Marilyn Crispell: Highlights from the 1992 American Tour

This is a great album, though it is strange that the dustjacket for this Leo Records release says "Trio With Reggie Workman & Gerry Hemingway On Tour," the disc and rear tray card says "Highlights From the 1992 American Tour" and the side of the case says "Highlights from the Simmer of 1992 American Tour."  One wonders why a more creative title couldn't have been devised that would reflect the remarkable music on this disc.

Marilyn Crispell has been highlighted here before as a solo pianist and, while a lot has been made of the inspiration she derived from the late, great Cecil Taylor, she, like any creative artist, absorbs influences from a variety of sources but develops her own style.  This is also very much true in her group work, especially in later years when her playing changed, likely as a reflection of her evolution as well as to distance herself from the constant Taylor comparisons.

So, with this package of seven tunes from four performances, we really see, as Art Lange rightly points out in his notes, that there is a big diffrence in how Crispell works with the other musicians from what Taylor did.  Lange observes that "Taylor's trios feed off of a juxtaposition of rhythmic motivation" and sometimes appeared to be working exclusive of each other.  Taylor was, of course, a very percussive pianist, brilliantly so.  But, for Crispell, Lange continues, she "builds her music in layers upon the foundation of the bass and drums."

That can be clearly heard throughout these performances, Hemingway, on drums, and Workman, veteran of so many years of playing with a dizzying array of artists on bass, are totally in sync with the leader and with each other.  Hemingway was, with Crispell, a member of easily one of the most memorable ensembles led by the great Anthony Braxton and Crispell and Workman long had a series of collaborations, so the ability of these three masters to generate amazing music is hardly a surprise.

Bud Powell: The Complete Blue Note and Roost Recordings

His is a name I'd frequently come across when it came to reading about the most influential musicians in the so-called "Bop" era of jazz, from the mid-Forties into the mid-Fifties, give or take, but Bud Powell is not nearly as well known as Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, Dizzy Gillespie and others who came out of the remarkable period and its revolutionary sounds.

So, when it was time to find some of his music, it seemed like a pretty obvious choice was the four-disc Complete Blue Note and Roost Recordings issued on Blue Note in 1994.  The material here ranges from 1947 to 1963, though, because of severe mental issues, evidently at least partially due to a beating on the head from New York police officers in 1945, Powell's recording output was relatively limited and unevenness of execution and a lack of inspiration are often cited as problematic with the troubled pianist's recorded output.

Still, the set includes some remarkable performances, including the pianist's often stunning playing, the work of some of the finest musicians of the time, and generous samplings of Powell's compositional prowess.  This is especially true of the first two discs, where his lightning fast runs and powerful left hand comping were most consistent and thrilling and where his best original pieces shine through, including "Bouncing With Bud;" "Un Poco Loco;" and the remarkable "Glass Enclosure."  There are plenty of great moments on discs three and four, though, such as "Frantic Fancies;" "Bud on Bach;" and "Cleopatra's Dream."

Powell also had many great supporting musicians on these recordings, including Max Roach, Fats Navarro, Sonny Rollins, Roy Haynes, Curly Russell, Art Taylor, Paul Chambers, Philly Joe Jones and Sam Jones, with most sessions being with trios.  He may not be considered as crucial a bebop figure as Parker, Mink and Gillespie, but this set provides plenty of evidence why Bud Powell was a giant as a pianist and composer.

Reboot with Herbie Nichols: Four Classic Albums

The reboot continues with this double-disc British compilation of four albums recorded from 1955 to 1957 from the tragically underrecorded and underappreciated pianist Herbie Nichols.  I'd only heard of him because I'd read A.B. Spellman's Black Music: Four Lives and learned a little about this amazing musician and composer who died in 1963 at age 44.

This recording captures the creativity of his writing and the stunning technique and unusual structure of his piano playing.  Critic Leonard Feather wrote in the liners to the combined volumes of The Prophetic Herbie Nichols that "his technique made [Vladimir] Horowitz and [Art] Tatum seem like bumbing amateurs," which is leaning way too far in trying to get Nichols his due.  But, Nichols was a fantastic stylist and it is clear that the trio was the way to make the most of it.

