Remembering Wardell Gray [1921-1955] - Part 4 - Alun Morgan Essay [From the Archives]

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

The editorial staff at JazzProfiles’ initial effort to help remember and commemorate Wardell Gray on these pages began with The Ira Gitler Prestige Notes [Part 1], followed by an essay on him from a rather rare publication: Michael James, Ten Modern Jazzmen: An Appraisal of the Recorded [London: 1961] which constituted Part 2 and added Part 3 with an article by Herbie Butterfield that appeared in the October 1961 issue of Jazz Journal 9another rarity].

We now continue with Part 4 which is made up of the Alun Morgan article entitled Wardell Gray. It appeared in the January 1956 issue of the Jazz Monthly. It, too, is a rarity of sorts for while there are some fine pieces about Wardell in Jazz literature, getting a hold of a copy of them is not always easy.

“Nineteen fifty five will be remembered in the jazz world as a year which took a heavy toll of its musicians. During its course men of different styles, from Charlie Parker to Cow Cow Davenport, died leaving behind the memory of their work in the form of gramophone records, Parker, whose passing was one of the greatest single losses in the entire history of our music, died after a heart attack which came as a delayed-action culmination to a protracted period of ill health; pianist Dick Twardzick died in Paris as a result of an excessive self-administered shot of heroin. while baritone saxophonist Bob Gordon was killed in a California car accident as he was travelling to fulfil a concert engagement. Both these latter deaths serve as grim reminders of the internal and external hazards facing today's musicians.

On the 26th of May the most mysterious death came to light when tenor man Wardell Gray's body was discovered on some waste ground outside Las Vegas. He had died from a broken neck and injuries sustained to the head inflicted by an unidentified weapon. Dancer Teddy Hale was arrested and questioned on the subject of an alleged "drug party" the previous evening and confessed to moving Wardell's body after an "accident" at his flat. In Britain an EP record featuring Gray was released by Vogue, accidentally coinciding with his death and the subsequent review in the Gramophone magazine brought forth the astonishing information that "Gray was a known dope addict". 

Some thousands of miles nearer the scene of the tragedy. Gray's friends refuted all suggestions of the narcotics charge, white his employer at the time of his death, Benny Carter, was reported in Down Beat as saying: "Wardell Gray ordinarily was one of the most dependable musicians I have ever known. On this occasion he had been drinking, drinking too much, for him. We had been rehearsing or playing almost constantly for the past three days and nights. Warded had not been in the best of health recently. When he failed to make our last show on Wednesday night I thought he had gone to his room and collapsed. I still do", In a part of the world where the coloured man is often only suffered grudgingly by a white community it is not likely that the true cause of Gray's death will now be discovered.

During his lifetime Wardell achieved fame in a limited manner, although the amount of recognition he gained was disproportionate to his true musical worth. In the years immediately preceding his death he moved within the boundaries of the so-called West Coast circle without exciting the degree of interest accorded to newer and often lesser musicians. This was the price he paid for his consistency and dependability, Jazz enthusiasts are ever ready for new musical experiences and an artiste who attains the same high level for any length of time is likely to find himself cast aside upon the arrival of a less consistent but more sensational soloist.

Unlike some of his contemporaries Wardell's style changed little during his recording career. He achieved maturity early on and found no reason to alter his form of self expression. His playing took on a natural-sounding quality which suited his temperament, even if his younger listeners merely acknowledged his work and passed him by in their pilgrimages to heap praise upon men with more sophisticated and contrived methods of playing.

His earliest recorded solos were made as a member of the Earl Hines band in 1945. He joined Earl in 1943 as an alto saxist and sat in the reed section along-side tenor man Charlie Parker for a time. For the ARA label Hines recorded several sides, eight of which have been released here on the Vogue label. Wardeil may be heard on Throwin’ The Switch, Bamby, Let's Get Started and Blue Keys (EPV 1050) and Spook's Ball (EPV 1059). He plays with a broader tone than the one he used on his later recordings, but he is immediately identifiable as a musician with the potentiality of a true soloist.

Leaving Hines in 1945 Wardell settled in Los Angeles and worked there in small groups organised and led by such men as Benny Carter, Vernon Alley and Howard McGhee. When Billy Eckstine disbanded his big band and came west he signed on Wardeil for the sextet he used for his Hollywood dates. Nineteen forty seven proved to be something of a turning point in Wardell's career and certain events helped him to break away from the closed circuit of his Los Angeles activity.

