Max Roach: We Insist! Freedom Now Suite

Nat Hentoff, who died on 7 January at age 91, was many things in his long career as a writer and journalist, though he is known best for his work as a jazz critic for The Village Voice for a half-century as well as for the many liner notes he wrote for jazz albums.

He was also the Artists and Repertoire (A&R) director for the Candid label when it was founded in 1960 and signed such creative forces as Charles Mingus, Cecil Taylor, Eric Dolphy, Steve Lacy and others.

Perhaps the most controversial and compelling of the Candid catalogue issues, however, was Max Roach's We Insist: Freedom Now Suite, which assgined co-compositional credit to Oscar Brown, Jr.  Recorded at Nola Penthouse Sound Studio in New York  on 31 August and 6 September 1960 and released that December, it is said that Hentoff was warned not to release the recording as it would stir up racial emotions that would be destructive to him, the label and to Roach.

It's a fortunate situation that Hentoff persevered.  It's even more fortunate that Roach had the foresight, creativity and drive to get this album made and that he assembled a stellar roster of musicians to carry out the vision he developed with Brown.

Roach and Brown were specifically motivated by the sit-ins by black students earlier in 1960--an iconic photo of one of these is conspicuously used as the front cover for the album.  Hentoff wrote in his notes, "jazz musicians, normally apolitical and relatively unmindful of specific of social movements, were also unprecedentedly stimulated" by the events of the year.

Whether his assertions about the lack of political and social awareness among jazz musicians is reasonable, Hentoff went on to say that "one of the jazzmen who had long been strongly involved emotionally in the movements for integration in America and national autonomy in Agrica was Max Roach."

Roach and Brown were already collaborating on a work designed for presentation at the 1963 centennial of the Emancipation Proclamation when Roach took the project in a different direction, apparently without Brown being notified.

What resulted was a carefully crafted set of pieces detailing the black experience in Africa and America.  Side A that reflected the situation of black people in bondage and oppression, through the tune "Driva' Man" with a notable Brown lyric about slave drivers and "Freedom Day", which reflects the sentiments felt by blacks after Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation.

Side B reflected contemporary concerns with "All Africa" and the independence movements sweeping the continent at that time, reflected viscerally with Nigerian percussionist Michael Olatunji's masterful work and vocalist Abbey Lincoln's recitation of African tribal names while Olatunji responds in Yoruba, and "Tears for Johannesburg," referring specifically to the horrors of apartheid in South Africa.

Not only did Roach put together an outstanding program of musical works to make his musical statement ring strong and true, but he brought together some amazing musicians.  Lincoln, who soon became his wife, turns in a series of astonishing vocal performances, bringing strength, dignity and, importantly, a woman's prominent role to the proceedings.  Much was said about her anguished and powerfully emotive screams, cries and moans during the middle section of the staggering "Triptych" as Roach masterfully used the drum kit as an analog to her vocalizations.  But, it sounds totally natural and right in the context.

Roach, who could easily have relied on his own profound skills as a drummer to propel the work, wisely brought in Olatunji to give a different percussive perspective and a directly African one to make this work stronger.  Raymond Mantillo and Tomas du Vall also provide percussive color.

The horns include a trio of masters, including the underappreciated Julian Priester on trombone--his work alone on "Freedom Day" is a revelation.  Booker Little died in 1961 at only 23 of uremia, but he was already a stunning trumpeter and an associate of Roach and Eric Dolphy (the live recordings Dolphy and Little recorded at the Five Spot in July 1961, just a few months before Little's death are classics).  His work is uniformly excellent here.

Then there was the wild card--Coleman Hawkins, who rose to fame in the 1920s and whose recording of "Body and Soul" in 1939 is a landmark of tenor playing, brings his brilliance to full power on "Driva' Man".  Credit should also be given to the relatively unknown Walter Benton and his excellent tenor work on "Freedom Day" and bassist James Schenck, of whom there is almost nothing known, but whose playing with Roach is excellent.

This listener happens to be reading Nelson Mandela's autobiography Long Walk to Freedom and today is, of course, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, so the timing of highlighting this remarkable recording seems more than appropriate.

Max Roach and Cecil Taylor: Historic Concerts

Lee Jeske's liner notes to this album are titled "Percussive Pianist Meets Melodic Drummer" and it's certainly a notable way to decribe this amazing 2-disc recording from the McMillin Theatre at Columbia University in New York from December 1979 and released on the Italian label Soul Note.

