Jimmy Rowles - The Len Lyons Interview, 1978

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

[Jimmy’s solos are often] … a coherent montage of hammered single notes, offhanded dissonances, wandering arpeggios, abrupt bass walks, trebly rambles. ...

Rowles is not an aggressive or showy player; he leaves lots of space, uses dynamics sparingly, and swings softly and at an even gait. What makes him remarkable is his ear for detail (the fills that make his accompaniment so stylish are no less disarming when he uses them to decorate his own solos), his depth of feeling (he could play a melody straight and make it sound like an improvisation), and his harmonic ingenuity (he rarely attacks a chord head-on, preferring dense substitutions or oblique angles). His repertory is immense and arcane ….”

- Gary Giddins, Visions of Jazz

“Jimmy Rowles is as uninhibited, witty, and earthy a pianist as he is a storyteller. [His] music is complex, fascinating, often hilarious. Nobody knows as many obscure tunes as Jimmy.”

- Doug Ramsey, Jazz Matters

“Jimmy Rowles was not flashy, but he was incredibly complex harmonically in his knowledge, which extended from popular music in general to Debussy and Ravel in particular.

The way he played and sang was very, very subtle, and the beauty of the music came through in the way he played and sang songs like Poor Butterfly, Nature Boy, or How Deep Is the Ocean. Those things sunk in while I was there, but I'm still processing that, and coming to terms with his whole artistry.

But the other thing he taught me was not to take myself too seriously, even though I took the music itself very seriously."

-Diana Krall as told to Gene Lees, JazzLetter, Vol. 18, No.. 5, May 1999].

Jimmy Rowles had a low profile and as far as the general public was concerned his talents were largely ignored. Among musicians it was a different story. Rowles' touch, taste, and harmonic imagination made him an ideal accompanist, and was been highly valued in that role by a succession of demanding employers: Peggy Lee, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, and Carmen McRae.

Saxophonist Stan Getz tried to rescue him from obscurity by producing a Rowles album for Columbia  - The Peacocks - [1977] and bassist Ray Brown did the same for Rowles on the Concord Jazz label, accompanying him on an LP of piano/bass duets - As Good As It Gets [1978] .

Rowles attended Gonzaga University in his hometown of Spokane, Washington. His first important jobs, in the early 1940's, were with bands led by saxophonists Ben Webster and Lester Young. Apart from accompanying singers, Rowles also worked over the years as a pianist for Benny Goodman, Woody Herman, Chet Baker, Benny Carter, Charlie Parker, and Zoot Sims. During the 1970's he lived in Los Angeles and worked regularly for the Hollywood studios. Despite his reputation as a musician's musician, his apparent lack of interest in promoting his own career left him a virtual unknown. But he had much to say about the immensely important role of the piano in accompaniment, an area that he turned into his expertise.

The following interview was taped by author-journalist Len Lyons after the Concord Jazz recording session produced by Ray Brown [1978]. Explaining that he dislikes the studio atmosphere, Rowles had the lights turned down, lit a cigarette, and sipped at a vodka Collins, which he nursed along throughout the session. He was self-critical of his playing and requested numerous retakes of several pieces.

What was your early background on the piano?

I used to listen to my mother, who could play by ear, and I imitated her and started playing by car myself. My sister had a boyfriend who had a real Earl Hint's fed co his playing, and he taught me the first song I ever learned to play, "Saint Louis Blues." I did a little studying with a private teacher, but it didn't work out too well, since what I really wanted to be was a tennis player. I probably had a couple of private teachers I quit on. What changed me was listening to Guy Lombardo's pianist. In fact, I liked his whole orchestra. I was the guy who wouldn't even listen to Benny Goodman. After hearing something I liked on piano. I started looking for a teacher in my hometown and eventually found a guy named Norm Thue. He had me go through all the chords and the keys, throw my hand to the bass notes, and practice a stride that was built on tenths, not single notes.