There are stellar sidemen here, including Art Blakey, Max Roach, George Duvivier, Al McKibbon and Danny Richmond and the far-sighted Alfred Lion of Blue Note Records deserves accolades aplenty for recording Nichols when no one else cared.  Unfortunately, he died young and all but ignored, but these recordings are a testament to the phenomenal talent of Herbie Nichols.

Marilyn Crispell: Live in San Francisco

With John Coltrane's A Love Supreme as the spiritual inspiration and Cecil Taylor as a aesthetic catalyst, among other influences, Marilyn Crispell took her supremely gifted playing from the formalism of her training at the New England Conservatory to the improvisatory heart and soul of the pinnacle of jazz piano.

This Music and Arts Programs of America release is largely from a concert in San Francisco in October 1989 and demonstrated Crispell's talent for creative explorations of the instrument through her originals, as well as a highly personal interpretation of classic standards.  As a great bonus, excerpts from Crispell's duet performance with the great Anthony Braxton, with whom she played for several years, at a live performance at Vancouver, and a Knitting Factory in New York concert with Reggie Workman (featuring a young Don Byron on clarinet) are also included.

The first two numbers, "Penumbra" and "Zipporah" are excellent examples of how Crispell plays with spiritual and rhythmic emphasis in her original pieces.  She is not just a clone of Taylor, though the influence is very clear.  Crispell speed, intensity and precision are also tied in to a heightened sense of off-kilter melodic feeling with a nod to Thelonious Monk, whose "Ruby, My Dear" is covered beautifully and distinctively, as is a great rendition of Coltrane's "Dear Lord."  In the notes, Crispell pays homage to Braxton and his ideas of "using space and silence as much as sound, and using different textures."  Her take of the old chestnut, "When I Fall in Love" is breathtaking as she adds so much to the standard with her sense of rhythm and juxtaposition of complex chordal voicings.

And, the additional 15 or so minutes of her work with Braxton and Workman show just how sensitive and distinctiveness an accompanist she can be, whether in the duet form with the former or the sextet, including the remarkable vocalist Jeanne Lee (check her on Archie Shepp's Blase album from 1969 on BYG Actuel).  Live in San Francisco is a tremendous showcase of Crispell's artistry in all of its multidimensional aspects.

The Original James P. Johnson, 1942-1945: Piano Solos

Here's a stellar Smithsonian Folkways release of solo piano recordings from the mid-1940s of the breathtaking James P. Johnson (well, except, according to an AllMusic review by Scott Yanow, for two tunes by Cliff Jackson, who went uncredited.)  That still leaves plenty of classic stride piano playing by a man whose life bridged ragtime and jazz.

Recorded for Moses Asch and his Folkways Records label during the war years of 1942-1945, the album is filled with great melodicism, the left hand "striding" between the bass region and chordal playing, gorgeous fills and other elements.  Stride piano playing is known to be technically challenging, but Johnson make it sound so easy with his smooth precision.

There are so many stunning moments on this album that it's hard to highlight particular songs and the range of pieces, from Joplin to Gershwin to W. C. Handy and Johnson's own compositions, is pertty impressive and spans a range of decades.

Probably the most interesting is the marathon 12-minute "Yamekraw: A Negro Rhapsody," which finds Johnson using the most of his considerable resources to play an extended meditation drawing from the blues, ragtime, classical and other elements to create a masterpiece of variety unlike anything else on the album.

Kudos to Smithsonian Folkways for transferring the material from the original sources and remastering it for excellent sound, given that the recordings are seventy-five years or so old.  The liner notes also have great information on Johnson and the recordings.  As a historical document and for fantastic entertainment, it's hard to beat "The Original James P. Johnson."

Horace Tapscott: The Tapscott Sessions, Volume 8

This amazing composer, pianist, bandleader, teacher and community-minded activist and mentor, was, as has been pointed out here previously, sadly underappreciated.  As has also been noted, my exposure to the great Horace Tapscott was at a free Friday evening concert at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, circa 1991, and I was astounded at his performance and that of his band.

I'd gotten into jazz in a big way only recently and was able to see Tapscott perform a couple more times at Catalina Bar and Grill in its earlier location in Hollywood.  His phenomental talent continued to amaze both in person and on the one album I was able to find in those years, The Dark Tree, Volume One, recorded at Catalina's in 1989.

