Cedar Walton and Eastern Rebellion

 © Copyright ® Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“Most live CDs are made of a series of separate "highlights" - usually taken from different sets of performance and involving several nights of recording, the final product subject to the producer's personal choices. Listening to the consistent level of intensity in the music performed by the Cedar Walton Quartet this particular evening at Copenhagen's Jazzhus Montmartre. producer Nils Winther, however, decided to ignore the usual procedure and put out the music the way pianist/leader Walton had thought it out set-by-set.” 

- Jørgen Frigård, insert notes

From the mid 1970s to the mid 1990’s, pianist Cedar Walton led a quartet [later a quintet] which regularly performed and recorded under the name - “Eastern Rebellion.”

There was from time-to-time lots of wild speculation about the derivation of the name of the band.

Of course, it probably didn’t help that the group’s initial Timeless album cover featured a huge red sun emblematic of "the land of the rising sun” and the Japanese Flag.

As Ben Markley explains in his Cedar: The Life and Music of Cedar Walton [2023]: “Cedar's contract with RCA Victor prevented him from recording as a leader for other labels. European concert promoter Wim Wigt approached Cedar to record for his new label Timeless. To skirt the name issue. Cedar came up with the name Eastern Rebellion for the group.” 

In an undated WBGO radio broadcast with host Rhonda Hamilton, Cedar gave this explanation as to the title of the group’s origins:

RH: Tell me about Eastern Rebellion. This is a band that you founded in the mid-'70s. So it's been around for about 20 years now. Was there a particular concept behind it and does the name relate to that at all? A lot of people wonder if Eastern Rebellion refers to the East Coast or what?

CW: Part of the meaning is referring to the Eastern [East Coast] way of playing bebop. You might say an acoustic traditional approach to playing which is of course my approach. It just so happened that at the time that we had a chance to record this group, I was under contract. The group then consisted of George Coleman on tenor, the late Sam Jones on bass as well as me and Billy. We had an opportunity to record on the brand-new label from Holland named Timeless. We were the first group to record on that label. I was under contract with RCA Victor doing a bit of fusion, which I didn't have any remorse about. It was fun to me, it was like a big electronic game. You could go in there and do what you wanted to and then go later and piece it together and try to come up with something. I did some of what I considered failure; it just didn't work converting some of Thelonious Monk's and John Coltrane compositions into a so-called quote unquote fusion.

And I couldn't record again [for another label], Rhonda, so we had to get a group name. So I [was] actually rebelling against myself in a way. [laughs] We all lived in the east of the United States and Easter Rebellion [titled Shake Hands with the Devil, came out] somewhere back in my movie going days. It was a movie that had James Cagney in it with these Irish rebels and they called themselves Easter Rebellion, so I put an "n" on it and it worked out for me. And so it's not that terribly interesting, Rhonda, but that is the story.”

The initial formation of the group included Clifford Jordan. This group toured Europe in 1975, but no commercial recordings were made. 

In 1975, tenor saxophonist George Coleman replaced Jordan. On December 10, 1975, Eastern Rebellion was recorded. The recording included two Cedar originals: "Mode for Joe," which was previously recorded with Joe Henderson, and a new composition, "Bolivia." The album also included "Bittersweet" by Sam Jones, and "5/4 Thing" by George Coleman. John Coltrane's "Naima" rounded out the album.

George Coleman was a member of Eastern Rebellion for a little over a year. Tenor saxophonist Bob Berg replaced Coleman. The group recorded its second album for Timeless titled Eastern Rebellion 2 in 1977. Berg and the Magic Triangle (Clifford Jordan’s nickname for the trio of Cedar, Sam Jones and Billy Higgins) were joined by trombonist and Cedar's former Messengers bandmate Curtis Fuller. This album featured all Cedar originals, including "Fantasy in D," "The Maestro," "Ojos de Rojo," "Sunday Suite," "Clockwise," and "Firm Roots."" With Berg. 

Cedar and Eastern Rebellion would record several times under the Eastern Rebellion band name and on recordings lead by Sam Jones (Something in Common), Billy Higgins (Soweto, The Soldier, Once More), as well as with Cedar as the leader. Berg stayed with Cedar and Eastern Rebellion until 1983. The following year. Berg would join Miles Davis. After Berg left the band. Eastern Rebellion did not record again until 1992 with tenor saxophonist Ralph Moore.

One of Eastern Rebellion’s first gig’s with tenor saxophonist Bob Berg and “The Magic Triangle” took place at Montmartre in Copenhagen, Denmark in October 1977 and was recorded in performance and later released on three CD’s on Nils Winter Steeplechase label [First Set, SCCD 31085, Second Set 31113,Third Set 31179].