After a strange, halting introduction from an unknown announcer, Max Roach comes right out and shows why he wasn't just a powerful, fast and precise drummer, but one who used all of the resources of his kit to play in unfailingly complex rhythms and, yes, strong melodic strains.  In the nearly 5-minute intro, though, he was really just warming up.

For nearly the same amount of time, just under 5 minutes, Cecil Taylor turned in a solo performance that came out highly melodic and relaxed, as if he intended to show the audience that it wasn't all about the key pounding, astounding fast runs, and complex chords for him.  It is absent of the pounding, manic playing that is so intoxicating for fans--it anticipates, perhaps, the idea that playing with Roach would be a different experience for him and the listener.  This performance, too, sounds like a warm up.

The forty-minute duet that follows is encapsulated by Roach's view that he and Taylor "co-existed" during the concert, finding, in an entirely improvised performance, where they could come to a meeting of the minds (and hands and feet).  What the drummer excelled at, especially, is his uncanny way of working within Taylor's iconoclastic style, playing with and not against the pianist's uncompromising way of performing, which may have been at its peak in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

A particularly interesting element in Roach's playing comes at about the 30 minute mark when he plays for a couple minutes on a snare tuned to make a strange high-pitched sound, almost like you might hear in some forms of Chinese drumming.  A few minutes later, a "sliding" type of cymbal work distinguishes Roach's way of accompanying Taylor.

The second duet, just a couple of minutes shorter than the first, finds Roach playing a variety of percusion instruments beyond his standard kit as Taylor works on a more melodic, richer sounding, and not quite as rapid a manner.  Here, Roach's use of a wide array of sounds isn't just a novelty, it's another way of working with Taylor's orchestral and percussive approach.  Things are relatively mellow and low-key until about eight minutes in when the playing gets incredibly dense and intense.

After some intense playing for some 25 minutes, Taylor turns things over to Roach for another solo and the drummer goes initially for melodic approaches initially, than to the display of virtuosity and percussive pyrotechnics.  It's a brief interlude and Taylor reenters somewhat quietly and more muted--well, for him--and Roach responds accordingly, executing some excellent rolls and fills along the way.  But, as the piece nears its end, the two go off in the stratosphere again, with thrilling effects.  The crowd's enthusiastic response shows the appreciation they felt for the amazing performance.

No greater contrast, probably, can be found in the way Roach works with Taylor than comparing this concert with the intriguing, but strange, 1977 show Taylor did with Mary Lou Williams and her highly orthodox rhythm section, including drummer Mickey Roker, who later said that the music was confusing, not fun, and that he simply tried to forget even playing that show.

Roach, though, took the challenge of playing with Taylor and made it work, which is just one of any number of reasons why he was one of the great drummers of all time.  He did what Roker wouldn't or couldn't do--found ways to play within and without Taylor's immense power, speed and dazzling technique.  Roach is, in a word, spectacular precisely because he knew what to do to "co-exist."

The last 17 minutes of disc 2 is comprised of a radio show, featuring interviews with the two masters, interspersed with excerpts from the concert.  There is much of interest in these segments as the two discuss how the concern came to be, their admiration for each other, the lack of a need to rehearse for the show because of their mutual understanding, and their place in modern jazz.

Roach, in particular, has some notable things to say about playing with Taylor, noting that it was work, a combination of ego and love, an intense experience that radiates to the audience as they see how the players react to each others.

These interviews are a nice way to end one of the great duet recordings of experimental and explorative music.

Thelonious Monk: Brilliant Corners

Recorded in late 1956 and released on the Riverside label early the following year, Brilliant Corners is, indeed, a brilliant album by the great Thelonious Monk.  It has amazing compositions, a fantastic roster of musicians, and the composer/pianist at the peak of his powers.

All five tracks are standouts, with four originals, the closing "Bemsha Swing" was co-written with drummer Denzil Best, and the fantastic solo spotlight for Monk being the stadard "I Surrender Dear."

The title track is memorable for its opening theme statement, the jagged lines from the masterful tenor saxophonist Sonny Rollins, and the tightness of the band, including altoist Ernie Henry, a little-known player, and the legendary Oscar Peterson on bass and incomparable drummer Max Roach.

"Ba-lue Bolivar Ba-lues-are" is, aside from its well-known idiosyncratic title, another classic melody shaped in a relaxed and uplifting blues format.  Rollins really gets the opportunity to show why he was a powerhouse in that mid to late Fifties era.

