JazzProfiles: Dexter Gordon - The Blue Note Years

Wednesday, November 30, 2022

Dexter Gordon - The Blue Note Years - Parts 1-10 Complete

When I began the blog, my intent was to post in-depth profiles of Jazz musicians and extensive pieces about a variety of Jazz topics.

The process involved with developing lengthy profiles and pieces often required that they be posted in segments or parts.

From time-to-time, I collect these individual posts and group them into complete or all-in-one-place features, such as this one.

When combined into one profile, these complete posts offer the reader a greater continuity about the topic and also make for more helpful archiving.

They also make for very long reads so be patient!

Dexter Gordon - The Blue Note Years - Part 1

In his prime, his music had a kind of jovial gravitas at its heart, building on Lester Young's example without succumbing to Lester's waywardness, and he was a great influence on the likes of Coltrane and Rollins.

- Richard Cook’s Jazz Encyclopedia

“When Bob Leonard, agent for The Three Sounds among others, contacted Blue Note in 1960 about recording Dexter Gordon, Alfred Lion was not only willing but also able to say yes. Although he'd recorded Monk, Bud Powell and Miles Davis in the early stages of their careers, this was the first opportunity for Blue Note to sign an already established major artist.

For Dexter Gordon, who'd hardly recorded in the fifties, this was a chance to jump-start his career on an international level with a company that was as classy as he was. This mutually-beneficial, well-suited five-year relationship between Dexter and Blue Note yielded a gorgeous body of work, all of which is gathered in this boxed set.”

- Michael Cuscuna, Producer

Chuck Berg closes the introduction to his 1977 Downbeat interview with Dexter by stating:

“Dexter Gordon was one of the greatest tenor saxophonists in the history of modern Jazz and I was delighted that he finally received the acclaim and the accolades he deserved during the last decade of his life.”

While I’m no expert on the greatest anything in the history of Jazz, my reaction to Chuck’s statement was a sad “what took so long” as I felt that way after I heard Dexter’s early 1960s Blue Note recordings which have, thankfully, been loving collected and annotated in a boxed set Dexter Gordon: The Complete Blue Note Sessions [6 CDs-7243 8 34200 2 5]

Even while these Blue Note sessions were in progress, a variety of factors came together in the early 1960s which influenced Dexter to leave the USA for Europe where he ultimately took up residence in Copenhagen.

And like Jazz, Dexter quietly passed from the scene for the remainder of the 1960s and for much of the 1970s.

But Dexter Gordon’s return in 1976 was a triumphant one – and deservedly so!

Dexter Gordon was one of the greatest tenor saxophonists in the history of modern Jazz and I was delighted that he finally received the acclaim and the accolades he deserved during the last years of his life [He died in 1990].

This being said, for my money, Dex never played better than his work on these early 1960s Blue Note recordings; especially impressive on these recordings is his ballad work which becomes essentially a clinic in what has largely become a forgotten skill.

Dexter’s balladic interpretation of I Guess I’ll Hang My Tears Out To Dry, Where Are You, You’ve Changed, Don’t Explain, Until The Real Thing Comes Along, Darn That Dream, Willow Weep For Me, Stairway To The Stars, Who Can I Turn To, Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool and I’m A Fool To Want You collectively could be formed into an instrumental Jazz textbook for how to play such songs and interpret their lyrics.

In addition to all the majestic music that Dexter and his colleagues created on these Blue Notes another distinguishing feature of these albums is that each of them was annotated by liner notes written by some of the best writers that Jazz had to offer in the 1960s among them Ira Gitler, Leonard Feather, Nat Hentoff, Robert Palmer, as well as, a relative newcomer at the time - Barbara Long.

Their insights, observations and commentaries serve to enrich the listening experience and our understanding of Dexter and his music.

Given the many later-in-his-career accolades, accords and kudos, we thought it might be fun to run a multi-part series highlighting the individual recordings that Dex made for Blue Note from 1961 to 1965 and which were released during that time span, along with the 6 disc boxed set that was issued in 1996 which contains these tracks as well as alternate tracks from these sessions plus the tracks from this period that were released on three, later albums: 1967, Gettin’ Around [BST-84204]; 1979, Clubhouse [LT 989]; 1980 Landslide [LT-1051]. All three of the latter have been reissued on CD as Japanese imports and each of these will also be the focus of individual features on the blog.

Let’s start with the boxed set, copies of which can be found both used and new from various online resellers and which contain The Complete Blue Note Sessions, both those that were released on Blue Note albums from 1961-1965 and those that came later.

The boxed set annotations are by Michael Cuscuna, who has had a long association with Blue Note and produced many of its reissues, both on vinyl and CD. These include music that was issued subsequent to Blue Note's existence from 1939 until its acquisition by Liberty Records in 1965.

Michael has also continued to be involved with Blue Note reissues in his current role as one of the executives at Mosaic Records.

Bruce Lundvall who signed Dexter to a recording contract with Columbia when Gordon triumphant return to the USA in 1977 contributed some reminiscences to the boxed set’s notes, Dexter’s widow Maxine shared some of the ongoing correspondence that Dex has with Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff, the owners of Blue Note and the esteemed Jazz author and scholar Dan Morgenstern contributed a track-by-track analysis of each of the sessions to the boxed set booklet.

So as to keep this initial feature from becoming unwieldy, excerpts from Bruce’s memories, Maxine’s correspondence file and Dan’s track descriptions will be used as lead-in quotations to other blog segments focused on Dexter’s Blue Note Years.

To kick-off things, here’s Michael Cuscuna’s overview of the history of Blue Note and how Dexter’s music became a part of its offerings.

“BLUE NOTE was recognized as a distinctive and uncompromising jazz label of quality from its inception in 1939. It teetered on the brink of insolvency for most of its first 17 years. Founder Alfred Lion and his partner Francis Wolff would rather record people they loved like Thelonious Monk and Herbie Nichols than chase hits that compromised their taste.

Success came anyway in 1956 with the music of Horace Silver and Art Blakey. They and a few others had formulated an audience-friendly offshoot of be-bop that came to be known as hard bop. The tempo was slowed, the melodies more memorable and earthier elements of blues and gospel were intermingled with the achievements of modern jazz. And when it swung and had a creative edge, it was called The Blue Note Sound. The public responded.

The combination of Lion's meticulous preparations and production, Rudy Van Gelder's sparkling sound, Reid Miles's cover designs and Wolff's photography made Blue Note THE hip label. It didn't hurt that discoveries like Jimmy Smith and The Three Sounds were beginning to sell in healthy numbers.

When Bob Leonard, agent for The Three Sounds among others, contacted Blue Note in 1960 about recording Dexter Gordon, Alfred Lion was not only willing but also able to say yes. Although he'd recorded Monk, Bud Powell and Miles Davis in the early stages of their careers, this was the first opportunity For Blue Note to sign an already established major artist.

From a gene pool that spanned Africa to Northern Europe with a healthy infusion of elements from 19th century migration to Canada and the United States came Dexter Keith Gordon on February 27, 1923. He was the only son of Frank, a native of Fargo, North Dakota who became a prominent doctor in Los Angeles and Gwendolyn, whose Father was born in Wyoming. And he was doted upon.

Lionel Hampton and Duke Ellington were among Dr. Frank Gordon's patients. Dexter was treated to his father's records and to concerts that he attended with his father that often included backstage visits. He often used to say, "I don't care how old "Sweets" [Harry Edison] says he is, the first time I saw him, I was in short pants and he was on stage."

Doctor Frank bought his son a clarinet at age seven and encouraged his musical inclinations. Seven years later, Dexter experienced a profound and lifelong emptiness when his father succumbed to a heart attack without warning.

Dexter switched to alto saxophone and then tenor. His favorites were the giants of the day, most especially Lester Young, who deeply shaped his musical intellect, and Dick Wilson, featured soloist with Andy Kirk.

At the tender age of seventeen, Dexter was invited to audition for the Lionel Hampton band by Marshall Royal, a patient of his father and older brother of Dexter's friend Ernie. He got the job and, with his mother's blessing, stepped on the band bus before graduating high school. It's a day that lived vividly in Dexter's memory.

Dexter's tenor mate in that band was Illinois Jacquet, only a year older but a great deal more experienced. "I was always leaning on Dexter to get his stuff together. He was so young and wanted to copy everything Lester Young said, wore and played. In the band, we'd all tap our feet in time while we played the chart. But Dexter was so big and those size-fourteen feet would come up in their own time and then come down again with no relation to the tempo. I told him that that had to stop. It was messing me up…. Dexter and I used to do a Lester Young-Herschel Evans two-tenor number called "Pork Chops." It went over big with the audiences. I remember, one night at the Savoy Ballroom, Dexter and I were out front playing it. People at the foot of the stage were blowing pot smoke up at us. By the thirtieth chorus, we had no idea what the changes were, (laughs) I wanted Hamp to record it, but he never did. He regretted not doing it and used to bring that up to me for years."

In 1944, Dexter played with Fletcher Henderson and then got a job with the Louis Armstrong Orchestra. And although he was basically a section man, he adored that time, studying with the master innovator and showman. Around this time, Dexter cut four quartet sides for Norman Granz with Nat Cole on piano. His own sound was emerging.

By the end of '44, Dexter was a member of the Billy Eckstine Orchestra that became an incubator for the bebop revolution. It was Art Blakey that dragged him into the fold. Suddenly, Dexter was surrounded nightly by Sarah Vaughan, Dizzy Gillespie, Fats Navarro, Sonny Stitt, Lucky Thompson, Gene Ammons, Leo Parker, John Malachi and other architects of the new music.

From Lester Young, Dexter learned the art of improvisation: develop ideas of substance, finish a thought, never waste a note and, above all, know the lyrics of any ballad you dare to play. Once he found a mouthpiece and instrument to his liking, Dexter developed a robust sound and brought to the tenor saxophone the first totally realized bebop style on the instrument. He would become a model for both Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane, who would in the fifties spearhead the two major streams of tenor saxophone playing for the next twenty years.

Through his 52nd Street appearances with Dizzy Gillespie and his LA recording of "The Chase" with tenor saxophonist Wardell Gray, Dexter became something of a bi-coastal celebrity in the late forties. Gray was a saxophonist with fluent articulation and a smoother sound. But he and Dexter developed a musical connection that transcended the arena of the tenor battle. Listening to a reissue of live tapes, Dexter once told me that, despite the differences in their styles, it was sometimes hard for him to tell where one left off and the other began. Their symbiosis ran that deep.

In late 1952, Dexter was busted for possession of heroin and sentenced to two years at the state prison in China. It gave him an opportunity to make his film debut in "Unchained," although Georgie Auld's tenor is dubbed in when Dexter is playing on screen. But more importantly, as Dexter with a steely stare was always quick to point out of this and a subsequent internment, "It saved my life." But it also derailed his career.

By 1955, the rage in LA was the west coast sound of Shorty Rogers, Shelly Manne, Chet Baker and the other disciples of the cool school. The successful hard-bop school of Silver, Blakey et al., which was then developing, was far more suited to Dexter's style. In fact, his big sound, his soulful behind-the-beat phrasing and his lyricism foreshadowed this movement. But he was in LA, and the hard boppers were in New York. He was all but forgotten and they were rising young stars. So too were Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane.

Upon his parole in 1960, Dexter was approached by Cannonball Adderley to record an album for Riverside. The result was 'The Resurgence Of Dexter Gordon," an album which was not entirely successful but served the purpose. The next year, Dexter was asked to compose the music and lead the band on stage for the LA production of "The Connection," which had originated in New York two years before with Freddie Redd's music.

Dex was back. He accepted the offer from Blue Note Records. And the jazz world finally remembered. For five years, Dexter made one masterful session

after another for Blue Note. The music coupled with the fascinating correspondence between Dexter and Blue Note's Alfred Lion and Frank Wolff during those years, found elsewhere in this booklet, complete the picture of a very important period in this artist's career.

Dexter liked working with Alfred Lion who leaned heavily on planning and rehearsals in hopes that such preparations would provide a spontaneous, but beautifully executed date. Beyond his own sessions, Dexter participated in two sideman appearances, Herbie Hancock's first album Takin' Off (not included here) and an aborted Sonny Stitt session, from which the one releasable tune, "Lady Be Good," appears here for the first time. Listening to the tapes of this session some 18 years ago, Dexter told me, 'This was Stitt and his working band. Alfred asked me to join in on a few numbers. Sonny didn't want to rehearse or talk about tunes. Alfred was already frustrated when the date began. Stitt was charging through things. Alfred was getting more and more nervous. And when Sonny started playing "Bye Bye Blackbird," Alfred just lost it. He started screaming, 'what are you doing to me?...You've recorded that a hundred times' and called off the date. It was a funny scene." (The music for the albums Landslide and Clubhouse and the bonus tracks which later appeared on CD were also auditioned at that time and approved by Dexter.)

During this time, Dexter was spreading his wings. A gig at Ronnie Scott's began a love affair with London, then Paris, then Copenhagen. And Dexter became, like Kenny Clarke, Don Byas, Johnny Griffin and so many others, an expatriate.

These Blue Note sessions afforded him the opportunity to record for the first time with musicians like Freddie Hubbard, Bobby Hutcherson, Barry Harris, Kenny Drew, Horace Parian and Billy Higgins with whom he would have a professional connection for years to come. Ironically, Hutcherson and Higgins reach back to Dexter's childhood. One of Dexter's best friends in high school was Bobby's older brother Teddy (Dexter even refers to Bobby as Teddy in a letter to Alfred.) And Billy Higgins remembers, as a youngster, seeing Dexter come up the walk to sit on the front porch with his older sister. Years later Billy Higgins and Bobby Hutcherson joined Dexter in the film "'Round Midnight."

Dexter's fondest memory of his years with Blue Note was the album Go. It's rare that an artist, the critics and the fans are all in accord. But everyone agrees that this was Dexter's greatest album. The empathy among Dexter, Sonny Clark, Butch Warren and Billy Higgins is extraordinary. Within a beautifully balanced selection of material, Dexter fashions gorgeous solos with complete abandon and trust. The rhythm section rises to the occasion with everything they've got. The result is perfection. The session that produced A Swingin' Affair two days later runs a close second. Both of these rarefied musical experiences are on Disc Three of this set.

Dexter's musical accomplishments and achievements went on for more than twenty years beyond his association with Blue Note, culminating with a nomination for Best Actor at the 1987 Academy Awards for his starring role in Bertrand Tavernier's film "'Round Midnight."

Dexter Gordon, his musical genius aside, is one of the most unique people I've ever met. A voracious reader, Dexter's taste ranged from 19th century French writer Emile Zola to J. P. Donleavy's "The Ginger Man." (He remembered an especially dour high school teacher who hated musicians and was confounded and annoyed by the fact that her only A students were Dexter and Chico Hamilton).

When Maxine met Dexter in Europe in 1975, they began to plan for his spectacular return to the US. (He holds the world's record for homecomings and resurgences.) In 1976, Bruce Lundvall signed him to Columbia Records. Woody Shaw asked me to produce the recordings and put together a band and material for Dexter. At six o'clock on a Friday night, we were all sitting in the office of a Columbia business affairs executive, negotiating Dexter's buy-out from a Danish jazz label. He was to hit that night at nine-thirty at the Village Vanguard. I had an engineer (Malcolm Addey) and equipment standing by. Finally, at seven-thirty, we got the green light. Dexter and I grabbed a cab to the club. We were alone for the first time. I asked him a question at about Fiftieth Street. There was total silence for fourteen blocks. I thought, 'oh my God, this guy hates me!' Finally, just below Madison Square Garden, the answer slowly emerged.

It took some time to get used to Dexter's internal clock, but we became very close over the years. And his friendship is one that I will always cherish. Dexter loved language and linguistics. He learned a healthy chunk of every language to which he was exposed. He devoured local customs and cuisine with vigor and panache and had friends in every corner of the globe. Yet there was that part of him that was purely American. He would not take a gig during the World Series, loved meatloaf, mashed potatoes and peas and actually thought that 'too much garlic' was a physical impossibility.

Outwardly, Dexter was exceedingly charming and friendly to all. Inwardly, he was a very private man who showed himself to few. It took a great deal to shake his veneer. I remember once flippantly referring to a musician as sounding too white. Uncharacteristically, Dexter shot me a hard glance and said, "We went through a lot for the right to play with whomever we want to, white or black."