It's still not easy to find recordings, but over the years a few have cropped up at prices reasonable enough to shell out.  It's also the case that Tapscott had only rare recording dates until the 1980s, thanks to Tom Albach of Amsterdam, whose Nimbus West label was created because of tapes Albach bought of Tapscott's work and issued a significant cache of albums from the pianist, including band and solo recordings.

Of the latter, one of the more interesting is 1991's Volume 8, in which Tapscott performs three standards and one original.  The opener is the stunning "Fire Waltz," one of many great tunes by the pianist and composer Mal Waldron.  Waldron recorded the piece on an album featuring another little-known genius, multi-instrumentalist Eric Dolphy.  One of the great versions of this piece is from the amazing Five Spot live recording by Dolphy and Booker Little from the very early 60s.

Tapscott performs "Fire Waltz" alternately with great sensitivity and beauty and then with passion, power and, yes, fire.  He follows with "Little Niles," composed by another underappreciated pianist, Randy Weston (who I saw years ago in a great performance at Cal State Los Angeles) and named for a son, and Tapscott explores the keyboard with his individual sense of gorgeous melodic insight and dynamic power, especially with his signature use of the sustain pedal.

Taking on anything by Thelonious Monk is a challenge, because classics like "Crepuscule With Nellie" are so well-known and so idiosyncratic, that you really have to make the tune your own with something distinctive.  Tapscott plays the tune at a slower, blusier tempo and takes the time to explore the famous melody with his own little flourishes and deviations and then improvises beautifully from that, including some explorations in a bit of dissonance that highlight Tapscott's rare ability to be both unabashed melodicist and determined experimentalist.  It's his explorative, but totally cohsive, improvisation here that stamps a classic tune with a pronounced Tapscott touch.

Tapscott's beautiful original, "As A Child," is a great close to a fantastic album, rich with melody, played at a ballad tempo that allows the notes to echo into the space of the recording studio.  At about 3 1/2 minutes in, Tapscott switches gear to something faster, more swinging and takes in soloing off the melody that shows his penchant, again, for exploration within the spirit of the theme of the tune.   He then returns to a slow ballad form to conclude with a powerful sustain-heavy finish. This song reappeared later in his final recording, Thoughts of Dar Es Salaam as a shorter, band version recorded in summer 1996.  In this extended solo version, there is more intimacy and also more probing, though the later version is also excellent.

In his short notes, Albach observed that it had been three years since the release of the previous volume in the solo series and gave his reasons for volume eight as "Horace's true stature is finally being recognized (at least in Europe) and I am running out of time."  Why time was running low wasn't explained (probably financial reasons), but Albach went on to say

That art this Promethean could emerged from the commercial virulence of Los Angeles is indeed, further testimony to the wonder of the human spirit . . . I am proud to have played a role in helping this man maintain his dignity and choice during these unsoulful days.  He has given meaning to the twilight of this aging mooch.

The Jelly Roll Morton Centennial: His Complete Victor Recordings

Jelly Roll Morton was a supreme self-promoter, claiming he was the inventor of jazz at the age of 14 in 1904 and evincing a unyielding swagger about his piano playing abilities.  This three-disc set of recordings he made from 1926 to 1939, though, affirms the reality that he was one of the great musicians of any stamp of his era.

Whether it was high-flying uptempo blowers or the deeply soulful blues, Morton and his very talented bands created a body of work that may have been second only to Louis Armstrong in 1920s jazz, especially in those peak years in 1926-27 when he and his Red Hot Peppers were on a major roll (pardon the pun.)

With some of Armstrong's sidemen, like banjoist Johnny St. Cyr, trombonist Kid Ory, clarinetist Johnny Dodds and his brother, drummer Baby Dodds, Morton could hardly have anything but success.  There are a lot of lesser names in the Hot Peppers lineups, but they were all excellent musicians who made the most of their opportunity to be in a great band.  But, Morton clearly had a firm hand as leader, because these bands were highly disciplined, tight and possessed great talent.

Then, there was Morton on the piano, playing with great assurance, skill, rhythm, power and passion, but also recognizing that the greatness of his bands meant he didn't have to dominate with his playing, but could use ensemble strength to take the music to a higher level.  When he plays, though, it is a wonder.

