Prestige Records: Shirley Scott/Blue Seven

A lot of people revere the Blue Note label, and rightfully so, but I’m a Prestige guy. Aside from being located in New Jersey, my natal state, Bob Weinstock’s record company put out a slew of great music in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. Early recordings by Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, and Sonny Rollins; music by older jazz artists on Prestige  Swingsville and older blues artists on Prestige Bluesville; more cutting-edge material by people like Eric Dolphy and  Steve Lacy on New Jazz; and a seemingly endless array of soul jazz—all came from the little giant in Bergenfield, NJ. Weinstock has had his share of detractors, but he wasn’t the only music business figure that sometimes indulged in sharp financial practices. As for the “junkie label” libel, the same could have been said of any independent jazz record label of the day (and the major labels, too). The fact remains that Prestige put out a ton of great jazz and blues that still speaks to us today. For this reason, I’m starting a series of posts about Prestige albums drawn from my ever-expanding stash of CDs and LPs (yup, I’m a Stone Ager for sure).

Today’s pick is Shirley Scott’s Blue Seven. Scott recorded quite a bit with Prestige, often featuring her then-husband Stanley Turrentine.  For this date, she used a quintet featuring Joe Newman on trumpet and Oliver Nelson on tenor. I love Nelson’s playing—it’s too bad he moved more into composing and arranging, but that’s where the money was. To me, his expressive tenor work always conveys a slight, pleasing tinge of melancholy, which fits in with the bluesy tone of this recording. Newman, who was one of the stars of the second Basie band, plays with a seamless blend of bop and swing that made him fit into any setting. The record includes the title track, by Sonny Rollins, an extended workout on Wagon Wheels, no doubt copped from Sonny’s Way Out West album), a nice version of Nancy (with the Laughing Face), and an up-tempo Give me the Simple Life. Scott plays inventively throughout—I need to listen to more of her. George Tucker (bass) and Roy Brooks (drums) provide strong support but don’t get any solo space. 

The verdict: a relaxed date, great for some laid-back listening. I just wish they had done more up-tempo tunes, though—Give me the Simple Life was my favorite track. Enjoy!

Elin — From Sweden to Brazil and Manhattan with Love

A few years ago, I was listening to WBGO—one of Newark, New Jersey’s many gifts to jazz—and heard a song by “Elin.” It had a romantically hypnotic lilt to it, often repeating the word “sweetness” as a kind of grail to seek and find, both universally and personally. I heard it only a couple of times, but it really stayed with me.  Recently, as sometimes happens, Elin suddenly popped into my mind. I found some of her stuff on YouTube, tracked down her web page, and bought her first and so far only album. It turns out she was raised in Sweden, came to the U.S. to go to college, and then learned Portuguese, all the while aiming at a career as a jazz singer.

Elin’s Lazy Afternoon is a spicy stew of jazz and Brazilian music knit together by Elin’s strong multilingual vocals. She does a great job of turning Fascinating Rhythm into the Brazilian song it always should have been, does an especially languorous version of the title tune, and nails songs by Tom Jobim, Dori Caymmi, and Milton Nascimento. The “Sweetness” song turned out to be Sugar, an Elin original, and it still does me in. She also sings a gorgeous version of Billy Strayhorn’s Lush Life. As a bonus, she’s backed by a strong suite of jazz musicians, including Claudio Roditi on trumpet and fluegelhorn, Anat Cohen on clarinet, Harry Allen on tenor, and Hendrick Muerkens on vibes.

To give you a taste of her Portuguese side, here’s Milton Nascimento’s Vera Cruz. Enjoy!

Happy Halloween from Philly Joe!

From his first album as leader, a composition by Johnny Griffin and  a classic monologue by Philly Joe, inspired by Lenny Bruce. Enjoy!

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!

Horace Silver and the Cape Verdean Blues

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.

Monty Waters: The Black Cat

I first heard alto saxist Monty Waters on the Joe lee Wilson and Bond Street album, What Would It be Without You. I love Joe Lee Wilson (and have blogged about his music) and liked what I heard of Waters, but I could never find much music by him. It turns out that he spent  a good many years of his later career in Munich, where he did record, but he never got much of a shot in the U.S. Like many practitioners of America’s greatest gift to world culture, he’s been neglected in his own country. Fortunately, he was recorded in 1975 by the Japanese WhyNot label, now re-released on CD by Candid Records.

The Black Cat is an excellent date, featuring Waters, guitarist Yoshihaki Masuo, bassist Ronnie Boykins, and drummer George Avaloz. Waters also composed all of the tunes. They’re really equal partners here, notably on J. Love March, a slightly eccentric jazz march with a good deal of collective improvisation. Waters has a lot of Ornette Coleman in his playing, particularly notable on the two blues tracks—Bog’s Blues and Modesto—but tempered with a more disciplined Steve Lacy-like tone.  It’s a strong combination. Apt. #2H, a reworking of Giant Steps, the title track, and R.P.M. all serve as vehicles for Waters, an impressively melodic Masuo, and standout solo work by Boykins (I have his ESP date somewhere and need to dig it out).

The Black Cat is available here as well as from Candid (I’m not getting any money from these plugs, folks, just encouraging you to support this music with some of your cash). I couldn’t find anything from the album on YouTube, but here’s something from Monty’s later years that should give you a taste, although a bit less “out” than this recording. He was a beautiful player.

Remembering Sonny Criss

Just a quick reminder about why I keep on posting about older music. I've blogged about Sonny Criss before. In a world where someone like Sonny lived and worked, people ought to remember how great he was. Listen to the feeling in his playing and you'll know what I mean.

Summertime with Blossom Dearie

I caught onto Blossom Dearie only recently. I’d always thought of her as a perky cabaret-type singer who did some quirky tunes (Peel Me a Grape, Sweet Georgie Fame) with jazz inflections. Once I actually tuned in to her music, I was hooked. I’ve been listening to a lot of Dearie lately, so when I ran across one of her albums at the local Goodwill, it stood out like a diamond in a pile of Big Head Todd and the Monsters albums. Seeing one of my favorites of hers listed on the back clinched the deal. Once Upon a Summertime, the title track, is a good example of her ability to sing a sad song without making it either over dramatic or lachrymose. She sings Tea for Two, including the verse, in a slower, more reflective mode than most singers, emphasizing that the happiness of the couple in the song is one that may lie in the future but not the here and now. She does something similar with the notoriously bouncy Surrey with the Fringe on Top.

My favorite tracks are the more upbeat ones, though. Down with Love has great anti-love lyrics, and Dearie tears through it with gusto. She also moves quite jauntily through If I Were a Bell, her small, clear appropriately bell-like. On all of the tracks she accompanies herself quite nicely on piano, aided by Mundell Lowe on guitar (check out his tasty solo on Our Love is Here to Stay), Ray Brown on bass, and Ed Thigpen on drums.

So, yes, I slept on Blossom Dearie for far too long, but I’m trying to catch up. That favorite I talked about at the beginning? Moonlight Savings Time. In less than two minutes, Dearie does a great job with a cute old song and adds a nice piano solo – as good an introduction as any to this unique artist.