Then there was the time Dexter called me at eleven o'clock one night and strongly suggested that I come down to the Village Vanguard. After I resisted on the grounds that I had work to do, he politely insisted. Finally, I said, "do you want me to come down to fire the piano player?" There was a long pause on the phone and then he said, "ahhh...that would be nice."

To paraphrase two remarks by Dizzy Gillespie, "He did everything wrong and it all turned out right. He should have left his karma to science."

-MICHAEL CUSCUNA July 1996

Dexter Gordon "Doin' Allright" - The Blue Note Years - Part 2

“The King of Quoters, Dexter Gordon, was himself eminently quotable. In a day not unlike our own, when purists issue fiats about what is or isn't valid in jazz, Gordon declared flatly, ‘jazz is an octopus’—it will assimilate anything it can use. Drawing closer to home, he spoke of his musical lineage: Coleman Hawkins "was going out farther on the chords, but Lester [Young] leaned to the pretty notes. He had a way of telling a story with everything he played.' Young's story was sure, intrepid, daring, erotic, cryptic. A generation of saxophonists found itself in his music, as an earlier generation had found itself in Hawkins's rococo virtuosity. …

Gordon's appeal was to be found not only in his Promethean sound and nonstop invention, his impregnable authority combined with a steady and knowing wit, but also in a spirit born in the crucible of jam sessions. He was the most formidable of battlers, undefeated in numerous contests, and never more engaging than in his kindred flare-ups with the princely Wardell Gray, a perfect Lestorian foil, gently lyrical but no less swinging and sure. …

Gordon was an honest and genuinely original artist of deep and abiding humor and of tremendous personal charm. He imparted his personal characteristics to his music — size, radiance, kindness, a genius for discontinuous logic. Consider his trademark musical quotations—snippets from other songs woven into the songs he is playing. Some, surely, were calculated. But not all and probably not many, for they are too subtle and too supple. They fold into his solos like spectral glimpses of an alternative universe in which all of Tin Pan Alley is one infinite song. That so many of the quotations seem verbally relevant I attribute to Gordon's reflexive stream-of-consciousness and prodigious memory for lyrics. I cannot imagine him planning apposite [apt in the circumstances] quotations.”

- Gary Giddins

“Chuck Berg [Downbeat Magazine, February 10, 1977: There's one thing that especially impressed Sonny Rollins and which has always intrigued me. That is the way you lay back on the melody or phrase just a bit behind the beat. Instead of being right on top of the beat with a metrical approach like Sonny Stitt and a lot of the great white tenor players, you just pull back. In the process there are interesting tensions that develop in your music. How did that come about?

Dexter Gordon: Yeah. I've been told that I do that. I'm not really that conscious of it. I think I more or less got it from Lester because I didn't play right on top. He was always a little back, I think. That's the way I felt it, you know, and so it just happened that way. These things are not really thought out. It's what you hear and the way you hear it.”

“ON NOVEMBER 7, 1960, DEXTER GORDON signed with Blue Note Records in what was to become one of his most successful relationships with a record company both musically and personally. Until February 8, 1967, Dexter kept in touch with Alfred Lion and Frank Wolff by letter and card. The following examples from their correspondence give some idea of the involvement of Dexter in his recordings and of Alfred and Frank with Dexter as an artist and as a friend.”

- Maxine Gordon

“April 26, 1961 Dear Dexter,

It was nice talking to you yesterday on the phone. I'll send you the airplane ticket by the end of this week along with exact instructions as to the hotel you'll be staying at, etc. You have to be in New York by Wednesday afternoon or evening. As I explained to you on the phone, I would like to make two sessions. The first one I have planned for Saturday afternoon, May 6th with Horace Parian, piano, George Tucker, bass and Al Harewood, drums. This rhythm section has been working steadily with Lou Donaldson, and, lately, with tenor player Booker Ervin. I have an idea that this will work pretty smoothly as I told you on the phone. I don't want any complicated music; but rather some good standards in medium, medium-bright and medium-bounce tempos. This, of course, should also cover some blues. A slow, walking ballad should also be considered. I think we should keep away from real fast tempos this first one. I would rather emphasize a good standard, played in the right tempo and delivered in a soulful manner, more so than displaying a lot of technique. I'd like to make something that can be enjoyed and played on jukeboxes stationed in the soul spots throughout the nation, I think you know what I mean.

The second session, which I have planned for Tuesday evening, May 9th, should consist of another rhythm section. Let's see who will be available when you come in. I have Kenny Drew in mind, and maybe a trumpet, Freddie Hubbard, if he's in town. Bring along as much material, including your originals, as you can; and dig into your bag of standards that lay well with you. You might have a few that have not been over recorded lately. I'll do the same on my end here. So the next letter you receive from me will contain your airplane ticket and instructions in regard to the hotel in New York, etc. With best personal regards,

- Alfred Lion”

Dexter Gordon: Doin’ Allright [Blue Note CDP 784077 2]

Dating back to tenor saxophonist Coleman’s Hawkins’ 1939 virtuoso performance of Body and Soul, the instrument had become almost synonymous with Jazz. Along with Louis Armstrong’s earlier stylings on the trumpet, these two B-flat concert key instruments became the front line foundations of most modern Jazz combos in the 1950s and 60s.

The more widely recognized exponents of the instrument during this phase of Jazz’s development were John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins and Stan Getz.

Almost forgotten among a plethora of talented “big horn” players during this period was the huge sound, melodic inventiveness and powerful, pulsating rhythmic phrasing of Dexter Gordon [Sadly, Hank Mobley also falls into this category, although in his case it was more a question of being overlooked].

Thanks to Blue Note’s owners, Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff, the operative term in this dynamic was “almost.”

Here’s Ira Gitler notes to the first of Dexter’s Blue Note LPs -

DEXTER GORDON —there is a name to conjure with. Veteran listeners will certainly remember him but younger fans probably will not although he was intermittently active during the '50s.To musicians (especially those saxophonists who have been directly or indirectly influenced by him). Dexter Gordon has always been a highly important player. As the first man to synthesize the Young, Hawkins and Parker strains in translating the bop idiom to the tenor saxophone, he was an important contributor. It is not, however, from a stylistic, historical angle that he has been appreciated. Dexter has always been a direct, exciting communicator of emotions; his big sound and declarative attack are as commanding of attention as his imposing height.

The owner of an acute harmonic sense, Gordon has never used it to merely run changes accurately. He is a melodist and can also contrast rhythmic figures effectively. His harmonic awareness was a great aid in preparing him to plunge into the new music that was fermenting in the early '40s. Unlike many of his immediate contemporaries, Gordon studied harmony and theory at the age of 13, the same time he took up the clarinet. Due to this, he was able to actively incorporate the beneficial effects directly into his playing as he was growing up. At 15, he started playing alto sax and two years later, in 1940, he quit school, switched to tenor sax and joined the "Harlem Collegians" in his native Los Angeles. From this local band he stepped into Lionel Hamptons aggregation in December 1940 and remained with Hamp through 1943. Illinois Jacquet was the principal tenorman and together they were featured on Pork Chops."lt was about the only thing I had to play," says Dexter.

After leaving Hampton, he returned to Los Angeles where he played with the groups of Lee Young (Lester Young's drumming brother) and Jesse Price. For six months in 1944, Dexter worked with Louis Armstrong's band. Then he joined Billy Eckstine's new orchestra and received a real chance to be heard: the tenor battle with Gene Ammons on Blowin' the Blues Away; his own bits on Lonesome Lover Blues and several of the modern jazz instrumental that the band played.

Gordon's impact was immediate. You could hear it in the work of his section-mate, Ammons. When he left Eckstine for New York's 52nd Street in 1945, his influence spread like the ripples a large rock makes when it is dropped into a pool of water. Allen Eager's first quartet recordings (Booby Hatch, Rampage) showed that he was listening and Stan Getz was captured temporarily according to such sides as Opus de Bop and Running Water. Of course, like Gordon, these players had been affected by Lester Young, but it seemed that in addition to getting inspiration directly from Pres, they were digging the Gordon translation, too. If a 12-inch, Mercury 78 rpm of Rosetta and I’ve Found a New Baby, cut with Harry Edison, demonstrated that Dexter could get very close to Young, the original version of Groovin' High, made with Dizzy Gillespie for Guild in February of 1945, showed a Gordon who had his own interpretation of the day's material.

Gordon worked at the Spotlite Club with Charlie Parker, Miles Davis and Bud Powell and then had his own group at the Three Deuces. The weekly Sunday afternoon sessions at the Fraternal Clubhouse and Lincoln Square Center usually included Dex as part of their all-star line-ups. His presence, before he even blew a note, always had an electric effect on the audience.

Gordon returned to the West Coast in the summer of 1946 but not before he had made several recordings with his own groups. He played for two months in Hawaii with Cee Pee Johnson. Then, in California, in the summer of 1947, he and Warded Gray teamed up at concerts, after-hours sessions and for their recording of The Chase. Later that year, it was back to New York and 52nd Street for Gordon but in 1948, he went home again, not to return to Manhattan until the May 1961 trip to record for Blue Note. He revived his association with Gray in 1950 but that soon ended and the next decade was not a very productive one for Dexter. The popularity of "West Coast" jazz left little opportunity for his brand of virile music to be heard in Southern California. Then, too, he was fighting personal demons. In the last five years of the '50s, he made only three record dates (two as leader) and worked sporadically in a small group context.

The '60s are a decade of new promise for Gordon. Through playwright Carl Thaler, he became involved in the West Coast version of Jack Gelber's The Connection. He composed an original score, led the quartet that played it on stage and held down a main speaking role. His success gave him a new confidence and led to a general revitalization.

Although his presence has not been directly felt on the jazz scene as a whole in a long time. Dexter has been with us. in part, through the work of John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins, two of the most important instrumentalists to develop in the '50s. Both owe a debt to Gordon for helping them to form their now highly personal styles. It is interesting to hear how Gordon, in turn, has now picked up on developments brought about by the men he originally influenced. Make no mistake, however, about Dexter. He is still very much his own man. His great inner power stands out in these recordings. He breathes maturity in every phrase he plays, his gigantic sound living up to the kind of musical voice one would expect from a person of his god-like dimensions.

A musician of Gordon’s reputation (particularly in the special setting of this recording), playing at the top of his game, will always inspire the men around him to do their best. Here, young Freddie Hubbard, impressive as he has been on Blue Note in the past, adds new, thoughtful qualities to his brassy fire. That this was no ordinary date is evident in every microgroove.

The rhythm section plays for Dexter, seeming to sense what he wants, following his lead yet never lagging. These three are no strangers to Blue Noters. As the Horace Parlan trio or as 3/5 of the Horace Parlan quintet (with the Turrentine brothers as the horns), they have made several swinging LPs. Presently, they are appearing around New York with tenorman Booker Ervin under the title, The Playhouse Four.

George Gershwin's I Was Doing All Right, the opener and title tune, is stated in a full-toned manner by Gordon at a loping medium tempo. He eases into his unhurried solo with a couple of bows to his old buddy Wardell Gray. Logic, warmth and melody abound. Hubbard plays beautifully and pensively, putting one in mind of Clifford Brown and some of Miles Davis' early '50s thinking. Parlan picks up the mood and spins out his solo in an equally relaxed, thoughtful way, ending with some perfumed chords.

The way he handles a ballad is one good indicator of a musician's depth. Dexter's You've Changed is a gorgeous piece of meaningful horn-singing by a man who knows what it's all about. Some of the lower register tones remind me of Don Byas, another old Gordon colleague (52nd Street vintage) who influenced quite a few people himself. The upper register and the story told are unmistakably Gordon. Hubbard is inspired again to play a poignant albeit short bit. Parian's even shorter interlude leads back to Gordons tender conclusion. Billie Holiday couldn't have done it any better herself.

For Regulars Only is a Gordon original with a catchy, contrasting theme. Dexter masterfully demonstrates how to build a solo, climbing up the thermometer, chorus after chorus, until his last one satisfies completely. Hubbard cooks in a brief solo; Parian alternates his stint between single-line and chords.

A marching, skipping, funky blues is Gordon's Society Red. It settles into a steady 4/4 as Hubbard takes an opening solo that beats things up with leaping rhythmic figures and a brightly burning flame of a sound. Again, Gordon builds to a point of climax. Here he does it more slowly than in For Regulars Only, spreading his expansive tone over a longer period of time. Parlan's single-line leads into a blue chordal exploration before George Tucker plucks his only lengthy solo of the set.

It's You or No One finds Dexter ascending to the upper reaches of his horn, alternating swift flights with rhythmic punching. Freddie is fleet but with underlying substance. After Horace's solo. Tucker walks and Harewood talks as they weave in and out of the ensemble.

All in all. Dexter Gordon's trip to New York was very fruitful. He renewed old acquaintances, made some new friends, bought a couple of groovy suits at a Broadway clothier and began an association with Blue Note that should prove to be mutually significant.

Dexter Gordon is a big man physically and musically. This album is representative of that kind of size.”

- IRA GITLER

Note: Supported by Freddie Hubbard and the Horace Parlan trio. Dexter Gordon began his association with Blue Note with this session, which quickly rekindled his career and ended an eight-year lull. As well as two magnificent readings on standards, it introduced two of his finest and most lasting compositions "For Regulars Only" and "Society Red” which found new life in the film ROUND MIDNIGHT. For this Compact Disc, an alternate take of "For Regulars Only" and another Dexter tune "I Want More” both previously unissued, have been added. Dexter would recut and release “I Want More" on his next Blue Note album DEXTER CALLING.

- MICHAEL CUSCUNA

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(A) MAY 6,1961

“For his first Blue Note session, Dexter Gordon is supported by a working rhythm section and a rising young trumpet star.

Pianist Horace Parlan, bassist George Tucker and drummer Al Harewood were three-fourths of The Playhouse Four, named for Minton's Playhouse, the once-famed Harlem nightclub where (with tenorman Booker Ervin) they were ensconced as the house band. Parlan, born in Pittsburgh in 1931, started on piano at 12 and wasn't deterred when stricken with polio—he merely compensated for an impaired right hand by developing an exceptionally strong left. A professional from 1952, he first gained notice with Charles Mingus's Workshop (1957-9) and had also worked with Lou Donaldson, the tenor team of Lockjaw Davis and Johnny Griffin, and the Turrentine brothers. (He settled in Denmark in 1973 where he was reunited with Dexter.)

Tucker, born in Florida in 1927, had come to New York at 20 to study music at Julliard; turning pro, he worked with saxophonists Earl Bostic, Sonny Stitt and Jackie McLean and was in the house rhythm section at Brooklyn's Continental Club prior to hooking up with Parian. His sudden death of a heart attack in 1965 was a great loss.

Harewood, born in New York City in 1923, first came into view in 1954 with J.J. Johnson and Kai Winding and subsequently worked with Gigi Gryce, Gene Ammons and David Amram; later associations included Stan Getz and Benny Carter.

Freddie Hubbard, born in Indianapolis in 1938, had early classical training, hooked up with boyhood friends James Spaulding and Larry Ridley in his first working group, came to New York in 1960, and soon found himself in demand. Though he'd already participated in Ornette Coleman's landmark avant garde recording "Free Jazz" and worked with Eric Dolphy, his orientation was essentially straight ahead and 1961 was also the year in which he joined Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers.

Dexter Gordon "Dexter Calling" - The Blue Note Years - Part 3

“ … his own date for Savoy on 30 October, 1945, … reveal the saxophonist still identifiably absorbing his influences, although the distinctive compound he was brewing from them is already evident in places. Lester Young's smooth, relaxed ease, Coleman Hawkins's big, rich sonority and projection, and Illinois Jacquet's honking robustness can all be heard behind his playing,

but his fluidity and harmonic originality are clearly working their way to the surface, ….

While unquestionably cast in the emerging bebop idiom, these performances also underline the saxophonist's roots in the pre-bop era. Those polarities of sophisticated harmonic awareness and driving swing remained the basic building blocks of his style, and were a source of a great deal of creative interaction within his playing, both in generating internal tension and subverting expectations. The session also pre-figured what would become another of his trademarks (and something of a bop staple in general), a penchant for inserting quotations from other tunes into the piece he was playing, often for humorous effect. It became an overdone convention (and, in lesser hands, often a way of avoiding the demands of genuine invention), but can be effective when deployed in the right way, and Gordon, while never reluctant to ham it up, was one of its most skilled exponents.

He was back in the studio with the Benny Carter Orchestra early in 1946, ….

Gordon is in full flow on these sides, with that big, authoritative tenor sound which he cultivated throughout his career spilling across the top-rank rhythm section ….