"Pannonica" opens with Monk playing a celeste, which just happened to be in the studio and it gives a distinctive touch to the tune, which has another remarkable theme statement to set up the soloists.

"I Surrender Dear" features the leader in all of his glory as an utterly unique pianist and working his magic with a maudlin theme before the band, joined by the excellent trumpeter Clark Terry, and Miles Davis' youthful, powerful bassist Paul Chambers replacing Pettiford, puts it all together with the staggering "Bemsha Swing," where Rollins again blows the mind, as does Monk.

There are many great Thelonious Monk recordings from the early Blue Note years on down, but Brilliant Corners might be the peak because all the elements of great songwriting and masterful playing are demonstrated at every turn.

The Quintet Live at Massey Hall

This is an unbelievable concert by a lineup of great musicians putting on a clinic of stellar ensemble playing and proficient and inventive soloing of the highest order, put on at a performance at the Toronto venue on 15 May 1953.

Unfortunately, a heavyweight title fight between Rocky Marciano and Jersey Joe Wolcott and poor promotion and publicity led to a disappointing turnout to hear Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Bud Powell, Max Roach and Charles  Mingus display their individual and collective talents on famed "bebop" tunes like "Salt Peanuts." "Hot House," "A Night in Tunisia," and "Perdido."  

The program also consisted of a beautifully-played standard, "All the Things You Are," and a lightning-fast workout in "Wee." These round out an album that doesn't appear to have any real downsides, although Mingus, who released the album on his own Debut, overdubbed bass passages because of under-recording at the concert.  Notably, Mingus and Roach were responsible for the recording, a significant achievement given that live albums were still relatively new.

Parker, characteristically, showed up to the gig without a saxophone, so borrowed a plastic Grafton alto.  Contractual issues also prevented the use of his name, so he went by the alias of Charlie Chan, a combination of his and his girlfriend's first names and a riff on a Chinese detective character from 1930s films.  Parker, whose top-notch playing days were rapidly dwindling (within two years he would be dead at 34 from alcohol and drug abuse and other factors), is a mighty player here, setting the pace for everyone else, as his force-of-nature effect often did. 

Gillespie, performing with his old partner, for the last time, is also in great form, displaying great speed, clarity in the highest notes, and showing that he was one of the few front-line players who could hold his own with the legendary Bird.  It was said, interestingly, that, when not playing, Gillespie constantly disappeared backstage to check on the status of the Marciano-Wolcott fight--the problem with the account is the fight was very short, with Marciano knocking Wolcott out with 2 1/2 minutes left in the first round, unless Gillespie was tuning into pre and post fight commentary or something!

Powell, who was evidently stone drunk from the get-go and would soon slip into mental illness that rapidly diminished his formidable skills, plays with great aplomb and authority, showing why he was considered one of the greatest pianists of his era. 

Mingus, the least-known of the combo at the time and who was a year or so from being a bandleader and crafting some of the greatest compositions in jazz, is a steady presence and performs especially well with Roach.  As for the sublime drummer, what can be said? 

Roach is totally in command of all of his ample resources behind the kit, accompanying each soloist as befitted the situation and then playing fantastic solos.  In some ways, his performance is the best as he had to be the bedrock, along with Mingus, but in a more visceral way, for the trip of legendary frontline soloists.

It is hard to imagine a recording that boasts such a stellar lineup--and one that fully delivered the goods.  The only alleged mark of real tension came when Parker, introducing "Salt Peanuts," referred to Gillespie as his "worthy constituent [rather than 'colleague'?]," which comment supposedly so irritated the trumpeter that Gillespie took to yelling the song title repeatedly during Bird's solo.  Yet, there was considerable laughter as the tune ended, though Gillespie was later quoted as saying he was angered by Parker's antics.

Then, there was the matter of payment.  With low turnout came minimal receipts which meant that there wasn't much money for the musicians.  Only Parker received money with Gillespie observing that he only was paid "years and years" after the gig.  Toronto was hardly a jazz center and the combination of the boxing match and the sad state of marketing the show all combined to lead to a hall that was about a quarter full.

Fortunately, this album has had a long life and several reissues and as long as this music is available it will, hopefully, have listeners.  It is one of the great jazz records this amateur has come across of the hundreds in the growing collection.

Charlie Parker: Yardbird Suite

In 1990, YHB was moving from a predominant interest in alternative rock (whatever that seemed to mean at the time) to a wide-ranging mix of rock, world, classical, hip-hop, reggae and jazz.  With the latter, there had been an initial exposure starting in 1984 to the music of Miles Davis, mostly of that era with a look back at Bitches Brew because of its historic connotations as well as its inherent musical interest.