Richard Cook and Brian Morton had this to say about these recording in The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.:

“This was a vintage period for Walton, who was beginning to shake off a tendency to blend with his surroundings. This is the band that went out as Eastern Rebellion, documented on Timeless and elsewhere, though these discs seem to be credited to Walton alone. His European gigs were models of tough contemporary bop and, though the incidence of covers is higher than one might expect, given the strength of his writing, the standard of performance is consistently high, and for once Steeplechase's exhaustive documentation seems justified. Berg, who replaced George Coleman in the group, turns in an excellent performance of Coltrane's 'Blue Train' on Second Set, avoiding the usual pastiche of Trane's lonesome solo and turning the theme into something altogether tougher and more locomotive. There are several good Monk performances, but the opening 'Off Minor' on First Set is the most dynamic. There certainly wasn't enough strong material for three discs, and these sessions suggest an obvious occasion for editing and repackaging.”

If you are not a player, it’s difficult to describe what it's like to get on stage and play three sets of music before an audience of club goers. Sustaining the energy and concentration required to consistently play Jazz at the highest level depends on so many variables both personal and mechanical in terms of technique. Some tunes are easier to play on than others; some tempos work better for some musicians in the band rather than others; attentiveness may wane due to a drop in energy levels; unexpected developments while performing a tune may cause problems - the variables involved are never ending.

Ultimately, it’s rare that each member of the group “nails it” [is skillful and successful] in performing each piece of music and playing each solo, so in this regard, I agree with Cook/Morton when they comment about the unevenness of the material on these three discs.

On the other hand, it’s not often that an evening’s worth of music from a club date is released on CD in its entirety and I think most Jazz fans would find it interesting and fun to parse through three 40+ minute sets to vicariously live the experience of “being there” while listening to four master Jazz musicians go about their business. 

For me, this was my first opportunity to really dig deep into tenor saxophonist Bob Berg and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know his playing - another benefit of so much music all in one place.

Perhaps, the following explanation can serve as another response to the Cook/Morton point-of-view

“Most live CDs are made of a series of separate "highlights" - usually taken from different sets of performance and involving several nights of recording, the final product subject to the producer's personal choices. Listening to the consistent level of intensity in the music performed by the Cedar Walton Quartet this particular evening at Copenhagen's Jazzhus Montmartre. producer Nils Winther, however, decided to ignore the usual procedure and put out the music the way pianist/leader Walton had thought it out set-by-set.” 

- Jørgen Frigård, insert notes

Jørgen Frigård offers more perspectives and perceptions about the music performed at Montmartre by the band on October 1, 1977 in the following insert notes.

Cedar Walton First Set, [Steeplechase, SCCD 31085]

Cedar Walton's Quartet was in a Monkish mood this evening at Jazzhus Montmartre, opening their first set with a long, but driving workout on Off Minor (and continuing their incursion into Monkville with two probing versions of Rhythm-A-Ning and Blue Monk later in the evening).

Without trying to read Walton's motives in choosing the opener — the dramatic effect of that first number, however, was obvious to anyone present. Thirty years have passed since Thelonious Monk recorded his first version of Off Minor, but in terms of the harmonic, melodic and rhythmic demands that face the players approaching his compositions, it represents as much a challenge today as it did in the early 60's when every other modern jazz musician seemed to be into-Monk's music. There are no shortcuts through this music, and Cedar Walton, Bob Berg, Sam Jones and Billy Higgins approach it head on — with an emotional and rhythmic thrust that appeared, in effect, almost therapeutic, or as young Bob Berg expressed it — “leaving you with a feeling of being ready and able to play anything after that.”

Cedar Walton, the pianist, composer and leader, has come a long way since his early playing experiences with J. J Johnson, Art Farmer, Benny Golson. Dinah Washington and Art Blakey. “The first time I played Copenhagen,” he told Ib Skovgaard at Denmark's Radio, "I was the young piano player with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. Bud Powell was appearing every night at the Montmartre, but although I tried very hard to make an impression here, I didn't have my music together in the way that some of the other young players in Blakey's group, Wayne Shorter and Freddie Hubbard, had. And I don't think my playing made much of a dent at the time.”

