Chico Hamilton Quintet - The Robert Gordon/Mosaic Records Notes

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

Robert “Bob” Gordon is an authority on what he prefers to label “Jazz on the West Coast.” Bob is also a friend of mine and an all-around good guy.

Not surprisingly, then, when Michael Cuscuna, the owner-operator of Mosaic Records needed a professional to write the notes for the insert booklet to the Mosaic boxed set The Complete Pacific Jazz Recordings of the Chico Hamilton Quintet [MD6-175] he turned to Bob.

And when we asked Bob if we could use said Mosaic insert booklet notes for a feature on these pages, he said: “Of course.”

Did I say that Bob Gordon is a nice guy? Michael Cuscuna is one, too.

© -  Mosaic Records/Robert Gordon;  copyright protected, all rights reserved, used with permission.

“The Chico Hamilton Quintet was a unique jazz group: unique in its instrumentation, its concentration on musical forms usually thought to be more "classical" than jazz, and its dependence on the spontaneous interplay between the musicians for its most successful works. Formed in 1955, when jazz musicians on both coasts exhibited a penchant for experimenting with exotic instrumentation and musical forms, the quintet survived as a working unit until 1960, outlasting many of its erstwhile competitors and contributing a respectable body of recordings to the jazz tradition, many of which remain fresh and listenable to this day. To be sure, there were failures as well. At its worst, the music produced by the group could be pretentious, and as British jazz writer Alun Morgan has noted, at times it "veered dangerously close to kitsch." But at its best, the quintet could produce gems like BLUE SANDS, which still has the power to enthrall a listener nearly a half century later.

The quintet's instrumentation was the first thing likely to catch the attention of someone unfamiliar with the group. Nobody could miss the cello, or the fact that the reed player was as likely to be playing flute or clarinet as saxophone. Because of this, the quintet and the music it produced were often referred to using the term "chamber jazz," and although this was often meant as an epithet, the term is both accurate and (perhaps unwittingly) complimentary. The "chamber" aspects of the group had more to do with dynamics and subtle shadings of tonal colors than with the unlikely instrumentation. By playing in a softer range, the quintet could often force jazz audiences to abandon conversations and listen intently to the music. This was surely one of the lessons that Chico learned during his tenure with the Gerry Mulligan Quartet.

As for "classical" influences on the group's music, these too came about simply and naturally through the group's approach. Many of the quintet's performances saw Chico supplying color or accents with his drum set, rather than the straight "ching-ching-a-ching" rhythms that audiences might expect. Of course Fred Katz, the quintet's original cellist, was a classically-trained musician, and indeed the presence of that instrument itself demanded a somewhat structured approach to performances, whether they were written or spontaneously improvised. But for the most part there was no attempt to deliberately "introduce" classical methods or approaches into the quintet's performances.

It may seem that "spontaneous interplay between the musicians" is hardly unique to jazz performances. After all, that's how jazz began; it's a working definition of New Orleans-style jazz. But by the 1950s, jazz performances had largely settled into the "theme, string of solos, theme and out" format, and group interplay was often limited to that between the rhythm section and the current soloist. The Chico Hamilton Quintet could play in that tradition, of course, but many of their tunes such as the aforementioned BLUE SANDS and FREE FORM (both from their first album) relied largely or entirely on group improvisation. Between the INTUITION session of Lennie Tristano in 1949 and the advent of the Ornette Coleman Quartet in 1960, the quintet was one of the few working groups to make such attempts an integral and continuing part of its repertoire.

As to the formation of the Chico Hamilton Quintet, it came about through a combination of planning and serendipitous coincidences that is unusual even for jazz groups. To begin at the beginning, Chico was born in Los Angeles on September 21, 1921. His given name was Foreststorn, although he was apparently dubbed "Chico" at an early age. He began lessons on clarinet, but soon switched to drums. He was fortunate to have traveled in fast musical company almost from the start, especially during his years at Thomas Jefferson High School in L.A.

"Jefferson High had quite an alumni," Chico would later tell Down Beat writer John Tynan. "Marshall Royal and his brother, Ernie, went there. We had sort of an unofficial school band then, with Dexter Gordon, Charlie Mingus, Ernie Royal, Buddy Collette, myself and several others." During army service in World War II, Chico studied drums with Jo Jones, but upon discharge he found that jazz styles had changed radically.

"When I came out of the service in '46,I discovered that there had been a complete switch in drumming. Oh, the basic foundation of keeping time remained, but otherwise the whole conception of drumming had changed. It threw me." Despite being invited to record with Lester Young (on Aladdin), he remained bothered by the new thing. "I still couldn't quite make up my mind as to what was happening in drumming.

Then, a few months later I heard with considerable shock and even more pleasure the work of Art Blakey. Art explained to me how drums were now being used, and he demonstrated. I made the switch fast."

There followed tours with Count Basie (for an ailing Jo Jones), Jimmy Mundy and Charlie Barnet, as well as experience with the "Godfather" of the L. A. jazz scene, Gerald Wilson.

"By 1947, however," Chico remembered, "I felt like trying another aspect of drumming, that of accompanist. When Ella Fitzgerald opened at Billy Berg's here, I went in with her." He was later to work with Billie Holiday, Billy Eskstine and Harry Belafonte, but the single most important gig of this period was backing Lena Home. For seven years he worked "more or less regularly" with Lena, and the discipline he learned on the job helped to hone his drumming skills and, unknowingly, prepare him for his next big break.

