Trad Goes Bop!: The Anachronic Jazz Band Cooks Up Some Not-So-Moldy Figs

By 1976, the whole late 1940s conflict between traditional jazz enthusiasts (“moldy figs”) and modern jazz proponents (boppers) had pretty much run its unproductive course, replaced by equally sterile arguments about the avant-garde, jazz rock, and fusion. Maybe it was time to take a look at a middle ground, or at least that was the feeling. At a traditional jazz festival in Paris, the Anachronic Jazz Band began playing bop tunes in traditional style (quelle horreur!). A couple of albums, along with some extensive European touring, provide the only aural documentation of this interesting experiment but relatively short-lived experiment.

Anthropology, a two-CD compilation of those albums and a cross-section of live recordings, says a couple of things about figs and boppers. First, if traditional bands had stopped followed the Anachronic way and stopped playing some of the old croakers in favor of some challenging new material, a lot of great music could have resulted. Second, playing modern jazz compositions in an earlier style shows that the gap between the two schools wasn’t as wide as was assumed. As far as I know, though, the Anachronics haven’t had any successors, but their legacy is pretty darn great.

I was really impressed at how easily tunes like Denzil Best’s Move and Clifford Brown’s Joy Spring. Even the title tune makes a lot of sense within the older idiom. Of course, it’s not surprising that Ask me Now and Blue Monk work well; Thelonious Monk’s music has deep roots in the tradition, and even Salt Peanuts and Giant Steps aren’t that alien to the New Orleans tradition. Also, the soloists, like trumpeter Patrick Artero, are consistently excellent throughout.

Happily, the Anachronic Jazz Band has reunited in recent years, with some of the original players like Marc Richard (sax and clarinet) and Philippe Baudoin (piano) still on hand. 

Here are two live performances: a Seventies version of Yardbird Suite (a couple of different versions are on the CD) with a spectacular solo by Goran Ericksson on recorder; and a more recent take on Charlie Parker's’s Confirmation (not on the CD―could we hope for a new anachronic jazz recording?).

Yardbird Suite:

Confirmation:

Balkan Blues: Dusko Goykovich and Swinging Macedonia

In the Fifties and Sixties, American critics tended to view European jazz musicians the way Samuel Johnson viewed women preachers; like dogs walking on their hind legs, “It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all" (and that’s the way the same critics viewed women jazz musicians, for that matter). Whenever an American bandleader hired a European musician, he (and it was almost always “he”) was seen as the exception that proved the rule. Dusko Goykovich, the Serbian trumpeter, worked with Maynard Ferguson and Woody Herman, which allowed said critics to condescend to him a bit.

Listening to his 1966 album, Swinging Macedonia (original cover art at left), reveals a major talent in the hard bop vein who could keep up with the likes of sidemen Mal Waldron and Nathan Davis. The 1988 CD reissue doesn’t list composer credits, but apparently all of the tunes are by Goykovich except Billy Reid’s The Gypsy, which became a minor jazz standard after Charlie Parker recorded it at the notorious Lover Man session (it’s a feature for Nathan Davis here―a seriously underrated musician). Most of them are based on Macedonian folk motifs―themselves products of the Ottoman occupation of the Balkans―which fit in perfectly with the interest in non-Western music fostered by John Coltrane and others. Macedonia, Saga Se Kame, and Balcan Blue are good examples, whereas Jumbo Uganda is a sort of African highlife melody, with Goykovich taking a soaring Dizzy-like break. Peter Trunk on bass and the wonderfully named Cees See on drums provide strong rhythmic support in the true Balkan spirit. Overall, Swinging Macedonia is an outstanding recording, right up there with the best of the mid-Sixties. Goykovich, in his late 80s, is still active in music. I need to check out more of his music.

Here are Macedonia, Wedding March of Alexander the Great, and Balcan Blue.

Dave Pike, Bebopper

A few evenings ago, while browsing on YouTube, I decided to listen to some recordings of Dave Pike on vibes. My first acquaintance with Pike came through an old Downbeat review of Dave Pike Plays the Jazz Version of Oliver! on Prestige. I’ve never heard anything from the record, but the review was good and it made me keep him in mind through the years. Subsequently, Pike recorded straight ahead jazz, Latin jazz, fusion jazz, and even “psychedelic” jazz. I’m afraid this versatility (or commercialism, if you will) deterred me from doing a lot more listening, although a while back I did buy and enjoy his more recent Bophead CD. After listening to a variety of Pikeana that night, I thought I might need to explore his work further.

The next day, I dropped by the estimable Funky 16 Corners site, a crate diver’s paradise of obscure 60s and 70s soul, funk, rock, and mod jazz. That day’s headline? Dave Pike 1938‒2015. It gave me a strange feeling for sure. Larry, Funky 16 Corners’ proprietor, had dug up Sweet Tater Pie, a prime slice of 60s jazz funk from Pike’s Jazz for the Jet Set album on Atlantic, featuring Herbie Hancock (!) on organ (!!) Plus, how can you not love the album cover? 