The dents came later —in recent years most often in close rapport with his two long-time friends, drummer Billy Higgins and bassist Sam Jones, whose musical attitude and unusually responsive playing (dig Higgins' swift and delightfully crisp drumming throughout the album) have brought out the most exciting aspects of Walton's talent, both as a pianist and a very personal writer. On Off Minor he doesn't try to approximate the idiosyncrasies of Monk's own piano style (no one really could), and yet the percussive quality of the music informs Walton's very fleet and energetic playing. For an exciting combination of the two “styles” — listen to his long solo on the fast and exhilarating Ojos De Rojo.

Following Off Minor (the succession of tunes has been maintained as played at the club, covering the entire first set — the remaining music from this evening to be issued in a later volume) tenor saxophonist Bob Berg introduces the verse of For All We Know. Through its years Montmartre has seen some very heavy ballad playing, at various times being the musical home of Stan Getz, Dexter Gordon and Ben Webster, and 25-year old Berg's strong reading of For All We Know follows that line. The youngest member of the quartet. Berg joined Walton in early 1977 after having worked with pianist Horace Silver's quintet. "Working with Cedar, Sam and Billy” he noted, "is like realizing a dream or a long-held ambition. They are all giants in their fields, and they all listen as much as they play, even when the music is all up. The music is so strong, you feel it physically.-

The the second half of the first set! is devoted to Walton's own writing — the catchy, gospel-flavoured Holy Land with its unusual exposition and refreshing round of solos, the deliciously funky I'm Not So Sure (note Walton's authority and sureness as a band-pianist) and the fast, Spanish-tinged and almost fanfare-like Ojos De Rojo on which both Walton and the daring, driving Berg really stretch out. But what is perhaps the most surprising feature of the quartet, is its overall sound as a unit — considering the traditional instrumentation of tenor saxophone, piano, bass and drums. Compared with two other recent Steeplechase releases that feature the same instrumentation, and like this one recorded “live,” Dexter Gordon's Swiss Nights (Steeplechase SCS-1050) and Stan Getz's -Live At The Montmartre (Steeplechase SCCD-31073 and SCCD-31074) — the sound of the Walton quartet is almost like one of four different instruments.

What else to say about a thoroughly enjoyable album like this? Listening to the quartet's intense performance on Monk's Off Minor and then tuning to the playful drive on, say. Walton's own Holy Land, I was somehow reminded of an Ellington recording session that I happened to attend in the early 60’s.

The Band had been through a selection from one of Ellington's extended works, and the leader was in the control booth enjoying the playback, performing his own little dance to the music, when someone from the New York media approached him about the social and/or political significance of that specific piece of music. Normally a most articulate speaker, Ellington was not in a talkative mood, however, and nodding towards the empty piano bench in the studio he excused himself to the inquirer with a courtly “Man, right now I just feel like playing! Upon which he re-entered the studio and for the next twenty minutes or so proceeded to lay down some of the most funky, down home and dirty piano blues to be caught anywhere.”

Cedar Walton Second Set, [Steeplechase, SCCD 31113]

“Most live CDs are made of a series of separate "highlights" - usually taken from different sets of performance and involving several nights of recording, the final product subject to the producer's personal choices. Listening to the consistent level of intensity in the music performed by the Cedar Walton Quartet this particular evening at Copenhagen's Jazzhus Montmartre. producer Nils Winther, however, decided to ignore the usual procedure and put out the music the way pianist/leader Walton had thought it out set-by-set.” 

And thus we find Walton, Bob Berg, Sam Jones and Billy Higgins here opening their Second Set of the evening -building up new steam and getting the wheels turning on John Coltrane's now classic blues Blue Trane. One of the remarkable things about this quartet, and there is no room for second-set coasting here, is the way in which its four players seem to be constantly recharging their powers through the act of playing (and through the musical challenges set up by navigator Walton). As young tenorist Bob Berg, the group's newest member, described it in the notes to First Set, SteepleChase SCCD 31085; "Cedar, Sam and Billy listen as much as they play, and their music is so strong that, even when you 're tired, you feel it physically - you get new strength just through playing. "

Also, Walton has come a long way in broadening the emotional scope of his music since his early playing jobs with such leaders as J. J. Johnson, Art Blakey, Benny Golson and Art Farmer. Following the stark and highly charged re-working of Blue Train, a performance that transcends all the fashionable, but overdone funky cliches of the day, his introduction to the standard I Didn't Know What Time It Was is almost jolly with its hints of the stride-piano tradition. The track allows Walton, Berg (note his passionate re-lineation of the melody, getting into the far corners of the song, in his first two choruses) and bassist San Jones to stretch out and build their individual statements. And, certainly, drummer Billy Higgins, a master of rhythmic space, knew "What time it was" - his playing once again reminding us of Dexter Gordon's appraisal: "Billy feels so good to play with, so happy back there. Everything is okay, so loose. I love to play with him. "