Chico would later tell John Tynan, "This work is a most exacting type of playing, where you have to have at all times complete control, as you never know what the singer is going to do from one moment to the next. Not only does this keep you sharp, but you acquire what seems to be an almost uncanny sense of time and develop subtleties of technique that big band work will never allow."

In the summer of 1952, Chico was one of a revolving group of musicians who played the Monday (off-) night gig at The Haig, a small club on L.A.'s Wilshire Boulevard. When young Gerry Mulligan, another of the musicians, decided to form his own group, Chico was the immediate choice as percussionist. Chico's unique concept of drumming had much to do with the success of the original Gerry Mulligan Quartet. By doing away with a piano, Gerry had forced the weight of stating the group's harmonic foundations upon the bassist, and this in turn called for a drummer of subtlety; one who could drive the group at a low volume and not overpower the bassist. Chico's style of sensitive accompaniment was just what was called for.

Hamilton left the Mulligan group in 1953 to once again go with Lena Home, who could offer a more attractive salary to the drummer. (By now Chico had the responsibilities of a wife and two children.) Later that same year, however, came an opportunity that would lead directly to the formation of the Chico Hamilton Quintet. No doubt in part as an acknowledgment by Pacific Jazz owner Richard Bock of Chico's contribution to the formation and success of the Mulligan Quartet, Bock offered Hamilton his own recording opportunity. Chico formed a trio for the occasion, with his section-mate in the Lena Home orchestra, bassist George Duvivier, and the young (and at the time unknown) guitarist Howard Roberts. Recorded in December of 1953, the trio album was an instant success for Pacific Jazz, garnering a five-star review in Down Beat and instantly launching the jazz career of Howard Roberts. The album's popularity also got Chico to thinking about forming his own group.

"At the outset," Chico would later recall, "I didn't quite know what I wanted. I only knew I wanted something new. A different and, if possible, exciting sound."

It was at this point that serendipity came into play.

In 1954 Chico played an extended engagement with Lena Home at the Capitol Theater in New York City. One of his fellow musicians was cellist Fred Katz. On one production number, a Phil Moore arrangement of FRANKIE AND JOHNNY, Katz was featured on a solo cadenza that ended in a particularly high note. Katz would hit the note "bang on," which would elicit a sigh from Chico. (Lena herself went out of her way to compliment Katz on the solo at the end-of-run cast party.) Later that year, Katz moved to the Los Angeles area, where he landed a job as pianist accompanying singer Jana Mason. A drummer was also needed, and Katz quickly recommended Hamilton for the group.

By this time (early 1955) Chico's thoughts were often focused on the group he still intended to form, and during breaks on the Jana Mason gig, he and Katz would often discuss his plans for a band. At first the plans ran in the direction of a quartet — simply adding a reedman to the guitar trio that had proved so successful on his recording. (In this regard, his thoughts quite naturally ran to his old high school companion Buddy Collette, who had mastered just about every woodwind instrument.) Still, a quartet would not quite fit Chico's idea of something "new, different and exciting." He considered adding a French horn to the group and approached John Graas, but Graas would soon be leaving L.A. with the Liberace Show. Finally, during one of their backstage conversations, Fred Katz asked Hamilton, "Why not a cello?" Chico's response was, "Why not?" At this point the quintet began to become a reality.

George Duvivier, it turned out, was content to stay with Lena Home, so Chico searched out Carson Smith, with whom he had worked in the Gerry Mulligan Quartet. Howard Roberts had more than enough studio work coming his way and was also unavailable, but once again serendipity came into play. During a phone conversation, John Graas mentioned to Chico that a young guitarist just in from Cleveland was rehearsing and staying with him while searching for a gig. Chico said "Put him on," and young Jim Hall thus landed the guitar chair.

The group started rehearsing at Chico's house. At the first rehearsal they had only one chart, a Fred Katz arrangement of MY FUNNY VALENTINE, but from the start the members jelled. Soon after, Chico approached Harry Rubin, the owner of a number of clubs in the greater Los Angeles area. Rubin invited the new group to open at The Strollers, a club he had recently bought in nearby Long Beach, 20 miles south of L.A. The job offer came so suddenly the musicians were caught off guard. Buddy Collette, who was working with "Scatman" Cruthers, immediately gave two-week's notice but would be unavailable for the first week of the job, so tenor saxophonist Bob Hardaway, filled in. Hardaway brought several arrangements along and the group relied mainly on those for the first few weeks of the gig, sketching in the cello parts where necessary.

The musicians worked hard to achieve an integrated sound. Several times a week they'd drive down to the club in the afternoon and rehearse for a couple of hours, then take a dinner break before the nine o'clock job. Carson Smith was working a day job with Crown Records — a budget operation that sold albums to discount outlets — at the time and remembers a tiring period when he would work mornings, rehearse in the afternoon and play the gig that evening.

Business was slow at first, but it began to pick up when disc jockey Sleepy Stein began a series of live broadcasts from the club for radio station KFOX. It was now summer time, and southern Californians were out on the road trying to escape the heat. "People were driving to the beach cities in the car," Buddy remembers, "and they'd hear this [broadcast] from The Strollers, and the cars began to zip around. That did it!" What had begun as a two-week gig stretched into eight months and, especially after the first Pacific Jazz album was released, the Chico Hamilton Quintet began to acquire national fame.

