JazzProfiles: Paul Desmond - The Complete RCA Victor Recordings featuring Jim Hall

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Paul Desmond - The Complete RCA Victor Recordings featuring Jim Hall

Paul Desmond and Doug Ramsey were pals.

All of us should be so lucky to have a friend like, Doug.

In honor of his late, buddy’s accomplishments, Doug has written Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond, a work that has to rank as one of the best biographies of a Jazz artist ever written. Parkside published it in a lovely folio edition and should you wish to order a copy, you can do so by going here.

Doug has kindly given the editorial staff at JazzProfiles permission to offer his informative and insightful insert notes to the booklet that accompanies Paul Desmond - The Complete RCA Victor Recordings featuring Jim Hall.

You will find these reproduced below along with some of Desmond’s always mirthful writings, the cover art from the albums that make up the RCA set and a selection of Chuck Stewart’s exquisite photographs of Paul.

Perhaps when you’ve finished reading Doug and Paul’s writings, you might enjoy watching our video tribute to Paul which was developed with the help of the crackerjack graphics team at CerraJazz LTD.

The audio track is Paul’s performance of I’ve Got You Under My Skin from the Desmond Blue RCA recording. Jim Hall is featured on guitar and the arrangement is by Bob Prince. [Just click the “X” when the ads appear on the screen to close out of them.]

Happy New Year.

We were in an elevator in the Portland Hilton, waiting for the doors to close when the car jerked and dropped slightly, and a bell sounded.

"What was that?" a startled woman asked.

"E-flat," Paul Desmond and I said simultaneously.

I think that's when he decided we could become friends.

We had been acquaintances since a decade earlier when the Brubeck Quartet was playing a concert at the University of Washington in 1955, and I was writing about music for the UW Daily. During intermission, Desmond and I discussed cameras and books. We picked up the conversation later that night at a party for the band, and it continued until toward the end of May 1977. He told me then that the doctors had decided to discontinue radiology and chemotherapy, that the treatments had become worse than the disease, and the disease was pretty bad. His liver, however, was still perfect.

The liver thing had become a running gag. Desmond and good Scotch were, shall we say, not strangers. It amused him that after a physical examination in early 1976 turned up a spot on his lung, his liver was given a clean bill of health. He enjoyed the irony.

"Pristine," he said, "perfect." One of the great livers of our time. Awash in Dewars and full of health."

I think he was even amused by the circumstances of the discovery of his nemesis. He had gone to the doctor about foot trouble, and they found the cancer. The swelling of the feet turned out to be temporary and unimportant.

His mother was Irish and literate, his father German and musical, so it was probably inevitable that Paul Breitenfeld's verbal and musical selves would be witty, warm and ironic. Until near the end of his life, according to Gene Lees, Desmond thought his father was Jewish, but a relative said he wasn't. The name Desmond came from a phone book.

"Breitenfeld sounded too Irish," he told me.

Among those who knew him, his wordplay was as celebrated as his solos. He was quiet, quick and subtle, and some of his remarks have become widely published, like the one about his wanting to sound like a dry martini. One night at closing time at Bradley's, Jimmy Rowles was packing his fake books, and Bradley Cunningham remarked that if Peter Duchin could have access to all of those chords, his prayers would be answered.

"Unfortunately for Peter Duchin," Desmond said, "all of his prayers have already been answered.”

Hanging on our dining room wall was Barbara Jones' large oil painting of four cats stalking a mouse. Seeing it for the first time, Paul said, "Ah, the perfect album cover for when I record with the Modern Jazz Quartet."

"You'll notice that the mouse is mechanical," I pointed out.

"In that case," he said, "Cannonball will have to make the record."

Like all true lovers of language and humor, Desmond knew that the only good pun was a bad pun. He and Jim Hall conspired to conceive a sort of Jazz Goes to

Ireland

album with outrageous song titles like "Fitzhugh or No One," "The Tralee Song," "Mahoney a Bird in a Gilded Cage" and "Lovely Hoolihan."

Paul loved to visit our house in Bronxville, a half-hour north of Manhattan. The place was on a hill with huge rocks, a pond, pine trees and a stone verandah that looked down on the street and a wooded lot where children played. "The real estate deal of the century," he called it, never failing to marvel that such rural-seeming territory existed so close to "ground zero," his neighborhood at 55th Street and 6th Avenue.

After dinner, we sat on the verandah and talked, often for hours but never non-stop. There were long, comfortable silences.

In the years following the dissolution of the Brubeck Quartet, Desmond was semi-retired, playing only when he was presented the opportunity to work with musicians he admired or, in at least one case, to help someone. He was one of the first to play the Half Note when it moved from among the warehouses and garages of lower Manhattan to the expensive mid-town real estate that was to prove the club's undoing. Desmond maintained he was accepting the gig only because it was around the corner from his apartment and he could pop out of bed and into the club. He never admitted that he wanted to help the Canterino family launch the new joint successfully; to do so would have been to admit that he had the drawing power of a star. (Never has there been a star less eager for the role.)

He appeared fairly often with the Two Generations of Brubeck troupe, hit the road with the old quartet in the 25th anniversary reunion tour in the winter of 1976, and traveled to Toronto now and then to work at Bourbon Street with Ed Bickert, Don Thompson, Jerry Fuller and, sometimes, Terry Clarke. In 1969, Paul was in the all-star band assembled by Willis Conover for Duke Ellington's 70th birthday part at the White House, the only domestic affairs high point of the Nixon administration. That night, as I have recounted elsewhere, Paul did an impression of Johnny Hodges that was so accurate that it caused Ellington to sit bolt upright in astonishment, an effect that gave Desmond great pleasure when I described it to him.

At the New Orleans Jazz Festival the same year, there was a memorable recreation of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet with Desmond as the other horn, Milt Hinton on bass and Alan Dawson the drummer. In New Orleans, Paul and I hung out virtually non-stop for four days, closing the French Quarter every morning shortly before sunrise. We avoided the strip joints and pseudo-jazz clubs and concentrated on little bars known to tourists only if they stumbled in. And we listened to all the music we could absorb at that remarkable festival, still remembered by musicians and audiences alike as the finest jazz festival ever, and described by Desmond one night on a television program I was conducting as "the most civilized I have ever attended."

Taking in one incredible jam session in the ballroom of the Royal Orleans Hotel, we witnessed Roland Kirk surpassing himself in one of the most inspired soprano sax solos either of us had ever heard. In a fast blues, Kirk used Alphonse Picou's traditional chorus from High Society for the basis of a fantastic series of variations that went on for chorus after chorus. We were spellbound by the intensity and humor of it, and Paul announced that henceforth he would be an unreserved Roland Kirk fan, even unto gongs and whistles. In the same session, Jaki Byard rose from the piano bench, picked up someone's alto saxophone and began playing beautifully.

"I wish he'd mind his own business," Desmond said.

About his own playing, he was modest, even deprecatory. "The world's slowest alto player," he called himself, "the John P. Marquand of the alto sax," and he claimed to

have won a special award for quietness. He was reluctant to listen to his recordings, although once after dinner when we'd had enough Dewars he agreed to hear a Brubeck concert I had on a tape never issued commercially. I intrigued him into listening by insisting that his solo on Pennies from Heaven was among his best work. In my opinion, Paul's solos tend* ed to be too short, but on this piece he stretched out for ten choruses of some of his most architectonic playing, full of inventive figures, sly rhythmic twists and ingenious quotes.

He nodded along with himself, laughed a couple of times (in the right places, obviously) and when it was over said, "I agree." That's the closest I ever heard

Desmond come to approval of his own playing.

During those final nine years, he was allegedly working on a book about his life and times in music. It was to called, How Many of You Are There in the Quartet, after a question asked by airline stewardesses around the world. There were periodic negotiations with agents and publishers, even an advance, but little of the book actually made it onto paper. The only chapter in print was in Punch, the British humor magazine. In an account of the Brubeck group's engagement at a county fair in New Jersey, Desmond melded a horse show, volunteer firemen's' demonstrations, Brubeck's only known appearance on electric organ, and a marathon Joe Morello drum solo into a montage worthy of S.J. Perelman. The book, he now and then claimed, was mainly an excuse that allowed him to hang out with the writers at Elaine's. That two-page cadenza, his liner notes, and a few letters remind us of Paul's literary ability. He was a creative writing major at San Francisco State College in the '40s, but he got sidetracked.