The fourth cut is his first great ballad performance on disc; there would be many more to come. He seemed to be in particular sympathy with the ballad idiom, both in terms of sonority and expression (although he adopts a wider vibrato here than would subsequently be the case, notably on the alternate take, which may be why it was rejected). Like Lester Young, he had precise ideas on the question of ballad interpretation, including the now familiar notion that familiarity with the lyrics of the song in question is crucial even in a purely instrumental interpretation. It was a theme he returned to often in interviews, and he would sometimes introduce ballad performances on stage by reciting a line or two of the song before playing, while his ballad tempos became ever more cliff-hangingly slow as his career progressed.”

- Kenny Mathieson, Cookin’ Hard Bop and Soul Jazz 1954-1965

While the Blue Note 1961-1965 recordings were in progress, Dexter decamped for a two week gig at Ronnie Scott’s London club in 1962. He was so enamored with the European Jazz scene that he decided to stay for a while.

Apart from a few brief visits home, “a while” was to last 14 years.

He settled in Copenhagen, with the city’s Montmartre jazz club as his base.

Dexter’s presence attracted the best local musicians, who soon became much more than mere accompanists, but excellent individual soloists in their own right.

It’s hard to improve on a rhythm section composed of drummer Alex Riel, pianist Tete Montoliu and bassist Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen (aged 18 at the time) and they rise splendidly to the occasion as can be heard on recordings they made at the club with Dex beginning in 1964.

“Gordon was in great form, and his supple, mercurial style, with a tendency to phrase just behind the beat, would have been pretty demanding, but you can tell that Gordon feels at home from the number of outrageous quotations he inserts into his solos and the warm, dry breadth of his tone, clarity of improvised line and sheer, uplifting command of the instrument.” David Gelly, review in The Guardian].

Dexter Gordon: Dexter Calling [Blue Note CDP 746544 2] was the second, individual LP to be issued in the Blue Note series.

Here’s Leonard Feather’s notes to the second of Dexter’s Blue Note LPs

“THE first time I saw Dexter Gordon, all of twenty years ago, he was a teen-aged member of the new and at that time very exciting Lionel Hampton band. Because the band's first hit was Flyin' Home, with Illinois Jacquet as the focal point, there was no opportunity at that time to gain an adequate musical impression of Dexter. He was merely the other tenor player in the band, about whom the only noteworthy aspects were his height (even today at 6'5" he towers above every jazzman except Randy Weston] and his remarkable facial resemblance to the young Joe Louis.

A couple of years later, when the bebop phenomenon had just begun to shake up the whole jazz scene, Dexter reappeared as a member of the wild and wonderful Billy Eckstlne band, in which he had taken over Lucky Thompson's chair. The band's recordings during that potent period were few in number and atrociously recorded, but those of us who were fortunate enough to hear the Eckstine outfit in person can still think back fondly on the profound impression made by the bond and the complete upheaval effected by its soloists, principal among whom were Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker and Dexter. It was then that followers of the jazz revolution became aware of Dex's status as well as his stature. He was the first major soloist to transfer the characteristics of the new music (bebop, as it was just then beginning to be called) to the tenor saxophone.

From that point forward, through a four-year era that proved to be formative and definitive in Dexter's career, Manhattan was his home base. It was in New York that he made his first combo records, with his own group, with Dizzy and with Sir Charles Thompson (featuring Bird); around the same time he was part of the fast-changing small-night-club scene on and off 52nd Street. But at the end of this period, in 1948, Dexter Gordon went back home—to Los Angeles.

Despite his long association with New York music and musicians, Dexter had always regarded Los Angeles as home base. He was born there February 27, 1923, the son of a well known doctor whose patients included Lionel Hampton and Duke Ellington. During his high school years he studied harmony, theory, clarinet and alto. Despite his height, he didn't make a specialty of basketball ("baseball was my bag," he says), and at 17 quit both school and athletics to become a full-time musician.

It was a complete shock to him when he was catapulted into the big time. "I thought Marshall Royal was kidding," he recalls, "when he called me up to offer me a job with Hamp's band. I went over to Hamp's pad, and we blew a while, and that was it. We went right out on the road, without any rehearsal, cold. I was expecting to be sent home every night!'

Dexter's orchestral experience — the three years with Hampton, six months with the Louis Armstrong big bond of 1944 and 18 months with Eckstine - were invaluable in rounding out his musicianship, but as the big band era began to fade and combos accentuated the trend toward individualism, if became obvious that Dex's future lay in this more personal context. Though he still works occasionally in big bands, such as the sporadically active Onzy Matthews group in Los Angeles, he has spent most of the past decade as a soloist backed by a rhythm section.

When Alfred Lion signed him to a Blue Note contract in the spring of 1961, he had been off the scene in the Apple for close to 13 years. All those years away from the center of modern jazz could easily have corroded the style of a less formidable personality, but fortunately in recent years, as Dex points out, there has been an increasing influx of the best modern musicians into the Southern California scene, and it has been less difficult for him to find capable musicians to work with. Nevertheless, when Lion decided to fly him to New York for his first two albums, he found an excitement and stimulus that proved invaluable in bringing out the best in him.

The first product of his visit, Doin' Allright, with Freddie Hubbard and the Horace Parlan rhythm section, was released on Blue Note 4077. This second session was recorded the night before Dex flew back home.

One member of the rhythm section on this date was an old friend. Kenny Drew, during a three-year residence in California (1953-6), frequently worked as part of Dex's accompanying team on gigs around Los Angeles.

Of the other two participants, Dexter observes: 'I'd never worked with Paul Chambers before, but I'd met him when he was out here with Miles, and of course, what I'd heard of his work made me very happy at the prospect of having him on this date. And Philly Joe, though I hadn't worked with him since I moved back to California, did play a gig with me once in Philadelphia, when he subbed for Art Blakey in a group I had. Fats Navarro, Tadd Domeron and Nelson Boyd were the others, and Philly at that time was just known as Joe Jones. He was cool that night, but I had no special reaction and no idea he'd become the major influence he is today"

Soul Sister, the original that launches the first side, is one of the themes Dexter wrote for the score of the Hollywood version of The Connection in which he had an acting, playing and writing role; it is the equivalent of Freddie Redd's Theme for Sister Salvation, composed for the original East Coast production of the Jack Gelber play and recorded by Redd's quartet on Blue Note 4027.

The opening and closing passages are played in a contagiously swinging 3/4 (Dexter's first recorded work in waltz time), but the main blowing body of the performance is in four Coincidentally, right after making this data, Kenny Draw joined still another company of The Connection for an overseas tour. Dexter, Kenny and Paul, in their solos on this track, all manage to convey the essence of a gospel-tinged soul feel without descending into the bathos that has accompanied too many performances along these lines.

Modal Mood, a beautifully conceived original by Kenny, shows several facets of Dexter's development in recent years. Compare this track (or, for that matter, any track on this LP) with some of his earlier work in the bop days, and you will find an extension of his dynamic range as well as his harmonic and melodic resourcefulness. Particularly impressive is the kicking end to his solo just before Kenny takes over. Kenny's facility, too, is brilliantly demonstrated here; there's one sudden run — I'm sure you'll notice it immediately — that is technically amazing and musically startling.

I Want More, the significantly titled Gordon theme that closes the first side, is the West Coast equivalent of O.D. (overdose), for the scene toward the end of The Connection when Leach keels over. Dexter's strength, conviction and masterful sense of building are demonstrated. Philly, after supplying an inspiring backing, is heard in fours with Dex, and has the channel to himself, on the lost chorus before the me-reprise.

End of a love Affair, the only pop song in this set, one for which Dex had developed a liking after hearing several singers use it, has some of the most authoritative blowing of the session by all concerned and is Dexter's favorite track.

Clear The Dex, a Kenny Drew original, makes impressive use of off-beat pedal-point effects on the dominant. Philly shows how vital his contribution can be at an up-tempo such as this; Paul's solo this time is arco, and Kenny gets into a funky chordal groove.

Ernie's Tune is the last of the three themes on this LP from Dexter's Connection score. It parallels Music Forever, in Freddie Redd's score, in the scene triggered by the psychopathic Ernie's wild outburst. "The interlude here,” says Dex, "represents Ernie's Jekyll-and-Hyde personality?' This is one of Dex's most attractive tunes, with unusually pretty changes.

Smile was remembered by Dexter as a song he had heard Nat Cole sing; he had no idea, until I pointed it out, that the Chaplin who wrote it is the same Charlie Chaplin who has starred in all the movies for which he has composed original scores. Dexter got into such a fine groove in tackling the vehicle that it was decided to let him retain the spotlight all the way instead of stepping aside for other soloists. It's an electrically energetic performance for which the cooking of this superb rhythm section furnished an ideal complement.

Summing up his feelings about the circumstances preceding this session and the results it produced, Dexter said: "It was beautiful to be back East after so long. Things are not as competitive, not as intense as in California. Besides, it was a gas to work with Kenny again, and to record with Philly and Paul for the first lime.

"There were no hassles at all on this date. I couldn't have asked for anything more!' For those who knew Dexter long ago — like the fans who hung up a "Dexter We Love You" sign in the hall where he recently staged a Chicago reunion with his old Eckstine band buddy, Gene Ammons — the arrival of this tenor titan on the Blue Note scene is on event rich in both music and nostalgia. For the newer student, too young to have heard him when bebop was in flower, these sides offer an indispensable introduction to a man who, in more than one sense, is a towering musical figure of our time.”

-LEONARD FEATHER (Author of The New Encyclopedia of Jazz)

“Added to this, Dexter Gordon's second Blue Note album, is an original which Dexter titled "Landslide" when it was first issued some twenty years after its recording. He explained the title by saying that something about the piece reminded him of tenor saxophonist Harold Land. For this CD release, this tune has been added to complete the session.”

-MICHAEL CUSCUNA

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(B) MAY 9,1961

“A mere three days elapsed between Dexter's first and second Blue Note dates — obviously the label wanted more. A distinguished trio assembled for the occasion.

Pianist Kenny Drew, born in New York in 1928, was a prodigy, performing his debut recital at age 8. While still attending the High School of Music and Art, he worked with dancer-choreographer Pearl Primus. He recorded with Howard McGhee and had the opportunity to accompany Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young and Charlie Parker and make his recording debut on Blue Note prior to moving to the west coast in 1953, where he had his own trio and recorded with Dexter, among others. Back in New York, his associations included Dinah Washington, Art Blakey, John Coltrane, Donald Byrd and Buddy Rich. Shortly after this date, he went to Europe with a production of "The Connection" and settled first in Paris, and then, from 1964 until his death in 1993, in Copenhagen, where he often worked with Dexter. Bassist

Paul Chambers, born in 1935 in Pittsburgh, moved to Detroit at 13 and went to school with Donald Byrd and Doug Watkins. He was with Kenny Burrell in 1949 and came to New York in 1955, joining Miles Davis later that year and staying until 1963, when he formed a trio with section mates Wynton Kelly and Jimmy Cobb. In declining health for the final years of his life, he died in 1969.

Philly Joe Jones was Chambers' colleague in the Miles Davis Quintet until 1958. Born in Philadelphia in 1923, he studied piano as a child; after discharge from military service in 1943, he became involved in music, hanging out with the Heath brothers, making his pro debut with Benny Golson two years later, and playing with many luminaries in his hometown, Dexter among them. After touring with Joe Morris and Johnny Griffin, he came to New York, worked with Tony Scott at Minton's, and spent some seminal time with Tadd Dameron before joining Miles. His last work as a leader was with the group Dameronia. He died in 1985.”

Dexter Gordon "GO!" - The Blue Note Years - Part 4

“Listening to Gordon talk was not unlike hearing him play. His voice, like his sound on the saxophone, was warm, self-assured, deep, and resonant. He also had a way about him, a certain magnetism. One might call it charisma, although these days charisma is often manufactured, and Dexter's brand was natural and genuine. Perhaps one should simply say that he was a charmer. In any event, as he was talking the Vanguard's telephone rang, and since nobody on the club's staff was about, he answered it. "Village Vanguard. No, it's the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band tonight. On Tuesday, Dexter Gordon. Who's this? This is Dexter." There was a long stretch during which the party on the other end talked and Dexter listened, his grin growing wider and sunnier by the second. "Why thank you sweetheart," he finally said, as suavely as a king acknowledging the adoration of his minions. "Yes, we'll be here through Sunday."

On the bandstand, Gordon's royal savoir faire was even more evident. He was a striking-looking man, tall and handsome with a smile bright enough to light a room. He announced tunes in a mellow, liquid baritone, often quoting at length from the lyrics to a standard he was about to play. When he finished a solo, he acknowledged applause by holding his tenor saxophone out in front of his abdomen, parallel to the floor, as if he was sharing the adulation with it. But of course

Gordon's playing was the most aristocratic thing about him. His sound was huge and encompassing, from his booming lower register all the way up to a rich falsetto range. He was a master of harmonic subtleties and a master of timing. He was a prankster who enjoyed inserting little musical jokes-quotes from "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" or "Here Comes The Bride" into the most passionate improvisations. Above all, he was an architect of sound. His choruses have an ineluctable solidity to them. They are balanced and logical, classical, really, in the best sense of the word. The individual phrases are handsomely blocked out and warmly inflected, but ultimately the stories told by choruses and entire solos are even more impressive.

Gordon's music is rooted in the creative ferment of the mid-!940s, when modern jazz erupted onto the scene and brought the swing era to an end. … As early as 1945, when he began making records under his own name, he had his own style together. It was really the first saxophone style to synthesize the towering influences of Young and Parker, and as a style in its own right it influenced just about every musician who subsequently took up the tenor saxophone, not to mention players on other instruments. Among the saxophonists most heavily indebted to Gordon's breakthroughs were Sonny Rollins and, especially, John Coltrane.”

- Robert Palmer, insert notes Dexter Gordon: Homecoming - Live at The Village Vanguard [Columbia C2k 46824]

“In May 1961, Dexter Gordon visited New York for the first time in over twelve years. During the week he was here, he recorded two albums for Blue Note, Doin' Allright and Dexter Calling. These LPs, the main purpose of his visit, were warmly received by all segments of the jazz fraternity.

A year later, he again journeyed from California to New York, this time as a more permanent resident. I use the term "more permanent" because Gordon has not remained in New York constantly. It became a base of operations for playing excursions to Boston, Cape Cod and Rochester, and, at the end of August, his port of embarkation for England and continental Europe.

During the summer, Dexter did play a number of gigs in New York: a weekend at the Coronet; a Monday night at Birdland; an afternoon at the Jazz Gallery; a concert at Town Hall; and various one-nighters and one-afternooners. Everywhere he met with the same reaction — unbridled enthusiasm. He drew the kind of response that you know is not mere hand service. At the Jazz Gallery, I observed this in an audience that included many younger fans — kids who were not applauding him because he was the fabled Dexter Gordon of the past whom they were supposed to automatically revere. He reached them directly with the expansive emotion in his playing.

Love, warmth and sheer joy are all present in Gordon's sound and attack. It can be heard and felt in the tremendous drive of his uptempo work, the width and depth of his ballads, or anywhere in between. All these affirmative qualities are reiterated in this album. There is also evidence of change, harmonically, in the playing of a man who was known for his harmonic awareness back in the mid-Forties. This is the kind of record that has you starting again from side one, track one, immediately after you have played both sides in their entirety.

Dexter's astute choice of a fine rhythm section was not accidental. These three players worked with him several times during the summer of 1962.

Sonny Clark is a real pro. His accompaniment is alive but never intruding; his solos are articulated with a consistent clarity and contain personal, melodic ideas.

Butch Warren is rapidly establishing himself as one of the best young bassists on the New York scene. His lines swing along with no doubt as to the definition of the notes.

Billy Higgins doesn't beat the drums; he plays them like the musical instrument they collectively are, when in the right hands. His cymbal sound is exhilarating; his ear forever alert.

As a unit, Clark, Warren and Higgins have also been heard to advantage in Clark's Leapin' and Lopin' (BN 4091) and Jackie McLean's A Fickle Sonance (BN 4089).

Go' gets going with a piece of Cheese Cake, a minor-key pattern reminiscent of Topsy. Dexter soars like a condor over the Andes, with grandeur and great staying power. [It’s based on Tickle Toe, for many years the Lester Young feature with Count Basie’s Band.]

His strength is present on I Guess I’ll Hang My Tears Out to Dry, a seldom-done ballad he wisely revived, but it is strength with tenderness, carried by a beautiful, masculine sound that is neither Hawkins nor Young, but Gordon.