The next step was while I was studying at Gonzaga, where I met Don Brown, a Blackfoot Indian and a real genius. He forced me to listen to Teddy Wilson, and I resisted at first because I thought I knew what I wanted. But after about four bars I said to myself, "That's it! That's the way I want to play piano!" So I started studying him—and I'll never leave him entirely—and then I went on to discover Art Tatum, Fats Waller, and Earl Mines. This was around 1936, and I also began to listen to horn players like Chu Berry, Roy Eldridge. and Ben Webster, the [Jimmy] Lunceford band, Ellington, Andy Kirk. I guess of all those I was closest to Ben Webster, who became like a father to me, musically and personally.

In your playing  - the harmonies and understatement - has such a modern feeling to it I'm surprised to hear you mention influences from another era.

Well, I have had some more modern favorites, too. Red Garland, Wynton Kelly, Tommy Flanagan, and Hank Jones. But still, I'm not in the Herbie Hancock/Chick Corea bag. It's great stuff for them but that trend isn't my thing.

I've noticed a strong sense of bass line in your playing. Your bass-line melodies really sing out.

Yeah, I focus on that quite a bit. When I studied with Norm, he stressed the fact that all chords start from the bass note. Not necessarily the tonic of the chord, but the bottom note and the notes that lead to it. They're essential. If you've got the right bass note down there, you can fool around all you want on top of it. But if your bass note's wrong, the chord isn't going to sound right no matter what you do.

In analyzing a tune, do you work on the bass line separately from the rest of the music?

Sure. I figure out the bass line even before I work on the melody. Sometimes I'll mess around with a countermelody in the thumb of the left hand, but I don't take that as seriously as getting a good bass line down there. With everything else, I honestly mess around and hope everything comes out right.

It sounds as if you're using a lot of flat-ninth intervals for right-hand dissonances. Where does that come from?

That's Ravel. He's my man, but I like a lot of those cats. Debussy, Scriabin, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff, Erik Satie, Villa-Lobos. I really love that stuff. You know, you can get tired of listening to jazz because every so often you crave something really deep. Stan Getz wouldn't have had a theme song if it weren't for Ravel. But I have to admit: Everything is relative. I went up to this old-timer in Spokane - he was playing in one of the bars - and I asked him what he thought of Art Tatum. He said, "Oh, well, he's got his style, I got mine." I loved that answer.

When did you first start playing professionally?

It was college bands at first and some small groups in Spokane, but I used to hang around the after-hours joints and play with all the black cats, which is where I got my first real jazz experience. Not long afterward I went to Los Angeles just to see what would happen, and I ended up with Lester Young. It was quite a group. Big Joe Turner was singing the blues; Ray Bryant was dancing; Billie Holiday came out to sing with us. Eventually Billie and I got very close and worked well together over a period of years. I've always liked lyrics, been sensitive to them, and making albums with her was the time I really learned how to accompany. But I also learned a lot from working with Peggy Lee and Ella [Fitzgerald]. Practice makes perfect. Ellis Larkins in New York is a great accompanist, and you could take a real lesson by paying him some attention.

Can you tell me more about the singers you've worked with?

When I got out of the army after the war, that's when I started working regularly with Billie. We had hit it off when I was with Lester Young's and Lee's band [Lee Young, a drummer, was Lester's brother] Billie was making some records and asked for me. The recording group also had Benny Carter, "Sweets" [trumpeter Harry Edison], and Ben Webster. It was wonderful working for Billie. The sessions were smooth, and she seemed happy. I never had any problems with her. After Billie, I went on the road with Evelyn Knight, Vic Damone, and Peggy Lee.

Was Peggy Lee a jazz singer? Some people say she was, but I've always had ambivalent feelings about her.

She had jazz feeling, but she wasn't an improviser. She did swing; she was sort of a rhythmic singer. I was with her about five years. For many years afterward I worked in the staff orchestra at NBC. That lasted through most of the sixties. Some of the interesting people I worked for were Andy Williams and Henry Mancini. I think I was with Mancini on and off for seventeen years.

Then I worked for Carmen McRae and Sarah Vaughan, who was the greatest of all the female musicians. She did the arrangements and everything else. She was sort of the Art Tatum of singing, and she has an impeccable ear. She's also a good pianist. She can sit down and just "noodle" and it'll scare you. I wish she'd play more often. I also worked for Ella for two years, but there's no comparison to Sarah in musicianship. In terms of range, no one can touch her [Sarah].