There are, for this listener, two real treats beyond the great ensemble work.  One is the recording of two takes of "Wolverine Blues" and one of "Mr. Jelly Lord" in a trio with the Dodds brothers from June 1927.  The other is his late work, after nine years away from the recording studio, with his New Orleans Jazzmen in September 1939, just as the Second World War was beginning.  On these works, he had the amazing Sidney Bechet on soprano sax, his longtime drummer Zutty Singleton, and the fine clarinet player Albert Nicholas along with others.  Morton remained in excellent form, as well, though he was less than two years away from dying.

There are some amusing novelties with comedic spoken introductions like "Sidewalk Blues" and "Dead Man Blues," as well as classics like "Black Bottom Stomp." "Dr. Jazz," "The Chant," "Grandpa's Spells," "Original Jelly Roll Blues," the amazing, "The Pearls," and many more.  The ensemble interplay, short but choice soloing, and Morton's compositional and arranging skills are really something to behold.

Alice Coltrane: Transfiguration

From the death of her husband, the great John Coltrane, in 1967 until this riveting and spectacular live performance from Schoenberg Hall at the University of California, Los Angeles in April 1978, pianist, organist and harpist Alice Coltrane created a body of work that was largely under appreciated both for its technical and spiritual aspects.  First for Impulse! and then for Warner Brothers, her albums displayed a total humility and devotion to the energy of music as refracted through her Hindu beliefs.  Having compatriots who displayed every empathy and synchronicity with her concepts made her recordings consistently excellent.

Transfiguration is, perhaps, the culmination of that decade or so of exploration and is a staggering achievement on several levels.  First, it highlights Coltrane's mastery of the organ and piano in service to the music.  Second, she was able to showcase her compositions, six of the seven being originals, with the work of her late husband-- this latter being the epic "Leo," basing the twelve tones used in the piece with the signs of the zodiac.  Finally, she chose accompanists of the highest quality who put themselves fully into the spirit of the music, these being the always dependable bassist Reggie Workman and the sublime drummer Roy Haynes, both of whom had worked with John Coltrane.

Reviews have pointed out that Alice Coltrane's organ work reflects her upbringing and experiences as a church organist in her native Detroit and this would seem to be filtered through her movement through the jazz world and in her Hindu religion in the couple of decades since.  Her playing is fully immersed in the spiritual energy she channeled in her solo work and embellished by the totally sympathetic rhythm work of Haynes and Workman.  The title track was described by the leader as being something that "transforms every musical statement . . . from a mere expression of one's mental prowess and musical capabilities into an offering of love and devotion" to God.

Her work on piano is gorgeous and features much of the shimmering sounds, exquisite fluidity and lightness of touch that marked her work with her husband in 1966-67 and her solo work thereafter.  "One for the Father" is dedicated to John Coltrane and Alice  displays her talent for virtuosity without superfluous display.  Moreover, it displays classic and gospel influences that show how complex her work on the instrument could be.  On "Prema," there is a nine-piece overdubbed string section that could have proven to be distracting or out-of-place in other contexts, but here it blends and melds perfectly with the live performance.

The centerpiece of the album, however, is the 37-minute "Leo," which combines her mind-blowing technique on organ, the remarkable support and soloing of Workman and Haynes, the spiritual complexity of the twelve tone/zodiac structure established by John Coltrane and, it should be mentioned, the involvement of the fourth member of the ensemble, the ecstatic crowd, which shouted, screamed, and rapturously applauded throughout the recording, but especially on this piece.  That reaction showed that Alice Coltrane's emphasis on energy was entirely successful.

A word or two should be said about Workman and Haynes.  Both were known for being the ultimate in sensitive accompanists and this holds entirely true for this performance, though their solos on "Leo" allowed them the opportunity to show their virtuosity.  Workman is great and shows a fullness, roundness, and richness of sound that translated very well in the live setting.

Haynes, who never seems to have received the acclaim of other drum masters of his era (including Max Roach, Elvin Jones, and others), is nothing short of amazing in his long solo.  In a little over two weeks, Haynes turns 90 and, hopefully, there'll be plenty of celebrating this percussion master so that he can get more of the recognition he so deserves.  This album shows his genius in full flower.