We talked by phone fairly often in the last years of his life, when I was living in San Antonio. When the calls came, they invariably began with his cheerful greeting, "Hi, it's me, Desmond." The last time, we found the conversation tapering off into an uncomfortable succession of commonplaces, a sort of shadow boxing that grew out of what he knew and I guessed. We should both get mildly bombed the following Friday night, he suggested, and he would call me from Elaine's.

His housekeeper found him dead on Monday.

Paul Desmond's original liner notes for TAKE TEN (RCA LSP 2569):

TAKETEN: further reflections on "Black Orpheus" and other timely topics...

This space is usually occupied, as most hardened collectors know, by the prose stylings of George Avakian. I'm taking his place this time partly because he's up to his jaded ears in Newport tapes and partly because this way we'll have room on the back for pictures. This brings us instantly to the first problem, which is that George frequently starts out by saying all manner of nice things about me which I can't say about myself without blushing, and it's ridiculous to walk around blushing when you are twenty-two years old. Nevertheless I should explain who I am and all, especially for those among you who may have picked up the album because of the cover under the impression that you were getting the score from a Vincent Price movie.

Briefly, then, I'm this saxophone player from the Dave Brubeck Quartet, with which I've been associated since shortly after the Crimean War. You can tell which one is me because when I'm not playing, which is surprisingly often, I'm leaning against the piano. I also have less of a smile than the other fellows. (This is because of the embouchure, or the shape of your mouth, while playing, and is very deceptive. You didn't really think Benny Goodman was all that happy, did you? Nobody's that happy.) I have won several prizes as the world's slowest alto player, as well as a special award in 1961 for quietness.

My compatriot in this venture is Jim Hall, about whom it's difficult to say anything complimentary enough. He's a beautiful musician-the favorite guitar-picker of many people who agree on little else in music, and he goes to his left very well. Some years ago he was the leading character, by proxy, in a movie starring Tony Curtis (SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS), a mark of distinction achieved only recently by such other notables as Hugh Hefner and Genghis Khan. He's a sort of combination Pablo Casals and W.C. Fields and hilariously easy to work with except he complains once in a while when I lean on the guitar.

Gene Cherico, who's becoming a thoroughly fantastic bass player, has only been playing bass for the last eight years. (Before that he was a drummer, but a tree fell on him. No kidding, that's the kind of life he leads.) On TAKE TEN he was replaced by my sturdy buoy and hard-driving friend Eugene Wright.

Connie Kay is, of course, the superb drummer from the Modern Jazz Quartet, and if a tree ever falls on him I may just shoot myself. He's like unique.

About the tunes: TAKE TEN is another excursion into 5/4 or 10/8, whichever you prefer. Since writing TAKE FIVE a few years back, a number of other possibilities in the 5 & 10 bag have come to mind from time to time. TAKE TEN is one of them. THEME FROM 'BLACK ORPHEUS' and SAMBA DE ORFEU, along with EMBARCADERO and EL PRINCE; are in a rhythm which by now I suppose should be called bossa antigua. (It's too bad the bossa nova became such a hula-hoop promotion. The original feeling was really a wild, subtle, delicate thing but it got lost there for a while in the avalanche. It's much too musical to be just a fad; it should be a permanent part of the scene. One more color for the long winter night, and all.)

ALONE TOGETHER, NANCY and THE ONE I LOVE are old standards I've always liked. They were arranged, more or less, while we were milling about drinking coffee and all. This approach, while making for a comfortable looseness, usually leads to general apprehension towards the end of the take and frequent disasters, but occasionally you get a fringe benefit. At the end of ALONE TOGETHER, Connie hit the big cymbal a good whang there and it sailed off the drum set and crashed on the floor. After the hysterical laughter subsided we were getting set to tear through it one more time but we listened to it anyway, out of curiosity, and it sounded kind of nice so we left it in. That's one of the few advantages this group has over the MJQ-if Connie's cymbal hits the floor on an MJQ record date, you by God know it, but with this group you can't really be sure.

George Avakian was benevolently present at all stages of getting this record together, and Bob Prince, doubtless overwhelmed at having a song named after him, appeared frequently with advice and counsel which was totally disregarded.

I would also like to thank my father who discouraged me from playing the violin at an early age.

PAUL DESMOND

Paul Desmond's original liner notes for BOSSA ANTIGUA (LSP 3320):

DELINEATIONS BY DESMOND

It's me, Paul Desmond, rapidly aging sax player with the Brubeck Quartet, sometimes called the John P. Marquand of the alto, and again playing hookey from the mother lode with the same group of sturdy compatriots that made TAKE TEN such a Joy to record. On bass is the Jovial presence of Eugene Wright, without whom the entire Brubeck operation would grind to a halt in a matter of hours. On drums, the master time-keeper of the Modem Jazz Quartet, Connie Kay -who, if he didn't exist, would be much too perfect ever to be imagined by anyone. And on guitar, the redoubtable (that means the first time you hear it you don't believe it, and when you hear it again later you still don't believe it) Jim Hall.

The term bossa antigua (it means, or at least it should, "old thing," as opposed to "new thing") began as a slightly rueful play on words, because by the time I got around to doing a few bossa nova tunes on TAKE TEN it was several years after the first flash from Brazil and couldn't property be called a new thing any more. This album carries the term a step further, in that the rhythm on several tracks is a sort of skeletal bossa nova with various old-timey flavors added. ALIANCA, for instance, has Jim Hall functioning as the only accredited Brazilian delegate, accompanied by routinely impeccable Connie Kay shtick and a nice comfortable New York 2 from Eugene Wright. A SHIP WITHOUT A SAIL and THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES contain other variations, ranging from Early Calumet City Strip to a subliminal fraelich. (If any of you feel creative out there, you could get together some rainy night and figure out an Old Thing dance to go along.)

The tunes, except for SHIP and NIGHT, are mostly originals. O GATO was written by Jim Hall's friend Jane Herbert, and it's as charming as she is, which is saying a lot. The others are tunes I wrote. One is based on a minor adaptation of a melody indigenous to early American coffee houses, a few are extensions of themes that have been wandering through my head recently, and the one called CURASAO DOLOROSO is a sort of three-stage operation.

Originally I'd wanted to do HEARTACHES, because it seemed so incongruous and because the original record of it had something of the same Neolithic connection to bossa nova as early marching bands had to Gerry Mulligan. I wrote a different set of changes for it and we tried it, and it was so horrible that George Avakian emerged from the control room in the middle of the first take, waving his arms and shuddering. (This is a musical milestone of sorts, since George usually smiles serenely thru the most disastrous takes imaginable, hoping that something good will somehow happen and he'll be able to splice it in later. I think the only other time he walked out in the middle of a take, the studio was on fire.)

So, on a later date we used the chords and avoided the melody, which is what you're supposed to do in jazz anyhow, come to think of it, and it worked out nicely. (Since it's a different melody and a different set of chords, the writers of HEARTACHES won't be around looking for royalties - but if they ever feel like dropping by for a drink, I'm usually home between 4 and 6.)

As always, George Avakian masterminded the entire operation effortlessly, even with a telephone more or less permanently installed in one ear. (There was one point, I must admit, when the only way I could get his attention was to go out to the phone booth and call him.) I don't know how the phone calls worked out, but I love the album.

PAUL DESMOND

PAUL DESMOND WITH JIM HALL

Until his series of RCA Victor dates in the 1960s, Paul Desmond did little recording as a leader, most unusual for a star soloist. In 1954 he had two Fantasy sessions, one with trumpeter Dick Collins and tenor saxophonist Dave Van Kriedt, colleagues from the Brubeck Octet; the other with guitarist Barney Kessel and the Bill Bates singers. The entire output of those encounters fit on a 10-inch LP made of green vinyl (everything done by Max and Sol Weiss, Fantasy's founders, was colorful). In the notes for it, Paul wrote, "My name is Paul Desmond and here I am 30 years old and this my first album in which I am not breathing down somebody else's neck...." In 1956, Desmond put together a quartet for another Fantasy album (red vinyl) with Don Elliott on mellophone and trumpet and elephants rampant on the cover. Desmond and Gerry Mulligan shared leadership of a 1957 session for Verve. He and guitarist Jim Hall linked up for a quartet date for Warner Bros, in 1959.