Jerry Valentine's Second Balcony Jump was in the libraries of both the Earl Hines and Billy Eckstine bands. Gordon was in the Eckstine band that played it, but it was Gene Ammons (not Gordon, as indicated in the liner notes on an EmArcy LP reissue) who took the solo on the original National recording. The construction of Dexter's first solo is marvelous and builds to a climax gradually. There's a semi-quote of Jimmy Heath's C.T.A. cleverly worked in. Then Clark plays a blithe, flowing solo before Dex comes back for a second, shorter, but again climactic summation that leads into part of Valentine's old arrangement and an abrupt ending.

The Latin backing for the melody statement of Love for Sale may not be exactly bossa nova, but the saxophone is certainly "boss" tenor. When the solos commence, the rhythm section shifts into 4/4. Dexter's playing is as broad-shouldered as he is; Sonny's piano is delicate, yet always on solid ground.

Where Are You is another lovely ballad that, fortunately, has not been played into the ground. That huge Gordon sound, once described by Michael James as "cavernous," is again matched by the emotional content of his playing.

The closer, Three O'clock in the Morning, may seem like a strange piece of material for a modern jazzman to play, but Don Byas and Slam Stewart recorded it in the Forties during 52nd Street's heyday. Dexter begins in a loping 2/4 that slides into 4/4. He injects wry humor with quotes from Five O'clock Whistle and Take Me Out to The Ball Game (at Three O'clock in the Morning?) while blowing forcefully all the time in a substantial medium groove.

Gordon is a great advertisement for live jazz. When he really starts "stretchin’ out" on a number, and his long, firmly anchored legs begin vibrating rapidly from side to side, the intense swing of his music has a natural visual counterpart. It's true that you cannot see him in this album but you can feel the impact of his personality as it is poured into his music.

This session was not recorded in a nightclub performance but, in its informal symmetry, it matches the relaxed atmosphere that the best of those made in that manner engender. Everyone was really together, in all the most positive meanings of that word. It was so good that Blue Note put these four men in the studio again, two days later. We'll be hearing that one in the near future.

Meanwhile, proceed directly to Go.! You won't collect $200.00, but you will get a monopoly of Melody Avenue, Swing Street and Inspiration Place.

-IRA GITLER

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(F) AUGUST 27,1962

“Dexter had recorded with Butch Warren and Billy Higgins on the May 28 Herbie Hancock session — his only sideman date for Blue Note — and definitely liked what transpired. The two also worked hand-in-glove with Sonny Clark, and the result was some joyous music making.

Butch (real first name Edward) Warren was born in Washington, D.C. in 1939. By the time he was 14, he was playing in his father's band, and soon with other leaders, including Stuff Smith and the Gene Ammons-Sonny Stitt team. He came to New York in 1958 with Kenny Dorham and quickly became a Blue Note favorite, recording with an array of the label's leaders: Dorham, Jackie McLean, Donald Byrd, Hancock, Joe Henderson, Clark, Grant Green, etc. In 1962, he toured in Europe with Slide Hampton, and in 1963 he joined Thelonious Monk, visiting Europe again and also Japan. But health problems caused him to return to his hometown, where he's been only sporadically active.

Billy Higgins, born in Los Angeles in 1936 into a musical family, was playing with R&B bands at 12, and a bit later on in a group led by his contemporary, Don Cherry. Before long he'd worked with such players as James Clay, Carl Perkins, Walter Benton, Slim Gaillard and Dexter Gordon. In 1957, he joined Red Mitchell's quartet and not much later, with Cherry, became involved with Ornette Coleman, with whom he recorded and came to New York. By 1962, his credits included Monk, Coltrane, and Sonny Rollins.”

Dexter Gordon "A Swingin' Affair"- The Blue Note Years Part 5

“Los Angeles-based saxophonists Dexter Gordon, Teddy Edwards, and Wardell Gray rank among the finest soloists of their generation, and all three played a seldom acknowledged role in defining a distinctive bop sound for the tenor sax, liberated from the Hawkins mannerisms displayed on most early modern jazz tenor outings. Of these three, only Gordon would go on to enjoy widespread fame, albeit after twenty years of relative obscurity. His early recordings for Savoy from the mid-1940s and infrequent releases during the 1950s demonstrate Gordons freewheeling energy and his bellowing foghorn tone—one of the most distinctive signature sounds in modern jazz—while later sessions for Blue Note present the mature statements of a major soloist. Few were listening, however, and Gordon moved overseas, where he spent most of the 1960s and 1970s. Only upon his return to the United States in 1976 did the tenorist, now in his mid-fifties, begin receiving the accolades and rewards his contributions warranted.”

- Ted Gioia, The History of Jazz, Third Edition

“Generations in jazz, among fans and musicians, are short (rather than the traditional thirty years, they may span only four or five), and the distance between them is sometimes seemingly insurmountable. A whole lifetime seems to separate us from the man who, although only 34 or 35, remembers vividly the nights of seeing Bird, Bud, Monk, Diz, on the historic 52nd Street scene.

It is rare indeed that the members of one generation get the opportunity to share directly the experience of another. Given the chance to hear one of the old giants [Dexter Gordon], we went. Any doubts we may have had about the legends of his charm and prowess were dispensed as soon as he raised his horn to his lips. We had been waiting to be captured by just such a man — a man of his warmth, his "show biz" manner of handling us. his pleasure in being with us. And once he started to play...one young tenor man, enjoying some current vogue, laughed delightedly to no one in particular, and said, "The old lions are telling us cats who're still running the jungle.”

- Barbara Long, insert notes to Dexter Gordon: A Swingin’ Affair [Blue Note CDP 784133 2]

Both Barbara Long, who wrote the insert notes for this third in a series of Dexter Gordon early 1960s Blue Note releases, and Dan Morgenstern, who annotated the session notes for the boxed set booklet, translate Soy Califa, the opening the title of the opening track as “I’m Caliph” or “I’m the Caliph,” whereas Maxine Gordon in her Dex bio translates it as “I’m from California in Los Angeles Spanish.”

Having lived in the greater Los Angeles area most of my life, I think the latter is the more accurate meaning.

As Maxine further explains regarding the significance of these Blue Note recordings in Dexter’s career:

“Dexter continued to record for Blue Note through the first years of his fourteen-year sojourn in Europe. To this day, those classic recordings are still collected by all serious jazz fans throughout the world. Dexter was right when he said that he believed they would hold up in the history of jazz.”

Dexter Gordon: A Swingin’ Affair [Blue Note CDP 784133 2]

“I hesitate to enter grounds already covered by writers more experienced than I. Both Leonard Feather and Ira Gitler have introduced Dexter Gordon's previous Blue Note albums (Doin’ Allright, Dexter Calling, Go!) with personal reminiscences and professional evaluations of his significance in their jazz experiences. They and other critics have assessed his musical contributions and have placed him high. Gordon was in the forefront of the '40s swing era; he was the first to translate Parker's revolutionary concepts to the tenor; he was among the most colorful figures in a period sparkling with them. It was a true measure of his dynamic, warm beauty that they should miss him so acutely during his 12 year hiatus on the West Coast, a decade when he was seldom heard, when his kind of tenor playing was temporarily out of vogue.

Their response to the return of his live performances, his charming, authoritative showmanship, his ability to generate excitement through his manner and music, was a reaction not just to him but against years of not having him. Those were years during which many musicians appeared not to be interested in themselves and the men in their groups, much less the audience. The '60s and Dexter brought back direct communication on the stage, communication which reached out to his audience. One major musician sitting in the Jazz Gallery in New York that first night said, "Love, man, I never felt so much love in one room.”

Dex's old fans were grateful for his return. He was giving them back the best of the good old days. More than that, he vindicated their memories. The music was as wonderful as they had remembered.

Perhaps even more grateful were those of us in another jazz generation, those of us in our early or mid-twenties. Generations in jazz, among fans and musicians, are short (rather than the traditional thirty years, they may span only four or five), and the distance between them is sometimes seemingly insurmountable. A whole lifetime seems to separate us from the man who, although only 34 or 35, remembers vividly the nights of seeing Bird, Bud, Monk, Diz, on the historic 52nd Street scene.

It is rare indeed that the members of one generation get the opportunity to share directly the experience of another. Given the chance to hear one of the old giants, we went. Any doubts we may have had about the legends of his charm and prowess were dispensed as soon as he raised his horn to his lips. We had been waiting to be captured by just such a man — a man of his warmth, his "show biz" manner of handling us. his pleasure in being with us. And once he started to play...one young tenor man, enjoying some current vogue, laughed delightedly to no one in particular, and said, "The old lions are telling us cats who're still running the jungle.”

He told us more than that. In it and subsequent appearance's, he still had a lot to tell tenor players about their instruments. Gordon’s sound is large, larger even than his 6 foot 5 inch frame would lead one to expect. It is no denigration of his technical facility to say that much of the scope of his sound, the warmth of his tone, the musicalness of his harmonic and melodic inventiveness, seem to come from his personality. The tenor, looking so small cupped in his hands, seems merely the nominal source of all that glory. Nominal or not, the instrument is a beloved friend, and Dexter appreciates the entire entity, lower and upper registers, prettiness and harshness. (Too many men seem to concentrate on just one aspect of their horn.) He brings new life to tunes, and obviously loves variety. Blues, ballads, up tempo tunes, originals, hoary pops that even he has to repair drastically for the occasion, make up his extensive book.

During his live performances on the East Coast he pleased all the generations he reached. He brought joy back to listening by giving us his joy in playing. He was as current as today. Instead of being a charming old timer he built sweeping solos too suspenseful to be predictable.

After satisfying us for a while, it was only fitting that he completed his renaissance by visiting Europe for the first time. Awaiting him were fans who had been playing his old records for years before receiving his recent releases. Enthusiastic response there extended his one-month engagement to a year.

…

Fortunately Dexter made two albums before leaving. Both were made within a week before his departure, and with the same personnel. The first. Go!, has been rated 5 stars by the Down Beat reviewer, and is regarded by many as a classic in the making.

And if that album won't hold you till his return, A Swingin' Affair should. It is of the same extraordinary quality, but has the quieter, less pressing appeal of a group whose initial excitement upon meeting has turned into fruitful relaxation among old friends. The rhythm is a conventional 4/4, the support of sidemen solid, and the solos, meant to enhance, never detract from the tenor. If there is experimentation, it is not the painful searing kind; it is certain and mature, the kind one expects from men who know their business.

…

This album should appeal to all the jazz generations who dig Dex. It should also bring a few new ones into the fold. Considering that Down Beats Critics Poll has just named him New Star of the Year, he should have several more to swing for.

-BARBARA LONG

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(G) AUGUST 29,1962

“McSPLIVENS, a minor blues by Dexter named for his dog, gets this encore session under way in style. The nice tempo—not too fast, not too slow—settles the splendid rhythm trio into a well-oiled groove, and Dexter's eight choruses are yet another object lesson in how to tell a story. The penultimate chorus is a salute to Prez. Sonny Clark follows with a five-chorus statement that adds up to a definition of bebop piano, and then Butch Warren goes for two, with that great sound that recorded so well. Dexter uncorks some stop-time stuff, and the closing ensemble is right on the mark.

THE BACKBONE is by Butch Warren, and he sets it up-a catchy little AABA riff piece with some minor-major changes. Dexter takes off in a minor mood (shades of "Softly, As In A Morning Sunrise"), and it's clear that he's "on," as they used to put it, becoming increasingly intense. Clark follows, seamlessly, with some Monkish touches, and then the composer takes over, backed by Higgins only, except when piano peeps in on the bridge. Dex takes it out, with interplay to the fore. These cats are together!

SOY CALIFA is Dexter's, and he announces the title ("I'm the Caliph") over samba rhythm, brought on by the effervescent Mr. Higgins. An ABBA structure with interlude, the piece employs 4/4 rhythm on the bridge. Dexter works off the Latin beat, asking if we've ever seen a dream walking; the empathy between him and the drummer is a joy to hear. Clark's crisp outing finds him at home with the Latin feel, and then Higgins works out, demonstrating, among other things, the power of repetition. A spirited ride!

UNTIL THE REAL THING COMES ALONG was the song that put the Andy Kirk band on the map, commercially speaking, when they recorded it in 1936—Pha Terrell's vocal made the ladies swoon. It became a Kansas City favorite, known as "The Slave Song." But it had been around since 1931, when the songwriting team of Alberta Nichols and Mann Holiner penned it for the show "Rhapsody In Black;" three other songsmiths revised it five years later. Clark's piano brings it on, and he supports Dexter ever so tastefully as the tenorman, emotionally involved from the start, creates a marvelously warm romantic tale, proclaiming himself a prisoner of love. Clark's half-chorus maintains the level of inspiration (lovely voicings,) and then Dex re-enters over the rainbow, setting up a wonderful climax (love's prisoner once again.)

YOU STEPPED OUT OF A DREAM, a sinuous melody by Nacio Herb Brown, was introduced in the 1941 film "Ziegfeld Girl," and became a favorite of Charlie Parker. The introduction mixes 4/4 and Latin, with Higgins again splendid, but the exposition moves smoothly into 4/4 alone. Dexter reveals the changes, and the rhythm section gives him inspiring support. Clark burns one, as close to Bud Powell as he got, and Warren offers an exceptional bass solo. Dexter steps back in on a Cuban sidewalk, his footing awesomely secure, for a half chorus, and then recapitulates the theme with Latin underpinnings, concluding with an effective repeated phrase. Once again, a classic interpretation of a great tune.

DON'T EXPLAIN, introduced in 1946 by Billie Holiday, who wrote it with Arthur Herzog, is another instance of Dexter's fondness for singers—a trait he shared with Lester Young—which inspired him to adapt essentially vocal vehicles to instrumental purposes. Here he captures Holiday's mood of bittersweet resignation to perfection; he almost speaks the bridge, and later evokes a cantorial feeling. Clark's bridge solo and support are exemplary, as is the work of Warren and Higgins (hear the drummer's closing cymbal touches.) In ballad performances such as this one, Dexter inhabits the highest plateau of creativity.”

Dexter Gordon "Our Man in Paris"- The Blue Note Years Part 6

“Gordon feels that the absence of big bands today has cheated the younger musicians. "A pet peeve or gripe of mine is the lack of big bands, which are so essential for young musicians," he said. "The experience you get in a big band, you don't get anywhere else. It develops your tone, your intonation. The discipline that you get in a big band, you just don't get in a small group. Slurring, attacking, phrasing—in a small group it's at a minimum."

The sound that Gordon produces is strong proof of the validity of his preachment. Separated from his attack, which itself is quite varied and a formidable tool, it serves as a powerful means of communication. British writer Michael James has called Gordon's lower-register sound "cavernous" — and, to be sure, there are some beautiful formations in that cavern.

His middle range can be lighter, toward Lester Young; or harder, toward Charlie Parker; the upper reaches contain that eerily beautiful wail that almost seems to emanate from his throat. Dizzy Gillespie's Blue 'N Boogie, recorded in early 1945, was Gordon's first small-group recording after he hit Fifty-second Street. His solo contains the "scream" that ten years later showed up in John Coltrane's work with the Miles Davis Quintet.

Some think that more than Gordon's sound was affected by his Hampton days. Michael James, in referring to the Savoy records Dexter made in 1945-1946 (Dexter's Deck, Long, Tall Dexter, etc.), wrote: "It is tempting to see in the early part of Gordon's career, especially his spell with Hampton, influences that helped to shape his style. The forthright, even-noted swing and square-cut turn of phrase to be heard on his 1945 and 1946 sessions for Savoy recall the regular melodic outlines of Hampton's improvisation rather than the shifting accents of Lester Young, or even the comparatively symmetrical patterns of a Chu Berry. It seems likely that he took Illinois Jacquet as an exemplar. Besides the strong tonal resemblance, Gordon was very ready to indulge in the repeated-note motifs that were part of Jacquet's stock-in-trade.

Whether these similarities were coincidental or not, Gordon's achievement was to present, as early as 1946, a taste of Parker's harmonic richness in a framework that was no less than conservative in its attachment to the beat, and to do this in a way logical enough to make for a style that was individual, integrated and unfailingly cogent."

