The Penguin Jazz Guide (45 page)

& See also
Art Tatum 1933–1934
(1933–1934; p. 44)

MEL POWELL

Born Melvin Epstein, 12 February 1923, New York City; died 24 April 1998, Los Angeles, California

Piano

Borderline-Thigamagig

Vanguard VRS 8051

Powell; Ruby Braff (t); Paul Quinichette (ts); Bobby Donaldson (d). August 1954.

Ruby Braff recalled:
‘Man, Mel played so smoothly that the music flowed like cat piss on velvet.’

In 1990, already suffering the effects of muscular dystrophy, Mel Powell received the Pulitzer Prize for his
Duplicates
, a meaty concerto for two pianos and orchestra. Since the ’70s, he had been recognized primarily as a straight composer. However, Powell has an almost legendary standing in the jazz world. He started out with George Brunis, Zutty Singleton and Bobby Hackett, and did duty as the intermission piano-player at Nick’s club. Later, as an arranger for his friend Benny Goodman, he worked on such peerless charts as ‘Clarinade’ and ‘The Earl’. Powell also worked for Glenn Miller and under Raymond Scott in the CBS orchestra. In 1952, though his jazz activities continued for a time, he began to study formal composition under Paul Hindemith at Yale.

A highly personal amalgam of Tatum (the virtuosity) and Teddy Wilson (the effortlessly
driving swing), Powell’s piano technique is spoken of with awe, but his records of the late ’40s and ’50s, once greatly prized, are scarcely known now. Perhaps the best general survey of his early career is
Piano Prodigy
, a compilation on the Spanish label Ocium, an imprint that always offers an interesting CD-Rom component. But that fine disc stops in 1948. Powell had recorded six years earlier for Commodore, a wartime swing classic with a part for Goodman, but already he was showing signs of a technique and ideas disconcertingly prescient of his illustrious namesake; but where Bud Powell’s technique was often wayward, Mel floated through awkward cross-handed passages with a fleet intelligence. There was, to be sure, something slightly superficial about it, especially if you take the norm in jazz to be the sometimes neurotic inscapes of bebop, but there was no mistaking the sheer quality of ‘Blue Skies (Trumpets No End)’ or ‘The World Is Waiting For The Sunrise’.

For us, though, the best of Powell’s records are the bassless trios made as part of a run of LPs for John Hammond Sr. Powell was heard with Ruby Braff and Bobby Donaldson on
Borderline
, Paul Quinichette less successfully on
Thigamagig
. These were brought together as a Vanguard CD which has now been superseded by a pair of compilations which bring together the best of the Hammond material, not just the trios but also material from
Out On A Limb, Bandstand
and
Septet.
These are called
The Best Things In Life
and
It’s Been So Long
and they make a good substitute for our favoured listing.

There are surprisingly few Powell originals among the trios, just the two title-tracks, the languidly ironic ‘Bouquet’ and the astringent ‘Quin And Sonic’, but it is in his approach to standard material like ‘California, Here I Come’ and ‘Makin’ Whoopee’ that his qualities as an arranger and performer come across most clearly. The absence of a bass obviously throws some further weight on the piano left hand, and Powell’s ability to state a clear and mobile bass-line while improvising with both hands is one of his most remarkable skills. If there is such a thing as ‘progressive jazz’, then this, rather than the bland referencing of Stravinsky fashionable at the same period, has to be it. Powell’s perhaps not the warmest, or the most emotionally involving, player, but his work has qualities often overlooked in jazz: wit, irony and a fine analytic intelligence.

JAMES MOODY

Born 26 May 1925, Savannah, Georgia

Tenor, alto and soprano saxophones, flute

Moody’s Mood For Blues

Original Jazz Classics OJCCD 1837

Moody; Dave Burns (t); William Shepherd (tb); Pee Wee Moore (bs); Sadik Hakim, Jimmy Boyd (p); John Latham (b); Joe Harris, Clarence Johnson (d); Eddie Jefferson, Iona Wade (v). January, April & September 1954, January 1955.

James Moody said (1992):
‘I maybe sound the way I do because I’m a little deaf and don’t hear high sounds so well. Low sounds, I’m OK with, but I think you hear the difference on flute, where I don’t play way up there because I can’t hear it.’