CD1

DESMOND BLUE

For four years beginning in mid-1961, Desmond was in Webster Hall or RCA's famous Studio A 19 times for sessions that produced five albums with Hall. The first to be released was Desmond Blue (later re-released on CD as Late Lament, with the addition of the previously unissued Advise and Consent, Autumn Leaves and Imagination). The arrangements for strings and horns were by Bob Prince, who had established his reputation as the composer of a staple of the modern ballet repertoire, New York Export: Op. Jazz. "I'd always wanted to hear Desmond with strings," Prince told Will Thornbury. "It was a dream come true."

Prince's recollection of Paul's modus operandi at the strings dates reminds us of Desmond's dedication to spontaneity.

"He was a wonderful musician," Prince told Thornbury, "one of the few to transform the saxophone and shape it into a new sound. I've never known anyone with such a pure tone - one that I'd never heard before and won't again. When it came to playing with strings and woodwinds, he wanted the experience of going into the studio and having a new toy to play with. It really came down to that, because in many cases I was going to show him what I'd done and he'd say, 'No, no, that's all right—just go ahead and do it.' He didn't really want me to come over and show it to him on the piano or even look at it on the score, because he liked that, just like he liked going in with Jim and the rhythm section and being surprised by them. I was amazed by what he did. In all of the album there's one chord—one point—where I stuck in an augmented eleventh, and had I known he was not going to augment the eleventh, I'd have thought twice about putting in the upper functions. That's the only exception, and it only happened for about a quarter of a bar. I'm not telling where that is."

The empathy between Paul and Jim Hall is introduced in My Funny Valentine following the neo-baroque introduction written by Prince. It is more fully disclosed in I've Got You Under My Skin when the strings lay out. Desmond plays a chorus with only Milt Hinton's bass and Robert Thomas's drums behind him, then Hall begins a pattern of gently prodding chords and moves the intensity up so that by the time the strings re-enter on a key change, the swing has reached its highest level of the piece.

CD2

TAKE TEN

Take Ten was Desmond's follow-up composition to Take Five, for the Brubeck Quartet a hit record and for Paul a dependable annuity that is still producing considerable income for his estate. The bassist for the title tune of Desmond's second RCA album is Eugene Wright, fellow Brubeckian and shaman of 5/4 time who, in the early sixties when 5/4 was Sanskrit to most jazz musicians, would hold little counting seminars backstage: "1,2,3/1,2," he would instruct the locals, "that's the only way you can keep track of it until it becomes natural.” In Take Ten, it is obviously natural to Gene. Desmond is misterioso, Near-Eastern and bluesy.

Hall was one of the first American musicians to return from

Brazil

with news of bossa nova, that felicitous melding of samba and harmonies from the French impressionists and jazz. Desmond saw deeply into its beautiful possibilities. His El Prince is heard in two versions, with drummer Connie Kay in a complex samba pattern. The second take, which languished in a tape box for two decades until it was issued on a Mosaic LP collection, is a tad slower and has forceful Desmond, a buoyant solo by Hall and intriguing bass lines by Gene Cherico.

At least one hearing of Alone Together can profitably be spent concentrating on Connie's snare accents and cymbal work, little kicks of encouragement. Paul, at a fairly good clip, marries relaxation and irresistible swing, especially in his second solo. Jim quotes Dizzy Gillespie's Anthropology and in the bridge of his second solo chorus has the kind of chord fiesta that makes grown men weep, if they are guitarists.

The structure of this song is a normal AABA, but the first two A sections are 14 bars instead of the usual eight. The composition hangs together so well, the eccentricity is not obvious.

The originally issued take of Embarcadero has nifty counterpoint in the first 16 bars following the guitar solo. One of several original Desmond bossa novas, the tune could be named after the Embarcadero in his native San Francisco or the one in Rio, or both. Antonio Carlos Jobim's gorgeous theme from the film Black Orpheus brings us to Kay laying down the basic bossa nova pattern, Hall and Cherico in rhythmic cahoots and Paul soaring. The tag is played as written, then the piece is taken out on a vamp ending.

Nancy sounds as if Paul, like Lester Young, thought of a ballad's lyrics as he played it. Hall's introduction is among his finest. Samba de Orfeu is one of the most famous pieces by Antonio Carlos Jobim. Desmond regretted the hype and hoopla surrounding the bossa nova phenomenon, but this marvelous music insinuated itself quickly into American jazz. As he hoped, it has become a permanent element.

The One I Love gets a fluid performance with no quotes and no clichés. In his solo, Hall alternates legato and punchy passages to great effect. Out of Nowhere has interesting Desmond modulations in the opening chorus. Hall's comping is exemplary, and Kay negotiates a classic bop ride cymbal pattern throughout. Following Jim's two-chorus solo, he and Desmond trade twos, then Paul and the rhythm section do a chorus of stop-time.

CD3

GLAD TO BE UNHAPPY

Desmond's singing quality predominates Glad to be Unhappy, one of the best Rodgers and Hart ballads and one of their most unusual, with its ABA form. Paul's solo is improvisation reduced to essence; there's not a superfluous note. He conjures up a minor felling in the final bars of his first solo. We get a vamp ending. With echo, yet.

Strolling is what Roy Eldridge was the first to call the practice of a horn soloist playing with only bass and drums. Desmond strolls nicely in the second chorus of Poor Butterfly. Hall's solo has fascinating chords and great intensity. Counterpoint raises its lovely head, and we have the closest thing to a Dixieland ending that you're likely to hear from this band.

Mel Torme's Stranger in Town offers a good example of why Desmond kept describing Eugene Wright with such adjectives as sturdy, dependable and buoyant. It is also, for alto saxophonists, a case study in tonal quality. In A Taste of Honey, Paul offers a small portion of the melody as written, then the piece becomes abstraction, employing that high, pure alto sound so many think of as Desmond. He loved waltz time and he loved minor keys, and this is the best of both worlds.

For Any Other Time, a Desmond original, Kay's drumming is smooth, the kind of rolling timekeeping a soloist loves to have behind him. Paul's hurdy gurdy lines reflect the joy expressed by Hi-Lili, Hi-Lo in the motion picture Lili. There is no way of knowing, but, given his admiration of elegant women (fortunately, for him, it also worked the other way), it may be that he was picturing Leslie Caron. It is well known that his Audrey from the mid-'50s was Hepburn. Speaking of women, which Desmond did with respect and some frequency, he made it a point to—ahem—know the beautiful models RCA hired to decorate most of his album covers. He once told me that using his picture on the Take Ten album not only probably frightened away record customers but left a gap in his social life.

Desmond is piping and plaintive in Angel Eyes; what an ear for subtle harmonic possibilities. Jim goes into one of his billowing chords routines, then Paul floats back in, melodic and, yes, lyrical. By the River Sainte Marie, written in 1931, may seem an unlikely jazz vehicle, but it works for Desmond, Hall and company in this amiable performance.

Jim Hall's All Across the City was first recorded in a classic session for Mainstream Records which featured him and fellow guitarist Jimmy Raney with tenor saxophonist Zoot Sims. The initial melody is reminiscent of Gershwin's Prelude in F. It might have been made to order for Desmond. Jim spreads composerly chords for Paul when the alto re-enters following the guitar solo, a splendid moment. Connie creates another with his cymbals suspension before the final statement.

All Through the Night must have been on Paul's mind because it was included in Brubeck's Cole Porter album, Anything Goes (for Columbia), which was recorded around the same time. Desmond sparkles and soars through Cole Porter's interesting harmonies. Jim indulges himself in one of those billows of chords that are the despair of lesser guitarists. There is a minor stumble at the beginning of Paul's final appearance on the track, but that was no reason for the performance to stay under wraps. (It was in hiding in the RCA vaults for more than 20 years.) On the tag ending, Jim comps to a fare-thee-well.