- Ira Gitler, Jazz Masters of the 40s

In 1955, Gordon recorded again for the first time in three years. Two LPs were done for Bethlehem, one with Stan Levey and the other under his own name, called Daddy Plays the Horn. The third album, Dexter Blows Hot and Cool, was for Dootone. In a 1961 Jazz Monthly article, Michael James commented on some of the performances on these 1950’s LP's; "All four demonstrate Gordon's quicksilver swing, his audacity in the upper register, his tonal power and the apt use he makes of inflection whenever he contrasts a sustained note with those complex, elbowing phrases he manages with so expert a sense of time,"

- Ira Gitler, Jazz Masters of the 40s

As Michael Cuscuna explains in the postscript to the CD release of Dexter Gordon: Our Man in Paris [CDP 7 46394 2] which was originally issued by Blue Note as an LP in 1963: “This album was supposed to have Kenny Drew on piano and feature a program of all new Gordon compositions. Due to various circumstances. Bud Powell replaced Drew. Since he would not play any new compositions, a set of standards and jazz classics was quickly chosen during the rehearsal. The result is one of Dexter Gordon's finest albums and some of Bud's best playing in the sixties.”

This time around, the distinguished Jazz author and critic Nat Hentoff does the insert notes honors to Our Man in Paris which Maxine Gordon in her Dexter bio asserts “was to become one of Dexter’s most popular recordings and it remains a classic to this day.” In my opinion, Nat is at his descriptive best in terms of his description of the elements and ingredients that make Dexter’s style so distinctive.

“THE renascence of Dexter Gordon has been one of the most sanguine events in recent jazz history. After a brilliant early career with Lionel Hampton, the Billy Eckstine big band and Charlie Parker, the tall, forty-year old Californian slid into limbo during most of the 1950's. It was known that he was in California, but he had ceased to be a presence on the jazz scene. Musicians remembered him — as is indicated by his influence on the evolving styles in those years of Sonny Rollins anil John Coltrane — but most of the jazz public and the critics had either forgotten Gordon or assumed that his career had evaporated. As British critic Daniel Halperin noted when the resurgent Dexter played London in 1962, the second career of Gordon "has been an unusual transformation because usually, on the jazz scene, when they fade away they hardly ever come back. And there was a time when . . . Dexter Gordon was definitely near vanishing point."

The road back started in 1960 when Dexter Gordon wrote the music for and performed in the west coast edition of Jack Gelber's The Connection. The next year, Alfred Lion of Blue Note invited Dexter to return to New York for recordings. The albums since — Doin’ All Right (Blue Note 4077), Dexter Calling (Blue Note 4083), Go! (Blue Note 4112) — have firmly re-established Gordon as a major voice in jazz.

Dcxler is now based in Paris, where this album was recorded in May, 1963. Shortly after the session was made. Dexter was asked by a reporter for the French monthly, Jazz, whether he thought he was playing better today than at previous stages in his career. "Certainly," Dexter answered. "I'm much more lucid and have a stronger sense of equilibrium. My musical conception is much surer. I know where I'm going now. I am just as spontaneous as I used to be, but I know much more about music. I've traveled a long road in jazz ... I can't regain the time I've lost, but I've learned from ihe experience and it's not impossible to shape a future which will have profited from the time that was lost."

Dexter was once asked, "What would you like most to see printed behind your name?" His answer was: "I'd like to see something about the fact that I'm constantly searching for ways to improve." The persistence of that search has been evident in all of his recent Blue Note recordings, including this one. Alan Beckett, a critic for the British Jazz Journal, observed during a Gordon stay in London in 1962: ''As one of the first musicians to make constructive adaptations of Parker's harmonic developments to the tenor saxophone, and as one of the greatest influences upon many of the most productive musicians in contemporary jazz, his historical importance is very great. But he is not only a link, and although his recent records indicate that he has borrowed to some extent from his own disciples, his playing over here shows him to be a mature and consolidated stylist, from whose work great satisfaction can be derived."

In this Paris album, Dexter's colleagues have a long history as a unit in that city. Kenny Clarke, the key initial shaper of modern jazz drumming, has been an expatriate in Paris since 1956. Bud Powell has lived there since 1959. Pierre Michelot is one of the most respected bassists in Europe, and he has worked and recorded with a wide range of visiting American jazzmen —- among them, Coleman Hawkins, Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis. In 1959, Clarke, Powell and Michelot formed a trio, the Three Bosses, which worked together for a long time. This, therefore, is not a date with a pick-up rhythm section. Dexter is heard here in the context of a rhythm team which long ago learned to fuse each of its elements into a flowing unified whole.

From the start of Scrapple From The Apple, the sheer strength, the virility of Gordon's horn is unquenchably evident. His tone is assertive but warm; his beat is enveloping; and his conception indicates, as

French writer Demetre Ioakimidis notes that "Gordon has always emphasized swing and melodic development" in his playing. Now, however, there is increased, irrepressible confidence and more venturesome and diversified use of pitch and texture as expressive devices. Furthermore, he sets up and sustains a momentum in a performance such as Scrapple From The Apple that is fiercely, contagiously exciting. There are no hesitations, no skating on technical runs while ideas are being regrouped. Dexter plays as if he could hardly contain all he wants to say. Beneath the marked power, there is also the surge of even more latent force. But Powell's solo is fluent and well-organized, confirming a recent report by "Cannonball" Adderley that Bud, when he is stimulated by his musical surroundings, remains an absorbing pianist.

Willow Weep For Me illustrates what Alan Beckett has called Gordon's "gruff lyricism." In this performance, moreover, that lyricism is unusually incisive. This could be termed a dramatic reading of the ballad. There is no flaccidity in Gordon's ballad work. It contains as much surging strength as do his up tempo swingers, but the strength is disciplined into spare, penetratingly lucid patterns. The overall shape of Gordon's solo is remarkably cohesive, a further indication that while Gordon remains as spontaneous as ever, the increased emotional maturity and musical acumen of the added years have channeled that spontaneity into more memorable and more substantial shapes. There is also much more of a speech-like quality to his phrasing. This is not simply an exercise in technical fluency. Dexter's interpretation of Willow Weep For Me is in the vintage jazz tradition of telling a striking, personal story. The same is true of Bud Powell's statement which is also spare and tensile. Michelot has matured from his earlier recordings, and his solo in Willow Weep For Me is deep-toned, cleanly executed and imaginative.

Broadway, once a vehicle for Lester Young (the strongest early influence on Gordon's playing) is an intriguing, concise history of one major trend in jazz tenor playing. There are traces of Lester as well as signs of the later Gordon style which affected Rollins and Coltrane. In addition, annealing all these cross-influences, is the present Gordon who has absorbed these elements, including what he has chosen to adapt from his disciples, into a powerfully individualistic way of expression. Again, as in Scrapple From The Apple, there is the overwhelming presence of the man — the climate of crackling emotional excitement which never lets up but rather increases in intensity. Note too, in some of the exclamatory uses of pitch, how Gordon has found his own way into at least part of the terrain of the current jazz avant-garde. Throughout the track and the album, spurring the soloists and keeping the time crisply alive, is the superbly lithe drumming of Kenny Clarke. As for Bud, in addition to his own ebullient solo, listen to the echo of Count Basie he brings in at the close.

Stairway To The Stars is another aspect of Gordon's balladry. At first gentler and more introspective than Willow Weep For Me, the performance reveals the warmth and depth of tone Gordon can draw from the horn. And yet, the spine of the interpretation remains steel-like. It is this quality — a firm sense of direction and what I referred to before as sheer strength of emotion — which most instantly identifies anything Gordon does. And as is also characteristic, there is the sure, judicious choice of notes. The lesson of economy was one of the most valuable Gordon learned from Lester Young, and it is a lesson to which he has returned during his current renascence. Bud Powell's solo is almost song-like in its particular quality of lyricism and discloses an especially serene side of Powell's current work.

The final A Night In Tunisia is a summation of the renewed Dexter Gordon — the soaring assurance, the delight in improvising, the unflagging resourcefulness and the bursting ardor of his attack. Gordon has said that he is happier now than he has ever been before, and those high spirits are pervasively clear in this album. It is a happiness, however, which is not likely to lead to coasting. At the core of Dexter's commitment to music is a restless desire to learn and to express more of what he feels. As he told one British writer after having scored a notable triumph in London, "No, I'm not wholly satisfied at the moment; my career is just beginning."”

—NAT HENTOFF

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(H) MAY 23,1963

“In Blue Note's history, Frank Wolff, while certainly significant, is usually viewed as that of a junior partner to Alfred Lion. In this instance, however, Frank was in the producer's chair and came up with one of the jewel's in the label's crown. This is a jazz summit meeting. Dexter was no stranger to fellow jazz masters Bud Powell (his junior by more than a year) and Kenny Clarke (his senior by nine) and indeed had recorded with both before. (Powell was on Dexter's second session as a leader, in early 1946, and Clarke was present three years later when Dexter recorded with Tadd Dameron for Capitol.) At this point in time, all three were at various stages of the expatriate experience. Dexter was at the threshold of what would become a long European sojourn; his love affair with Denmark had begun in the fall of 1962. Bud Powell was in his fifth year as a resident of France and 14 months away from his fateful return to America. Kenny Clarke, who'd first visited Europe in 1938 as member of the Edgar Hayes band, and again in 1948 with Dizzy Gillespie, spent much of the period from 1949 to 1951 in Paris, and in the fall of 1956 permanently settled in France He'd encountered bassist Pierre Michelot during his first Paris period. The Frenchman, born in St. Denis in 1928, started on piano at 7 but switched to bass in 1946 due to his growing interest in jazz. He soon became one of Europe's best jazz players, working and recording with compatriots and visitors, including Dizzy, Monk, Miles and Lester. In 1959, he joined forces with Powell and Clarke as the house trio and rhythm section at the Blue Note Club in Paris, where they were billed as "The Three Bosses." Needless to say, they were well equipped to provide for Dexter's needs.

OUR LOVE IS HERE TO STAY was George Gershwin's last completed song, introduced posthumously in the 1938 film "Goldwyn Follies." Our distinguished foursome takes it at an easy up-tempo, Dexter parsing the melody in his distinctive manner in the exposition, then moving into variations with a very mellow sound (he may have been experimenting with a softer reed at this date.) By the third chorus, Klook is getting with it, and things are warming up as Dex gets quotatious. Powell shows no hesitation in his two choruses, his phrases flowing with good ideas (as usual, we can hear Bud singing along with himself.) An auspicious beginning, although this track did not make it to the original album.

BROADWAY, a swing instrumental written for the Basie band by Henri Woode [composer of "Rosetta") and recorded in 1941 with a splendid Lester Young solo, starts off with Klook's hi-hat and snare stuff (like all great drummers, he has a distinctive sound.) Dexter states the theme, with Michelot's solid walk behind him, and then invents through six choruses; in the third, he quotes from his famous 'The Chase," then trots out some modal things. The way he clinches his fourth and fifth chorus is worth noting, and Klook certainly hears it, commenting approvingly, Dynamic contrasts are a feature of that fifth chorus, and in the next, Dexter encounters and gives chase to a stronger from paradise. Bud is unmistakably himself in his two-chorus solo, launching some strikingly percussive phrases. Dexter picks up on the last of these and then trades educated eights with the drummer, makes up a riff, restates the theme, and plays tag with Bud's echoes of Basie. Bud could still play happy music!

STAIRWAY TO THE STARS was originally an instrumental piece by Matty Malneck and Frank Signorelli, introduced in 1935 by Paul Whiteman as "Park Avenue Fantasy." Mitchell Parrish put words to it in 1939, and young Ella Fitzgerald made a memorable recording. After Bud's intro, Dexter makes love to the melody with an enveloping sound, adding some wry asides to remind us that, like all great artists, he remains the unmoved mover. Using the full range of the horn, he once again almost sings the last eight bars of the exposition, then launches seamlessly into variations that truly merit the often misused term "improvisation;" there's abstract thinking involved here. Bud uses space imaginatively in his 16 bars and Dexter returns with the bridge, building to an impassioned climax. Saxophone mastery!

A NIGHT IN TUNISIA opens with the "traditional" introduction, and Dexter

launches Dizzy's theme with a mixture of 4/4 and Latin from the rhythm section. The standard interlude and break follow, Dexter hoisting himself into his solo with some modal turns. Moving along like a jet-propelled steamroller, he uncorks a bit of "Summertime," some Coltrane licks, near-Eastern phrases, and some "freak" horn effects. By the third chorus, he's in the upper ranges and makes forceful use of repeated phrases. A recapitulation of the interlude sets up Bud's break — a terrific one — and a solo that hints at his affinity for Monk. Klook solos next, before a great recap of the theme and high-note cadenza. A great version of this oft-recorded jazz standard.

WILLOW WEEP FOR ME, Ann Ronnell's 1932 gem, was written while she was romantically involved with George Gershwin and makes wonderful use of one of his trademarks—the repeated note. Our men in Paris take it at a slightly brighter tempo than usually applied to this blues-ballad, opening with an arranged riff. Dexter soon turns to paraphrase, with an uncommon buzzy edge on his tone, and then just lets the ideas flow, with marvelous continuity and logic; it may have been Paris that made him think of "Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup," and the Seine that brought "Ol' Man River" to his mind. Bud, to no great surprise, proves himself a great blues player. Michelot's solo spot shows off his fine sound and articulation (no piano fills behind him.) Dexter returns with a transformed bridge, brief theme recap, and the opening riff, perfect for fading.

SCRAPPLE FROM THE APPLE, Charlie Parker's contrafact of "Honeysuckle Rose," with an ad-lib bridge based on rhythm changes, opens with the standard introduction, then takes off at a fine clip — Michelot is a great time keeper. By his second chorus, Dexter creates a riff, repeats it, transposes it, kneads it; by the third, he's floating, by the fourth, he's smoking. The fifth highlights continuity, with some Prez stuff added; on the sixth, he has fun answering himself; on the seventh, Prez returns, with Sonny Rollins in tow; by the eighth, he's swinging like crazy, and on the ninth, he's riffing away, mixing in some modal stuff, and fashions a bridge to end all bridges—what a ride!!! One doesn't envy Bud, having to follow this eruption, but he shows that he can still handle a challenging tempo, if not quite like once upon a time, and that Bird-like left hand sparkles in the second chorus. (Let's not forget Bud's comping throughout the session.) A chorus of tenor and drum exchanges follows, with Klook in fine fettle, and we end traditionally.

This session closed with a trio version of LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE, which can be heard on Bud Powell's own Blue Note boxed set.

Dexter Gordon "One Flight Up" - The Blue Note Years Part 7

“Whether or not he was given credit, Dexter Gordon is the man who wove an important piece into the great tapestry of the modern tenor saxophone style. Time, which has given proof of his importance, happily has not robbed him of his talents. His most recent work only enhances his position as a jazz master.”

- Ira Gitler, Jazz Masters of the 40s

Recorded on June 2, 1964 at the CBS Studios in Paris and released the following year, One Flight Up is the last of the recordings released by Blue Note during the five year association with Dexter which began in 1961.

As with its European predecessor Our Man in Paris, this one also finds Francis Wolff. Alfred Lion’s partner at Blue Note, stepping out from his usual role behind the scenes to assume the duties of producer.

At the time of its release, Dexter had settled into his ex-patriate status in Europe with Copenhagen as his base and an almost artist-in-residence status at the city’s primary Jazz club - The Montmartre

Dexter elaborates further about the importance of both Denmark and the club, which featured Jazz from 1959-1976, in the following insert notes to One Flight Up by the distinguished Jazz author and critic, Leonard Feather.

As is the case here, often with Leonard the reader gets treated to an explanation of how the music is constructed in terms of keys, time signatures, chord progressions, modulations and the like, all of which serves to enhance the listener’s awareness and pleasure.

“In July 1964 an informal and mutually stimulating discussion by Dexter Gordon, Kenny Drew and two other expatriate jazzmen was published in Down Beat. The subject was "American in Europe." Perhaps the most significant remark in the entire round-table talk was made by Dexter. "Since I've been over here," he said, "I felt that I could breathe, and just be more or less a human being, without being white or black...I think the Scandinavian audiences are very discerning. In fact, my biggest experience in communicating with audiences has been here in Copenhagen.. .The audience here is very 'inside.' This is their capacity."

The intelligent interest shown by their listeners, and the almost total lack of racial prejudice, are not the only factors that have lured so many American musicians to the Continent and kept them there in recent years. An equally vital attraction is the opportunity to work steadily in a single job without having to shift around constantly from club to club or city to city every other week.

"I have played for months on end at the Montmartre in Copenhagen," said Dexter recently. "That's been more or less my headquarters ever since I moved over here in 1962. Now I've never in my life played three or four months continuously at a place in the U.S. The opportunity to work regularly in the same spot gives you the kind of feeling you need to stretch out, relax, and at the same time develop musically without having those job-to-job worries hanging over your head."