As on the widely acclaimed First Set, the second side is devoted to Walton's own writing - in this case the long and kaleidoscopic, but also most stimulating Sunday Suite with its alternating lyrical, driving and catchy parts that really brings out the "four-as-one" quality of Walton, Berg, Jones and Higgins. The suite opens and closes with Walton's cheerful, slightly carribean-flavoured piece of theme with a sort of great-gettin-up-morning feeling (some way to get up on a Sunday) about it. But perhaps the most emotional and moving part is the middle-section following Walton's unaccompanied piano excursion (Berg: "Cedar was hearing things ") with the somber, almost work-song-like melody played and further explored with utter grace by young Bob Berg.

Listening to the drive and total dedication of these four players made me somehow think of the philosophical remark that the late Duke Ellington used to preface his own playing with, announcing that "now I'll sit down and see if I 'm in tune with the piano. " It is hard to think of anyone more in tune with each other and the music than these four men. How about you?”

Jørgen Frigård March 1979

Opportunities to catch a magnificent quartet in performance with master players the likes of Cedar Walton, Sam Jones, Billy Higgins and Bob Berg playing almost three hours of music don’t come along very often.

Performance Jazz usually winds up in The Ether.

But thanks to Nils Winter, these performances can nestle very nicely onto your CD changer for your enjoyment in perpetuity.

Cedar Walton - Live at Boomers/Naima - Gary Giddins

 © Copyright ® Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“Cedar Walton has been performing prolifically since the late 50s, yet only in the last few years has his reputation begun to catch up with his talent. We sometimes take for granted our best artists because they don't call attention to themselves, other than by the quality and sensibilities they bring to their art. There was a time when people regarded Cedar as one of several interchangeable hard-bop associated pianists. This resulted from the same

kind of ignorance (and arrogance) which fits music into categories (swing, bop, New Thing) but can't differentiate past superfluous generalizations; the kind of ignorance that dismissed all those Lester Young imitators, all those Bud Powell imitators, all those John Coltrane imitators, etc. I have heard colleagues foolishly throw names about as though individuality — the one ingredient without which serious jazz cannot exist — was a hollow concept only to be understood in terms of those damned categories. That kind of listener, with ears so waxen only the few diametrically opposed styles have meaningful differences for him, has always underrated (and ignored) a whole school of piano (and other) players who have found in an exigent style a multi-faceted concept capable of all the tempers and moods and glories that any music is expected to offer.

I think we are beginning to realize how precious are musicians like Barry Harris, Tommy Flanagan, Kenny Barron and Cedar Walton who have found their own widely-ranging paths. As pianists, they may not be innovators but they are originals because they have mastered certain techniques for the expression of their own feelings and fancies.”

- Gary Giddins

Thanks to the excellent overview in Ben Markley’s recently published Cedar: The Life and Music of Cedar Walton [2023], I have been revisiting Cedar Walton’s recorded music at various stages of his career.

After his earliest albums with the sextets of trombonist J.J. Johnson and drummer Art Blakey in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Cedar could usually be found performing and recording in a trio format or a piano-bass-drums trio augmented with a tenor saxophone.

One of the first front-line sax players he teamed up with was tenor saxophonist Clifford Jordan, an association that dated back to the J.J. Johnson group.

In 1973, Don Schlitten’s Muse Label issued an LP of Cedar’s trio with bassist Sam Jones and drummer Louis Hayes featuring Clifford Jordan which was recorded in performance at Boomer’s in NYC -  A Night At Boomer’s V. 1 [MR 5010] - and then followed it in 1974 with A Night At Boomer’s V. 2 [MR 5022].

In the fall of 1997 Joel Dorn gathered both of these LPs and released them on one CD as Naima on his 32jazz label [32046].

Joel added his own Introduction to the CD release but thankfully also included Gary Giddins’ original LP liner notes.

You’ll find both below as a way of providing you with an informed narrative of these wonderful “live” recordings.

THINK ABOUT THEIR TRACK RECORDS, CEDAR WITH BLAKEY, CLIFFORD WITH HORACE, MAX OR MINGUS AND THAT UNBELIEVABLE RUN SAM AND LOUIS TOOK WITH CANNON. IF THEY EVER BUILD A SlDEMAN'S HALL OF FAME ALL THESE GUYS WILL ALL MAKE IT IN ON THE FIRST

BALLOT. FROM TIME TO TIME ALL FOUR OF THEM HAVE LED THEIR OWN GROUPS, IN PERFORMANCE AS WELL AS ON RECORD, CEDAR AND

CLIFFORD MORE THAN SAM AND LOUIS. AND THEY'VE BEEN ABLE TO DO

SO WITHOUT SACRIFICING THEIR FIRST CALL STATUS IN SIDEMANLAND.