CD4

BOSSA ANTIGUA

The Bossa Antigua album is another celebration of Desmond's favorite import, not taking Dewars into account. The title tune and Samba Cepeda (Orlando, the great first bassman?) are the same melody. Cepeda is issued here for the first time on CD. Of the two takes of The Night Has a Thousand Eyes, the one originally issued is given a less overt bossa nova treatment than the alternate (track 9). The original issued take of O Gato, recorded on August 20,1964, is relaxed over Kay's sizzling bossa nova rhythm. The alternate take was the sole successful effort in a session on July 30,1964. Samba Cantina could be the "minor adaptation of a melody indigenous to early American coffee houses" slyly referred to by Desmond in his notes for the Bossa Antigua LP. Curacao Dolorosa may commemorate a painful experience on an island in the Netherlands Antilles or a hangover from a liqueur. Its genealogy, as Paul explained it in his notes, involves, more or less, the song Heartaches.

The fetching melody of A Ship Without a Sail is lovingly played by Desmond. Hall, making the difficult sound easy, turns in one of his best solos. Kay successfully uses the unconventional device of accenting the second beat of each bar. Alianca is another of Paul's attractive originals. His The Girl from East 9th Street is highlighted by lovely descending thirds that begin in the ninth bar.

CD5

EASY LIVING

The Easy Living album begins with When Joanna Loves Me, a little-known love song that is seldom recorded. The tempo is medium, with Wright playing in two for the first chorus, then blossoming into a gently walking 4/4 for Desmond Hall's beautifully played, slight sad and regretful improvisations. Kay's drumming here is typical of his unique combination of lightness and firmness.

Desmond lilts along through the melody of That Old Feeling, then shifts up for a cruise through three increasingly momentous choruses. Hall's invitation to dance is concealed in an oblique reference to Benny Goodman. Polka Dots and Moonbeams is given a faster tempo than is usually applied to this famous ballad, providing sprightly impetus to the solos but draining none of the interest from Jimmy Van Heusen's intriguing chord changes.

Another of Van Heusen's treasured harmonic patterns is contained in Here's That Rainy Day, in which Desmond makes allusions to Man With a Horn, Tadd Dameron's Hot House, I've Got a Right to Sing the Blues and Time After Time. Hall leaves the hiding of clues for tune detectives to his partner and settles into his work with a section of low-register reflections that blooms into one of the guitarist's celebrated gardens of chords.

There were problems with takes of two pieces recorded by Desmond, Hall, Wright and Kay on September 9, 1964. They were rejected and had to be redone later in the month. But on Easy Living, everything worked. Desmond follows Hall's quiet introduction with a piping reading of the seductive Ralph Rainger melody, then provides a classic example of his legato ballad style—seamless lyricism and the creation of pure melody.

Percy Heath's authority and mastery of the beat married to the assurance and easy ride of Kay's cymbals buoy Paul's delighted exposition of Lerner and Loewe's centerpiece from My Fair Lady, I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face. At the risk of pointing out the obvious, please don't miss Desmond's modulations in the second chorus or Jim's logic in the development of ideas in his wonderfully linear solo. The same team, virtually the same tempo, and the same relaxation, passion and inventiveness in the art of improvisation are hallmarks (so to speak) of Bewitched. The song is one of the finest works of Rodgers and Hart, who could be considered the Lerner and Loewe of their time. Or is it the other way

In Blues for Fun, the fun begins with a chorus of walking bass by Gene Cherico, an unsung hero of the instrument. Among other things, on this piece Desmond proves that the world's slowest alto player had no problem with fast tempos, that he and the blues understood each other and, in his unaccompanied chorus, that he knew Lester Young inside out. Hall's solo and his riff behind Desmond's out-chorus are the work of a master architect of the blues.

Keeping company with All Through the Night in tape purgatory was Gene Wright's Rude Old Man, an invaluable addition to the accumulated evidence of the blues prowess of Desmond and Hall. The first chorus lays down Gene's urgent little riff. The second features Paul and Jim in contrapuntal call-and-response. The balance of the piece is devoted to expressing the profundities that the best players can elicit in a thoroughgoing exploration of the limitless possibilities of the good old basic, unadorned blues in B-flat. Toward the end of his solo, Jim gets, as they have been known to say in parts of Mississippi, "real country." He winds up the festivities and the album with an altered chord that is real city.

Paul, who always had a sense of occasion, died on Memorial Day, 1977. He was 52 years old. Perhaps not coincidentally, the Brubeck clan gathers each Memorial Day at the big Connecticut house Desmond called the Wilton Hilton. Dave and Iola are surrounded by their many musician sons, their daughter, other family members and friends. Always, much of the conversation will be about Paul, and there will be considerable laughter and head-shaking as puns, witticisms and plays on words are passed around. Eyes will moisten. Someone will say that Desmond manages to be a part of every day's thoughts. That someone is likely to be Dave.

"I think about Paul all the time," Brubeck told me. "We were together for so many years that I find myself remembering how Paul would have reacted to music and seeing our friends through his eyes. And around here we're always saying, "Paul would have loved that," or "I wonder what Paul would have said about that." Mort Saul and I got together the other night after a concert. We swapped Desmond stories for an hour and could have gone on all night. Paul's always with us. He's a presence."

Once, when we were talking about something else, Brubeck stopped, looked into the distance for a moment and said, "Boy, I sure miss Paul Desmond."

I couldn't say it better.

Boy, I sure miss Paul Desmond.

-DOUG RAMSEY

Papaerback now available through Amazon.

Table of Contents Introduction pp. 6-10 Prologue - Seeds in the Swing Era from Modern Jazz by Alun Morgan and Raymond Horricks pp. 11-20 Chapter 1. The Miles Davis 1948/1949 Group from Modern Jazz by Alun Morgan and Raymond Horricks, pp. 21-29 Chapter 2. The Los Angeles Jazz Scene of the 1950’s The Gerry Mulligan Quartet by Robert Gordon, pp. 30-38 Chapter 3. The West Coast Sound by Robert Gordon, pp. 39-48 Chapter 4. Two Tenor Conversation with Bill Perkins and Richie Kamuca by John Tynan, pp. 49-53 Chapter 5. Bill Perkins - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 54-58 Chapter 6. Richie Kamuca - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 59-62 Chapter 7. Bob Cooper - Quietly, Always There by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 63-68 Chapter 8. William “Buddy” Collette, 1921-2010 by Peter Jacobson and the Central Avenue Sounds Editorial Committee, pp. 69-73 Chapter 9. The Forgotten Ones - Buddy Collette - by Gordon Jack, pp. 74-77 Chapter 10. Harold Land [1928-2001]: The Hard Bop Legacy - Steven A. Cerra and John Tynan, pp. 78-82 Chapter 11. Jack Montrose by Gordon Jack, pp. 83-89 Chapter 12. Chet Baker - “The Jazz Musician Interview” by Jerome Reece, pp. 90-99 Chapter 13. Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 1 - The Ira Gitler Notes, pp. 100-104 Chapter 14. Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 2 - The Michael James Essay, pp. 105-111 Chapter 15. Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 3 - The Herbie Butterfield Essay, pp. 112-117 Chapter 16, Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 4 - The Alun Morgan Essay, pp. 118-122 Chapter 17. Funny Frank [Rosolino] by John Tynan, pp. 123-125 Chapter 18. Lou Levy - John Tynan, pp. 126-129 Chapter 19. Lou Levy - An Interview with Steve Voce, pp. 130-137 Chapter 20. Jimmy Rowles: Sprinkling Jazz by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 138-144 Chapter 21. Jimmy Rowles: The Len Lyons Interview, pp. 145-150 Chapter 22. Pete Jolly - Some Variations by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 151-163 Chapter 23. Willis and John Haley - Bill Holman Talks About Zoot Sims, pp. 164-176 Chapter 24. Bill Holman: Recollections of Fellow Musicians from The Early Years with Bill Dobbins, pp. 177-187 Chapter 25. Bob Gordon -Baritone Blues by Gordon Jack, pp. 188-193 Chapter 26. The Great Herb Geller by Gene Lees, pp. 194-203 Chapter 27. Herb Geller and Interview with Gordon Jack, pp. 204-212 Chapter28. Teddy Edwards: A Tenor Saxophonist of Importance by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 213-215 Chapter 29. The Advent of Victor Feldman by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 216-226 Chapter 30. Victor Feldman and Frank Rosolino: The “Lost Recordings” by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 227-231 Chapter 31. Nascent Lennie Niehaus by Max Harrison, pp. 232-239 Chapter 32, Bud Shank - Burning Brighter by Fran Kelley, pp. 240-242 Chapter 33. Bud Shank Parts 1 and 2 by Doug Ramsey and Gordon Jack, pp. 243-261 Chapter 34. Milt Bernhart by Gordon Jack, pp. 262-265 Chapter 35. Bob Brookmeyer: An Interview with Bill Coss, pp. 266-270 Chapter 36. Extracts From An Interview with Bob Brookmeyer by Wayne Enstice and Paul Rubin, pp. 271-278 Chapter 37. Bob Enevoldsen with Gordon Jack, pp. 279-283 Chapter 38. Marty Paich and A Band Within A Band” by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 284-293 Chapter 39. Cal Tjader - The 1957 Downbeat Interview by John Tynan, pp. 294-297 Chapter 40. Cal Tjader, Paul Horn and the 1958 Monterey Jazz Festival, pp. 298-302 Chapter 41. Cal Tjader: “A Certain, Smooth Elegance” [La Onda Va Bien] by Steven. A Cerra, pp. 303-309 Chapter 42. “The Latinization of Cal Tjader - Or … what’s a nice Swedish boy like you doing in a bag like this?” by Harvey Siders, pp. 310-316 Chapter 43. College Goes to Jazz - John Graas and the Westlake College Quintet, pp. 317-321 Chapter 44. “Don Fagerquist - The Forgotten Ones” Series by Gordon Jack, pp. 322-325 Chapter 45. Bass Players: Scott LaFaro and Gary Peacock by Martin Williams, pp. 326-333 Chapter 46. California Hard 1 - Clifford Brown, Herb Geller, Hampton Hawes and Dexter Gordon by Robert Gordon, pp. 334-343 Chapter 47. California Hard II - The Curtis Counce Group, Chet Baker Quintet, Pepper Adams - Mel Lewis Quintet and Others by Robert Gordon, pp. 344-354