Unfortunately, the original edition of the quintet did not last much longer than the gig at The Strollers. When the group went east early in 1956, Buddy Collette stayed behind. Buddy had secured a position with Jerry Fielding's orchestra on the Groucho Marx radio and television shows, and wasn't about to let that plum go. Allen Eager worked his way back to the Apple with the band, playing a two-week's engagement in Phoenix, and Jerome Richardson filled the chair for an engagement at Basin Street East in NYC. (The quintet wound up playing opposite the Clifford Brown-Max Roach group, and surely a more stark contrast between approaches would be hard to imagine. Chico remembers that the East Coast-West Coast opposition often found in the copy of jazz writers in those days largely stemmed from — or at least was exacerbated by — the dichotomy represented by that engagement.)

Buddy was able to rejoin the group briefly for the band's appearance at the Newport Jazz Festival later that summer, and the reunion produced one of the quintet's high spots. As Buddy would later recount the occasion: "We were next to the last group on. Duke Ellington followed us, and everybody was so worn out at Newport, because after three days of trumpets and tenors, and tenors and trumpets and trombones, most groups began to sound alike. So finally we get on and it's a bad spot, and we play our stuff and everybody... [claps desultorily]...and people begin to leave. We were really bombing! So Chico says, 'What're we gonna do?' And I say, 'Well, we better try BLUE SANDS, that's all we got.' .. .so we go into it, and they don't move at all; even the smoke seemed to stop out there! It was just like they were silhouettes. And we played for about 10 minutes, giving it our best shot. And at the end, as we'd do, we just tapered off, and everything just stopped. And for eight or 10 seconds nobody moved, and then they jumped up and screamed; they went wild, and it went on and on.. .Later, as we were moving offstage and Duke's band was setting up, we passed Duke on the stairs and he smiled and said, “Well, you sure made it hot for me.' "

(Duke, of course, rose to the occasion and capped off his segment by unleashing Paul Gonsalves on the legendary performance of DIMINUENDO AND CRESCENDO IN BLUE familiar to legions of fans. Jim Hall remembers listening from the wings and in later years thinking in wonder, "I was there!")

In the fall of 1956 Jim Hall left to join the Jimmy Giuffre Trio, but permanent replacements for Collette and Hall arrived in the persons of Paul Horn and John Pisano. The group probably achieved the height of its popularity in the next few years. In 1957 they appeared in the movie THE SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS, playing themselves (with the exception of John Pisano, whose "character" was played by one of the movie's leads, Martin Milner). Elmer Bernstein, who wrote the soundtrack, borrowed several tunes from the quintet's book to use as themes for the score, including most notably Fred Katz's GOODBYE BABY and THE SAGE. The experience also resulted in a Decca recording of tunes used in the movie by the quintet. One whole side of the album was devoted to an extended group improvisation in concerto form.

Another album recorded in 1957 featured the group playing incognito, but the music was instantly recognizable to fans of the quintet. This was on the original WORD JAZZ album of Ken Nordine's, recorded for the Dot label. The band was listed as "The Fred Katz Group," and all of the musicians were given credit under their own names except for the drummer, who was listed as one "Forest Horn." (Another giveaway was Chico's scatting on the performance of MY BABY.)

Dick Bock also took advantage of the quintet's popularity to record the group extensively for his Pacific Jazz label, and these performances can be heard in the present collection. No doubt the most important offerings on this set, however, are several previously unissued performances by the group which are made available here for the first time. These include six performances by the original quintet recorded at The Strollers, as well as an additional five by the second edition of the group recorded in concert at NYC's Town Hall. It's a shame these tapes have languished in the Pacific Jazz vaults for so many years, but their availability on this set more than makes up for the wait.

The Chico Hamilton Quintet — in its original format of reeds, guitar and cello — lasted until 1960. Eric Dolphy, heard here all too briefly on three numbers, replaced Paul Horn, and can be seen and heard with the group in the documentary JAZZ ON A SUMMER'S DAY, filmed at the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival. Later that same year Dennis Budimir and Wyatt Ruther replaced John Pisano and Hal Gaylor on guitar and bass, and this edition of the group recorded albums for labels other than Pacific Jazz. When Charles Lloyd took over on reeds in 1960 the guitar was replaced by a piano, the first of many permutations that would transform the group into a different organization altogether, one with an entirely different focus. Times change and jazz refuses to stand still. But if the later group was better suited to the ambiance of the '60s, the original quintet was an ideal representative of its time and place: the Los Angeles jazz scene of the 1950s. And in this Mosaic set we can once again hear the group in the heady days when the musicians first began to realize their potential."

The following video features the group at the Newport Jazz Festival in the documentary JAZZ ON A SUMMER'S Day:

The Shelly Manne Quintet Plays Bill Holman's Quartet

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

If anyone asked me for my list of Desert Island Recordings [these days, one hopes it has access to WiFi], chief among them would be More Swinging Sounds  Shelly Manne and His Men, Vol. 5 [Contemporary C-3519; OJCCD 320-2].