Now Billie Holiday was a completely different kind of singer. She didn't have a voice, really; she had a sound. It was a very natural sound like Louis Armstrong's, but it wasn't a singing voice. Sarah's sound is cultivated, almost classical. In terms of feeling, phrasing, and sound, Sarah and Billie are in different worlds. They only have one thing in common-they're both perfectionists. That was the basic similarity, but Billie was never the accomplished musician Sarah is.

Well, what can you say about a method for accompanying singers?

I'd say there are two rules. Anticipation of the singer is one of them. The other is subduing yourself. If you don't subdue yourself, the listener is going to get confused because the piano part will be competing for the listener's attention. That's the worst thing that can happen. What you're doing is weaving carpets for the singer to stand on, and maybe you do little things that fit into the open spots. Don't play too much, don't play too loud, and don't play the melody. Now some of this is going to depend on who the singer is. For Sarah Vaughan, you could play World War Four on the piano, and she'd still be right in there. Carmen [McRae] is that way, too. But there are some singers-and I won't mention any names-who want you to play the melody so they know where they're supposed to be. But that's just a special case.

How did you team to accompany yourself? Is it different?

Actually I wish I could accompany myself better, and it is different. I started singing just for the fun of it in the army; but when I was working for Peggy Lee, she liked my singing, and she used to make me sing. Some people actually liked it. As far as I can tell, I sound like old Gravel Gertie, What I keep in mind, most of all, is the interpretation of the lyrics. When you're singing a song, you're telling a story. I can't stand a singer who listens to the sound of his own voice and doesn't show any sign that he knows what he's singing about. I'd rather hear Louis Armstrong. I'll bet he never thought about his voice for a minute.

Another feature of your music seems to be space. There are a lot of si fences, a spareness.

Good, I'm glad. I don't like to kill the keyboard.

You might be considered the opposite of an Oscar Peterson.

Well, let's be honest. I don't have his chops. But even if I did, I'd still be myself. I like to take things a little easier, although I admire Oscar's playing a great deal.

How did you acquire finger dexterity?

I used to own a windup phonograph, and I'd slow it down so I could really hear rhc runs of the other pianists. Then I'd transcribe the solos and imitate them note for note. Teddy Wilson was a favorite, and I did a few of Art's solos. I knew I was in trouble when I got to Fats Waller because he could think in two directions. His left hand was saying one thing, and in his right hand, he'd be fooling around with another thought.

Do you hare any exercises now for your fingers or hands?

I often bend my fingers back at the bottom joint, although I never crack my knuckles. I know a lot of guys who do, but I avoid it. When I'm playing, I often lower my hand, just let it hang and then shake it around, loosen it up and get the circulation going. You should also try to remember that the source of tension is in the back of the neck, so keep your shoulders relaxed and generally try to keep cool and loose.

Do you have any reflections on your recording career?

I was never too happy with it, as far as my personal music goes. The first recording I cared for at all was done in the late fifties with Henry Mancini and Neal Hefti. Mancini likes to keep his music fairly simple, but we did the score for a picture called Harlow, and on the piece "Girl Talk" Henry gave me sixteen whole bars with strings. That was actually satisfying.

How do you choose your repertoire?

I like to do a song that I can camouflage. I like to give it a fresh interpretation and present my own feelings about it. Ray [Brown] and I just did "Like Someone in Love" as a stride thing. During an opening set at a gig in New York, where I do most of my playing, I did "Sophisticated Lady" as a bossa nova. Sometimes I'll throw in some Rimsky-Korsakov or do "Yesterdays" as a bolero. If I can play the song differently, I'll do it. I also dig up tunes out of the past that no one else knows about.

I noticed you don't play the blues as inch, but there's a lot of bluesy feeling in your Standards.

I get that from Erroll Garner, who was one of my favorite pianists and people.

Have you worked on any electronic keyboards? How do you feel about them?