Now available as a paperback and eBook through Amazon.com

Table of Contents Introduction: The Jazz West Coast Style of Music by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 6-9 Prologue - West Coast Sounds by John Dutton, pp. 10-16 Chapter 1. Central Avenue Sounds by Bob Gordon, 17-32 Chapter 2. Shorty Rogers and His Giants - by Bob Gordon, 33-44 Chapter 3. Shorty Rogers and the Development of the West Coast Style of Jazz by John Graas, pp. 45-48 Chapter 4. Shorty Rogers - The Gentle Giant by Howard Lucraft, pp. 49-53 Chapter 5. Shorty Rogers The Steve Voce Interview, pp. 54-58 Chapter 6. Shelly Manne - The Lighthouse and Shorty Rogers - Steven A. Cerra, pp. 59-73 Chapter 7. The Lighthouse Café as an Incubator for West Coast Jazz by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 74-77 Chapter 8. Jim Giuffre Musician by Nat Hentoff - Jim Giuffre Composer As Told to Downbeat [John Tynan], pp. 78-81 Chapter 9. The Passionate Conviction: An Interview with Jimmy Giuffre by Lorin Stephens, pp. 82-90. Chapter 10. Jimmy Giuffre in the Jazz Literature : Jordi Pujol, Will McFarland and Francis Davis, pp. 91-101 Chapter 11. Jimmy Giuffre - The Pastoral Man by Ed Michel, pp. 102-112 Chapter 12. Peter Welding - Booklet Notes to The Complete Pacific Jazz and Capitol Recordings of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet and Tentette with Chet Baker [Mosaic MR 5-102], pp. 113-118 Chapter 13. Gerry Mulligan: The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 119-125 Chapter 14. The West Coast School Of White Musicians And Its Soloists - from "Modern Jazz" by Morgan and Horricks, pp. 126-134 Chapter 15. The Composers of the West Coast School - from "Modern Jazz" by Morgan and Horricks, pp. 135-142 Chapter 16. Shelly Redux – More Thoughts From and About The Manne by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 143-153 Chapter 17. Shelly Manne & His Men at The Blackhawk: A Review of the Jazz Literature by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 154-169 Chapter 18. Shelly Manne and His Men Play Peter Gunn by Lester Koenig, pp. 170-172 Chapter 19. Hank Mancini - Jazz Musician by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 173-175 Chapter 20. Stan Getz - East of the Sun: The West Coast Sessions - The Ted Gioia Notes, pp. 176-181 Chapter 21. STAN AND GERRY - Occasional Collaborators" by Gordon Jack, pp. 182-185 Chapter 22. Shelly Manne: “Portrait of a Jazz Success” by John Tynan, pp.186-193 Chapter 23. Art Pepper - "The Whiteness of the Wail" by Gary Giddins, pp. 194-197 Chapter 24. Art Pepper-Marty Paich Inc. by Alun Morgan, pp. 198-203 Chapter 25. Art Pepper Plus Eleven by Marty Paich, pp. 204-207 Chapter 26. "Straight Life - The Story of Art Pepper" by Gary Giddins, pp. 208-212 Chapter 27. Art Pepper by Larry Kart, pp. 213-217 Chapter 28. Stan Levey - The Alun Morgan Interview, pp.218-222 Chapter 29. Stan Levey: From Left to Right - The JazzProfiles Interview by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 223-231 Chapter 30. Stan Levey - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 232-236 Chapter 31. Mel Lewis in the Jazz Literature - Steven A. Cerra, Ed.. pp. 237-247 Chapter 32. Mel Lewis – Life in Los Angeles - Chris Smith, pp. 248-253 Chapter 33. Mel Lewis, Terry Gibbs and The Dream Band by Terry Gibbs and Chris Smith, pp. 254-258 Chapter 34. Larry Bunker - Portrait of a Jazz Drummer and Studio Musician - The Gordon Jack Interview, pp. 259-263 Chapter 35. Larry Bunker - Modern Drummer Interview with David Levine and the Steve Voce Obituary for the Independent, pp. 264-269 Chapter 36. Whatever Happened to Larry Bunker? by Mal Sands, pp. 270-277 Chapter 37. JazzLife - Hollywood and Los Angeles by William Claxton, pp. 278-284 Chapter 38. Dave Pell by Gordon Jack, pp. 285-288 Chapter 39. Dave Pell - The Complete Trend and Kapp Recordings 1953-1956 by Steven A. Cerra and Jordi Pujol, pp. 289-296 Chapter 40. The Case for Dave Pell - The Octets and Beyond by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 297-302 Chapter 41. Chico Hamilton Quintet - The Robert Gordon/Mosaic Records Notes, pp. 303-307 Chapter 42. The Chico Hamilton Quintet by Gordon Jack, pp. 308-312 Chapter 43. Terry Gibbs' Big Band - "Vamp 'Till Ready" by John Tynan, pp. 313-318 Chapter 44. Part 1 - The Terry Gibbs Dream Band from “Terry Gibbs Good Vibes - A Life in Jazz,” pp. 319-326 Chapter 45. Part 2 -The Terry Gibbs Dream Band from “Terry Gibbs Good Vibes - A Life in Jazz,” pp. 327-334 Chapter 46. Part 3 -The Terry Gibbs Dream Band from “Terry Gibbs Good Vibes - A Life in Jazz,” pp. 335-344 Epilogue: Jazz on the West Coast - “Preface” by Robert Gordon, pp. 345-347

This is now available as both an eBook and paperback exclusively through Amazon.com.