I summed up my recent listening experiences from YouTube and Funky 16 Corners on my Facebook posting about Pike’s death: “So long to vibist Dave Pike, who created jazz, Latin, fusion, psychedelic, and other music but remained a bopper at heart.”

That comment leads me to Bluebird, originally recorded for the Dutch Timeless label and more recently reissued in Japan. The album lists Charles McPherson as co-leader, but McPherson lays out for half of the tracks, so it’s more Pike’s show. I really enjoyed Bluebird, which features tunes composed by or associated with Charlie Parker. If you like all-out bebop from masters of the art, this one’s for you. Given McPherson’s formidable  chops and creative assimilation of Bird’s music, I was afraid Pike might be a bit outclassed, but he proves himself to be an equal. Whether steaming through Anthropology and Scrapple from the Apple or playing beautifully on Old Folks, Pike demonstrates his unswerving allegiance to the bop verities. The only track that gave me pause was Embraceable You; everyone is fine, but I couldn’t get Parker’s masterpiece out of my head while I listened – some things are better left alone. Rein de Graaff plays Bud Powell to McPherson’s Bird and Pike’s Bags and more than holds his own (where is my Rein de Graaff LP? I’ll have to check). Koos Serierse on bass and Eric Ineke on drums provide solid support and solos (love Serierse’s tone). This CD is out of stock at Dusty Groove and pricy at Amazon, but it’s well worth seeking out. NOTE: Pike vocalizes quite a bit behind his solos; I don’t mind, but some listeners might).

Here’s Anthropology – enjoy!

The Known Unknown: Ira Sullivan and Horizons

Ira Sullivan is one of those artists who’s best known for being unknown: praised by critics but never a big name. Sullivan, still going strong at 84, is a multi-instrumentalist, playing tenor and soprano sax, flute, trumpet and flugelhorn. He splits his time between Chicago and Miami, which, in this Big Apple-centric music, may explain why he’s not a bigger name.  He’s also not content to be pegged as an adherent of a particular school. He played with Charlie Parker but also heard and assimilated the sounds of John Coltrane and other free and spiritual players of the 60s and 70s.

A case in point is Horizons, recorded in 1967, a year full of non-Western musical ideas. Except for a fine interpretation of the standard Everything Happens to Me, on which he plays trumpet, flugelhorn, as well as tenor, Sullivan sticks mostly to tenor and soprano.  He shows a lot of Coltrane influence on that hard-to-play horn while still adding his own touches, as on Nineveh  and Adah. The title track has that uplifting late 60s Blue Note sound, with Sullivan on tenor. E Flat Tuba G features some strong free playing from all hands. Just to break things up, Oh, Gee!, a composition by trombonist Matthew Gee (I need to blog about him one of these days), takes us back to the 50s for a bluesy bebop romp.  

I’m not familiar with the rest of the band, but they make a real contribution to the overall group sound. Pianist Dolph Castellano doubles on electronic harpsichord on a couple of tracks, bassist William Fry provides strong, individual lines, Lon Norman adds color and depth on trombone, and Jose Cigno furnishes strong rhythmic support on drums and percussion.

A while back I blogged about Herbie Mann’s Middle Eastern-tinged The Wailing Dervishes album, with a focus on his version of Norwegian Wood. Sullivan’ version has that same feel. Check out Fry’s bass intro and bass drone, Cigno’s polyrhythms, Castellano’s harpsichord, and Sullivan’s passionate, grasping for the infinite solo. This is my kind of music!

George Wein and Jazz

I’ve been reading Myself among Others: Life in Music by George Wein with Nate Chinen. It’s an engrossing read about the business side of jazz over the last 60 years, told by the founder of the Newport Jazz Festival, the New Orleans Jazz and heritage Festival, and many others. Wein has had his fair share of criticism for exploiting musicians and compromising the integrity of his productions by the inclusion of various crossover artists but, as someone who works in the cost-recovery publishing racket, I have some sympathy. Authors are sometimes as temperamental as musicians, although I haven’t yet run across a Miles or Mingus, so I do have some understanding for Wein in that area. Also, what is commercially viable is not always the acme of artistic perfection. I can see that an hour-long concert by Cecil Taylor is a harder sell than one by Dizzy Gillespie. Kenny G, though? – really, George!

Compared to characters like Louis Armstrong’s longtime manager Joe Glaser, Wein comes off pretty well. As a musician himself, as a man who married interracially when such a thing was rare indeed, and above all as someone who clearly loves the music and respects the artists, Wein strikes me as a person for whom musicians could have respect and affection even though he was the Boss, his own version of things aside. After all of these years, one would expect the book to have some grat stories, and it does. The vignette of Charlie Parker soloing on Royal Garden Blues in a pre-bop style on a stage full of swing-era musicians and playing so much that Vic Dickenson almost dropped his trombone – that in itself made Myself Among Others a fascinating read. Also, Nate Chinen, now with the New York Times, did a fine job of working with Wein to craft a book that holds up well over its 500+ pages. (I would say, thiough, that some background in the music helps.)

In 2010, Wein is still producing jazz festivals at age 84 and, according to the Times just a week or so ago, often hangs out in small clubs scouting the talent. Let’s hope he continues to do so for many more years.