Kenny Drew had some similar observations to make along these lines, in the Down Beat report. Asked what he had gotten out of living and playing in Europe, he replied, "In a way, I've found myself, because I've had to be more responsible to myself and for myself … I'm my own man. I've been taking care of business myself — something I never did in the States … Musically, I've found myself by working so long and so much. I can

think more, act more, be more, I guess. My mind is functioning properly now."

Obviously, conditions and reactions like these must be reflected in the music. Dexter's first overseas album, Our Man in Paris (Blue Note 4146), made it apparent that his residence abroad would stimulate him to a consistently high performance level, and that there would be no danger of his stagnating in the new milieu.

Though Copenhagen has been Dex's home for the past couple of years, the other European capitals are of course within easy reach and he has made several field trips, including a couple to Paris. It was here that Francis Wolff of Blue Note arranged for him to assemble an all-star group for the present sides.

Kenny Drew left his native land for Paris in June of 1960 to play with The Connection. Though only set for six weeks work with the play, he says: "I actually knew I wasn't going back under any circumstances." He has lived and worked in Paris since then.

Donald Byrd and Art Taylor spent the last half of 1958 touring the Continent with the late Bobby Jaspar. Byrd returned to Paris in 1963 to study with Nadia Boulanger, but came home in the summer of 1964 to teach at Ken Morris' Summer Jazz Clinics. Taylor, after working around New York with various groups, left for Paris, Rome and other points East in the early fall of 1963.

This leaves one member of the present group unaccounted for: the gentleman with the double-barreled name, Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen.

"This is a remarkable example," says Dexter, "of the kind of talent that's coming up now on the Continent. He's only 18 years old, but I believe he's the very best bass player in all of Europe. Kenny and I worked with him in Copenhagen, and of course I just had to bring him to Paris to make this session with us."

Orsted (he is usually known by this name) was only 17 when Count Basie heard him and promptly offered him a job. Because of problems that arose concerning his tender age, the young Dane never came to the U.S., but the fact that men like Dex and Basie have flipped over him would seem to indicate that if and when he does decide to make the hop, there will be limitless opportunities for him. As these sides show, he has everything required of a bass player nowadays — a great sound, suppleness, ideas and a firm beat.

Given this unusual concentration of talent, it is not surprising that the five musicians were compatible and eloquent enough to stretch out extensively, so that the Donald Byrd composition Tanya runs to 18 minutes and occupies the entire first side [of the LP].

What is remarkable about this track is not its length, but rather the consistency of performance that is maintained throughout; it is evident that each soloist felt free to blow until he had completed his thoughts, or sustained the mood for what he felt was just the right duration.

There are two simple thematic patterns. The first is based on a hauntingly declamatory E Flat Minor7 figure:

This figure is retained, with variations, as Kenny Drew uses it for introduction, interludes and backgrounds, off and on throughout the side.

Dexter's solo, while displaying all his expected warmth and strength, is most notable for its conservative yet imaginative use of spare melodic lines, sometimes even of single notes bent downward in a spellbinding lament. A less mature artist might have used this time to build up to endless flurries of sixteenth notes; yet at the end of his performance the feeling is the same — rhythmically, melodically and technically — as when he began, which gives the solo an extraordinary consistency. Donald maintains the same spirit in his own work; then Kenny, in a harmonically rich contribution, shows the extent to which he has absorbed the new modal feeling that has been invading so much of the modern jazz scene.

Coppin' The Haven, a Kenny Drew line, is a 32-bar minor theme played in unison by the two horns. Though somewhat shorter and taken at a slightly faster tempo, it has some of the same qualities as Tanya in terms of mood-building. Kenny's touch and sound, both in the comping and during his admirable solo, indicate that he has indeed developed impressively under conditions nourished by steady work in happy company. The entire rhythm section, in fact, distinguishes itself on this track, and the great clarity and separation enables one to hear exactly what each member is doing to instill a maximum of variety into the performance.

Darn That Dream is a quartet track; in other words, a ballad solo by Dexter. The 25-year-old song, its pretty changes untarnished by time, makes as suitable a vehicle for his slow, rhapsodic style as did You've Changed, a highlight of an earlier album (Doin' Allright, Blue Note 4077). Kenny's half-chorus offers a simply beautiful example of how to keep a solo moving without ever losing the lyrical essence of the theme.

I don't know whether there was any special significance in the title of this album, other than whatever can be deduced from the cover photo (could it be that that's Tanya's pad up there?). Anyhow, it could aptly be interpreted as meaning that the participants have moved one flight up in creativity, that their flights of fancy are freer than ever under Paris skies. Here are four men who have spent a substantial proportion of their time lately learning the ins and outs of French, Danish and other languages; with them is a teen-aged musical prodigy who has spoken Danish all his life. Together, the five offer a splendid demonstration of how to speak the international language of jazz.”

-LEONARD FEATHER

Kong Neptune, which is included in the boxed set and the CD reissue, an eleven minute original composition by Dexter does not appear on the LP configuration and is therefore not referenced in Leonard’s notes.

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(I) JUNE 2,1964

Back in Paris, a year or so later, and with some new faces in the cast. Trumpeter Donald Byrd, born in Detroit in 1932, had thorough musical training at Cass Tech High, Wayne University, and the Manhattan School of Music, and did considerable gigging from his teens on, also playing in Army bands. In 1955, he broke through in George Wellington's group at New York's Cafe Bohemia, and later that year he replaced Kenny Dorham in Art Blakey's Messengers; he also worked with Max Roach and co-led the Jazz Lab group with Gigi Gryce, aside from an astonishing amount of recording activity and frequent European touring. In 1963, he studied with Nadia Boulanger in Paris.

Bassist Niels-Henning 0rsted Pedersen had just turned 18 the week before this session, but already had a few years in the major jazz leagues under his belt. In his native Denmark, he played piano as a child and picked up bass in his early teens; by 1962, he was in the house band at the Montmartre, Copenhagen's leading jazz club, where he backed visiting greats, including Dexter. He'd regretfully turned down an offer from Count Basie, and had played with both Kenny Drew and Arthur Taylor. The drummer, born in New York in 1929, had been a resident of Europe since 1958, living in France and Belgium He'd grown up with Sonny Rollins and Jackie McLean and Drew, made his debut with Howard McGhee in 1950, and worked with a who's who of jazz, including Coleman Hawkins, Buddy DeFranco, George Wellington and the Byrd-Gryce Jazz Lab. A.T., as he was known to friends, returned to New York in 1984 and died in 1995. His book of interviews, Notes And Tones, first published in 1979, has become a classic.

COPPIN' THE HAVEN, by Kenny Drew, is a 32-bar minor theme presented by the horns in unison, with a 1960's Blue Note sound. (After having presented Dexter in a classic be-bop quartet setting, the label undoubtedly wanted to show him in a more "contemporary" context, and this is a modish as well as modal session.) Dexter solos against a shifting rhythmic backdrop, with his customary direct and TANYA, a Byrd original, has an interesting structure, rooted in a repeated minor figure that creates a kind of hypnotic effect, relieved by passages in 4/4. After the long ensemble opening, Dexter starts mournfully, creating interest by varying his phrase-lengths and managing to sustain tension, backed by Taylor's sharp accents and NH0P's big-toned solidity. Byrd, on open horn, solos well at first, but seems to run out of steam. Drew makes intriguing use of the "vamp" pattern, well supported by the bass, which surfaces in the ensemble ending. At more than eighteen minutes, this performance is the longest in Dexter's Blue Note output, but he returned to "Tanya" some twelve years later and it became a staple in his post-homecoming repertory; one Village Vanguard performance captured on tape runs nine minutes longer.

KONG NEPTUNE (the title is most often given as "King Neptune," but Dexter insisted to Michael Cuscuna that he meant it to be "Kong") picks up the tempo quite a bit; it's a 32-bar Dexter original and Byrd lays out. Dexter digs in, serving up a string of choruses with unflagging energy and drive — he was a master at this kind of groove. Drew and Pedersen solo, then Taylor trades eights and fours with Dexter before the neat arranged ending.

DARN THAT DREAM, a Jimmy Van Heusen tune introduced by Louis Armstrong and Maxine Sullivan in the ill-fated musical "Swinging The Dream" (it ran for just 13 performances at Radio City Music Hall in 1939, despite a cast that also included the Benny Goodman sextet and other luminaries, and Satchmo never played or sang the song again) is given royal treatment by Dexter. He starts gently in the middle register, his pensive and soulful phrasing close to the melody, but with telling touches, and moves up in range for the second chorus, bit by bit, with that beautiful sound. An apt quote (from "Polka Dots And Moonbeams," another Van Heusen tune) opens the bridge, and Dex goes way up high before handing off to Drew, who's choice of double-timing makes sense here, the piano not having the sonic weight of Dexter's tenor. Pedersen's fat sound and well-chosen notes again stand out behind him. Dexter's concluding 16 bars and cadenza are yet another example of his balladic mastery and maturity.”

Dexter Gordon - "Gettin' Around" - The Blue Note Years Part 8

“Dexter Gordon is. ol course, the man who first created an authentic bebop style on the tenor saxophone He is also the man who profoundly influenced young John Coltrane (the roots of what became Coltrane's characteristic modality are plainly evident in Dexter's unusual and very personal harmonic accents) and, to a lesser but still significant degree, Sonny Rollins But above and beyond such historical credits. Dexter Gordon is one of the great players in Jazz, a man who makes music that is vital, direct and emotionally satisfying.”

- Dan Morgenstern

Although Dexter Gordon stopped recording for Blue Note after 1965, his relationship with the label didn’t end there as unissued tracks from his 1961 - 1965 contract period found their way into three new Blue Note recordings: 1967, Gettin’ Around [BST-84204]; 1979, Clubhouse [LT 989]; 1980 Landslide [LT-1051]. All three of the latter have been reissued on CD, both domestically and as Japanese imports. Perhaps one can conjecture that the latter two Blue Note albums were released to coincide with his triumphant return to the USA following a 14-year residency in Denmark.

The first of these - Gettin’ Around [CDP 7 46681 2] - was made up of tracks that were recorded in New York on May 28/29, 1965 and feature of group of [then] rising young stars: Bobby Hutcherson [vibes], Barry Harris [piano], Bob Cranshaw [bass] and Billy Higgins [drums].

Hutcherson’s appearance on these dates was particularly noteworthy as can be discerned in the following review by Richard Cook and Brian Morton in their The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.

“One of the most engaging of Gordon's Blue Note recordings, Gettin' Around is also a showcase for the burgeoning talent of Bobby Hutcherson. Though the charts are relatively scant and unchallenging, the standard of performance is very high; Bobby's starburst patterns, executed round Harris's quiet and definite comping, are full of detail and excitement. The material is fairly basic and familiar, with just three Gordon compositions - not much more than blowing themes - tucked away at the end of the album. 'Manha deCarnaval' gets the record off to a breezy start, and the ensembles here are worthy of study; clean-lined, joyous and absolutely exact, yet with the spontaneity of a first take. Frank Foster's 'Shiny Stockings' was a favourite of the time with tenor players, and Dexter milks it enthusiastically.”

Ira Gitler is back to do the liner note honors for Gettin' Around and he offers the following information and insights:

“SINCE 1962 Dexter Gordon has been living in Europe. He has played all over the Continent but his European home has been Copenhagen, and that city's Club Montmartre his main base of operations. We in the United States have not lost contact with him, however, for several reasons. There have been Blue Note albums like Our Man In Paris (BN LP 4146) and One Flight Up ( BN LP 4176), recorded overseas but released internationally.

Then each year at Christmas, Dexter sends his friends unique, personal holiday greetings. Last year's read, "Santa says, 'Make Glad The Heart'"; the 1965 message was "Santa says; 'Spreading joy in the neighborhood is easy to do and it feels so good!' Somehow you get the idea that Santa in this case is really Dex himself. The feeling that his playing imparts certainly is substantiating evidence.

At the end of 1964 Gordon visited the United States, played engagements on both coasts and in Chicago, and before returning to Europe in June 1965, left us with an LP that makes "glad the heart" and helps to "spread joy in the neighborhood!' He is supported by vibist Bobby Hutcherson, pianist Barry Harris, bassist Bob Cranshaw and drummer Billy Higgings. Support is quite the right word for although Hutcherson and Harris contribute solos, Gordon is the main man here. The others' solos are the condiments for Dex’s longer, meatier statements.

Side 1 is made up of two fairly recent popular songs and one tune that goes back quite a bit farther. Gordon's version of Luis Bonfa's Manha de Carnaval (Morning of the Carnival) from Black Orpheus is a bit slower than this bossa nova is usually played. Dex's sensual, expansive sound and languorous delivery immediately create a cloud to sink into and float on.Talk about being relaxed.

Gordon caresses Anthony Newley's Who Can I Turn To (not to be confused with Alec Wilder's song of the same title) as if he is holding a beautiful woman in his arms. His interplay with Hutcherson after Bobby picks up the melody statement is particularly moving.

On the old hit thatTed Weems mode famous, Heartaches, Dexter demonstrates how a great professional can insinuate a whole feeling just in the way he states the melody. He prepares you in definite but subtle ways for the harder swinging that is to come. The tempo is not that fast but Gordon can generate power at any speed. Hutcherson, showing his earlier Milt Jackson influence, and Harris have short but sweet solos before Dex returns with a clever quasi-quote from Deep In The Heart Of Texas - he has wit to match his heart - and brings everything to a climax with a dancing, delayed ending. Where Elmo Tanner whistled with Weems, Gordon wails with urbane heat.

Side 2 opens with an original by another fine contemporary tenor saxophonist, Frank Foster, While he was a member of the Count Basie orchestra Foster wrote Shiny Stockings and it has become a favorite of many modern musicians. (Pianist Jaki Byard uses it as his theme song.) The groove is an easy-swinging one here with Gordon, Hutcherson and Harris taking a chorus apiece. Dexter doing a reprise, and then out. There is absolutely no strain either in the playing or the listening.

Everybody's Somebody's Fool is a "blues ballad popularized by the first name band that Gordon ever worked with - Lionel Hampton - although it was first recorded in 1949, several years after he had left Hamp. Gordon strikes a wistful, late-hour mood, again bringing his beautiful tone into full play. Harris contributes an appropriately dreamy interlude. When he returns, Dexter makes a reference to Don't Explain - perhaps by design, or by accident.

Dexter's only written contribution to the session is a light, bouncy line called Le Coiffeur* (The Hairdresser). I wonder if he had someone specific in mind when he wrote this, To open his improvisation Gordon makes obvious but effective use of the written line and proceeds to employ rhythmic figures that echo the piece's structure.This adds a sense of unity to the whole track and Hutcherson and Harris stay with the character that has been established.

I think it is evident that the supporting cast was with Dexter all the way in this album. He set the tone and they fell right in with him. Since he is an expatriate it is not often that the New York-based musicians receive a chance to play in his company. Gordon's charm and musical inspiration make his company both delightful and stimulating. With albums such as this Santa Dex is able to disseminate his Christmas messages all year long.”

IRA GITLER

*Very Saxily Yours [ a phrase Dexter uses to close his letters] and Flick of a Trick are two other originals brought to the date and these are included on the CD reissue and the boxed set.

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(K) MAY 28,1965

Just a day later, with the same rhythm team, but vibist Bobby Hutcherson taking Hubbard's place. Born in Los Angeles in 1941, Hutcherson became interested in jazz at 15 when he heard Milt Jackson on "Bemsha Swing." He bought a set of vibes, got some musical instruction from pianist Terry Trotter, and vibes pointers from Dave Pike. Work with Charles Lloyd and Curtis Amy preceded his 1 962 arrival in New York with the Billy Mitchell-Al Grey group; In 1963, he joined Jackie McLean's quintet with Grachan Moncur and Tony Williams, recording "One Step Beyond" for Blue Note. He became an important regular at the label, recording with everyone from John Patton to Joe Henderson to Eric Dolphy and Andrew Hill. A master musician, he recorded on his own for the label for more than 20 years.

LE COIFFEUR is a relaxed, playful Dexter original with a French flavor. The tenor-vibes unison works well on the theme statement. Dexter's solo starts with a break that quotes from the theme; he's in a laid-back mood. Hutcherson offers a melodic chorus, and Harris makes a lot happen in his 32 bars.