TAKEN FROM THE LIVE AT BOOMER'S ALBUMS CEDAR MADE FOR MUSE

IN 1973, THE MUSIC HERE TYPIFIES THE KIND OF WORLD CLASS "LIVE"

JAZZ THAT USED TO ABOUND IN NEW YORK. THERE'S NOT MUCH TO SAY

 ENJOY CEDAR AND THE GENTLEMEN. LOOK BOTH WAYS WHEN CROSSING THE STREET AND I'LL TALK TO YOU LATER.

KEEP A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW.

JOEL DORN

FALL '97

© Copyright ® Gary Giddins: copyright protected; all rights reserved; used with permission.

Notes from A Night At Boomer's, Vol. 1 The Cedar Walton Trio with special guest star Clifford Jordan, was captured in action last January at Boomer's in Manhattan. About Boomer's, Cedar has the following to say: "For more than two years now, this popular Greenwich Village bistro has been unyielding in its presentation of good music. Its management, spearheaded by restaurateurs Bob Cooper and Aubrey Dasusa, should be commended for their very together mixture of the best in food, atmosphere and service." 

“The band was in exceptional form that night, as this and a soon-to-be-released second volume will attest.

Because this record is a classic sampling of the music of four artists who have worked together for a long time under rotating leadership, I thought this would be an appropriate space for the musicians themselves to comment — with the lead limitations of words — on what they do so expressively and eloquently with their instruments. The interview took place in April, shortly after Cedar's return from a tour of Japan with Art Blakey and before either he or co-interviewee Clifford Jordan had heard a test pressing. 

Giddins: How long have you been playing with Clifford?

Walton: Since 1959. We were in J.J. Johnson's band together. 

G: Was that your first major gig? 

W: More or less. The first that traveled with an itinerary and all that. 

G: Who had you played with before? 

W: Oh, everybody who needed me around New York with an occasional short trip. I remember I went to Philadelphia with Kenny Dorham about that time. Lou Donaldson was gigging around then. Gigi Gryce used to come around. I used to play with Gigi a lot.

G: Who did you first listen to? 

W: I was listening to everybody on records that I could get my hands on. I'm from Dallas, Texas which had a pretty fair record store with all the latest things and so I was exposed to about everybody who was playing then. This was in the 40s. 

G: How old were you when you started playing?

W: About six or seven. There was always a piano in my house. 

G: Did you start with classical stuff? 

W: Yeah, my mother had piano students. But right away, along with the classical, I was trying to play by ear, play things of my own, make up songs, ever since I can remember.

C: Was there any one cat who turned you around? Bud, for example. 

W: Bud Powell was a big influence after I became professional but when I was studying, no. It had to be pointed out to me how great Bud was because from that distance, with only the records, I wasn't musically mature enough to hear it. After I came to New York and I was listening to the broadcasts from Monitor and Birdland, I saw how great Bud was. Before that, I was trying to take in everything I could. I came to NY in 1955, after I'd done three years at the University of Denver music department. I stayed on in Denver for a couple of years after that gigging around there. 

G: Were you aware then of the schism between bop and what had preceded it? 

W: No, I couldn't tell the difference. I wasn't aware of playing in any particular bag [style] until I became professional. Then I was made aware of it and I started appreciating all the things Bud had contributed. That style was the best for me to work from then. I still didn't have what I considered an original style. 

G: When did that come? 

W: I'm still looking for it, frankly. I hear that a lot now about myself, that people can tell when they hear me. I'm not conscious of it.

Jordan: Yeah, you can tell by the way he presses. He has a certain touch. 

G: A kind of clear, bell-like tone.  I think it's the pressure. When he starts a run, the way he presses. You hear that Walton? 

W: Now that you mention it, yeah. I didn't know it made any difference in the sound. 

J: Not the sound...

W: Well, the style...man, those words really take me out.

G: How would you classify your style? 

W: As far as this album is concerned, Cliff and I had been playing around with the idea of reviving or reminding, not only the people we were playing to, but ourselves, of how major an impact bop had on us as growing musicians. As far as projecting different eras in music, I think that Cliff's style, especially, has elements of the avant-garde woven into it that would automatically bridge the gap. 