No cooler sounds were ever played that the five [5] tracks that trumpet and valve trombone player Stu Williamson, alto saxophonist Charlie Mariano, pianist Russ Freeman, bassist Leroy Vinnegar and drummer Shelly Manne laid down at Contemporary studios in Los Angeles on July 16th, August 15th and August 16th, 1956.

To my ears, the unison sound/timbre of trumpet and alto sax that Stu and Charlie achieved on these recording was the epitome of Cool; it literally sent chills up my spine then and it has the same effect on me today.

The crowning glory of the music on that album was the fifth track - Bill Holman’s Quartet - A Suite in Four Parts.

Its four movements constitute 15:36 minutes of pure rapture; it is everything that Jazz should be: cleverly constructed compositions that unleash moving solos in a variety of tempos with plenty of room for the drums to stretch out [is my bias showing again?].

The sleeve notes contain these annotations about the piece.

“Of Quartet, Bill Holman writes: "Originally Shelly's idea was a long piece for the group, possibly with several sections, moods and tempos, long enough to extend the written parts and yet have space for blowing.

My interpretation: a jazz piece written especially for this group with its personality in mind; predominantly written, not too technically difficult to impair the jazz feeling, lines written to be played with a jazz feeling. Several sections to give contrast, form and continuity necessary for a piece of this length

.

Construction: 1st and 4th parts built mainly on traditional blues progression, very closely related thematically. 2nd part related to first and fourth, but to lesser degree. 3rd part melodically unrelated, but drum figures imply theme from 1st and 4th. Shelly improvises drum intro, develops theme. The four sections correspond broadly to the four movements of the classical sonata form. This form used, not because it is a classical form (...) but because it has proved itself, thru centuries of use, capable of supporting (as framework) a composition of this length.”

I thought it might be fun to employ Parts 1,2,3 and 4 of Shelly quintet’s masterful interpretation of Bill Holman's Quartet to individual tributes to the artistry of Shelly Manne and Bill Holman, Charlie Mariano [1923-2009], Jazz Photography in Holland from 1947-1967 and A Salute to Lester Koenig, founder of Contemporary Records [1918-1977], respectively, so as to provide you with some visual variety while you listen to this quite marvelous, extended composition in its entirety.

Hampton Hawes - All Night Session!

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

“Comparatively little has been written on the art of jazz improvisation. How the jazzman plays notes, devises figures, invents rhythm, concocts chords which were not in his mind a moment before he plays them; how he succeeds in spontaneously altering the notes, chords, figures and rhythm patterns so as to achieve freshness and a jazz feeling — these are the enigmas of the creative process.”

- Arnold Shaw,pianist, songwriter, music business executive; taken from his liner notes to All Night Session! The Hampton Hawes Quartet

"It's hard to put into words how good it feels to play jazz when it's really swinging. That's the greatest feeling I've ever had in my life. I've reached a point where the music fills you up so much emotionally that you feel like shouting hallelujah— like people do in church when they're converted to God. That's the way I was feeling the night we recorded All Night Session."

- Hampton Hawes, Jazz pianist

By today’s standards, it may sound like some form of medieval torture from The Dark Ages, but from about 1945 - 1965, it was quite common for Jazz groups working in clubs on the Hollywood to play four or five sets between 9:00 - 2:00 PM [closing time]. Sometimes, one or more musicians would finish the club date and then head over to a recording session on Sunset, Santa Monica or Melrose Blvd., all located within a few miles of each other.

In such a context, the term “all night session” was not all that uncommon. Following the Jazz club gig, breakfast at 6:00 AM, home to kip for a few hours if you had a daytime studio date for a TV commercial, radio jingle or movie soundtrack, or an all-day sleep if you didn’t: life was happy, joyous and free.

Given its semi-arid climate, Los Angeles could be very hot during the day but due to the low humidity caused by the aridity, the evenings were generally cool and filled with the lingering scent of lemon blossoms, flowering Jasmine and the fragrances from a variety of flowers, bushes and herbs.

In a way, leading a nocturnal life filled with the excitement of performing in Jazz clubs bathed in the glitter of incandescent street lamps, lighted storefront displays and automobile lights while sleeping the heat of the day away in air conditioned comfort was almost a privileged existence, especially if you were young enough not to have a care in the world to go along with this active night life.

Of course, not all of us denizens of the dark had recording contracts with labels led by sensitive and understanding executives such as Lester Koenig of Contemporary Records who took great pains to create environments in which Jazz musicians could relax and just blow.

Such was the case when Lester brought pianist Hampton Hawes into the “studio” [which was actually the back room of the label’s office that doubled as its warehouse when audio engineer Roy DuNann was not using it as to make recordings] along with guitarist Jim Hall, bassist Red Mitchell and drummer Bruz Freeman to record for 16 hours from sunup-to-sunset and release the results of these performances contiguously on three LPs.

What Les was trying to recreate was a Jazz club in which a group of musicians play what they want for as long as they are want, night after night using the 16 hour duration to develop an atmosphere of relaxed informality to replace the more typical sterility of a studio setting.

Keep in mind that when Hampton’s all night sessions took place in November, 1956, professional “live” or “in-performance” recording was still in its infancy.

The following insert notes by Arnold Shaw detail more about the sessions, how they came about and selective aspects of each of the tunes

They are also some of the most instructive and insightful accounts I’ve ever read on how one musician approaches the process of improvisation.