Well, I've been forced to use the novachord and the Fender Rhodes. In fact, I made a whole album on the Rhodes with Barney Kessel. I don't mind them all that much, but I'd sure rather play a beautiful Steinway B, like the one I just recorded on. You see, as a studio musician in Los Angeles, which was my gig when I used the electronic equipment, you can't put any feeling into the music, anyway, unless you happen to dig what the session leader is doing. With an electronic keyboard it makes matters a little bit worse because you have to deal with the mechanical nature of the instrument, too. The best feature of an acoustic piano is that you can really express yourself on it.

As Stan Getz says in his liner notes about you, your name isn't exactly a household word. How do you feel about your career now?

I like the musicians I'm playing with. I like what's going on in my head. And I think people are getting more receptive to the kind of music I play, so I'd have to say everything is getting better. I only hope it continues.

[Jimmy Rowles, 1918-1996].

Yusef Lateef "Before Dawn" and "Live at Pep's"

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“Lateef never settles for bebop cliches, however. Like that of his boyhood friends Mitchell and Thompson, his tenor saxophone work is steeped in older sources, particularly in the brawny approach of patriarch Coleman Hawkins and in that of swing-to-bop giant Don Byas. Consequently, there is a gravity and an assertiveness to Lateef's playing that sets it apart from his contemporaries', plus a familiarity with scales not commonly employed by jazz soloists at the time. What is most impressive about Lateef is the great variety he brings to his performances ….”

- Bob Blumenthal, Jazz author, journalist and critic

“Five years older than John Coltrane and eight years older than Sonny Rollins, Lateef. born William Evans, entered jazz in the Swing Era, working with Lucky Millinder's big band and with trumpeters Hot Lips Page and Roy Eldridge. His sound on tenor and the momentum of his phrasing betray those pre-bop roots. Yet throughout his career he has experimented and innovated, displaying a mind more open than those of many musicians half his age.”

- Michael Cuscuna, Mosaic Records, Jazz author and critic

With his deep-textured sound, Yusef Lateef remained in the Detroit tenor saxophonist tradition while making a lifelong commitment to assimilate other musical forms, particularly non European scales.

He also made a concerted effort to master instruments not usually associated with Jazz such as the oboe, the bassoon, and a variety of Middle Eastern instruments.

So Lateef headed east in April, 1957 with his working band on its day off to produce Before Dawn [Verve 314 557 097-2] - his sole outing for that label - and until its reissue on CD in 1997, one of the rarest of the 1950s Jazz recordings.

Bob Blumenthal wrote the insert notes to the CD and has graciously granted JazzProfiles copyright permission to reproduce them below.

© -Bob Blumenthal, copyright protected, all rights reserved and used with the author’s permission.

“This is one of the most elusive albums of the postbop period. It contains particularly eloquent playing by Yusef Lateef, in a program that casts a clear light on the origins of his innovative style; but rt was overlooked during the two LP reissue booms, of the Seventies and the Eighties- There were reissues in those decades, on the Savoy and Prestige labels, of Lateef's efforts that were contemporary with Before Dawn, as well as of his later work on Riverside, Impulse, and Atlantic. His lone album for Verve was so neglected, though, that Walter Bruyninckx's Modern Jazz Discography (Copy Express, Mechelen, Belgium, 1982-1985) fails to include it.

Yet Before Dawn is mentioned in Modern Jazz: The Essential Records (Aquarius Books, London, 1975), in which five British critics compile a list of two hundred albums that comprise a basic jazz collection. The authors do not place Before Dawn among the two hundred, opting instead for Lateef's Eastern Sounds (Prestige, 1961), which includes examples of his oboe work as well as that of his tenor saxophone and flute, which are heard here. In the cogent essay on Lateef in Modem Jazz 1945-1970, however, Jack Cooke notes that Lateef's consistency was such that "it is possible to name seven or eight LPs as being among Lateef's best." He then says, "Lateef's most impressive single asset, his immensely powerful tenor playing, is perhaps better demonstrated on the earlier Before Dawn —"

Lateef at the time of this record was beginning to emerge as a singular and quite prescient voice. It would be mistaken to call Before Dawn the beginning for Lateef, though. Just shy of his thirty-eighth birthday when he made these tracks, he had patiently practiced and studied to arrive at the distinctive sounds that make this music so compelling.