The Warner Brothers studio recordings of the mid-seventies were largely Hindu devotional exercises, but Transfiguration brought Coltrane back to a jazz setting, while allowing her to express her spiritual and religious devotion.  Another quarter century passed before she returned to a similar context, after continuing her Hindu teachings, with 2004's excellent Translinear Light, her last album before her death at age 69 in 2007.

Transfiguration is a highlight in her storied career and, if anything would cast her in a light solely on her own as a great artist, not merely as the talented spouse of a master, it would be this amazing album.

Art Tatum: Piano Starts Here

It's one thing to hear a pianist with absolute control, staggering technique, superlative soulfulness and unparalleled swing.  It's quite another when that player was completely blind in the left eye and had almost no vision in the right.  Somehow, the masterful Art Tatum not only overcame that handicap, but actually transcended it in being one of the greatest practitioners of his instrument, not just in jazz, but in any form of music.  Notably, the great Vladimir Horowitz, one of the piano's legendary players in the classical world, and George Gershwin, the famed composer, were enthusiastic admirers--in a time when classical musicians looked down upon jazz players and, of course, white audiences did not, as a rule, accept black entertainers like Tatum in the way they would a white musician.

Piano Starts Here, first issued by Columbia in the 1968, when jazz was losing audiences and you'd think the last thing that would be accepted was music from thirty-five years prior, presents Tatum's earliest recordings, a quartet of sides from March 1933, including the mind-blowing "Tiger Rag" as well as a spellbinding version of "St. Louis Blues," a tune identified with another great jazz pianist of the time, Earl "Fatha" Hines, as well as the standards "Tea for Two" and "Sophisticated Lady."

The other nine pieces came from a Spring 1949 concert called "Just Jazz", held at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles and are filled with Tatum's trademark rapid runs in sixteenth notes, crystalline touch, boogie-woogie or stride playing and others.  He also had the remarkable ability to rapidly and radically shift the time by halving the tempo or, alternatively, doubling it, while adding little flourishes that brought a playful humor to his playing.

In some ways, Tatum is an interesting comparison to Cecil Taylor, whose jaw-dropping technique is exhibited in entirely different ways, apropos of very distinct eras.  Both seemed to be incapable of fluffing notes and were just unparalleled in their abilities to master the piano.  Whereas Taylor, afer 1961 especially, moved further away from song structures with strong melodies and mined the percussive and harmonic potential of the keyboard, Tatum always worked within established structures and, it's important to note, the limitations of the 78 rpm record and its length limits.

Tatum died in 1956 and was only in his mid-Forties.  He was never accorded the recognition he deserved, but he is still listened to and admired today and for very good reason.  Maybe he was more of a dazzling technician than an artist like a Duke Ellington or Bill Evans or any number of other great pianists, but with his superlative abilities and crowd-pleasing technique, it would have been hard to envision him being any other way.

In any case, Piano Starts Here and a 1940 Decca album of solos, to be featured here someday, are among the greatest examples of the piano solo you'll hear anywhere, in jazz and beyond.  Let's hope the great Art Tatum always has an audience and that it'll grow.

Keith Jarrett: The Köln Concert

The recent post on Cecil Taylor's solo masterpiece, Air Above Mountains (Buildings Within), is a nice (!) comparison and contrast to this one on another pianist whose solo work has been acclaimed.  Keith Jarrett has, however, had a far larger audience than Taylor because his music has not been perceived to have been near as adventurous (though, at times, Jarrett has alienated some of his longtime followers by excursions into freer, more atonal material, though nothing near as "out" as Taylor at his most accessible.)

While it might be easy for devotees of one to suggest that their favorite is superior to the other, YHB enjoys the music of both for different reasons, not the least of which is whatever mood happens to suggest listening to one as opposed to the other.  Taylor and Jarrett, different as they may be, are both possessed of protean talents, able to improvise entire solo concerts with prodigious technical abilities, and, as importantly, throw themselves completely into what they do.  It is this latter quality which seems most impressive to this blogger, because there are many excellent pianists who can improvise with imagination and precision, but these two inhabit a plane that is elevated because of their total commitment and immersion in the power of the moment when they dazzle in that solo concert setting.