With the sea change in '90, though, came an opportunity to research the early history of jazz for a project at work.  This involved buying vinyl recordings of such performers as the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, New Orleans Rhythm Kings, Jelly Roll Morton, King Oliver, Bessie Smith, Bix Beiderbecke and the amazing 1925 and 1927 work of Louis Armstrong and his Hot Fives and Hot Sevens.  It also meant listening to George Gershwin's notable Rhapsody in Blue, as well as wading through such pop confections that appropriated shallow imitations of jazz sounds as those produced by Ferde Grofe, Jean Goldkette and the so-called "King of Jazz," the massively popular Paul Whiteman.

It was naturally Armstrong's work, including small ensemble work with the great pianist Earl Hines and the remarkable bandleader Fletcher Henderson that made the biggest impact.  Before he became popular and settled into an entertainment mode that left the innovations of the Twenties behind, Armstrong was so far beyond his contemporaries in power, control, intonation and improvisatory ideas, in addition to his innate entertainment skills, that it was as if he occupied his own distinct musical world.

After Armstrong, the next musician in jazz who made that sort of impression was the masterful alto saxophonist Charlie Parker.  This blogger saw Clint Eastwood's well-intended, but somewhat one-dimensional film Bird, but had not heard any of Parker's music until a double vinyl album of his Savoy and Dial recordings of the middle to late 1940s was acquired.

What an impression!  It was similar to hearing the Hot Fives and Hot Sevens material--realizing that here was someone who singlehandedly led a musical form into another direction.  Years passed, though, and, while appreciation for Parker's astounding achievements remained, nothing was purchased on CD until quite recently.

Which leads to Rhino's excellent two-disc survey of Parker's short recording career of about a decade, Yardbird Suite.  This well-chosen and sequenced recording, aptly subtitled "The Ultimate Collection," takes the listener from Parker's appearance on a single by his collaborator and fellow innovator, trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, from March 1945 to work done under the production of Norman Granz shortly before Parker's death in 1955.

Masterpieces abound, including Gillespie's 1945 renditions of "Salt Peanuts" and "Hot House", Parker's Savoy and Dial recordings of "Ko Ko," "Moose the Mooche," "Yardbird Suite," "Ornithology," "Relaxin' at Camarillo," "Donna Lee," "Chasing the Bird," "Embraceable You," a Gershwin and Gershwin chestnut, the mysteriously named "Klactoveedsedstene." "Scrapple from the Apple," and "Parker's Mood," and his work under Granz  from the early to mid Fifties such as "Star Eyes," "My Little Suede Shoes," "Bloomdido," and "Confirmation."  There is also a nice selection of live recordings from concerts at Birdland, the famed club named for Parker, and Rockland Palace from 1951 and 1952, the latter showcasing him with strings.

It's easy to focus on the Savoy and Dial pieces, which are, without question, where Parker's greatest work is heard, but the judicious selection of material of post-1948 work under Granz' supervision has plenty of excellent playing by the sax legend and his various bands.  In fact, the level of musicianship from his sidemen is generally top-notch, including a young and maturing Miles Davis, the master drummer Max Roach, Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, Buddy Rich (on 1950s "Bloomdido"), the great drummer Roy Haynes, who is still with us, Percy Heath, and Bud Powell.

Naturally, hearing Parker create magic time after time on this recording is something to behold.  His sureness of touch, strong tone, speed, power and breathtaking  development of ideas during his improvisations is staggering.  It is easy to see why he was legendary during his short life and so influential (and daunting) to alto sax players and other musicians afterward.  He was truly in his own musical world, as Armstrong was, and others who followed, like Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane.

Attention focuses too often on Parker's drug and alcohol addictions, his behavior towards fellow musicians and people close to him, and so on, but his music, starting with recordings that are seven decades removed, is still powerful and affecting, ensuring he will have a legacy for as long, probably, as music is heard.

In addition to the great music, there is a 60-page booklet chock full of essays with biographical and discographical information, as well as a number of excellent photos of Parker, Harlem during the era, and many of the musicians who played on the tracks.  As a summation of his career and a good introduction to newcomers as well as a satisfying compendium, presumably, for devotees, Yardbird Suite is a great document of the one of the greatest of all musicians, the incomparable Charlie Parker.