All Night Session!, Vol. 1 [OJCCD-638-2]

“AS A GROUP, THE THREE ALBUMS and sixteen selections comprising All Night Session! represent a most unusual achievement in the annals of jazz recording. The almost two hours of music were recorded at a single, continuous session, in the order in which you hear the numbers, and without editing of any kind. This seems like an impossible feat. Playing steadily for several hours is a taxing physical experience at best, but improvising continually for that length of time is an exhausting one, mentally and emotionally. Yet the later selections in All Night Session! reveal no flagging of vitality, spontaneity, or inventiveness. "The feeling wasn't like recording," Hampton Hawes has said in commenting on the session. "We felt like we went somewhere to play for our own pleasure. After we got started, I didn't even think I was making records. In fact, we didn't even listen to playbacks. We didn't tighten up as musicians often do in recording studios—we just played because we love to play." Considering the buoyant beat, skillful pacing, variety of material, spontaneous jazz feeling and the richness of invention, All Night Session! is a testimonial of the highest order to the musicianship of jazzman Hawes and his associates.

As a pianist, Hawes possesses a remarkably robust and vigorous style. The sixteen selections in All Night Session! teem with a pulsating energy and are marked by a seemingly inexhaustible stream of ideas. Although he can create chord patterns of great beauty as in I’ll Remember April and April in Paris, and he can command a singing, lyrical tone, he is more attracted at this stage of his career to expressions of a dynamic character. His touch is firm and authoritative and he possesses a split second sense of timing. His technical mastery is so great that there is not a single blurred run, tangled triplet or ragged arpeggio, no matter how fast the tempo.

Included among the sixteen selections are four original compositions by Hawes. They are of interest for two reasons. In the first instance, it is to be noted that they were composed at the record date itself and not written down beforehand. This gives them a spontaneous, ebullient quality, which is in a sense, their strongest characteristic. I was interested to learn that virtually all or Hawes' originals have been composed in this way. Instead of being written down, they are transcribed from his live performance, emphasizing the fact that his creative activity is the result of his role of an improviser. The second fact to be noted is that all four selections are blues—fast, vigorous blues, but blues nonetheless. Like Charlie Parker, whom Hampton credits with being the strongest influence on his playing, Hawes believes that blues are the basic foundation of jazz and that all jazzmen, modern as well as traditional, must begin by mastering the blues.

BORN IN THE CENTER OF WEST COAST JAZZ on November 15, 1928, Hampton Hawes became a member of the musicians' union when he was sixteen. The following year, while he still attended L. A.'s Polytechnic High School, from which he was graduated in 1946, he played with Big Jay McNeely's band. Before he was drafted into the army in 1953 for the usual two year stint, he gigged around L. A. with various modern combos, among them, Wardell Gray's, Red Norvo's, Dexter Gordon's, Teddy Edwards', and Howard Rumsey's All-Stars at the Hermosa Beach Lighthouse. The latter assignment came through a meeting with trumpeter Shorty Rogers, who after hearing him at a Gene Norman concert, immediately  invited  him  to play  the recording date which produced the first Giants album on Capitol (1952).

On his release from the army in 1955, Hawes took his own trio into L A.'s [The] Haig [on Wilshire Blvd. in Hollywood, CA]. He also recorded his first trio album for Contemporary Records (C3505), employing Chuck Thompson on drums and Red Mitchell on bass. This was followed in short order by two other trio albums (C3515 and C3523), both with the same personnel. Hailed as the "Arrival of the Year" by Metronome in the 1955 yearbook, Hawes was voted in 1956 "New Star" on piano by the annual Down Beat poll of leading jazz critics. In the same year (1956), after completing a highly successful engagement at The Tiffany in L A., he left for an extended cross country tour which kept him on the move for six months. In the course of this tour, he met many Eastern jazzmen and was most impressed by Thelonious Monk as a musician and personality. In 1957 he made another tour back East, and enjoyed playing with Oscar Pettiford and Paul Chambers.

Although his first three albums for Contemporary were with his own trio, Hawes enjoys working with a quartet. "You can do more rhythmic things and you can have more beats going. The full rhythm of drums, bass and guitar gives you two instruments to play melody (guitar and piano) and two instruments to play rhythm (drums and bass) and keep the beat going. Then you can switch around. I like to hear other people play solos because it's inspiring, and gives you ideas other than your own to conjure with."

[To Be Continued]

All Night Session! Vol. 2 [OJCCD-639-2]

Comparatively little has been written on the art of jazz improvisation. How the jazzman plays notes, devises figures, invents rhythm, concocts chords which were not in his mind a moment before he plays them; how he succeeds in spontaneously altering the notes, chords, figures and rhythm patterns so as to achieve freshness and a jazz feeling — these are the enigmas of the creative process.