Jarrett, born in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1946, was a child prodigy on his instrument and made his first splash in the jazz world as a member of the popular Charles Lloyd Quartet in the mid-1960s.  He started his solo career about 1967, though was a member of the electric Miles Davis group in 1970, despite his public dislike of electric pianos and organs, and appeared on such recordings as Live-Evil.  In the earl 1970s, he agreed to record for a brand new German label, ECM, ran by Manfred Eicher, and the partnership has been a 40-year success for both.  Of the dozens of Jarrett released on the label, his solo works and the "standards trio" he has worked with for over 30 years, including bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Jack deJohnette, have been his most successful endeavors.

Jarrett's 1975 recording, The Köln Concert, is generally acclaimed as perhaps his greatest work.  For an hour and ten minutes, the pianist takes the listener on an exploration of many melodic and rhythmic concepts that, to some, preface the coming of "new age" music, though, to this listener, the recording has no relation to so-called "new age."  All that comes to mind is that the wildly experimental work of Taylor or the heavier and denser, but also highly melodic, work of McCoy Tyner might leave the impression that, comparatively speaking, Jarrett's lighter touch and use of silence and space appear to be a precursor to, say, George Winston.

Really, though, Jarrett's playing is beautiful, hypnotic, inventive and brimming with passion, exemplified by the grunts, groans, shouts and other manifestations of emotion that are highly annoying to some, as are the visual representations in which Jarrett writhes, wriggles and otherwise contorts himself as he channels the spirit of the moment.  It doesn't appear in any way to YHB that any of this is contrived, but these aspects of his performances, as well as some of his interview and liner note statements lead some to conclude that Jarrett falls prey to a form of self-indulgence that detracts from the experience of listening.  Without disputing anyone's right to feel that way, obviously, YHB can only say that these aspects of the musician seem totally honest and deeply-held and do not take away from the enjoyment of this incredible musician's work.

In fact, for all of the exciting playing on The Köln Concert, it may be as equally impressive that Jarrett did this under very difficult conditions.  He had a long, draining drive to the German city after playing a show a few days before in Switzerland.  Jarrett also had a serious back injury that required him to wear a brace, yet the pain was still so intense that he had very little sleep during the trip and he very nearly cancelled the show, which took place on 24 January. 

Moreover, his request for a particular type of Bosendorfer piano was followed by the obtaining of the wrong instrument, which was so poor, that Jarrett had to find ways to make up for deficiencies in the bass range by playing ostinatos and rolling rhythms with the left hand.  He also used vamps of a single chord or two for long periods of time, the repetitiveness of which often draws criticism, but which, to this listener, are part of establishing a deep, solid groove against which the derive his beautiful sweeping melodies.  In fact, his melodies often seem folk-like or have a tinge of country or rock in them and his classical training also appears to take much of the playing away from the syncopated rhythms associated with jazz (in quite a different way, Cecil Taylor's classical training leads him to play in ways that seem removed from most jazz piano, as well.)

This may account for Jarrett's unusual popularity--this recording, the best selling of any solo piano work period, much less that of jazz, has sold nearly 4 million units--in the fact that his playing is more "accessible" than that of other jazz pianists.  Those long repetitive chords in rhythm and his sprightly melodic sense have, some jazz lovers complained, been more pop or rock than jazz should be.  As if jazz has ever had a fixed set of criteria for pianists to follow.  One can run the gamut from Jelly Roll Morton, Art Tatum, Duke Ellington, Bud Powell, Thelonious Monk, Cecil Taylor, Bill Evans, McCoy Tyner to untold others and then figure out whether there is a standard approach to how to play "jazz piano" and apply that to Jarrett (or, for that matter, to Brad Mehldau, who does just fine working with pop and rock songs in innovative and exciting ways, too.)

There are many other remarkable Keith Jarrett solo recordings out there (Vienna, Sun Bear, Radiance and the recent Sol come to mind), but the Köln is the one that has the biggest impact on fans (and, perhaps, the most resistance from critics.)  To this listener, it is one of the signal jazz recordings of any type and testament to the talent of one of the most imaginative and inspired musicians anywhere.