The Penguin Jazz Guide (141 page)

Concord founder and president Carl Jefferson said (1987):
‘He’s hailed as a terrific up-tempo and mid-tempo player, but for me Scott is
the
balladeer of this generation … maybe of any generation!’

It might seem perverse to devote another entry to an artist who at first blush didn’t develop or evolve in any essential way since his first recordings. The fact is, he may not have changed much as a technician, and certainly hasn’t embraced harmolodics or any other avant-garde philosophy, but Hamilton has grown in both stature and depth and the late Carl Jefferson’s verdict on him, which anticipated this recording, is well taken.

For many fans, this is Hamilton’s best record, not because the ballad programme offers paths of least resistance, but simply because this is the sort of material which allows him to show off his strengths: harmonic subtlety at the kind of tempo where any hint of fudge would show, almost seamless transitions between ideas, and an ability to invest a familiar melody with maximum expression. ‘Round Midnight’ and ‘In A Sentimental Mood’ are read with an intriguing slant which freshens up the Monk tune considerably. ‘Two Eighteen’, dedicated to Hamilton’s wife (and we suspect it may refer to the number of a honeymoon suite), is surprisingly his first recorded composition; it doesn’t suggest a writing talent commensurate with his playing skills, but it’s a fine piece nevertheless. The Don Byas-associated ‘Laura’ and an oblique ‘Body And Soul’ (also considerably freshened) were added only when
Ballads
was transferred to CD. This seems odd, because these are the outstanding performances on the record and, we hear, are much enjoyed by Don and Bean up in heaven.

& See also
From The Beginning
(1977, 1978; p. 445)

TIM BERNE

Born 1954, Syracuse, New York

Alto and baritone saxophones

Fractured Fairy Tales

Winter & Winter 919030

Berne; Herb Robertson (t, laryngeal crowbar); Hank Roberts (clo, elec); Mark Dresser (b, giffus, bungy); Joey Baron (d, elec). June 1989.

Tim Berne said (2001):
‘That record was a turn-around for me. After that the writing got much denser, everything got longer, with ideas branching out of each other, rather than just themes and solos.’

Berne has never been considered one of the great instrumentalists of modern jazz, but his ability to shape a dense, hyperactive ensemble sound is second to none and his dogged self-determination and application to a starkly challenging idiom commend him as an experimenter. Berne has long been devoted to the compositions of Julius Hemphill, a stern master for any musician. While most players of his generation were turned on by
A Love Supreme
or
Ascension
, for Berne it was Hemphill’s
Dogon A.D.
For a number of years at the turn of the ’80s, he released records as an unsigned independent and has returned to that more recently with the formation of his Screwgun label, which has put out a steady stream of unapologetically ugly and uncompromising music. He made some records for Soul Note, a regular resort for creative Americans, before signing up with JMT, a short-lived but always fascinating imprint. Much of its catalogue has been brought back to life by Winter & Winter.

With
Fractured Fairy Tales
Berne began to create the kind of work he would be associated with in the ’90s with almost every piece of any length seeming like a miniature suite of wild dances, free passages and strange sounds (note the array of unusual ‘instruments’ in the personnel listing above). ‘Evolution Of A Pearl’ is a two-part epic that over 19 minutes manages to find a way from
musique concrète
to funk. ‘The Telex Blues’ uses processed speech (laryngeal crowbar?) to create a strangely alienating world of non-communication that comes close to summing up Berne’s aesthetic of the time. ‘Hong Kong Sad Song’/‘More Coffee’ is a crazed medley on which Robertson does some kind of Miles Davis thing with a wah-wah. Berne’s solo is as far from Johnny Hodges as it is possible to get on an alto saxophone. Few artists divided the authors more completely. Both were and are admirers, but we tended to admire quite different records and as our minds and opinions changed, as change they must, we tended to go to opposite poles. This one, though, was one of the few where a consensus prevailed: an important modern record, tough-going and almost perverse, but packed with innate musicianship and an increasingly distinctive vision.

