Monday Jazz Odyssey Feb 5, 2024
Sonny Rollins, Ethan Iverson, Tubby Hayes, Mal Waldron, and The Grammys
Good Listening This Week:
I’ve been an
fan since hearing his stellar musicianship on Reid Anderson’s Dirty Show Tunes in the late ‘90s. Mark Turner’s sax sorcery was the initial draw, and he’s become one of my favorite saxophonists:But then I got increasingly obsessed with Dirty Show Tunes and everyone’s contributions to making that record great. A couple of years later, my fandom of Mr. Iverson was cemented when I heard his (then) band, The Bad Plus, cover of "Tom Sawyer." You won’t find a bigger Rush fan than me, and while most jazz bands who interpret prog rock couldn’t swing if they were in a hammock, The Bad Plus broke the cycle. And down The Bad Plus rabbit hole I went—what a band!
Mr. Iverson’s work as a leader has been equally impressive, and the date he did with bassist Ron Carter a few years back on Criss Cross has been in pretty steady rotation ever since it hit the street. His latest, a trio (two trios, actually) outing entitled Technically Acceptable, deserves all the accolades it’s received since its release a few weeks ago. Technically Acceptable is deep and delightful. I keep returning to the tune "It’s Fine To Decline," an upbeat number that says A LOT in under three minutes—so much that I keep coming back to hear what I'm missing.
Mr. Iverson has been posting insights about the record, which provides an excellent context for deeper understanding, and in this Substack post, he says:
The harder the chart, the less personality from the player….most of what I’m writing for trio these days is actually very simple. The charts almost look childish. But a basic frame leaves room for a group identity to form. I’m pleased with the band chemistry on the record, and am looking forward to seeing how this repertoire develops during the live gigs.
Mr. Iverson’s new trio (Thomas Morgan-bass and Kush Abadey-drums) is off to a potent start with that philosophy. Here's their take on "It's Fine To Decline" from Feb 1, 2024, at the legendary Porgy & Bess Jazz Club in Vienna, which clocks in at more than double the length of the studio version.
I look forward to hearing Mr. Iverson's trio take things further as they continue their onstage dialog! But in the meantime, I highly recommend Technically Acceptable, with a push for those with ATMOS capabilities (or AirPods, which fake it rather well) to lean into the ATMOS mix—it’s FANTASTIC!
Seems like this is the latest in a seemingly endless stream of (now) “public domain” radio broadcasts that someone is attempting to monetize by releasing it as if it were an official Dexter Gordon live record. It isn’t. Don’t pay for 'Vin Et Roses: Paris ‘73'—none of that money will go to an authorized rights-holder. It's also circulating as an off-air recording that sounds quite good—here are a few tracks for the curious:
Here’s “Fried Bananas”:
Here's “Days of Wine and Roses”
Here’s “Some Other Blues”
ThisOneness doesn't leave much space. Not in their name, nor their music—if you dig busy, high-energy fusion a la Return to Forever or The Fents, this band will be right up your alley. Everybody plays great, but it's the drumming that keeps me coming back—hot damn, this guy is GOOD. They’re all good. They had to be—ThisOneness was the backing band for Olivia Newton-John.
In Case You Missed It On Instagram:
Terumasa Hino Reminiscent Suite
Epic! Two epics, actually, each fully realized by pianist Mal Waldron, his co-leader Terumasa Hino (trumpet), and an ace rhythm section of Japanese Jazz legends, including Takao Uematsu-tenor sax, Isao Suzuki-bass, Terumasa’s brother Motohiko Hino-drums, and Yuhji Imamura-percussion. In isolation, each tune is fantastic and worthy of deep listening to absorb its charms, nuances, and power. But Reminiscent Suite is best heard as a full-album experience, giving it the gravitas that makes it a Japanese Jazz classic; the Waldron-penned title track on Side A will lure you in with its seductively groovy riff (before Hino tears your head off), then Hino’s WIRED tension/release journey “Black Forest” leaves you breathless at the end of Side B. This isn’t music for a summer afternoon drive, lest you want to explain to the arresting officer why you were doing twice the speed limit while gnawing through your seatbelt. Not that the music hurtles forward at ludicrous speed, but the sheer intensity implies velocity, like how the combination of sound effects and slow motion suggested that the Six Million Dollar Man was running *extremely* fast.