Of his approach to improvisation, here is what Hawes has revealingly said: "You know the tune you're going to play and after you play the melody through, it comes time for you to blow. You build your solo on the chords as they go by and you use the chord changes to tell your story . . . Just like, maybe a painter painting a picture, he has his brushes. Well, his brushes are the chord changes. What he paints is what he's thinking about, so what kind of solo you play is what comes out of your mind, or the soul that you have for that song you're playing. I believe that the way a person thinks usually comes out in his playing. You've got to really feel what you're doing. Even the way my hands feel on the keys, that has a lot to do with what I play. I like my hands to feel good when they're playing. Like between the black notes and the white notes on the piano, when I'm phrasing I like to have my hands fall off right so I can feel like I'm getting into it. If I know that my hands are feeling good, then I know that I'm phrasing right. If something feels awkward — well, I'm doing something wrong. I don't try to play too much at first. I like to start out just playing a few things and then keep building, chorus by chorus, until you reach a big climax, when you're playing to your fullest capabilities, in other words, where you're really doing everything you can do — then after that you cool it and give yourself a little rest and you're playing just a few things while you're thinking about something else to play . . . Sometimes I think about the melody. But before I think about the melody, I think about the 'underneath notes' of the melody — the harmony notes that move under the top notes and show where the chord goes . . ."

Three concepts stand out in Hawes' statement. While they involve technical matters, their import may be grasped by the layman without resorting to technical exposition. The three concepts pivot on the words: climax, chord changes, and "underneath notes." Climax in improvisation is not different from climax in a story so that it is not too difficult to discern. Hawes' procedure in adding notes, chords and figures, chorus after chorus, may be studied in Do Nothin' Till You Hear From Me or Will You Still Be Mine where the third choruses are like the full, complex, colorful flowers that have sprouted from the small, simple buds of the original melody. The building process involves a variation of chord changes and, in turn, of the "underneath notes," which significantly determine the sequence of chords.

Imitation is an important device for developing a piece of music and, of course, as an improvisational technique. It involves the repetition of a line or riff in another key, a different register, or on another instrument. As an instance of imitation, listen to the way guitarist Hall picks up and echoes Hawes’ melodic line in Will You Still Be Mine and Hampton's Pulpit. In the latter, consider also the question and answer interplay between piano and bass, another device for variation. More important than either of these improvisational procedures is the shifting of accents and the variation of rhythm figures, which are wonderfully displayed in Hawes' improvised solos on April in Paris, Woody'n You and Blue 'N Boogie. Used imaginatively and with feeling, and not just manipulated mentally, these devices produce constantly  fresh variants of well-known melodies.

How an improviser handles these devices depends on a number of factors: specifically, on whether he is interested in a) motion or placidity, b) dissonance or prettiness, c) a thick sound or a delicate texture, d) static or shifting rhythm patterns, e) short or long melodic lines. To understand Hawes' handling of these factors, it will be helpful to see him in relation to other contemporary jazz pianists.

AT THE MOMENT, THERE ARE THREE AXES in jazz piano. I prefer the word 'axis' to school or style because within any one socalled school, there are sufficient tensions to make for a direction rather than a pat definition. For example, Brubeck and Tristano have more in common as representatives of a modernist-classical-intellectual-far-out approach than Brubeck and Garner.

Yet there are also obvious contrasts and conflicts. Thelonious Monk and Bud Powell as practitioners of bop piano share more characteristics than do Powell and Oscar Peterson. Yet there is an undeniable gulf between Monk's emphasis on an economy of notes as against Powell's tendency toward flooding and constant motion. Here then are the three major current axes in contemporary jazz piano: 1) a Garner-Tarum axis, stressing rich harmonies and the fullness and pumping beat of stride piano; 2) a Brubeck-Tristano axis, combining modern classical polyrhythms and poly-harmonies with jazz improvisation; and 3) a Bud Powell-Thelonious Monk axis, stressing a single note, horizontal style, using the left hand for punctuation, and playing off the beat.

Clearly, Hampton Hawes is closest to the bop axis of Powell and Monk. He strives for constant motion rather than placidity, tart rather than pretty harmonies, a delicate rather than a thick density, shifting rhythm patterns, and longer rather than shorter lines.

Within the bop axis, the main influence on Hawes' improvising comes from an alto sax player rather than any pianist. In 1947 when Hawes was just turning nineteen, one of the founders of bop, the late, great Charlie Parker came out to Hampton's native Los Angeles. Hawes not only met and listened to Bird, which proved a turning point in many a contemporary musician's career, but he played with him for almost two months in Howard McGhee's band. Not too long ago, Hawes described Parker's influence as having to do "with Bird's conception of time." Working with Parker, Hawes began taking liberties with time, "playing double time or letting a couple of beats go by to make the beat stand out— not just playing on top of it all the time." Hawes emphasizes: "I think Parker has influenced me more than anybody, even piano players."

The Parker bop influence is apparent in All Night Session! in many ways, not the least significant being Hawes' choice of material. Included among the sixteen selections are four Gillespie compositions that have become bop classics — Groovin' High, Woody'n You, Two Bass Hit and Blue 'N Boogie. Comparison of Hawes' version of Woody'n You with the Modern Jazz Quartet's chamber music treatment of the same reveals a style in which there is greater dissonance, more pronounced changes of rhythm figures, swifter shifting of accents and a feeling of intensity that reminds one of Parker. Characteristic of these selections, and particularly of an original composition Takin' Care, is Parker's device of altering melodic passages containing few notes with figures full of gusts of fast-moving notes.

[To Be Continued ]

All Night Session!, Vol. 3 [OJCCD-640-2]

IN ALL NIGHT SESSION THE CHARACTERISTIC SOUND of the quartet is produced by the interplay between Hawes and Red Mitchell's bass. As with many West Coast combos, Hawes prefers a drummer with a light beat. In selection after selection, the rhythmic pulse is generated by the bass while the drums are heard only in the delicate ching of an afterbeat cymbal.