Lateef was born William Emanuel Huddleston on October 9, 1920 in Chattanooga, Tennessee. When he was five, his family relocated to Detroit and his father changed the last name to “Evans.” The move to Detroit placed the youngster now known as Williams Evans in the center of an environment as nurturing for young African-American musicians as any north of New Orleans and east of Kansas City. Starting with a drum pad, then moving to the alto saxophone, Evans received instruction at Sidney D. Miller High School, where vibraphonist Milt Jackson was one of his classmates, and began hanging out with such other future stars as saxophonists Billy Mitchell and Lucky Thompson. The live music these teenagers heard at such places, as the Arcade Theater, the Graystone Ballroom, and the Paradise Theatre made a lasting impression, as did the many recordings they studied. Lateef has recalled being particularly struck by alto saxophonist Charlie Parker, whom he heard for the first time on Jay McShann's 1941 big-band recording, "Hootie Blues".

Thompson, who became Evans's friend, was pivotal in helping the Tennessee native to get work with the 'Bama Slate Collegians and with Lucky Millinder’s orchestra when he was ready to leave Detroit.  Evans then played in the small groups trumpeters Roy Eldridge and Hot Lips Page and in the big band of Ernie Fields. He also played in Chicago with tenor saxophonists Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt before a chair opened up in Dizzy Gillespie’s 1949 big band; Evans spent a productive year in that band.  By 1950 he was back in Detroit and had begun using his Muslim name, having converted to Islam during his years on road.

Family responsibilities initially brought Lateef home, but coming off the road also provided him with an opportunity to return to the serious study of music. Lateef was particularly impressed by the example of the young guitarist Kenny Burrell, who had recently received a bachelor's degree from Wayne State University, and who encouraged Lateef to take up the flute, which became his major when he enrolled in college in 1951.

For the remainder of the decade, Lateef studied and played locally and, over time, gained wider recognition through his recordings. A band that he formed in 1954 became a mainstay of the Detroit scene, and at various times it included Burrell, trumpeter Donald Byrd, pianist Barry Harris, and two of the musicians heard here, Curtis Fuller and Louis Hayes. In 1957, Lateef's group began making the quick trips to the East Coast recording studios that resulted in Before Dawn as well as in the more familiar titles issued on Savoy and Prestige. "We were working six nights a week in Detroit," Lateef recalled in a 1994 interview, "and when a record session came up, we would finish the Sunday night performance; immediately drive to Hackensack, New Jersey; record in Rudy Van Gelder's studio on Monday; and then drive back on Monday night, which was our night off. That's the way it went until 1960, when everyone in the band moved to New York together."

Before Dawn captures Yusef Lateef's band early in this traveling regimen, being preceded in his discography by two April 1957 Savoy sessions with the same personnel. Two of Lateef's sidemen had previously left Detroit and were making names for themselves in New York: Hayes, barely out of his teens, had been the drummer in pianist Horace Silver's quintet for nearly a year at this point, and Fuller was building his own multi-label discography as J. J. Johnson's heir-apparent, with sessions for Prestige, Blue Note, and Savoy already under his belt. Hugh Lawson and Ernie Farrow, still in Detroit and working nightly with Lateef, continued making important contributions to his music over the decade Before Dawn.

The influence of African and Indian music is less overt here than on Lateef's other recordings of the period, a result perhaps of Norman Granz's preference for straight-ahead jazz. Touches that today are called multicultural dominate only on the title track where, in the introduction, Farrow plays a one-stringed rabab to create a harmonic drone while Lateef blows the double-reed arghul. The composition is a dose cousin to "Morning", one of Lateef's most enduring (and covered recently by trombonist Steve Turre on Rhythm Within, Verve 314 527 159-2). The structure is modal and the mood raga-like, and Lateef and Fuller improvise ideas rather than mere effects.

