great and grand out of it. That’s the jazz musician’s art.’

A witty writer and dry humorist, and Wellstood’s early death when still in great form was a loss to the music. A young upholder of swing and mainstream values, he was much prized as band player and accompanist and left a solid legacy of recordings. A jobbing musician who was content to play supper club dates, parties and tribute recordings to great predecessors like Waller, James P. Johnson and Art Tatum, Dick Wellstood is easily underestimated. Always up for a gig though he may have been, he was also a practising lawyer, and his easy, engaging stride approach masks a steel-trap understanding of every wrinkle of piano jazz, an eclecticism that allows him to play in virtually every idiom, from early ragtime to quasi-modal compositions from the shores opposite bop.