Bassist Red Mitchell, a native New Yorker (born September 20, 1927) is, like many Wesc Coasters, a Californian by migration. He has been steadily associated on records with Hampton Hawes from the first Hawes Trio album made in June 1955. Mitchell has also recorded with combos led by Barney Kessel, Tal Farlow, Red Norvo, Jack Montrose, and Gerry Mulligan. He has also made two LP's with combos of his own, the most recent Presenting Red Mitchell for Contemporary (C3538).

Although Red played piano with Chubby Jackson (at the Royal Roost in 1949), alto sax in an Army band, … , he had a new love the moment he traded 15 cartons of cigarettes for a string bass while in Germany. Up until then he had been studying the piano on his own. He cultivated the bass in the same way, acquiring bass methods by Bob Haggart and Simandl, and industriously plowing his way through them. Mitchell also learned by listening to every bass player who came his way, on records or alive, acquiring in the process an unusual knowledge of the entire range of bassists.

"I guess the first bass player that really thrilled me," Red recently stated, "was Walter Page." This was on a Count Basie record even before Mitchell had settled on the bass as his instrument. Ray Brown, who played with Dizzy Gillespie, "just turned me inside out. I heard the new music, the new phrasing." At Minton's. Red heard Charlie Mingus, who "frightened me... because I remember the way he went up to the top of the fiddle." But the greatest of all bass players to Red was the late Jimmy Blanton, who is generally credited with inaugurating the revolution that took the bass out of the rhythm section in the late 30's and made a melody instrument of it.

Despite his talking intimacy with the top bassmen of our time, Red feels thai he has been more influenced by horn men and pianists than by bassists. He mentions among the jazzmen he has admired and studied: saxists Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins, Lester Young, Al Cohn, Zoot Sims, and Jimmy Giuffre; trumpeters Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis; and pianists John Lewis and Hampton Hawes.

As an improviser, Red is to be heard to advantage particularly in Broadway and Groovin' High, both of which reveal not only a prodigious command of technique but fast, jazz solos of the very highest order. Red has a fat tone when occasion demands and there are slow, singing solos to be heard in Hampton's Pulpit and The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. Insofar as giving the Hawes piano the rhythmic support it needs, Red's pulsating beat is masterful.

IN THE FALL OF 1956 JIM HALL, then a member of Chico Hamilton's group, used to sit in for kicks when Hawes' Trio worked at the Tiffany in Los Angeles. The discovered kinship of feeling between the two led to the invitation that made Hall a part of All Night Session!. Born in Buffalo, New York on December 4, 1930, Hall was raised in the Buckeye State. Although he attended the well-known Cleveland Institute of Music, receiving a Bachelor's degree in music, Jim studied guitar privately with Brenton Banks. His style was also formed by constant listening to recordings of the abortive American genius Charlie Christian and the French gypsy giant of the guitar, Django Reinhardt, Other formative influences include the tenor sax playing of Bill Perkins and Zoot Sims, whose modern improvisational lines are to be heard in Hall's solos.

At the precocious age of 13, Jim Hall began working with local Ohio bands. For short or long periods, he was associated with the Bob Hardaway Quartet, Ken Hanna's band, with whom he made a Capitol album, and later, with the Dave Pell Octet. In the early months of 1955, Hall came to Los Angeles and began studying with the classical guitarist Vincente Gomez. At about the same time, drummer Chico Hamilton hired Jim for his newly formed Quintet.

It was the Hamilton Quintet that brought Hall's name into the national jazz arena. During the latter part of '55 and early '56, Jim toured with Chico's Quintet, recorded three albums for Pacific Jazz with it, and appeared in a film Cool and Groovy. The Hamilton association also led to Hall's recording for Pacific Jazz with a trio of his own that included the late Carl Perkins on piano and Red Mitchell, on bass. Since making All Night Session! with Hawes, Hall has been steadily associated with the trio of Jimmy Guiffre. He also is to be heard with John Lewis in a new album just made by Lewis without the Modern Jazz Quartet.

OF THE ROLE OF THE DRUMS in his Quartet, Hampton Hawes has said: "I don't like a drummer that plays a heavy foot pedal because it has the dull sound of somebody trudging down a street. I like the drums to sound like a heartbeat—just like a heartbeat pumping blood into the tune, nice and smooth... I don't like a heavy-footed drummer."

In drummer Bruz Freeman, born in Chicago on August 11, 1921 and a West Coaster since 1954, Hawes found an ideal man for his quartet. Bruz became interested in music through his two brothers, tenorman Von and guitarist George. At 9 he was playing violin. At 13 he shifted to the piano. Then came the drums. After a stint in the Air Force, during which he flew with Percy Heath of the Modern Jazz Quartet (Percy as a fighter and Bruz as a bomber pilot), he returned to Chicago to gig with a group known as the Freeman Brothers Band. Later he played at Chicago's Beehive, silting in with men like Sonny Stitt, Bird, J. J. Johnson. Before he settled in California, he played for singers Ella Fitzgerald and Lurlean Hunter and went on the road with Anita O'Day and Sarah Vaughan. "On drums," he says, "Max [Roach] is my man. On other instruments: Miles Davis, J. J. and Bird."