Far more people have heard *OF* this rare, Japan-only release than have actually HEARD it, and this most welcome reissue on the J-Jazz Masterclass Series is your big chance! This limited edition (don’t say I didn’t tell you so when it sells out) of 2000 vinyl copies is pressed on 200-gram vinyl, and the characteristic high-quality BBE/J-Jazz series gatefold packaging with an insert translating the original sleeve notes, new photos, new liners notes from Tony Higgins (including an interview with Mr. Hino) that once again are sending me back to the woodshed to improve my writing. Tony is a GREAT storyteller. This is powerful music—even the mellower parts—and if you’re more of a “lean back” listener, you may wonder what all the fuss is about. But give this record your undivided attention, and the payoff is HUGE. Recorded in August 1972 and released in 1973 on Victor. Great work, Mike, Tony, & team!
Tubby Hayes Mexican Green
Happy belated birthday to UK jazz legend Tubby Hayes, who would’ve celebrated his 89 laps around the sun last week. Sadly, Tubby never made it to age 40 due to health issues, substance abuse, and poor lifestyle choices. His stature as a musician and larger-than-life character quickly surpassed his physical appearance—his cherubic visage and jolly mannerisms charmed audiences, colleagues, and the press, with the perpetual twinkle in his eyes and ever-present mischievous grin the only clues to the talented rascal lurking under the surface.
Appearance and nickname were meaningless once Hayes unleashed his nearly unparalleled technique. With a tenor sax, flute, or mallets in his hands, Hayes was a freakin’ MONSTER, capable of blowing pretty much any other player off the stage and blowing the audience’s minds. His speed, power, and dexterity were second to none,
and Hayes quickly developed a reputation as a player (and partier) that spread worldwide. Mexican Green (Fontana Records, 1965) evokes Coltrane’s Giant Steps with its nearly superhuman musicianship and memorable compositions. Seven modal excursions are rooted in Hayes’s bluesy, hard-bop expertise, with a long, exploratory approach on the title track. Yet Tubby’s virtuosity was always musical, creative, and executed with style—there are no wasted notes here. Mexican Green was frustratingly rare for many years, though I see more copies around nowadays, and it is readily available digitally—I highly recommend hearing it ASAP. And you gotta love his nickname for that charming way musicians will lionize their physical attributes that would otherwise be fodder for playground bullies: Tubby Hayes joins a list of players like Fats Navarro, Cleanhead Vinson, Shorty Rogers, and Blue Mitchell (he excelled at holding his breath) in flipping the script. And I’m sure we’re all thankful they chose not to focus on dandruff, excessive flatulence, or ingrown toenails for inspiration—getting gigs might be more brutal if your name was Sharty Rogers, Ringworm Rochambeau, or Flakey Ferguson.
Sonny Rollins The Freedom Suite
What better way to commemorate the first day of Black History Month than with Sonny Rollins’s The Freedom Suite. This powerful jazz protest song from the 1958 album of the same name has a release history steeped in racism and fear. Who knows if the nervous white record executives at Riverside were primarily kowtowing to racism, fear, or greed over the truths in Rollins’s message, but they pulled the record from circulation shortly after launch. The reissue that followed was literally whitewashed, removing Rollins’s brutally honest liner statements from the liner notes, replacing his shirtless photo (next to color swatches meant to symbolize prison bars) with a generic image, and changing the album title to Shadow Waltz. While Rollins acknowledges some degree of controversy around the album, this crime of cowardice by the suits did not stand! Rollins and producer Orrin Keepnews challenged Riverside’s decision, though it was a decade before this wrong was righted, and in 1968, The Freedom Suite was reinstated as Rollins intended. This historical context only amplifies what’s happening in the grooves of this potent musical statement. As Rollins, bassist Oscar Pettiford, and drummer Max Roach blur the line between structure and improvisation, they collectively ask the question at the root of Rollins’s message—where is freedom? Answers come through their instruments—Rollins speaks volumes through his tenor sax in what’s likely the first modern jazz record to acknowledge the beginning groundswell of the civil rights movement specifically. The Freedom Suite is historically significant, an artistic triumph, and a high watermark among many in the impressive career of Sonny Rollins. The words of his liner notes continue to resonate decades later:
“America is deeply rooted in Negro culture: its colloquialisms, its humor, its music. How ironic that the Negro, who more than any other people can claim America’s culture as its own, is being persecuted and repressed, that the Negro, who has exemplified the humanities in his very existence, is being rewarded with inhumanity.”