Initially influenced by Lester Young, ‘Moody’ – which is how he prefers to be addressed – devised a harder and more abrasive tone, but then also majored on flute. His solo on ‘I’m In The Mood For Love’ became the basis of the vocalese fad. After a spell with Dizzy Gillespie’s orchestra, he spent some time in Europe (France and Sweden) at the end of the ’40s, but came back at the height of the bebop explosion.

Moody’s Moods For Blues
usefully puts together two short LPs from the period. They are
performed in a style that draws somewhat on R&B but with a boppish fire, too. ‘It Might As Well Be Spring’ is included in both alto and tenor versions, quite an interesting comparison. He’s joined on the extra ‘I Got The Blues’ by Eddie Jefferson, who reworked a vocal version of the hit, thereby (allegedly) giving King Pleasure the idea for adding his own lyrics to bebop tunes. Moody has a strongly vocalized tone and frequently appears to shape a solo to the lyric of a tune rather than simply to the chords or the written melody, and that vocalized sound is perhaps more evident on his alto-playing, though he even adapts it later in his career to flute, using a ‘legitimate’ version of Roland Kirk’s vocalization. The saxophonist was off the scene for much of the ’70s, certainly as far as significant recording was concerned, and his reputation went into something of a decline. Nevertheless, he proved to be a great survivor and still goes strong, still making compelling music in which playfulness and a certain dark sensibility vie for the foreground.

ART BLAKEY
^&

Also known as Abdullah ibn Buhaina; born 11 October 1919, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; died 16 October 1990, New York City

Drums

A Night At Birdland: Volumes 1 & 2

Blue Note 32146 / 32147

Blakey; Clifford Brown (t); Lou Donaldson (as); Horace Silver (p); Curley Russell (b). February 1954.

Blue Note owner Alfred Lion said (1980):
‘At first, we didn’t want to make club recordings. They seemed the opposite of what we did at Blue Note, making records in good sound and with time for rehearsal of the music. But I guess it turned out pretty good!’

Self-taught as a pianist, Blakey led his own band at 15 and switched to drums when Erroll Garner came in. In NY he joined the Eckstine band and stayed till 1947, then freelanced until the Blue Note sessions that led to the formation of the Jazz Messengers. A master percussionist who investigated African and other styles, he was peerless in support of soloists and kept up standards unswervingly till the end.

It was still called the Art Blakey Quintet, when Alfred Lion decided to record the group at Birdland, but this was the founding nexus of the Messengers, even if the name was first used on a Horace Silver cover. Blakey wasn’t as widely acknowledged as Max Roach or Kenny Clarke as one of the leaders in bop drumming and in the end he was credited with working out the rhythms for what came after original bebop, first heard to significant effect on these records. Much of it is based on sheer muscle. Blakey played very loud and very hard, accenting the off-beat with a hi-hat snap that had a thunderous abruptness and developing a highly dramatic snare roll. As much as he dominates the music, though, he always plays for the band and inspirational leadership is as evident on these early records as it is on his final ones. Both horn-players benefit: Donaldson makes his Parkerisms sound pointed and vivacious, while Brown is marvellously mercurial, as well as sensitive on his ballad feature ‘Once In A While’ from
Volume 1
(Donaldson’s comes on ‘If I Had You’ on the second record). Silver lays down some of the tenets of hard bop with his poundingly funky solos and hints of gospel melody. The latest RVG editions restore the original 10-inch cover art and for once a new mastering really does bounce the sound up an extra level.

& See also
Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers With Thelonious Monk
(1957; p. 203)

BLUE MITCHELL

Born Richard Alan Mitchell, 13 March 1930, Miami, Florida; died 21 May 1979, Los Angeles, California

Trumpet

The Thing To Do

Blue Note 5943202

Mitchell; Junior Cook (ts); Chick Corea (p); Gene Taylor (b); Al Foster (d). July 1954.

Cornetist Nat Adderley said (1991):
‘I don’t hear anyone talking about the “Florida school” of trumpet-players, but you got to admit, there’s something there. Fats Navarro, Idrees Suliemann, me, Blue Mitchell, and I think Blue’s underrated: a really strong player, very secure in what he did. He didn’t follow any trends or fashions.’