Of the All Night Session!, Hawes recently said reflectively: "It's hard to put into words how good it feels to play jazz when it's really swinging. That's the greatest feeling I've ever had in my life. I've reached a point where the music fills you up so much emotionally that you feel like shouting hallelujah— like people do in church when they're converted to God. That's the way I was feeling the night we recorded All Night Session."

By ARNOLD SHAW

March 26, 1958

The following video feature Hampton on Duke Jordan’s Jordu.

Jean “Toots” Thielemans: A Tasteful, Talented Treat

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

“Thielemans recorded ‘Bluesette’ in 1961, after working in George Shearing’s quintet [since 1952]; his first hit had him playing guitar and whistling, but he subsequently became the pre-eminent harmonica player in Jazz, with a facility and depth of expression that rivals any conventional horn players.”

- Richard Cook and Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6^th Ed.

“Belgian multi-instrumentalist Toots Thielemans’s ability as an improviser on the harmonica is unsurpassed.”

- Christopher Washburne

“I can say without hesitation that Toots is one of the greatest musicians of our time. He goes for the heart and makes you cry. We have worked together more times than I can count, and he always keeps me coming back for more. Toots, you will live forever.”

- Quincy Jones

Sometimes I like my Jazz to be uncomplicated.

No convoluted tune structures; no abstract harmonies with raised, augmented or diminished 9ths, 11ths or 13ths; no weird time signatures – just simple, easy to hear melodies.

Jazz that I can snap my fingers to with solos that I can readily memorize and whistle to myself.

I’m not referring to easy listening or “cool Jazz,” a modern form of the music that unendingly oscillates between two chords to the point of tedium and boredom.

The Jazz I’m talking about is a form of the music that is uncomplicated and straight-forward; produced more from the heart than the mind.

When I’m in such a mood, I often turn to Jean “Toots” Thielemans and he rarely disappoints.

Stunningly inventive, there is always a light and joyous touch to everything Toots plays.

Toots solo development uses melodic lines which are based on familiar materials including many allusions to themes from other songs.

His harmonica solos in particular just seem to float away, filled with an exuberance and rhythmic purity that you’d never expect to hear coming out of what some consider to be a “toy instrument.”

If, as Louis Armstrong says, “Jazz is who you are,” then Toots Thielemans must be one “happy, joyous and free” individual, because that what comes out in his music.

The details of Toots career are easily researched on the internet, but here’s an overview of his early years that may not be readily available.

It’s written by Gerry Macdonald and forms the introductory portion of the liner notes to the 1974 Captured Alive LP that he produced for his own label, Choice Records [Stereo CRS 1007].  It has since been reissued on CD as Images on Candid [71007].

“During the summer of 1951, I was playing a gig with my small group in a club north of Montreal. Between sets, Gordie Fleming (later to become Canada's star accordionist) and I were sitting at the bar listening to the music of the George Shearing Quintet coming over the ever-present (in those days) table radio next to the cash register. Suddenly, we heard a new sound; good grief, a harmonica with George Shear­ing! The tune was "Body and Soul," and in those few minutes Toots Thielemans made himself known to us.

A year or so later, I had moved to New York and there, alive and in person, at the old Downbeat Club (54th Street and 8th Avenue) was Toots with his harmonica, sit­ting in with a group of jazz all-stars.

I still couldn't quite believe what I heard, yet there it was. Even though one should pre­sumably just listen to the music, I remember being struck with the facility Toots had with such an "impossible" jazz instrument. It was, and remains, a joy to listen to this man interpret whatever musical piece he encounters—he seems unaware of the instrument as an obstacle. [Italics mine]

Toots Thielemans was born in Brussels, Belgium, April 29, 1922. His first musical exposure was accordion playing in his folks' cafe, so this was the instrument he chose at age three (how do you lift an accordion at age three?). At age 18 he started listening to jazz records and bought a harmonica as a hobby. Then a friend left a guitar at his house and he began trying Django Reinhardt choruses. Soon, according to the bio material he gave me, he "became good...!

In 1948 he came to the U.S. as a tourist and "sat in with cats on 52nd Street." An agent heard him, which led to an engage­ment with Benny Goodman in London and Europe. He emigrated to the U.S. in 1951, played around for a while and then joined George Shearing for six years.

It was in 1962 that Toots wrote "Bluesette." This tune has since become a standard, and Toot's own version, on which he whistles along with his guitar, is recognized by almost everyone, although many are not familiar with his name or his harmonica work. Since then, Toots has been freelancing in studios, being involved mostly with jingles and film music. Occa­sionally, he does a jazz date. …”

Toots passed away on August 22, 2016 at the age of 94, but thankfully he left us with quite a few “Jazz dates” and you can see many of these Jazz recordings in the slide montages that make up the following video tributes to Toots.

The first is “Toots In Portrait” on which he plays harmonica on Secret Love with Herbie Hancock, piano, Ron Carter, bass and Ronnie Zito, drums.

The second is entitled “Toots On Record” on which he plays guitar and whistles while performing his famous composition, Bluesette, with the Quincy Jones Orchestra.

Toots keeps his Jazz down-to-earth and, in so doing, makes it always fun to listen to, whatever the context.