G: Do you listen to the avant-garde? 

W: Yeah, but not in the way I used to LISTEN when I was a listener. I've become more of a performer in the last couple of years than ever before. But I try to keep up with records somehow. Now I look for a particular release, like a Herbie Hancock, Errol Garner, Ahmad Jamal. I've lost track of Miles Davis; I used to get everything by him. So I guess I'm focusing back on the piano.

G: How do you feel about electric piano as opposed to acoustic? 

W: Oh man, I love the electric. Especially in the studio. At the sessions I've had in the last two years, I've always had one along with the acoustic. The more I use it, the more I learn how to utilize both of them. I think they should be used in conjunction with each other. I don't like the electric exclusively, though. I would never be able to handle that. 

G: Clifford, who did you first listen to? 

J:Tab Smith, Arnett Cobb, Johnny Hodges. I'm from Chicago. We used to listen to all the top pieces that everybody was playing, like "Flying Home." Then, as my musical tastes started to grow, I started listening to Lester Young and Charlie Parker. Of course, I knew Johnny Griffin when I was very young and Johnny's cousin, Alex Johnson, was a major influence. 

G: What was your first major gig? 

J: Before New York? Arbee Stidham. Bluesman. Then before I left Chicago, I played with Max Roach and Sonny Stitt. When I came to NY, I joined Max, replacing Sonny Rollins. I went from there to Horace Silver. Max and Horace exchanged tenor players: Hank Mobley went with Max and I went with Horace. I was with Mingus for about seven months in 1964, a very nice experience.

G: Was there any specific time when you felt yourself going into the avant-garde thing?

J: No. I don't really think I ever strived towards that. I always respected Ornette's philosophy and his approach to music. I think it is very valid. But now Ornette sounds like a straight musician. 

G: How would you classify your music? 

J: I would classify it as classical music.

G: Are you conscious of jazz being kept on the fringe of respectability? 

J:No.

W: I have various feelings of bitterness if I think about it. Yesterday, in a conversation with my mother, I was telling her that I had received a grant from the national endowment. Two thousand dollars to write a suite for a 10 piece orchestra. And one of the questions she asked — after she was all elated, saying 'Oh, yes, I knew you had the talent' and everything—was... 'Now is this a jazz piece or what?' I thought that was indicative of the way people think. You know, she was one of my first teachers. She always took me to hear jazz. Yet still, at this late date, now that I'm a professional musician, there's still this question in her mind whether it would be a jazz piece or not. Maybe in her mind people do this only for classical music.

G: How would you compare the night-club scene to the concert hall? 

W: Cliff and I use these clubs as places where we perform, meet our friends, invite writers and promoters. It's actually a night-time office in a way. Looking to them as a way of making a living is a mistake. You know, this is the only place that's like that. On the world scale the music is as strong as ever. So I can't really be as bitter about the scene as someone who is trapped here. I just came back from Japan and that reminded me how powerful the music is on a world scale. Compared to here, it's not second class by any stretch of the imagination. It's really a super commodity, appreciated all over. 

G: At this stage, do you mind being a sideman?

W: With Blakey, it's an honor because he's an institution. I'm very selective at this point with whom I play. Blakey hired me as music director for this last tour and special assignments like that I don't mind. But being in a band is not as rewarding anymore. I'm leading my own band, Cliff has his own band and sometimes we have a band together. It's like a business now. 

G: Who's in your band, Cliff? 

J: Cede. We all have the same band. 

W: It's really interchangeable.

J: Sometimes, if Cede's out of town, I'll use Stanley Cowell or Albert Dailey, depends.

G: Do Sam Jones and Louis Hayes work with you regularly?

W: As much as possible, whenever we can. We don't have any contracts or anything like that to stay together.

J: Sam's got his band and Lou's got a band. Everybody's got a band.

G: Do you have different approaches for different situations? For example, Clifford, you're playing here and on the Richard Davis (Muse 5002) record.

J: Actually, it's just playing with different personalities. For instance, what would you call this album? Swing? Bop? What is it Walton?

W: It's a result of our feelings, for a few months, that we were trying to restore bebop, in a sense, in our own way. That was the feeling of that month or two, and this record happened to come up then.

G: Do you prefer playing one way to the other?

W: Definitely not. I'd rather be involved in all types of approaches because I find that the more types of compositions I'm confronted with, the broader scope I get of feeling and playing. It's never boring. 

G: Do each of you write much? 