Rather charmingly described by one British radio broadcaster as ‘Red Mitchell’s brother’ – a glance at a photograph would show why the suggestion is absurd; Red’s sibling was nicknamed Whitey, and for a reason – Blue had a soulful delivery that was an asset whether it was deployed in an R&B situation or in straight jazz. That may sound like faint praise, for Mitchell was more than a utility player. His unadorned tone didn’t jump out of the speakers, but he created coach-built solos that are never less than satisfying. Mitchell took over the Silver band in 1964, replacing the former leader with the young Chick Corea. By then, he was already a well-documented leader, with a bunch of nice Riverside dates to his name.
Big Six
from 1958 is particularly good, with Curtis Fuller and Johnny Griffin in the front line, Wynton Kelly, Wilbur Ware and Philly Joe Jones rounding out the group. Better was to come, though.

A Blue Note contract allowed Blue to play the kind of hard bop he and the label ate up, and 1964’s
The Thing To Do
is his masterpiece. It kicks off with ‘Fungii Mama’, which is delivered with an energy and finesse that ought to have lifted this record into the premier league of Blue Note dates, and yet who ever mentions it now? Joe Henderson’s ‘Step Lightly’ almost steals the show and rising star Chick Corea chips in at the end with ‘Chick’s Tune’. These were men set to make their own careers but Mitchell doesn’t let anyone steal his thunder. His solos are briskly organized, and on the two Jimmy Heath tunes (all quality merchandise, this set-list) he smokes along nicely. Never just a journeyman player, Blue deserves reassessment, as does his regular playing partner Junior Cook. It’s quite a hard record to date, this one, which suggests that it isn’t just a routine blow but a carefully conceived modern jazz album.

LENNIE TRISTANO
^&

Born 19 March 1919, Chicago, Illinois; died 18 November 1978, New York City

Piano

Lennie Tristano / The New Tristano

Rhino/Atlantic R2 71595

Tristano; Lee Konitz (as); Gene Ramey, Peter Ind (b); Jeff Morton, Art Taylor (d). 1954 or 1955–1960 or 1962.

Lee Konitz said (1984):
‘He was an overwhelming influence. I swear that ten years later I could identify someone who had worked with Lennie by the way they drank a glass of water.’

Far from being the cerebral purist of legend, a kind of Glenn Gould figure, the blind Tristano was fascinated by every possibility of music-making and was a pioneer in studio overdubbing and in speeding up half-speed recordings to give them a cool, almost synthesized timbre. The key track in this regard was ‘Requiem’, perhaps the most striking item on the
1955 Atlantic sessions, reissued on this indispensable Rhino CD. His overdubbing and multitracking would influence Bill Evans. But the latter part of the album offers a rare club date with Lee Konitz: the saxophonist sounds dry and slightly prosaic on ‘If I Had You’ and much more like his normal self on a beautiful ‘Ghost Of A Chance’. Tristano’s own solos are derived, as usual, from the refined and twice-distilled code of standards material. The original Atlantic LP has also been reissued separately as
Lennie Tristano.

The New Tristano
is an essential record. The vagueness of the provenance underlines just how precarious an existence some of these home recordings have. The multiple time-patterns secured on most of the tracks suggest a vertiginous, almost mathematical piano music that moves beyond its scientific sheen to a point where the ingenuities acquire their own beauty: ‘I can never think and play at the same time. It’s emotionally impossible.’ Howsoever the conjoining of technique, interpretation and feeling may work for the listener, this is remarkable piano jazz, and the contrasting ballads of ‘You Don’t Know What Love Is’ and ‘Love Lines’ suggest a world of expression which jazz has seldom looked at since.

& See also
The Complete Lennie Tristano
(1946–1947; p. 109)

JUNE CHRISTY

Born Shirley Luster, 20 November 1935, Springfield, Illinois; died 21 June 1990, Los Angeles, California

Voice

Something Cool: The Complete Mono And Stereo Versions

Capitol 34069

Christy; Pete Rugolo orchestra. 1953–1955.