Blue Mitchell retained the same group for Down With It that aced his prior record, the highly recommended (and better-known) The Thing To Do—former Horace Silver Quintet bandmates Gene Taylor (bass) and Junior Cook (tenor sax), as well as young Chick Corea (piano) and Al Foster (drums). On ‘Down With It,’ they deliver a similar tight, beautifully played hard-bop set. There’s nothing too fancy here—advanced listeners hoping for the more experimental sounds of mid-60s Blue Note will find their expectations will disappoint them. That’s a comment on expectations, not this record, which is anything BUT a disappointment. Two tracks in particular stand out. Terumasa Hino’s wonderful ballad “Alone, Alone, and Alone,” which closes Side A, is *SUPERB* and easily my favorite tune on the album. The other highlight is the Mitchell original “March on Selma,” which the liner notes insist has nothing to do with the Civil Rights Movement, though given the turbulence of the times and the fact that this session occurred only a few months after those Alabama protests, I’m not buying what liner notes author Phyl Garland is selling. I don’t own a comparison pressing, but sonically, the Tone Poet team has delivered another polished gem—a perfect pressing and knockout sound. Chick Corea’s piano and Gene Taylor’s bass *really* shine here. I hold the entire Blue Note staff responsible for my inability to get the opening track “Hi-Heel Sneakers” out of my head, and you’ll be hearing from my attorney.
In Case You Missed It: Grammys and Gatekeeping
If you didn’t see the Tracy Chapman/Luke Combs “Fast Car” duet, please watch this 90-second clip before reading further, even if you’re the most Grammy-hatin’ hater in the history of Grammy haters.
For those curious about the outcome,
has an excellent wrap-up on the jazz category here, and there’s a complete list across all genres here. But from a performance perspective, it’s pretty hard to top the Chapman/Combs “Fast Car” duet, which brought down the house. As the camera panned the crowd, it was clear that pretty much everyone—regardless of age, gender, or music genre—knew the words and was taken by the moment. Chapman doesn’t make many public appearances, and Combs’s storytelling in the video intro to the performance about “Fast Car” being his favorite childhood song was excellent and relatable. Combs—born one year after Chapman won the Grammy for Best New Artist and playing “Fast Car” in front of a Grammy audience—was clearly having a peak moment performing that song with his idol, and she seemed thrilled to be back there, too. Those naysayers who feel that somehow Combs “usurped” Chapman’s song are missing the point—there’s a whole new audience listening now, and that’s good news for everyone.PS—Did any sharp-eyed jazz fans notice next-gen jazzer Laufey accompanying Billy Joel on the cello?
PPS—A great TV performance that connects at home isn’t a given. In ways, it’s gotten easier as the tech has improved. In other ways, it’s gotten more difficult as home sound and production complexity have upped the chances for glitches, gotchas, and other audio gremlins. But Tracy Chapman seems to invoke good karma—I’ve fond memories of how she knocked it out of the park on SNL in 1993 when she performed “Give Me One Reason,” which is still one of my all-time favorite television performances by any artist.
Finally, a shout-out to those who didn’t take home a trophy last night. Or have not received anywhere close to that level of industry, commercial, critical, or collegial recognition. If you’re making music that inspires a person to find courage in an unlikely place—to leave an abusive relationship, get help for a substance abuse issue, take a chance that will change lives for the better, or come clean on a secret that’s been causing pain for themselves and others—you are already winning beyond every Grammy ever awarded. Thank you for doing what you do.