W: As much as I can. J: Yes. But we didn't write anything just for this session. It's all stuff we've played for years, so it wasn't a challenge. We just played naturally and the record came off that way, hopefully. 

G: Do you enjoy playing standards? 

J: Sure.

W: We're trying to make our own compositions standards, or give them the same feeling. For that reason, we keep going back. Like "Holy Land," that's a piece I wrote a long time ago and I still think it should be played more. 

G: How's the piano at Boomer's? 

W: I feel different about everything since I made this trip to Japan—about the pianos and everything else. Their piano is OK; I've just been playing such superior ones. I'm still trying to re-enter this scene where the pianos are on a lesser level. There are some great pianos here — in the studios, the Philharmonic and other places — but the club scene is kind of hard on piano players in New York in general. It's gotten to the point where it's almost accepted. That's the bad part. Till you get away from here, you might not ever realize it. That's why now is a bad time to ask me about ANY piano ...or maybe it's a good time. 

G: Who do you listen to? 

J: Cede, McPherson, McCoy... 

G: You dig McCoy, Cedar? 

W: Oh yeah, very much. 

G: He seems to have a special reputation among musicians.

J: Yes. He influenced me to try not to play like him. Like Sonny Stitt did. I spent a lot of time with Sonny Stitt and I had to force myself not to play like him. I guess that's how I really developed a style. Staying away from those influences. It's easy to get wrapped up with someone and go their route. I was following Lester Young and Charlie Parker long enough. By the time I met Coltrane, it was a period in my life when I could admire what he did thoroughly, but I didn't want to play like him.

G: What kind of drummers do you like to play with?

J: Well, you play differently with each one. I don't play the same with Max Roach as I would with Billy Higgins or Lou Hayes. Max is an example of someone who is up there starring and you just have to follow him. He's not really following me. He may think he is, but it don't feel like it to me. 

W: Higgins, Hayes...yeah. 

G: Because they are sensitive to what you are doing?

W: Yes, but the only way you can get sensitive is to play together a lot. 

J: That's the main thing—when the musicians start listening to one another and the music can come off. 

G: Where is your music taking you? 

J: I just want to keep moving forward, striving for the clear, the clean horizon, where I don't see anything, I like going to the edge of the ocean.

W: I'm just getting back to this composition of mine— "Spectrum"—for 10 pieces. That'll be my next record project. Afterwards, I'll probably get to a solo thing. But I want to finish "Spectrum" first, it's been coming a long time.

G: Where is jazz going?

W: It'll go wherever we take it. We're the masters of it. And wherever my colleague and I feel like going tomorrow…”

Notes from A Night At Boomer's, Vol. 2

“There is a chemistry between certain musicians and the rooms they play. The club ceases to be just a house for the gig and becomes part of a scene of familiarity. The music sounds at home here, the patrons, most of them regulars, know what's happening and everything is relaxed. Most of all, the good vibes inspire the artist, encourage him to be himself. Cedar Walton and Boomer's create that kind of chemistry. Cedar is a frequent performer at the club and his music seems to define the place; his rich keyboard touch, percussive but not overbearing, and lyric improvisations enhance the cool atmosphere of Boomer's. Cedar plays as well at other clubs, in concert halls and recording studios, but here, for some reason, there is the illusion that he is cooking in a natural habitat. So it was natural for Don Schlitten — who has produced Cedar's records for Prestige, Cobblestone and now Muse — to want to capture him in action on Bleecker Street.

As Volume 1 (Muse 5010) made clear, it was an inspired idea. Volume 2 was recorded the same evening but has a different feeling. This one is programmed for a mellower flavor. Each of the selections is a standard so familiar that the challenge to the players, the feat to be tackled, is one of refurbishing. How to make them sound fresh? The sentimental "All The Way" poses an obvious problem, and when was the last time you heard a modernist attempt it? By contrast, "I'll Remember April" is among the hoariest of standards, played and recorded innumerable times. Similarly, "Blue Monk"—and any other blues—and the delicate "Naima" are weighted in precedents and demand originality.

The excitement of fresh ideas laid out against a familiar terrain, the excitement of surprise, is the nature of Cedar Walton's playing. His schooled but deeply personal approach has taken on enough authority and identity to transform everything he plays into shades of Cedar Walton. The same can be said for Clifford Jordan, whose unique ideas and light, elusive sound have become aspects of an imposing renewing style. Whether they are playing standards or originals (in a discussion transcribed on the liner of Volume 1, Cedar said, "We're trying to make our own compositions standards, or give them the same feeling"), they lend life and style to the material. Like all great improvisers, from Louis Armstrong down, they magnify the pleasures of good material and overcome the bad. Working in a place like Boomer's, they find that the audience can get closer to the music with the help of a handle, such as the familiarity of a song. I asked Cedar if he had any particular feeling for "This Guy's In Love With You" (heard on Vol. 1) and he said, "No, but it has been requested." From an indifferent tune, he frames his own explorations. Alter the theme, the pianist is alone with the changes and his own pianistic devices. Insofar as the material is fixed and recognized, his own invention, techniques and individuality are especially well illuminated.