PUTTE WICKMAN

Born Hans-Olof Wickman, 10 September 1924, Falun, Sweden; died 14 February 2006, Stockholm

Clarinet

Some O’ This And Some O’ That

Dragon DRCD 187

Wickman; Roger Kellaway (p); Red Mitchell (b). June 1989.

Saxophonist Mats Gustaffson says:
‘A true virtuoso, also known for his love of large American cars, touring around in a variety of Mercurys, Dodges and Chryslers in the ’50s. He also introduced one of the greatest Swedish musicians ever! Wickman’s 1960 EP
Blue Room
has the young Eje Thelin playing trombone and making arrangements.’

One of the godfathers of postwar Swedish jazz, Wickman styled himself a swing player at first but – despite the unfashionable nature of his instrument – he increasingly adopted a personal take on the cooler side of bebop language. He spent time away from jazz – even leading a gospel group at one stage – but to the end of his long career he seemed fully aware of every kind of development in the music. There was a resurgence in later years, some recognition in America and the kind of respect shown to a touring jazzman who would turn up immaculately groomed whatever the venue and play with absolute conviction and impeccable chops.

Not nearly enough of an extensive discography survives in circulation, but the later Dragons find him in excellent fettle. A duo set with Red Mitchell is momentarily troubled by the bassist’s capricious streak: his fascination with the lowest register sometimes strays
into indulgence, and the huffing momentum won’t be to all tastes. When Kellaway joins in, the music spreads itself out (eight pieces take 72 minutes here, whereas there are 13 in 68 minutes on the duo record), and Kellaway’s extravagant imagination is perfectly checked by Wickman’s insidious, wily lines. The recording is sometimes a little flat, since both discs were made in Red Mitchell’s apartment rather than a studio, but it suits the intimacy of the music.

RICHARD DAVIS

Born 15 April 1930, Chicago, Illinois

Double bass

One For Frederick

Hep CD 2047

Davis; Cecil Bridgewater (t); Ricky Ford (ts); Sir Roland Hanna (p); Frederick Waits (d). July 1989.

Richard Davis said (1999):
‘Ahmad Jamal was my first big job, something that went beyond local. He once said to me: “You want to know my favourite bass-player? … You are, because you’re working with me.” That was a lesson right there, the idea that you have to confront and work with the people you have around you; no one else matters.’

Also Stravinsky’s favourite bass-player, Davis draws somewhat on the example of fellow Chicagoan Wilbur Ware, bringing considerable rhythmic virtuosity and a tremendous range of pitches and timbre, both
arco
and plucked. He remains best known to modern jazz fans for his role on Eric Dolphy’s
Out To Lunch!
session and on other key recordings of that period, but in addition to a distinguished career as an educator Davis has sustained a modest recording career under his own name, all the way back to the unsatisfactory
Heavy Sounds
with Elvin Jones on Impulse! in 1967. As with many American musicians of his generation, Davis had to look to European and Japanese labels for support. This Hep recording and the slightly earlier
Persia My Dear
are perhaps his best showing, in this case abetted rather than hindered by the live recording at the Sweet Basil.

The date features a regular group of the time, one that was very underrated, and is dedicated to the drummer, who died some four months later. Waits’s introduction to ‘City Bound’ (and to the album) is very strong, and he turns in a fine accelerated solo on ‘Brownie Speaks’. There are some unusual items in the programme: ‘Every Time We Say Goodbye’ is followed by the unusual ‘Sunrise’. Bridgewater contributes a typically strong line (one can imagine it popping up in one of his solos) on ‘As I Live And Breathe’. The chord sequence isn’t unfamiliar but the distribution is. At the heart of all this, Davis himself is all calm and assurance, playing with a big, sure tone and putting himself in the forefront only when there is something positive to say. His solos are savvy and well-crafted, but they have a tinge of humour, too, as if to say: I know this is only the
bass
solo, but did you know we could do
this
, and sing pretty as well?

STANLEY COWELL

Born 5 May 1941, Toledo, Ohio

Piano

Sienna

Steeplechase SCCD 31253

Cowell; Ron McClure (b); Keith Copeland (d). July 1989.

Stanley Cowell said (1999):
‘I’m often asked about teaching, as if it’s somehow taking something away from the playing. Quite the opposite. When I’m teaching, I feel I’m learning, so much of the benefit flows back to me.’