Elsewhere, the settings are more familiar, with the inspiration of Charlie Parker particularly strong: Constellation is one of Parker's variations on the chord sequence of "I Got Rhythm"; "Parker's Mood" is echoed in the introduction to the driving blues Chang, Chang, Chang (a tune that Turre finds ideal for his choir, which plays sea conches); and Pike's Peak is based on another of Parker's favorite chord sequences, that of "What Is This Thing Called Love?".

Lateef never settles for bebop cliches, however. Like that of his boyhood friends Mitchell and Thompson, his tenor saxophone work is steeped in older sources, particularly in the brawny approach of patriarch Coleman Hawkins and in that of swing-to-bop giant Don Byas. Consequently, there is a gravity and an assertiveness to Lateef's playing that sets it apart from his contemporaries', plus a familiarity with scales not commonly employed by jazz soloists at the time. What is most impressive about Lateef is the great variety he brings to his performances (Twenty-five Minute Blues and Chang, Chang, Chang) explore the twelve-bar form tn distinctly different ends) and his ability to incorporate "Eastern" phrases in the flow of his solos without their sounding calculated or gratuitous.

In tins regard, his ballad playing on Love Is Eternal deserves special mention. Everything Lateef plays is heartfelt, yet the emotion in this performance is especially hard to ignore. Slow tempos present special challenges to the improvisor, and Lateef meets those challenges here without resorting to double-time or obvious licks. The track cries out with mature feeling, the very "Passion" acknowledged in the title of the first track.

The only example of Lateef's flute playing, Open Strings, is also notable for Lawson's use of celeste, the instrument employed in jazz most famously by pianist Meade Lux Lewis, when he recorded with clarinetist Edmond Hall's Celeste Quartet in 1941 (for Blue Note). Pianist Thelonious Monk also recorded on the instrument, on his own "Pannonica", a year before Lawson did here. "Open Strings" is another boppish opus, and it captures what is arguably the richest flute sound in jazz, then or now - a sound that Lateef's Detroit mentor, Larry Teal, once felt was too big. Yet it is clearly of a piece with Lateef's enveloping tenor saxophone tone.

So now, finally, we have this nearly forgotten chapter from the formative years of Yusef Lateef. I've been scouring auction lists and used-record stores for twenty years in search of this one and - unlike far too many tantalizing entries in rare-LP catalogs - it lives up to expectations.”

- Bob Blumenthal March 1998

Although it was issued on two albums on Impulse! Records as Live at Pep’s and Live at Pep’s Volume 2, all of the music on these two recordings was recorded live at Pep’s Lounge in Philadelphia, PA on June 29, 1964.

The reasons for this bifurcation as well as the background for how this music came into being are contained in the following insert notes by Michael Cuscuna to the CD issued at Yusef Lateef, Live at Pep’s Volume Two [Impulse! 314 547 961-2].

LIVE AT PEP'S, VOLUME TWO YUSEF LATEEF

“It was the earthiest of jazz, it was the most exotic of jazz.

Yusef Lateef is an artist of extremes. When he approaches the blues on the tenor saxophone, it growls from the gut with a century of cultural history in every note. At the same time, he plays a variety of exotic reeds and incorporates melodies, scales, and rhythms from what is now called world music. He has also been known to incorporate European classical pieces, like Eric Satie's first "Gymnopedie", into his performances.

Five years older than John Coltrane and eight years older than Sonny Rollins, Lateef. born William Evans, entered jazz in the Swing Era, working with Lucky Millinder's big band and with trumpeters Hot Lips Page and Roy Eldridge. His sound on tenor and the momentum of his phrasing betray those pre-bop roots. Yet throughout his career he has experimented and innovated, displaying a mind more open than those of many musicians half his age.

Lateef’s mix of swing, blues, bop, and exotica made quite a splash when he brought his Detroit group (trombonist Curtis Fuller, pianist Hugh Lawson, bassist Ernie Farrow, and drummer Louis Hayes) to New York in 1957 to record for Savoy and Verve. He commuted between New York and Detroit for several years, establishing himself with a series of fine albums for Prestige, Savoy, and Chess's Argo label.