Should you like to purchase a copy, here’s the Table of Contents for - A Dave Brubeck Reader, Volume 1 - 1948 to 1972 which is now available as a paperback and an eBook exclusively on Amazon.com. Once the cost of publication has been met, I am donating half of my royalties to the local school district for use toward the purchase of musical instruments for individual students. Introduction, pp. 7-9 Prologue - Dave Brubeck: A Life in American Music by Doug Ramsey, pp. 10-35 Chapter 1 - “Time to Begin” by Fred M. Hall, pp. 36-43 Chapter 2. The Dave Brubeck Octet by Dave Brubeck and Dr. Frank Tirro, pp. 44-51 Chapter 3. The Dave Brubeck Octet: A Formula and A Dilemma by Raymond Horricks, pp. 52-57 Chapter 4. The Dave Brubeck Octet by Philip Clark, pp. 58-70 Chapter 5. Cal Tjader and The Dave Brubeck Octet and Trio by S. Duncan Reid, pp. 71-78 Chapter 6. The Complete Storyville Broadcasts - Jason Yale, pp. 79-83 Chapter 7. The Formative Years of the Dave Brubeck Quartet by Philip Elwood, pp. 84-94 Chapter 8. Brubeck at Oberlin, A Review of the Jazz Literature by Steven A. Cerra, pp. 95-104. Chapter 9. 1954 Jazz at College of the Pacific and Jazz Goes to College - Wayne Morrill, Katie Neubauer and George Avakian, pp. 105-114 Chapter 10. The Early Years at Columbia Records and Brubeck Time by Stephen Crist, pp. 115-120 Chapter 11. Dave Brubeck Answers His Critics - Don Freeman DB 8.10.1955, pp. 121-123 Chapter 12. Ralph J. Gleason - “Dave Brubeck: What Makes Him Tick,” DB 7.25.1957, pp. 124-130 Chapter 13. Ralph J. Gleason - Dave Brubeck: 'They Said I Was Too Far Out' DB 8. 8. 1957, pp. 131-137 Chapter 14. Ralph J. Gleason - Dave Brubeck: First Things First, DB 9.5.1957, pp. 138-145 Chapter 15. The Quartet from These Jazzmen of Our Times by Raymond Horricks, pp. 146-152 Chapter 16. Jazz Impressions of the U.S.A. and Dave Digs Disney by Philip Clark, pp. 153-159 Chapter 17. Jazz Impressions of Dave Brubeck by Steven A. Cerra and Howard Mandel, 160-166 Chapter 18. Digging Dave Brubeck and Time Out - Alan Goldscher, pp. 167-182 Chapter 19. Metrical Experimentation from "Dave Brubeck's Time Out" by Stephen Crist, pp. 183-189 Chapter 20. Dave Brubeck’s Time Out: Why It’s So Great - Kile Smith, pp. 190-192 Chapter 21. Dave Brubeck - Beyond Take Five - John Edward Hasse, pp. 193-196 Chapter 22. Dave Brubeck and Stan Kenton: Alike and Unalike by Harry Frost, pp. 197-200 Chapter 23. Pops - Dave and Iola Brubeck - The Real Ambassadors by Steven A. Cerra and Ricky Riccardi, pp. 201-210 Chapter 24. The Real Ambassadors by Penny M. von Eschen, pp. 211-218 Chapter 25. The Real Ambassadors by Keith Hatschek, pp. 219-225 Chapter 26. Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Glasser - Gary Giddins, pp. 226-228 Chapter 27. Beyond Time Out - The Undiscovered Dave Brubeck by Steven A. Cerra, 229-237 Chapter 28. Dave Brubeck, Composer, by Leonard Feather, pp. 238-244 Chapter 29. A Quartet of Five (Dave Brubeck) by Gary Giddins, pp. 245-249 Chapter 30. Dave Brubeck: The Man on the Buffalo Nickel - Gene Lees, pp. 250-268 Chapter 31. Compadres with Brubeck and Mulligan - Jerome Klinkowitz, pp. 269-278 Chapter 32. “A Quarter Century Young: The Dave Brubeck Quartet,” Arnold J. Smith, DB March 25,1976, pp. 279-288 Epilogue - Dave Brubeck: The Smithsonian Oral History Program NEA Jazz Masters Interviews, pp. 289-352 Bibliography, pp. 353-360 Discography, pp. 361-364

Our Thanks to Alan Parr for this review on Amazon.UK.

The very title makes it clear that this is not a biography in the conventional sense. However, in many ways it works better than a normal biography. The author has identified six phases of Gerry Mulligan's career and illustrated each with several suitable pieces of writing - not his own, but drawn from a vast array of sources - including both contemporary and retrospective pieces such as comprehensive sleeve notes, magazine articles, and interviews. I realised that there are considerable advantages to this approach. A conventional biographer will form a picture of his subject and this view will tend to shape everything he writes. The use of pieces from several dozen writers helps us get a much more rounded picture of the subject - and it is clear that Gerry Mulligan did indeed have several sides to his personality. True there are a number of episodes and anecdotes which get repeated several times but I did not find this obtrusive; rather, seeing the same story from different sources helped me form a more balanced picture. Biography or not Steve Cerra has arranged the materials to enlighten us about each stage of Gerry's career. It all works beautifully, with important recordings illustrated with the original sleeve notes and contemporary reviews, and for each self-contained section it is natural to return to listen once more to the recordings themselves. This isn't one of those books where you say 'I couldn't put it down' and I suspect the author would be rather disappointed if anyone did. I'm pleased to say it took me six weeks to read. I've enjoyed Mulligan's music for more than sixty years - we called our first cat Mulligan - but I learned a great deal. It's not just the book list that is extensive; the author's knowledge of Mulligan's music and across the jazz scene as a whole is encyclopedic. I enjoyed the book immensely and was happy to take my time to enjoy each section and its associated music. I unreservedly recommend A Gerry Mulligan Reader.

Many thanks to Jeffrey Sultanof for these reviews.

“I salute Steven Cerra, drummer and writer, who has self-published two extraordinary volumes on Gerry Mulligan and Bill Evans. Cerra, who continues publishing a blog called Jazz Profiles, also writes a column right here for Substack. His Substack column reprints articles that in many cases are hard to find. That’s what he has done with his readers. He has gathered liner notes and often hard-to-find articles and interviews of said artists. Reading them for the first time or re-reading them after many years is fun and enlightening, and puts them into active circulation. Previously, you would have to go to specialist libraries or private collections to find them. Having them easily accessible is a boon to historians like myself for obvious reasons - the information is at my fingertips (literally) and it is easier to find sources of quotes for accurate footnoting. These are also the sorts of books that you can’t put down once you start reading. I urge you to check them out. [They are available exclusively on Amazon both as paperbacks and eBooks. Just type in Steven A. Cerra in the Books section on Amazon’s site to search for them.] Kindle prices are $9.99 each - a bargain!!!”

Ricardo Pinheiro's Latest - TONE STORIES - Coming from Fresh Sound on April 19th

Ricardo Pinheiro completed a Degree in Music at Berklee College of Music, Boston; Degree in Psychology Sciences at the Universidade de Lisboa; and a PhD in Musicology (Ethnomusicology) at the Universidade Nova de Lisboa. He studied with Mick Goodrick, George Garzone, Ed Tomassi, Ken Pullig, Wayne Krantz, Ken Cervenka, Chris Washburne and Salwa Castelo-Branco. He played/recorded with Peter Erskine, David Liebman, Chris Cheek, Mário Laginha, Eric Ineke, Perico Sambeat, Stephan Astbury, João Paulo Esteves da Silva, Remix Ensemble, Matt Renzi, Jon Irabagon, John Gunther, Mike Del Ferro, André Charlier, Benoît Sourisse, among many others. He teaches at the Escola Superior de Música de Lisboa, and is the Director of its Masters in Music Program. He played and participated in conferences and meetings in Austria, Greece, Spain, France, The Netherlands, Germany, U.S.A., Denmark, Italy, South Africa, among other countries, and published articles in journals such as Acta Musicologica of the International Musicological Society, the Jazz Research Journal, or the International Review for The Aesthetics and Sociology of Music. https://www.ricardopinheiro.com/bio

My thanks to Dr. James Williams for this 5 Star Amazon Review

A Gerry Mulligan Reader - Our Thanks to Kevin Goss

When I heard that Steven was writing this book, I couldn't wait to receive it because I have enjoyed his jazz writing for some time, and I have been a Mulligan disciple for over 40 years. The first surprise when it arrived is the size of this book. I was expecting it to be the standard paperback size, but this book is large. Given that the print size is standard, that was when I realized how comprehensive the book was going to be. Cerra covers Mulligan's music from his beginnings as a teenager to his final output while also paying attention to the legacy Jeru left behind. Using a combination of full articles, excerpts, and personal observations it's clear that this is a labour of love. I highly recommend this book for any fan of Gerry Mulligan, but also for any fan of jazz. Mulligan is in the pantheon of great jazz innovators and his legacy is given the justice it deserve's in Cerra's tome. Read this book and buy Gerry's music. You'll regret neither.