The setting is doubly perfect for the intimacy of the musicians. The more you listen to the Boomer's sessions, the more you will hear the unity of these players. "Blue Monk" is exceptional in this respect. As soon as Cedar begins the theme, Sam Jones and Louis Hayes join in his conception of the piece, an airy, swinging approach differing considerably from the deliberate hesitancy of Monk. Clifford's dozen choruses are replete with subtle divagations, prodded all the while by Cedar.

He begins his solo ruminating over Monk's theme, literally propelling himself off it for two choruses. Then, in the free territory of the blues, his own voice becomes more pronounced. He cries and dances, drops a few Monkian hints, a couple of bop licks, a snatch of "Moon Over Miami" and concludes with "Now's The Time." Cedar's assured entrance is fantastic. He too takes two choruses to get the blood flowing freely. Triplets in the third and his effortless bop drive swell into a lightning, ecstatic fifth chorus that finds a contrasting release in the blues riffs of the sixth. An unexpected delight occurs in the ninth where he drops the same bop phrase Clifford played in his tenth. The concluding portion of his solo is built with increasing grace; the ease with which he returns to the theme is notable.

You will find echoes of bop throughout the record, tor as Cedar explained during the discussion mentioned above, the whole gig was conceived as a nod towards that great and (it would seem) increasingly private fund of musical knowledge: "Cliff and I had been playing around with the idea of reviving or reminding, not only the people we were playing to, but ourselves, of how great an impact bop had on us as growing musicians."

"Naima" and "All The Way" feature the trio and a different side of Cedar Walton. Coltrane's lovely ballad, one of his most enduring compositions, summons a lucid interpretation meshing softness with command. It has the cumulative effect of a rose unfolding its petals. As noted, "All The Way" is an unusual choice. (For me, it always conjures up Jack Teagarden.) I am impressed with the way Cedar treats it, playing it pretty with a nostalgic sentiment while avoiding the bathetic. After the theme, he reclaims the melody with what can only be called 'jazz feeling' — the whole performance holds together with logic and taste.

Cedar Walton has been performing prolifically since the late 50s, yet only in the last few years has his reputation begun to catch up with his talent. We sometimes take for granted our best artists because they don't call attention to themselves, other than by the quality and sensibilities they bring to their art. There was a time when people regarded Cedar as one of several interchangeable hard-bop associated pianists. This resulted from the same

kind of ignorance (and arrogance) which fits music into categories (swing, bop, New Thing) but can't differentiate past superfluous generalizations; the kind of ignorance that dismissed all those Lester Young imitators, all those Bud Powell imitators, all those John Coltrane imitators, etc. I have heard colleagues foolishly throw names about as though individuality — the one ingredient without which serious jazz cannot exist — was a hollow concept only to be understood in terms of those damned categories. That kind of listener, with ears so waxen only the few diametrically opposed styles have meaningful differences for him, has always underrated (and ignored) a whole school of piano (and other) players who have found in an exigent style a multi-faceted concept capable of all the tempers and moods and glories that any music is expected to offer.

I think we are beginning to realize how precious are musicians like Barry Harris, Tommy Flanagan, Kenny Barron and Cedar Walton who have found their own widely-ranging paths. As pianists, they may not be innovators but they are originals because they have mastered certain techniques for the expression of their own feelings and fancies.

During the 60s, when jazz was supposed to be dead, groups seemed to disappear in favor of star soloists with pickup rhythm sections. During the last few years, that trend has reversed itself. Musicians are re-learning the truths of practice and group-commitment. In the present music scene, the artists on this record represent no more than a pocket of friends gigging under a rotating leadership, but it is one of the really consistent small bands around. There are few string quartets playing together with as much inter-connection and joie de vivre as the quartet of Cedar Walton, Clifford Jordan, Sam Jones and Louis Hayes. Listen to them, to each bar, to the construction of each chorus, to the unity, the shifting moods. There is nothing forbidding or difficult about this music but nor is it to be relegated to the background. This is serious music.”

Gary Giddins