MANHA DE CARNAVAL was one of the first bossa nova hits, via the film "Black Orpheus." Dexter takes Luis Bonfa's catchy theme slightly slower than the customary—a very deliberate tempo. Tenor and vibes unison again works well. After Dexter's two plaintive choruses, an interlude sets up Hutcherson, who seems very much at home with the tune, and the interlude is repeated to launch Harris. He starts with a single-note line in the bass, adds harmony, and ends with a vamp—a lucid statement.

FLICK OF A TRICK, another Ben Tucker blues, this time at a slower tempo, is highlighted by Dexter's long sermon —he can preach a while! Barry also is deep into the blues, and Hutcherson, his approach to the blues not surprisingly touched by Bags', does some special tremolo things. A straightforward Cranshaw solo precedes the fade out of the theme. This remained in the can until the 1988 CD release of the album.

EVERYBODY'S SOMEBODY'S FOOL was introduced by Little Jimmy Scott on a Lionel Hampton record in 1950 and remained in the singer's

(L) MAY 29,1965

The same cast was reassembled for Dexter's third consecutive day of recording. There would have been no reason to change it since everything was going down muy simpatico.

Onzy Matthews' VERY SAXILY YOURS had been attempted the day before but comes off well here, though it wasn't issued at the time. Dexter starts his solo with a Yankee Doodle break; he's inventive and rocks in rhythm. Bobby and Barry split one, and Dexter takes over the final bridge.

SHINY STOCKINGS, Frank Foster's classic, is taken a hair slower than Count Basie's chosen tempo. Dexter again launches himself with a break, sure footedly. There are pleasant contributions from vibes and piano, and then Dexter takes another helping, enjoying the changes. The opening eight of this piece fit the standard "I Wish I Knew," but the rest is all original.

WHO CAN I TURN TO, the big hit from Anthony Newley's score to ”The Roar Of The Greasepaint—The Smell of the Crowd," was less than a year old when Dexter tackled it. A nice opening—Dexter, rubato, with just Barry, then the others joining in tempo. That tempo is s-l-o-w, but Dex keeps it out by himself, fashioning a fine finale.

HEARTACHES, a 1931 chestnut by Al Hoffman, introduced by Guy Lombardo and resurrected and turned into a hit by Ted Weems (with Elmo Tanner's whistling) in 1947 (he'd also waxed it in 1933,) may seem a surprising choice for Dexter, but he may have encountered the 1961 hit version by the Marcels, or simply liked the non-AABA structure and easy melody, characteristics that lend themselves to the bossa nova treatment he gives it. He comes in swinging after the vamp intro — debonaire, and again breaks into his solo, and again uses the break device for his second chorus. By the third, you can tell he enjoys the melodic-harmonic and rhythmic motion. Hutcherson's turn is underscored by Higgins' punctuations, and for Harris, Hig comes up with rimshots on the afterbeat. Dexter's re-entry is humorous, and then he tags it a la Stitt, getting his kicks and giving us ours, like he always did.”

-DAN MORGENSTERN June 1996

Dexter Gordon - "Clubhouse" - The Blue Note Years Part 9

“Gordon was a major force in the emergence of modern tenor saxophone styles. His main influence was Lesler Young, but he also displays an extrovert intensity reminiscent of Herschel Evans and Illinois Jacquet. His rich, vibrant sound, harmonic awareness, behind-the-beat phrasing, and predilection for humorous quotations combine to create a unique style. Gordon's music strongly affected the two leading tenor saxophonists of the succeeding generation, Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane. Gordon was later influenced in turn by Coltrane.and even, following Coltrane's example, adopted the soprano saxophone during the late 1970s. A volume of transcriptions of his performances has been published by Lennie Niehaus (Dexter Gordon Jazz Saxophone Solos: Transcriptions from the Original Recordings, Hollywood, CA, 1979).

- Lewis Porter, Barry Kernfeld, Ed., The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz.

“Rollins and Coltrane? I listen to them – not religiously or anything, but I hear them on the radio and on sides and so forth. I feel kinda honored and say: “Well, the seeds are spreading.” Both John and Sonny are constantly experimenting. They’re trying to come up with something new and to progress everything—which I think is great. I personally don’t go for the abstract type of jazz that some of the cats are playing today. To me it doesn’t make it. It’s not rounded enough. It seems like they’re taking one essence or one emotion and building and playing on that.

After about ten choruses of that the listener is about nuts. You come out from listening to something like that and you’re on edge. They’re only giving you a part of the story, and consequently they’re losing something.Music as we know it today is a conglomeration of several different types of jazz. For it to grow there have to be the experimenters. But as for what Ornette and the people on that Freedom kick do–I don’t think that’s it. But there are some good and essential things in it, new color and so forth.”

- Dexter Gordon in 1962 Crescendo Magazine interview with Les Tomkins, now in the UK National Jazz Archive

Recorded in 1965, but not released until 1979 following a discovery of this material by producer Michael Cuscuna, Clubhouse [LT-989/CDP 7 84445 2] is the second of three Blue Note recordings belately issued following Dexter Gordon’s 1961-1965 association with the label.

There’s more of trumpeter Freddie Hubbard on hand along with Dexter’s old running mate from California, Billy Higgins on drums, and first time pairings with pianist Barry Harris and bassist Bob Cranshaw.

Fortunately, Ira Gitler, who provided annotations when Dexter’s first Blue Note recordings were issued in 1962, was also available to write the insert notes for the tracks on Clubhouse which help place them in the larger context of Dexter’s recording career.

“When Dexter Gordon came to New York from Copenhagen in 1976 for appearances at Storyville (now Storytowne) and the Vanguard, he was given a hero's welcome. In 1965 his visit to Manhattan was not as widely celebrated. He had taken up residence in Europe in 1962, finally settling in Copenhagen where he became a fixture at the Club Montmartre and one of Denmark's favorite adopted sons. The series of albums he had commenced recording for Blue Note in 1961 - beginning with Doin' Alright (Blue Note 84077) - had put him back into the jazz listeners' consciousness but club owners weren't waiting in line to book him nor were customers standing patiently outside dubs in order to be able to catch his next show. Those who came, however, usually filled the club and left fulfilled, for to be present at one of Dexter Gordon's performances is to be in the presence of a preacher who disseminates messages of warm, love feelings and robust, witty celebrations of life (not expressions of undisciplined emotion). One usually leaves Rev. Gordon's temple in a state of exaltation.

Dex's physical appearance — tall, tan and handsome — has always been imposing. When his musical talent caught up to the edifice in which it was contained, a powerful combination was established.

I didn't hear him when he was with Lionel Hampton. His only solo outing in that band was as part of a tenor battle with Illinois Jacquet on a never recorded number called "Po'k Chops." I did see him in his Billy Eckstine and 52nd Street days at the Sunday afternoon jam sessions standard at the time. His charisma was as evident as the wide-brim hats he used to sport and his magnetism came through on those first Savoy recordings.

I didn't know him in those days but when he came from California to record Doin' Alright and Dexter Calling I did a feature on him for down beat. It was like a reunion with an old friend rather than meeting with someone for the first time. This wasn't completely unique for wherever Dex plays, old friends came up to greet him. Some actually know him; others are connected to him by his music. They are the people who grew up on the Savoy and Dial 78s. Now they are also the younger generation who have heard those sides on the LP reissues of the '70s.

Doin' Alright and Dexter Calling were followed by a string of excellent albums taped in the U.S. (Go! and A Swingin' Affair) and Paris (Our Man in Paris and One Flight Up). His 1964-65 trip to America produced Gettin’ Around with vibist Bobby Hutcherson. Little did we know that on the day before the Gettin’ Around date Dex, with Freddie Hubbard and the same rhythm section (Barry Harris, Bob Cranshaw and Billy Higgins), had done another session. Finding a Dexter Gordon album is like finding gold, even at a time when he is more than well represented on record. Whether it contains material done elsewhere (there are two such here) is not the point. It is the interpretation of that moment — what Dex was into at that particular time — that is important. Hubbard, one of the significant trumpeters to follow in the wake of Clifford Brown, wasn't always a star but he always could play. Some purists didn't care for his CTI period; others, more justifiably, have turned up their noses at his Columbia fusions. Whatever his current persuasion he remains a giant trumpeter. This unearthed outing should accommodate all his fans.

Harris, bearer, protector and enhancer of the bebop gonfalon, has persevered, enduring much job insecurity during the lean rock years, and triumphed as a recording leader in his own right. True to his musical ideals, he now occupies a position as a young elder statesman whose wise words and knowing notes are listened to by young as well as veterans.

Cranshaw has continued to be one of the most sought after bassists in the highly competitive New York arena. Sharp eyes can pick him out in the band on NBC-TV's "Saturday Night Live" but he's usually busy Sunday to Friday, too, in a variety of musical situations.

Higgins had already collaborated with Gordon several successful times before this recording. Hig is spirited as he is precise; as sensitive as he is swinging When the groove is really happening you can look to the back of the bandstand and see the big smile on Billy's face. His uplifting beat helps to make everyone else happy too.

Gordon's "Hanky Panky' could be subtitled "Chunky Funky" for its solid, bluesy, marching beat. Dex comes out stating a basic idea and then proceeds to elaborate and expand on it so he builds his solo, chorus by chorus. Hubbard also shapes his solo thoughtfully, alternating upward bursts with simpler phrases. There’s an implicit link to Louis Armstrong in his brassy brilliance. Then a relaxed Harris, sitting just behind the beat, seems to contemplate the scenery, commenting on it as it goes past his window at a comfortable pace.

Someone once wrote that Coleman Hawkins turned the saxophone into the "sexophone," and we've often heard Ben Webster's tone described as a "boudoir sound." Dex displays his romance/ sexuality on "I'm A Fool to Want You". Macho tenor yes, but for all to share in. Freddie with a hint of Nature Boy plays a tender, yearning solo before Dexter returns. Dig his friendly growl like a big tiger purring.

A winsome introduction by Harris leads into Gordon's "Clubhouse" a lithe, skipping Dameronian theme. The way it lays is arranged perfectly for commentary by Higgins and this is fully realized at the piece's conclusion. "Clubhouse's" harmonic structure allows for the most elegant, sophisticated bebop invention. Dex is at his suavest; Freddie fiddles fleetly; and Barry distills the Bud-Monk essence to its inevitable, logical beauty. Sometimes there are "perfect" solos and Harris' is just that. After Cranshaw picks one, Higgins gets a chance to swing into full play.

"Devilette", by bassist Ben Tucker, is a mixture of a "soul" feeling with a modal mood. It first reached record through Gordon in The Montmartre Collection for Black Lion in 1967 but this one was done two years earlier. Cranshaw and Higgins do not solo but they are a strong force throughout as they expertly underpin the principal soloists.

At this writing we don't know the composer of "Lady Iris B." [Rudy Stephenson] but it is a saucy blues with a Silver (Horace, that is) twist at its tail. Dex tips his cap to Pres along the way and Freddie is bluessential, as is Barry with Billy "sticking" it to everyone.

Dexter's beautiful ballad "Jodi" was first recorded by him in 1960 on The Resurgence of Dexter Gordon album for Jazzland and dedicated to his then wife. Dex has help from Hubbard and Harris (flashing a Monkish run) but he occupies center stage for the most part in this lovely portrait.

The Resurgence, produced by Cannonball Adderley, marked Dex's first recording in five years. Since that time he has surged and resurged, growing in grandeur with each successive tidal wave.

Like the others, this 1965 breaker is just right for ear-surfing.”

— IRA GITLER (Jazz; Radio Free Jazz; Swing Journal)

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(J) MAY 27,1965

“Back in New York (or rather, New Jersey, site of Rudy Van Gelder's marvelous studio), for a reunion with Freddie Hubbard and Billy Higgins and a first encounter with some other gentlemen of jazz. Pianist Barry Harris, born in

Detroit in 1929, got to play with practically everybody while in the house band at the famous Blue-bird Club, from 1951 on. He came to New York in 1956— the year of the "Detroit wave"—and worked with Max Roach, Art Blakey, Cannonball Adderley and Coleman Hawkins, also leading his own trios and a quintet with Lonnie Hilyer and Charles McPherson. Bassist Bob Cranshaw, born in Evanston near Chicago in 1932, started piano at 5 and bass in high school, worked in Chicago with pianist Eddie Higgins and his own MJT + 3, came to New York in 1960 with Carmen McRae and began a long association with Sonny Rollins in 1961. Like Harris, he'd been on Lee Morgan's "Sidewinder" session for Blue Note. Ben Tucker, who sits in on one number (his own), was born in Nashville in 1930, spent time in Los Angeles with Warne Marsh, Art Pepper and Chico Hamilton, and worked in New York with Billy Taylor and Herbie Mann; he wrote the hit "Comin' Home Baby," and later became involved in broadcasting.

HANKY PANKY, by Dexter, is a blues march that moves from minor to major and back. The tenor solo opens with a quote from the theme and becomes quite intense—Dexter even growls, a rare event. Hubbard, with strong chops, varies his phrases nicely, and Harris displays his clean, crisp touch, well backed by springy bass and drums.

Ben Tucker's DEVILETTE has its composer sitting in on bass. Dexter sails through his opening solo. Hubbard starts with a held note; his big, burnished trumpet sound is a pleasure to hear. Higgins works out behind him, taking risks but getting away with panache. Harris takes solo honors here with a spare, elegant, Powell-inspired turn, and then the theme, with its distinctive bass pattern, returns, the horns echoing each other. Typical hard-bop-cum-gospel 1960s fare.

Dexter's CLUBHOUSE bears the stamp of Tadd Dameron. Horns in unison, three fine choruses by Dexter, a slightly delayed entry but a good outing that ends as if he'd have liked to continue; two good ones from Harris, who thrives on this harmonic climate; a neat melodic-rhythmic turn by Cranshaw, and a tattoo by Higgins, who trades with the ensemble and adds fills in the ending.

JODI, a lovely Gordon ballad first heard in his 1960 "Resurgence" LP, is mostly tenor, but Hubbard takes the first bridge and Harris the second. Dexter is at his most poetic—languid yet buoyant. The cadenza is topped by a marvelous note.

I'M A FOOL TO WANT YOU, by Joel Herron and Jack Wolf, was written for and introduced by Frank Sinatra (who also contributed to the lyric.) It's a somewhat doleful lament, and Dexter captures that mood. He milks the bridge for all it's worth, tipping his cap to Coltrane. Hubbard's great here, as he picks up where Dexter leaves off, contrasting long notes and rapid flurries. When Dexter returns, he gives us one of his rare growls.

LADY IRIS B, by guitarist-arranger Rudy Stevenson, is one of those "Preacher-ish" pieces of the day. Dexter leads off the solos for three, followed by an equal number from Hubbard, who works well with Higgins here. Harris contributes a Horace Silver-flavored statement (he was briefly a Messenger,) and Cranshaw takes one before the theme recap. This was another session that remained on the shelf until the early '80s. It has its moments, but that special spark seems to be missing.”

Dexter Gordon - "Landslide" - The Blue Note Years Part 10

“Dexter Gordon was a year or two behind me [at Jefferson High School in Los Angeles, CA], but my impression was not unlike many others', I guess. As you know, Dexter was quite tall, and he talked slowly, moved slowly, always had a big, beautiful smile on his face. Due to the fact that he was a little younger than me and his musical training started undoubtedly a little later in his life than some of the rest of us— He had all of the soul and dedication and feeling and total commitment to jazz that a person could have, but his training was a little late, so he was what we might call second-string. But when it came to sincerity, he was totally committed. And his playing always reflected his bodily actions in a sense. Even today, when you listen to his records, it's always laid-back just a little bit, as though, "Look, I'm not in a hurry. I'm going to say what I want to say, how I want to say it, and nobody can rush me." But, you know, Dexter loved this thing so much that it was his life. If you love anything, you just live it, sleep it, and eat it. And it seems to me that I've heard Marshal say that Dexter told him once, as a very young man—Marshal [Royal] said that Dexter's ambition was to become a junkie. He was so committed to music—well, jazz music—and he felt that the epitome of being what he wanted was to be a junkie musician. In other words, I guess he felt that the dope was going to help him be a more completely formed musician. And Dexter apparently experimented a little too much with narcotics.”

- Jack Kelson [multi-reed artist aka Jackie Kelso], oral interview in Central Avenue Sounds: Jazz in Los Angeles

“My enthusiasm for Gordon's playing on this LP knows very few bounds. It is not enough to say that he plays as well as he ever did, for he plays better and on some tracks shows a sustained emotional cohesion and directness that is rare. …

I take deep pleasure in the periodic rediscovery that players like Jack Teagarden, Emmett Berry, Pee Wee Russell, Coleman Hawkins, Buck Clayton, Ben Webster (I am not naming enough of them) are still committed and creative jazz musicians. I take the same kind of pleasure in hearing Dexter Gordon on this LP.”