One of jazz’s genuine thinking musicians, Cowell had a background in classical performance as well as a jazz apprenticeship. At six, he saw Art Tatum and was hooked; it was his first and main influence, but it isn’t one that necessarily stands out in the mature work, which is sombre-toned and makes use of wide intervals and unusual overlapping steps in the sequence. Bud Powell is also discernible in the DNA. He was a member of Music Inc. and with Charles Tolliver founded the influential musician-led label Strata East. He has taught at the City University of New York and the New England Conservatory and is valued as a teacher whose musical range goes well beyond jazz, into modern composition, electronics and music history.

For too long, Cowell’s recorded output was restricted to work as a jobbing sideman on the Galaxy label. Even now, a substantial proportion of his work as leader is out of print.
Sienna
is his finest moment on record (though the Maybeck Hall recital has him in an ideal acoustic on a superb piano). The Steeplechase date, which ushered in a period of intense activity in the studio, is a tightly marshalled and endlessly inventive session. The two opening tracks, ‘Cal Massey’ and the gentle ballad ‘I Think It’s Time To Say Goodbye’, take the measure of Cowell’s broad expressive range. Copeland deserves to be better known. He seems a little out of place on the slower tracks, a couple of which might better have been done as duos with McClure, but his abrupt unison accents on ‘Evidence’ are startlingly effective: quite the best version of Monk’s tune since the master’s own. A long ‘I Concentrate On You’ adds nothing much to the hundreds that have gone before, waffling round the chords almost distractedly, but with the title-track, one of a cycle of ‘Sienna’-related compositions, and the closing ‘Dis Place’ Cowell lets loose his remarkable harmonic and rhythmic intelligence.

HANK JONES

Born 31 July 1918, Vicksburg, Mississippi; died 16 May 2010, New York City

Piano

Lazy Afternoon

Concord CCD 4391

Jones; Ken Peplowski (as, cl); Dave Holland (b); Keith Copeland (d). July 1989.

Hank Jones said (1990):
‘Tatum was always number one, but I listened to Teddy Wilson and admired that very elegant approach. When bebop – and I don’t like the word – came along, some of that elegance was thrown away, and that was a pity.’

The oldest, and last surviving, of the Jones brothers is as quiet and unassuming as Elvin was extrovert, but he shares something of Thad’s sophistication. Hank served his time in territory bands before joining the remarkable cohort of Detroit pianists who emerged after the war.

A bopper with an elegant touch and a nice sense of space and timing, he was a valued group player and accompanist, but never quite made the solo statement one might have expected of him. The piano recitals all tend to the polite. Hank had been recording for 40 years when he made this one.
Lazy Afternoon
is a peach: warm, vibrant jazz with the modulation and pace of a good club date. Jones is generous with solo space for his sidemen, though his unusual approach to Kurt Weill’s ‘Speak Low’ is marred by an intrusive solo from the otherwise excellent Copeland. Holland and the drummer had acted as the pianist’s performing trio, with an evident empathy; quite properly, the bassist is featured strongly, with particularly fine excursions on J. J. Johnson’s ‘Lament’, and the succeeding
‘Comin’ Home Baby’. Jones’s fine touch as a colourist is evident on the title-track, where a hint of celeste under Ken Peplowski’s smooth clarinet spices what might have been a bland idea.
Lazy Afternoon
and the 1977
Rockin’ In Rhythm
are also available as a two-header called
The Touch
.

CARLO ACTIS DATO

Born 21 March 1952, Torino, Italy

Tenor and baritone saxophones, bass clarinet

Ankara Twist

Splasc(h) H 302

Dato; Piero Ponzo (cl, bcl, as, bs, f); Enrico Fazio (b); Fiorenzo Sordini (d). October 1989.

Carlo Actis Dato says:
‘Con il quartetto abbiamo vinto una scommessa: riuscire a rendere divertente una musica “difficile”. Ritmo e melodie ispirati a musiche al di fuori del “jazz”, molto prima che la “world music” diventasse di moda, perlomeno in Europa.’