For years, I’ve enjoyed watching/listening to a YouTube video of the Woody Herman band featuring Sal Nistico’s blistering solo on Horace
Silver’s Sister Sadie. I’ve also heard some of his later work but not
his first two albums as a leader, Heavyweights
and Comin’ on Up!, conveniently available
on one CD, until now. The verdict: a fine example
of early 1960s jazz, featuring classics (Au
Privave and Cheryl), standards (My Old Flame and Living Easy), and some bop-based originals (Tommy Turrentine’s Shoutin’ and Nistico’s Samicotico).
I lean toward Heavyweights
a bit more because ofthe
presence of Nat Adderley on cornet and Barry Harris on piano, although I
enjoyed the contrast of Sal Amico’s more introspective trumpet style on Comin’
on Up with Adderley’s harder tone and attack. As with many two-album
compilations, listening to both at one sitting sometimes provides a surfeit of
good things (Note to self: don’t do it again). Oddly enough, given Nistico’s facility
on up-tempo tunes, I was most impressed by his ballad playing, particularly My Old Flame. He really gets inside
emotionally―pretty
impressive for a 22-year-old. I also
liked Au Privave, taken at a
steeplechase clip; Barry Harris is amazing on this one.
All in all, impressive debut
and second recordings. I need to explore Nistico’s other music. Like a lot of
past masters, he checked out earlier than he should have, but left a legacy for
the rest of us.
Horace Silver’s The
Cape Verdean Blues album is a favorite of mine. I get the impression it’s
been a bit overshadowed by its predecessor, Song
for My Father. As the liner note indicate, the title tune doesn’t
seek to ape the hit status of the previous record’s title track, being a
jauntier, Afro-Caribbean take on Silver’s ancestral Cape Verde islands.
Interestingly, the rest of the album has a more serious, less funky tone, due
not only to the compositions (and Horace was a marvelous composer) but to the
playing of Joe Henderson and Woody Shaw. Henderson is a favorite of mine,
especially his work for Blue Note during this period. Shaw, who was relatively new
to the scene when he joined Silver, already was exhibiting his mastery of
technique. Like Charlie Parker, though, his technique was always in service to
his ideas and emotional expressiveness, not used for its own sake. I’ve been
listening to some of Woody’s work
for Columbia recently, especially Stepping
Stones; he and Carter Jefferson really tear it up—and what a loss Jefferson
was to this music! Note: If you’re on Facebook, check out the Woody Shaw Legacy
page. It’s run by Woody’s son Woody III, and is much more than a fan page—it
features some great music and cogent thoughts about Woody’s work, the music
business, and the state of the world.
Back to The Cape
Verdean Blues! My favorite tracks are the title cut and The African Queen (and check out the
drumming of Roger Humphries, age 21, throughout—he’s got a great Art Blakey
thing going that enhances each track, as at the end of Queen). The last three tunes feature J.J. Johnson on trombone. I
wish Horace had used a third horn on more of this albums from this time period;
the trombone adds some nice texture to the ensemble portions, and Johnson’s
solo work fits right in—to me, he doesn’t sound like an older bopper dropped in
among younger, edgier players.
Another observation: without being a technical virtuoso,
Silver’s solos are always clever and quirky, including is use of quotations
from surprising sources (Put your little foot?!) As someone once said of
Al Haig, “He’s not a pianist—he’s a stylist.” Finally, as he has done on
countless recordings, Bob Cranshaw provides unobtrusive but sold support—no
surprise he’s been Sonny Rollins’s bassist for ages.
The Cape Verdean Blues is a fine recording and should get more recognition than it does. Here’s The African Queen.