- Martin Williams, Downbeat review of Doin’ Alright

Recorded in 1961 and 1962, but not released until 1980, Landslide [LT-1051/CD TOCJ-50289] is the last of the three Blue Note recordings belately issued following Dexter Gordon’s 1961-1965 association with the label.

Perhaps not as well known as the above cited Martin Williams or the often recognized Ira Gitler, Nat Hentoff and Leonard Feather, Robert Palmer has long been a favorite of mine among Jazz critics for his educational and informative commentaries. After reading them, I always come away having learned something new about the music and its makers.

Aa a case in point, “storytelling” is commonly used as a reference point regarding Jazz soloing, but rarely is it explained, if it is explained at all, as well as Mr. Palmer’s description of it in the following insert notes to Landslide.

“Dexter Gordon is a weaver of spells and a teller of tales. He begins weaving his spell even before he's played a note, with his radiant, room lighting smile, his velvety speaking voice and the sheer magnetism of his presence.

In interviews, he’s often stressed his interest in musical storytelling He once explained his infatuation with the playing of Lester Young by asserting that "Pres was the first to tell a story on the horn” and of the trumpeter Roy Eldridge he remarked. "I used to got the same thing listening to Roy as I did

listening to Lester - the same ‘story' feeling."

"Telling a story" is such a cliche of "jazz talk" that one rarely thinks about what it really means On one level, it's a survival of an altitude common in blues, in which the guitar or harmonica often “talk back to" the singer, or answer his vocal lines, and that attitude in turn is a survival of the close connections between music and speech found in many African cultures.

Among the many African peoples who speak pitch-tone languages, a musical phrase may literally tell a story, it may have a verbal meaning, which most [native] listeners can easily decipher in its pitch configuration. There’s a great deal of this marvelous tale-telling quality in Dexter Gordon’s playing. He’s an unusually expressive saxophonist and often he quotes the lyrics to a standard before improvising on it, drawing an explicit connection between the import of the words and how he will shape and develop his musical ideas.

Jazz improvising is a “language” in another equally interesting sense. A musician who develops his art in the way Dexter did - studying harmony and theory initially, picking up pointers from older musicians while serving an apprenticeship during big band section work, listening to the idioms recorded masterpieces and studying their details and construction - eventually creates his own individual style out of these diverse influences and experiences.

But the original influences are never entirely subsumed in an individual’s particular stylistic synthesis. A musician will retain phrases, personal timbers, and even entire solos associated with the many players he has listened to somewhere in the recesses of his memory, just as he retains the melodies and chordal layouts of a number of standard tunes and jazz compositions. In the course of an improvisation, which is a kind of spontaneous composition using a prearranged framework, the musician will draw on the information he has filed away in his memory bank. When the listener “hears the influence of” another player, what he’s actually hearing are either ideas found in the work of the other player or the improviser’s personal but still recognizable transformation of those ideas. In this sense, a superior, seasoned jazz improviser “tells a story” every time he solos, a story of the music’s rich traditions and of his own encounters with the bearers of these traditions.

There’s an interesting example of this aspect of Dexter’s story telling on “Love Locked Out,” the second of seven previously unreleased performances on this welcome new album. Dexter has never been thought of as a Coleman Hawkins disciple. He himself says that he loved Lester Young's playing more than that of any other tenor saxophonist, and of course his style was shaped further by Charlie Parker and the advent of bebop; he was the first really authoritative tenor stylist. But as we’ve noted a Jazz musician absorbs something from just about everything he hears, and like any other young saxophonist of his era Gordon listened carefully to Coleman Hawkins the undisputed tenor boss before Lester Young and a major architect of jazz ballad playing. Hawk's way with a ballad entailed various combinations of warm melodic exposition with arpeggiated playing; he would '”spread" a chord by stating its notes in sequence, almost as one might do when practicing an instrumental exercise. In his ballad performance "Love Locked Out", Dexter begins with a very straightforward melodic exposition, employing a plaintive, veiled sound, and then, as he begins to develop the melody, he works his way through a succession of arpeggiated phrases clearly acknowledging Hawkins’ contribution to ballad playing and to his own evolution.

I’ve emphasized this aspect of Dexter Gordon’s music because Landslide, drawn from three different 1961-62 sessions, gives a particularly good account of it. When Dexter is at work, he seems to access the material in his memory bank very directly, so that his playing reflects with unusual honesty the mood he’s in at the moment. I’ve heard him, for example, quote a single fragment - “Here Comes The Bride,” say - two or three times in the course of a single evening, and return the following night to find him in a very different frame of mind. For this reason, Dexter Gordon albums drawn from a single session tend to have a unity of mood, to present their own distinct perspective on the Gordon style. This album has more variety. Gordon is caught on three different days, telling different kinds of stories.

The early sixties must have been an uneven period for Gordon emotionally. After establishing himself as a modern master in New York during the forties, he spent much of the fifties back in his native California, where he had to overcome both a drug habit and the indifference of a jazz public that was preoccupied with the so-called “cool school.”

He returned to New York in the early sixties to record some of the finest albums of his career for Blue Note. Landslide, written by Dexter with fellow tenor saxophonist Harold Land in mind, is an unreleased tune cut at the second session of these albums: Dexter Calling. Making these albums, after having recorded very sporadically for a decade, must have been extremely satisfying, and in concert and at occasional night club appearances, Dexter was very warmly received. But the cabaret card law, which forced entertainers working in places that served liquor to apply for cards and routinely denied cards to anyone who had been in trouble with the law, especially on drug-related charges, kept Dexter from working steadily. In the study of Gordon included in Jazz Masters of the Forties, Ira Gitler suggests that Dexter’s failure to obtain a cabaret card was one of the main reasons he left for Europe later in 1962 and decided to stay there.

After the exuberant, hard-toned tenor solo on Landslide, the saxophonist’s work on the next three numbers sounds somewhat subdued. In part this difference can be ascribed to the difference in the accompanying groups. Landslide features the extroverted rhythm section of Kenny Drew, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones. On Love Locked Out, You Said It and Serenade in Blue, Willie Bobo, better know as a conga player, is on trap drums; Bobo also plays traps on Blue Note Sessions by Grant Green and the much underrated tenor saxophonist like Ike Quebec during this period [Herbie Hancock’s Inventions and Dimensions, too.] Sir Charles Thompson [pianist], who now lives and works in Switzerland, had appeared on several Blue Note Sessions during the forties and returned to the studio to record for the label in a 1959 Ike Quebec date. Together with bassist Al Lucas, Bobo and Thompson provided spare backing on this date, and on the two ballads played gently and sadly, with deep feeling.

You Said It, a Tommy Turrentine composition recorded several months later by the trumpeter’s brother Stanley Turrentine and available on Jubilee Shouts [Blue Note BN LA 883], is more “up.” Dexter’s solo begins with tumbling strains that cascade downward, pulling at times against the forward push of the rhythm, and then opens out into expansive, intelligent eight-note patterns. The tune’s composer, making his only appearance of the set, solos briefly and Thompson’s solo includes reminders of both Bud Powell and Thelonious Monk.

Phill Joe Jones is back on drums, the estimable Sonny Clark is the pianist and Ron Carter’s bass provides a big, hard bottom. Dave Burns, the trumpeter, has been featured on three, earlier Blue Note sessions - James Moody 1948, George Wallkington 1954, Leo Parker in 1961. A veteran of the early Dizzy Gillespie big bands, he is an individual, assured player and this date provides a welcome chance to hear him improvise at some length.

The material is varied and cleverly arranged, Dexter plays with a tougher tone and a more aggressive attack than on the previous session. Blue Gardenia sounds like a small band version of a big band arrangement, with its harmonized verses and unison bridge.

Six Bits Jones is in 6/8, although the way Philly accents it makes it sound almost like a straight waltz at times.

Here Dexter echoes Burns’ theme statements of the minor key melody in chase fashion before jumping into the first solo, one of the best of the album. The way he cuts across the bar lines, building his improvisation out of chunky phrases of unequal lengths and making use of his lower buzz-saw register, is a delight.

Second Balcony Jump was recorded by Dexter again two months after this session and issued on his classic Go [Blue Note BST 84112]. But this version doesn’t take a back seat to the later one. Dexter’s sound is scorching, and he swaggers through his solos, scattering blues riffs, downturned inflections, jagged runs, and bottom-of-the-horn honks. Yeah! Here Dexter isn’t just telling a story, he’s preaching it, weaving that almost mystical spell of his. This performance alone is worth the price of admission.

It’s our great good fortune that Dexter decided to return from Europe, after a decade in exile, so that we could hear more like this.”

- Robert Palmer

Dan Morgenstern Sessions Notes from the Boxed Set Booklet -

(B) MAY 9,1961

LANDSLIDE, the session opener, was not issued until years later Dexter named this 32-bar original at the time of release because the line reminded him of Harold Land. It opens with three tenor choruses at a medium-up tempo. Drew's crisp, light touch is prevalent in a solo that includes some cleanly executed octave doubling, with prominent and typical Philly Joe rimshot accompaniment. Chambers takes a pizzicato solo that shows why he was in such demand in the studios; immaculate conception and beautiful sound. Dexter's concluding theme statement is authoritative, climaxing with a high note—as always, in tune.

Almost a year has passed. The supporting cast assembled here for Dexter is somewhat odd, and the session didn't yield enough material for an album; the three acceptable tunes were shelved and did not see the light of day until 1980. They proved worth waiting for, after all. Trumpeter Tommy Turrentine, born in Pittsburgh in 1928, is the oldest brother of tenorman Stanley. He hit the road with Snookum Russell's territory band in 1 945, graduated to Benny Carter a year later, and spent two years with trumpeter George Hudson's St. Louis-based outfit. His big-band days over, he joined Earl Bostic, then emerged with Charles Mingus in 1956, and worked with Max Roach and Lou Donaldson. His recording career peaked around the time of this date. Pianist Sir Charles Thompson, born in Springfield, Ohio in 1918, started on violin, turned piano pro at 17, toured with territory bands, and came to California in 1940, where he hooked up (and recorded) with Lionel Hampton. In New York, he was in Lee and Lester Young's band on 52nd Street, where he joined Coleman Hawkins for a round-trip to the west coast; back in the Apple, in 1945, he presided over a record date that included Charlie Parker and a young Dexter Gordon. He then hooked up with Illinois Jacquet, did frequent gigs as a soloist, recorded for his fan John Hammond at Vanguard and Columbia, and had recently returned from a European tour with Buck Clayton at the time of this session. Bassist Al Lucas, born in Windsor, Ontario in 1916, spent most of the '30s touring with the Sunset Royals, then worked in New York with Coleman Hawkins, Stuff Smith, Mary Lou Williams, Eddie Heywood, Ellington (briefly), Erroll Garner and Jacquet before settling into studio work. (He'd appeared on Blue Note with James P. Johnson.) Lucas died in 1983. Drummer Willie Bobo was born into music as Machito's band boy, played with Perez Prado and Tito Puente and Mary Lou Williams (who named him Bobo) and did long stints with Cal Tjader and Herbie Mann before leading his own groups from 1963 until his death 20 years later.

SERENADE IN BLUE, from the prolific pen of Harry Warren, was introduced by Glenn Miller's band in the 1942 film "Orchestra Wives." This is the tender Dexter, but even at his most gentle, there's a firmness to his phrasing that keeps his ballads from becoming somnolent. This tune has a particular!!/ well-wrought bridge that is stunningly reshaped by Dex in his second chorus, where he also goes way low during the first four bars. He had remarkable range—remarkable for the fullness and accuracy of both his top and bottom notes. The extended ending is lovely, as is this entire all-Gordon performance.

YOU SAID IT is by Tommy Turrentine, in minor, and sounds a bit like the title repeated three times. After the unison head, Dexter dips into low range; his solo is phrased more tightly than usual, making little use of space. The composer expresses nice ideas from a Fats KD Brownie bag, slightly shaky in execution, and Sir Charles pares things down, in his epigrammatic be-bop-Basie style. Bobo's accents sometimes reveal his Latin ancestry.

LOVE LOCKED OUT is a great 1933 Ray Noble tune—Dexter's reservoir of good songs was deep. Throughout this performance, he uses his sound and range with impressive imagination—what a craftsman he was, and what care he took with every note's shape and duration and color. He opens in a warm and pensive mood, well backed by Lucas, as he unfolds the melody, then embellishes it with arpeggios. Sir Charles takes the second bridge, showing that he can do a Teddy Wilson, and when Dexter returns, he comes close to singing the melody, going way up, with that great control and sound. Another ballad masterpiece.

(E) JUNE 25,1962

Except for Philly Joe Jones, all new faces surround Dexter here, but this is another session that failed to meet Alfred Lion's expectations and remained shelved for almost 20 years. Trumpeter Dave Burns, born in New Jersey in 1924, was thoroughly schooled in music before joining the Savoy Sultans in 1941 and leading a band in the U.S. Army. Upon discharge in 1946 he became a member of Dizzy Gillespie's big band, spent some rather anonymous time with Ellington, and was featured with James Moody's fine little band from 1952 to 1957. At the time of this date, he was with the Billy Mitchell-Al Grey group. Pianist Sonny Clark, born in 1931 in a small Pennsylvania town, started on piano at four and added bass and vibes while in high school in Pittsburgh. His professional career got under way in California in 1951, where he worked with Wardell Gray, Vido Musso, Oscar Pettiford, and Buddy Defranco (1953-56), with whom he visited Europe. He came to New York with Dinah Washington in 1957 and formed his own trio, also recording prolifically. He had less than seven months to live after this date. Ron Carter, the baby of this band, was born in 1937 in Ferndale, Michigan, took up cello at ten, attended Cass Tech in Detroit, where he took up bass, played his first professional gigs in 1955, and graduated from the Eastman School of Music in 1959, the year he joined Chico Hamilton. Work and recordings with Bill Evans, Cannonball Adderley, Eric Dolphy, Jaki Byard and Mal Waldron preceded his 1963 hiring by Miles Davis.

BLUE GARDENIA, the theme from the eponymous 1953 film, written by Bob Russell and Lester Lee, was put on the map by Nat King Cole and Dinah Washington. Dexter and company take it above the customary ballad tempo — a Basie-like mid tempo — and the arrangement reshapes the bridge. Philly Joe's accents add much to the total effect. Dexter starts his solo down low and phrases Bird-like on the last eight of the first chorus, then spaces his phrases out as the rhythm section settles into a backbeat feel. He enlists a million-dollar baby to launch the bridge. Burns is also relaxed, offering some tasty, laid-back phrasing without resorting to double-timing. Clark tips his cap to the melody at first, then goes for himself, and young Ron takes a half chorus before the ensemble recaps the arranged bridge and takes us home.

SECOND BALCONY JUMP, by trombonist-arranger Gerald Valentine, was launched in Earl Hines' 1942 band; Billy Eckstine took it (and Valentine) along when he left Fatha to go out on his own, and it was in the Eckstine band that young Dexter became fond of this riff-based number; the title refers to the Apollo Theatre's lowest-priced and most responsive section. The tempo's nice — not too fast and Dexter's in a happy mood and on a quoting kick. The last eight of his second chorus are special, and on the third, he's thinking about Lester Young. Burns proves himself a subtle thinker on his two-chorus solo, Philly is right there with him. The drummer's almost too responsive to Clark, who should have gotten more than one chorus to play. Drum fills and a drum bridge feature in the closing segments.

SIX BITS JONES is by the gifted arranger-composer Onzy Matthews, with whom Dexter was acquainted in California. Ifs in 6/8. Dexter echoes Burns' lead, then starts his solo with an incisive repeated phrase (as always, he responds to the minor mode) and builds from there. Burns joins him for the handover, then solos well (but with low chops) in a Chet Baker mold. Clark makes the most of his single chorus, painting with dark hues, and Philly Joe was listening. A horn interlude leads back to the theme; this time, Dexter plays a written counterline. A call-and-response routine fades out the piece.

1 comment:

AnonymousDecember 13, 2022 at 6:09 PM
"Le Coiffeur" us based on "I Love Lucy". A pianist feom Pittsburgh named Jerry Malega transcribed it for me and I used to play it on alto. (Tim Charles)
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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.