Everybody's Favorite Unknown Pianist: Jack Wilson's Easterly Winds

Someone once jokingly referred to Jack Wilson as “everyone’s favorite unknown jazz pianist.” It’s true, though, that for someone who recorded several albums for Blue Note and a number of other labels, Wilson doesn’t get much love from the wider jazz audience (if there is such a thing these days). I’ve sometimes wondered, only somewhat facetiously, if it’s because “Jack Wilson” is such a bland name. If his contemporaries had nicknamed him “Sonny” or “Fats,” maybe it would have raised his profile.

His profile is well worth raising, though. Take Easterly Winds, his second album for Blue Note, recorded in 1967. With a front line of Jackie McLean, Lee Morgan, and the lamentably little-known Garnett Brown on Trombone, and a rhythm section of Bob Cranshaw and Billy Higgins, it has a lot going for it even before you hear the music.

Most of the compositions are Wilson’s, except for Frank Strozier’s Frank’s Tune and Johnny Mandel’s ballad A Time for Love, the latter of which features Wilson in a trio setting and highlights both his excellent technique and feeling. I really like Wilson the composer. Musicians looking for something fresh ought to investigate the title tune and Nirvanna, both of which have that spiritual jazz uplift feeling that means so much to me. Do It, the obligatory “let’s try for another Sidewinder” effort gets nice and funky, with a solid bop gutbucket solo by Brown. I’m a sucker for Jackie Mac’s astringent, passionate alto, and Lee Morgan’s contributions are, as always, a reminder of how much we lost when he died so young. On Children, with a crisp Billy Higgins opening, is another fine track.

Maybe Jack Wilson isn’t so neglected after all. In a couple of weeks, a previously unreleased set, Call Me -Jazz from the Penthouse, featuring Wilson and vibraphonist Roy Ayers, is coming out on CD, and based on their work together on other recordings, a great combination.

Here are Nirvanna and Easterly Winds for your delectation.

Hearken, Hearken to the Reed! – Jalal al-Din Rumi

Poor Herbie Mann doesn’t get much respect from the critics or the cranky old guys who post on the jazz boards. Admittedly, Herbie never seemed to meet a musical fad he didn’t like (disco!), but he did make what I think is a substantial contribution to integrating African and Middle Eastern music into jazz. The first Herbie Mann track I ever listened to was Baghdad/Asia Minor from The Common Ground: The Herbie Mann Afro-Jazz Sextet + Four Trumpets.  That album featured Nabil “Knobby” Totah, a Palestinian, on bass, and my all-time favorite Babatunde Olatunji on African percussion, along with Ray Barretto on bongos and Ray Mantilla on congas.

My favorite, though, is The Wailing Dervishes, a 1967 live date with a coterie of Middle Eastern-derived musicians like oudist Chick Ganimian, dümbek player Moulay “Ali” Hafid, and clarinetist Hacheg T. Kazarian. In addition to featuring the unique Rufus Harley, the premier jazz bagpiper, on one track, it includes an absolutely mesmerizing version of Norwegian Wood. This piece really reaches out in an almost ecstatic, Sufi-like way, trying to fulfill the verse of Rumi on the back of the LP: “Hearken to this reed forlorn/Breathing ever since ‘twas torn/From its rush bed, a strain/Of impassioned love and pain.” Mann, Roy Ayers on vibes, and Reggie Workman on bass all seem to catch the spirit on this one.  I wish we had more recordings like this one and fewer like Push Push, but give Herbie Mann full credit for pushing forward a world music ethos in jazz when it was much more uncommon than it is now.

Here's Norwegian Wood.