After moving to New York in 1960, he worked with bassist Charles Mingus and percussionist Olatunji. But the gig that helped establish him throughout the jazz world was his two-year stint (1962-63) with alto saxophonist Cannonball Adderley's sextet. Adderley featured Lateef’s tenor, flute, and oboe generously, and added several of his compositions to the band's book. Lateef in turn added depth and dimension to the group, expanding its palette and giving it a creative jolt.

After leaving Adderley, Lateef started a quintet with trumpeter Richard Williams in the front line and signed a deal with Impulse!, which had rapidly become an important jazz label, thanks in large part to John Coltrane. Live at Pep's, recorded on June 29, 1964 before a very appreciative audience, was Lateef’s second album for the label.

Pep's Lounge was a very hip Philadelphia club located on South Broad Street in what is known locally as Center City, where several neighborhoods met. Given the atmosphere and the enthusiastic crowds, it's surprising that there wasn't more live recording done there. But Lateef’s appearance and an

unsuccessful recording six weeks later with Horace Silver's new quintet for Blue Note, both engineered by Rudy Van Gelder, seem to be the only professional tapings at the club.

Live at Pep's introduced a new edition of Lateef’s quintet, with New Zealand pianist Mike Nock and New Orleans drummer James Black, and is considered by many (this writer among them) to be his finest recording. Here was a sparkling, flexible ensemble that could move creatively and empathetically with Lateef no matter what musical direction he chose to pursue. And he brought the full range of his music to the bandstand on this incredible night.

The band's repertoire was a mixture of old and new. Lateef and producer Bob Thiele chose seven performances for Live at Pep's and targeted another ("I Loved") for one of the label's Definitive Jazz Scene compilations, though it was never used. In 1976, when Esmond Edwards became the recording director for Impulse!, he immediately delved into the vaults to find more material from this session (and from Coltrane's 1961 Village Vanguard dates). He unearthed six more tunes for an album called Club Date. In 1978, this writer went back to the well to retrieve another six (including the aforementioned "I Loved") for release on a double album. The Live Session, along with the original seven.

When Live at Pep's was finally issued on CD (Impulse! GRD-134), three tunes from Club Date ("Oscarlypso", "Gee! Sam Gee" and "Rogi") were added to the original album. Here, as Live at Pep's — Volume Two. is the rest of Club Date plus the six selections that first appeared on the double album.

"Brother John" and "P-Bouk", like "The Weaver" from the original album, had been recorded by the Adderley sextet, though "P-Bouk" first appeared on a Lateef date for Prestige in 1961. The hypnotic 6/8 piece "Brother John", written in tribute to John Coltrane, primarily features Lateef on oboe. This version of "P-Bouk" offers a compact tenor solo that moves freely from gutbucket growls to Eastern scales to avant garde cries.

"Yusef’s Mood" and "Delilah", both of which date back to Lateef’s 1957 Savoy sessions, illustrate the extremes of his approach. "Yusefs Mood" is basically a blues shuffle that digs deep into his pre-bop roots, while his arrangement of "Song of Delilah", the quintet's theme song, is an exotic flute feature.

"Listen to the Wind" and "Gee! Sam Gee" were new at the time and recut in the studio the following year with Nock, Black, and bassist Reggie Workman for Lateef’s album 1984. "Wind" is a very contemporary-sounding piece with dark harmonies and shifting meters.

James Black's "Magnolia Triangle" is a harmonically dense, riveting composition in 5/4 that the quintet pulls off with remarkable ease. This alternative version is different from the take that appears on the original album.

Three tunes here appear nowhere else in Lateef’s discography. "Nu-Bouk" is a slow, sensual blues for flute. Benny Golson's classic "I Remember Clifford" is primarily a vehicle for Richard Williams. "I Loved", a beautiful original, is a ballad feature for Yusef’s tenor.

We are fortunate that the chemistry of these five musicians on this random night in a Philadelphia club was caught on tape by Rudy Van Gelder. The breadth of Lateef’s music, with the soulful blues always at its core, is truly captured on these recordings.”

- Michael Cuscuna

Before Dawn and Live at Pep’s have long been among my favorite recordings. Here are samplings of the music on each.