Our thanks to Jim Harrod at Jazz Research

At last, a resource of critical writings gathered in one place covering the career of one of the most influential jazz artists of the 20th century. The large format, 8.5 x 11 inches, enables a decent font size to read this collection that includes liner notes from many Mulligan CD releases where the text was often so small that a magnifying glass was needed. Cerra’s choice includes many hard-to-find items like a chapter from the now out-of-print and pricey Ruddick biography of Chet Baker discussing the formation of the Gerry Mulligan quartet.

Many thanks to Bill Crow for the following -

Steven Cerra sent me a copy of his new book, “Gerry Mulligan, Writings on a Jazz Original,” a fine collection of writings about Gerry, including some of mine, plus some interviews. Steven writes: “The purpose of this book is to provide the reader with a sequential and thematic account of the life and music of Gerry Mulligan (April 5, 1927-January 20,1996.) I’ve been enjoying reading it. Steven Included an anecdote from one of my books: …Gerry continued to work with his quartet: Brookmeyer, Mel Lewis and me. We appeared on Mike Wallace’s television show during the time that Wallace was in the process of building a reputation as an investigative reporter. Wallace’s TV interviews were popular partly because of his prosecutorial style. At the rehearsal, Wallace was courteous and low-key. He asked questions that had been prepared by his staff, and Gerry answered frankly about his career, his experiences with drugs and the law, and other aspects of his life. On the air, Wallace’s tone became more contentious, and instead of asking the questions he had asked at rehearsal, he said accusingly, “I understand you were involved with drugs, and did some time because of it!” This left Gerry with little more to say than “yes.” Though Wallace was using the information Gerry had given him at the rehearsal, he gave his audience the impression that he was confronting Gerry with the results of his own private investigations. Gerry managed to field Wallace’s questions with his usual aplomb, but he found himself at a loss when Wallace asked him, “I notice there are no black musicians in your group. Is this accidental, or by design?” Actually, it was the first time in years that, by happenstance, there were no black musicians in Gerry’s quartet, but any short answer to that question would have sounded lame. As Gerry considered how best to respond, Bob Brookmeyer glared at Wallace, jerked a thumb at Mel Lewis, and said frostily, “We’ve got a Jewish drummer. Will that help?” Wallace dropped the subject.

Our thanks to Pierre Giroux writing in the Jan. 2024 Ed. of The New York City Jazz Record

“Gerry Mulligan: Writings on a Jazz Original, by jazz historian Steven Cerra, delves into the life and work of the groundbreaking baritone saxophonist, composer, arranger and bandleader. The book is a reader, and its seven discrete chapters cover specific periods in the musician’s musical life, each chapter presenting selections from essays, articles, interviews and liner notes by various hands and providing insights into Mulligan’s unique style, contributions and impact on the jazz genre. Throughout a nearly 50-year career (this month marks the baritone saxophonist’s 28-year deathaversary), Mulligan was at the inflection point of many changes in jazz. In 1944, at the age of 17, he started out in big bands and his musical career from then until the early ’70s represents his most productive and innovative period. This fact is reflected in the compelling written material sourced by Cerra, which comprises the book’s first three chapters and represents over two-thirds of the book’s pages. Among the many highlights, we learn of the impact he made arranging and composing for the big bands of Gene Krupa, Claude Thornhill and Elliot Lawrence in the mid to late ’40s, his captivating contributions to the Miles Davis Nonet Birth of the Cool sessions (1949) and the formation of the groundbreaking pianoless quartet with trumpeter Chet Baker in the early ‘50s, which foreshadowed the West Coast jazz movement. For the balance of the ’50s all the way into the early ’70s, Mulligan burnished his reputation with various iterations of the quartet, which included trombonist Bob Brookmeyer and trumpeter Art Farmer. He also led an influential sextet that included Brookmeyer, saxophonist Zoot Sims and trumpeter Jon Eardley, led his own twelve-piece Concert Jazz Band from 1960-64 and joined Dave Brubeck’s group from 1968-72. This is not meant to be an exhaustive recounting of Mulligan’s activities but rather to demonstrate the richness of his endeavors. Readers will additionally gain valuable insights into Mulligan’s musical influences, collaborations and partnerships, which affected the evolution of his distinctive sound. Contributors to the book include George T. Simon, Ira Gitler, Michael Cuscuna, Jack Gordon, Nat Hentoff and Leonard Feather, among others. Mulligan died on January 20, 1996, at what would be considered a still youthful 68. Cerra has provided a comprehensive and insightful exploration of his contribution to jazz, offering a profound exploration of Gerry Mulligan’s musical legacy as well as his enduring impact.”

Our Thanks to Gordon Jack.

Here’s another unabashed plug, this time by Gordon Jack, who is a frequent contributor to JazzJournal where this review is currently appearing. What is omitted from his summary for ethical reasons is the fact that Gordon Jack has contributed a number of his fine essays on Gerry to the Mulligan Reader. The book is available as both an eBook and a paperback exclusively on Amazon.com. With the holidays coming up, why not consider purchasing a copy for the Jazz fan in your family? Gerry Mulligan: Writings On A Jazz Original by Gordon Jack “Steven Cerra studied drums with Victor Feldman and Larry Bunker before going on the road with Bobby Troup, Anita O’Day and Juliet Prowse during the sixties. He eventually left the music scene in 1970 to pursue work in other fields. His interest in Gerry Mulligan began when he first heard the Mulligan sextet’s famous 1954 San Diego concert which featured Jon Eardley, Bob Brookmeyer, Zoot Sims, Red Mitchell and Larry Bunker. That album began a life-long interest in Mulligan’s music. This is the third book published this year devoted to one of the most innovative performers of the post-war jazz scene. The Gerry Mulligan 1950s Quartets by Alyn Shipton is a forensically detailed look at one of one of the genre’s most unique small groups. Being Gerry Mulligan: My Life In Music comes from a collection of audio tapes he left behind which have been lovingly reconstructed as an autobiography by Ken Poston. Back in 1986 Raymond Horricks wrote a brief appreciation which he expanded in 2003 to include a discography of commercial and bootleg material (Gerry Mulligan’s Ark). Jerome Klinkowitz’s 1991 Listen: Gerry Mulligan is a useful reference but Jeru’s Journey by Sanford Josephson published in 2015 is a disappointing attempt at a biography revealing little that is new. Just like the Miles Davis Reader and the Duke Ellington Reader, Writings On A Jazz Original offers something a little different. The fifty-two articles, interviews and liner-notes by major jazz writers here reveal a fascinating anthology of his activities over the years: George T. Simon (Insert notes to Elliot Lawrence Plays Gerry Mulligan), Peter Welding (Insert Notes to Birth of the Cool), Peter Welding (Insert Notes to The Complete Pacific Jazz and Capitol Recordings of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet and Tentette with Chet Baker), Steven Cerra (Gerry Mulligan and Stan Kenton), Alun Morgan (Insert Notes to The Fabulous Gerry Mulligan Sextet), Nat Hentoff (Gerry Mulligan-The White Mainstreamer), Leonard Feather (Before and After), Bill Crow (From Birdland to Broadway), Bill Kirchner (Booklet Notes to The Complete Verve Gerry Mulligan Concert Band Sessions), Michael Cuscuna (Booklet Notes to The Age of Steam), Gene Lees (Meet Me at Jim & Andy’s), Ira Gitler (Swing to Bop) and Mathew Ruddick (The Life And Times of Chet Baker). There are three Downbeat Blindfold Tests that Mulligan undertook including one with Harry Carney. Cerra also includes interviews with Gerry’s two wives Arlyne Brown Mulligan and Franca Rota Mulligan. Writings On A Jazz Original is a most welcome addition to the extensive literature already devoted to one of the giants of the music. When the definitive Gerry Mulligan biography is finally written, Steven Cerra’s book will be an essential source. Gerry Mulligan: Writings On A Jazz Original By Steven A Cerra. Self Published. 355 pp. Gordon Jack

My thanks to Michael Steinman at Jazz Lives

“GERRY MULLIGAN: WRITINGS ON A JAZZ ORIGINAL,” by STEVEN A. CERRA (Amazon, 2023) www.jazzlives.wordpress.com Posted on November 9, 2023 | 4 comments “Forgive the culinary metaphor, but some books are snacks, some are satisfying dinners. Steve Cerra's new book on Gerry Mulligan is a delightfully overwhelming banquet. When I first received a copy, I found it engrossing but I also thought, "I might need a few weeks to do this book justice." So this admiring review comes with the caveat that I, the admiring reviewer, have read here and there in the book. But I think it is such a valuable compilation that it should get heralded right now. To me, Mulligan is in the odd position of being simultaneously celebrated and viewed at a curious distance. He had a nearly fifty-year career as a jazz luminary, a deep influence as a singular player of a sometimes-underestimated instrument, the baritone saxophone. For some, he would have been slightly behind Ellington's majestic Harry Carney; for others, he would have outstripped Carney as an innovator and creative thinker. Mulligan appeared to "move with the times," but in reality he stubbornly chose to be himself, no matter what the context: his piano-less quartet, his Concert Jazz Band, the "Birth of the Cool" group; his later recordings that each seem to be jubilant explorations of new landscapes. To understand him, one has only to make a quick mental list of the people he played with and chose to work with: Bill Crow, Miles Davis, Brew Moore, Charlie Parker, Bob Brookmeyer, Chet Baker, Dave Brubeck, Jimmie Rowles, Dizzy Gillespie, Duke Ellington, Jack Teagarden, Tony Fruscella, Bill Charlap, Zoot Sims, Johnny Hodges, Teddy Wilson, Thelonious Monk, Art Farmer, Ben Webster, Phil Woods, Elliot Lawrence, Joe Sullivan, Gene Krupa, Annie Ross, Billie Holiday, Clark Terry, Stan Getz, Paul Desmond, Lee Konitz, Chubby Jackson, Charles Mingus, Mel Torme, Shorty Rogers, Zoot Sims, Lionel Hampton, Cleo Laine . . . and that is not including his arrangements for Lawrence, Krupa, Claude Thornhill, Stan Kenton, and his own groups. He has been categorized as part of the "cool jazz" or "West Coast jazz" school, but those schools are merely names journalists give to groups of musicians when they need a quick and often inaccurate classifier. Cerra's book is not the only one on Mulligan: Sanford Josephson's biography, JERU'S JOURNEY: THE LIFE AND MUSIC OF GERRY MULLIGAN, appeared in 2015, and two oral histories appeared earlier. But Cerra's book, an appealing collection, does not duplicate the previous works. It is a Reader, or a collection of articles, interviews, and liner notes to recordings. As such, it is not only a shifting multi-layered portrait of Mulligan, person and artist, it is also a cross-section of journalistic and essayistic jazz history. Consider, if you will, a book of reviews of Ulysses: a reader would learn not only about the subject, Joyce's work, but how it was regarded, decade after decade. Thus, Cerra's large-format book (with illustrations) is fifty-plus perspectives on the artist, his groups, his colleagues, and his reputation as the times shift. Cerra himself doesn't demand center stage, but his writing is clear and unfussy, a pleasure. Let us assume, even if it's heresy, that the imagined reader isn't terribly fascinated by Jeru in all his many selves. The book is still an arresting collection of stories (I was reading it last night, or this morning, at 2 AM). I didn't know that George Duvivier had been invited by Duke to join the band at the same time Duke found Jimmie Blanton, and why Duvivier said no; I hadn't known how Al Cohn had lost one eye; his tumultuous relationship with Chet Baker, his working relationships with Miles Davis, Gil Evans, and much more. For those who thrive on darkness, there's heroin, cancer, imprisonment, broken hearts as well. I won't describe the book more, because I don't want to take away the serendipitous joys of finding a new story, a new insight, musicians seen from multiple perspectives. At first, I was disconcerted that the book lacked an index (possibly a financial decision) but rambling through its pages, I have welcomed the opportunity to find surprises without arrows pointing to them. One of the most charming aspects of Mulligan is that he understood, and loved, the whole history of the music. Had there been a jazz festival with Leon Roppolo and Ornette Coleman on sequential stages, Gerry would have sat in with both of them and made everyone feel at home with his presence. And, in turn, he was loved and respected by Coleman Hawkins and Rex Stewart, among other "elders." This leads me to the filmed evidence (December 1957) of the magic moment when I first saw and heard him live. You'll recognize the sublimely glittering crew, and please marvel once again at how Jeru not only gets comfortable but lifts the music: After Jimmy Rushing walks to one side, there's the Basie rhythm section (without Walter Page, who was ill): Basie, piano; Eddie Jones, double bass; Freddie Green, guitar; Jo Jones, drums. Then Ben Webster, tenor saxophone; Bennie Morton, trombone; Joe Wilder, trumpet -- then Gerry, soaring, lyrical and down-to-earth; Vic Dickenson, trombone; Roy Eldridge, trumpet; Emmett Berry, trumpet; Coleman Hawkins, tenor saxophone; Dickie Wells, trombone; Joe Newman, trumpet; Basie and the ensemble, cheered on by Billie Holiday. Of course there are thousands of hours of Gerry on record and film to savor. But this book will add to the enjoyment, and I salute its diligent author-editor. It's available as a large-format paperback or ebook here, and Cerra says in his acknowledgments that after publishing costs have been met, half the proceeds will go to the Gerry Mulligan Foundation "to support school music programs and acquiring instruments for students," commendable indeed. Make room on your shelves.”

With gratitude to Gary Giddins

Some Early Reviews

WELL DONE STEVE! Just received your handsome Reader. Although I'm familiar with it from your emails over the years, I intend to start re-reading now it's in book form. It's been a long struggle, but your book provides essential information to the ongoing Mulligan research which hopefully will one day result in a full-blown biography. Steve WONDERFUL. I have only read the introduction thus far, but I wanted to tell you, that I can see that this book is just what I was expecting, and I believe that it will fill a huge void in understanding - and appreciating - Gerry Mulligan. Whilst I have enjoyed (to a degree) all the books previously published about Gerry, I do not believe that any of them, bar perhaps Alyn Shipton's recent publication, have come anywhere near addressing Mulligan's real significance in jazz history. I think you have achieved something special in pulling this together. I thank you. I hope you make a fortune - both for the Foundation and for yourself. (I have already persuaded a good friend to purchase this book and will try with others I know). Congratulations, and above all thanks. I now look forward to months of careful reading (probably with Mulligan playing in the background....) Hi Steve, Well, I've read enough of your book to allow me to think that I can comment intelligently on it. First off, it's great! I love your idea of telling the story by way of excerpts from the writing of various authors. I do think that it gives a more well-rounded picture of Jeru than any single author could offer.I was familiar with many of the pieces, of course, but reading them again--the excerpts surrounded by other essays/articles that focus on the same period--helps me, at least, get a firmer idea of the author's point of view on that subject. And there were/are various excerpts in your book that I hadn't seen before. I was especially happy to find the piece by Matthew Ruddick from his book on Chet Baker. I think it's the best summation of the beginnings & contributions of the original Quartet that I've ever read. I'll have to get Ruddick's book. I do love the book and appreciate the time and effort that you've put into it. It's a worthy addition to the jazz canon, and I'd unhesitatingly recommend it to anyone. And, print format or not, I'm really enjoying reading it.