On February 26th, 1947, he played on a historic session with Charlie Parker for the "Dial" label. Parker, Gray, Howard McGhee, Dodo Marmarosa, Barney Kessel, Red Caliender and Don Lamond reached a new peak of contemporary small-band jazz when they recorded Relaxin' At Camarillo. Cheers, Carvin’ The Bird and Stupendous. The following day. Wardell together with Kessel and Lamond played at a concert staged by promoter Gene Norman under the by-line "Just Jazz", In his time Norman has been responsible for organizing some outstanding gatherings of jazz musicians, occasionally adding one or two men of dubious virtue, but generally maintaining a very high standard of talent. On this occasion Wardell was teamed with tenor man Vido Musso from the Stan Kenton band, then visiting Hollywood and the "chase" passages on Just Bop (Vogue LDE101) form a most revealing comparison between two widely differing styles. Musso plays with the urgency and harsh tone which have invariably marked his work, while Gray's poise is perfect, his tone as smooth and as rounded as ever. His entries seem to be prefaced with a personal message to Vido, "Now this is how it should be played,"

At the beginning of May, Gene Norman presented a very impressive array of musicians at the Civic Auditorium in Pasadena. Wardell Gray, Red Norvo, Howard McGhee, Erroll Garner, Benny Carter, Vic Dickenson, Don Lamond, Jackie Mills, Dodo Marmarosa, Charlie Drayton, Harry Babasin, Red Callender, Irving Ashby and A! Hendrickson were on hand, while additional "name" guests included Peggy Lee and Benny Goodman. It was at this concert that Wardell played what was to become his best known solo, accompanied by a rhythm section led by Errol! Garner. The resultant Blue Lou (Vogue LAE12001) was above reproach, for it found the two main participants at their respective best form, Wardell builds chorus upon chorus with no repetitive phrases or clichés, while Erroll provides a stimulating background before launching into his own solo. One O’Clock Jump (Vogue LAE12QG1) from the same concert gave Wardell the chance to improvise at length on one of his favourite chord sequences, the blues in major key. By the common consent of his fellows he was the first soloist and took no less than eighteen choruses in. a row, verbally encouraged by the remaining frontliners.

On record it is possible to note certain aspects of the concerts in greater detail, with particular reference to Wardell Gray's own work. On the items with Garner he was given a rhythm section which played a straight, almost traditional 4/4 beat. On Groovin’ High, Hot House and Just Bop the more modern-sounding rhythm teams played with a fluid, undulating beat. Yet Wardell was also to assimilate both types of accompaniment without modifying the basic requirements of his style.

Further concerts followed, including the one issued on a marathon set of nineteen standard speed records on the "Bop" and "Savoy" labels. In June 1947 Ross Russell again used Wardell on a "Dial" session, this time pairing him with the similarly-styled Dexter Gordon for a six minute version of The Chase (Esquire 10-019). This was a friendly "carving" match between the two tenor men which had become a popular feature of jazz concerts in the area.

In the late-summer of 1947 Benny Goodman disbanded the radio band which he had been using and decided to form a regular sextet. He had been greatly impressed with the appearance of Wardell at the "Just Jazz" concert in May and offered him a job in the sextet which was later to contain clarinetist Ake Hasselgard. This was the beginning of a new chapter in Wardell’s life, for the Goodman engagement took him East at the end of the year. In December, just prior to the recording ban, Benny's sextet recorded a new version of Stealin’ Apples for Capitol on which both Wardell Gray and Fats Navarro were to be heard. Gray also played on a date under drummer J. C. Heard's name for the "Apollo" label with Joe Newman, Benny Green and Ai Haig.

In April !948 he recorded four sides “under cover" (due to the AFM ban on all recording then in force) for "Sittin' In With", a small company operated by Bobby Shad, Warden's exemplary sense of swing oversails the technical limitations of the recording equipment on Matter And Mind (a thinly veiled Idaho) and Stoned, a twelve bar. Light Gray (Fine and Dandy) and The Toup (virtually an alternative master of Stoned) from the same session have yet to be issued in Britain, although the former pair of titles will be found on Vogue EPV1064.

When Goodman gave up the Sextet in the summer of 1948 Wardell remained in New York and spent some weeks in the Count Basie band, playing the "Royal Roost" club booking and taking most of the tenor solos, while Bernie Peacock was featured on alto. On his evenings off he appeared with the Tadd Dameron Sextet at the same club and blew alongside Allen Eager and Fats Navarro, The beginning of the following year saw the relaxation of the record ban and the subsequent formation of a new big band by Benny Goodman. Wardell rejoined BG who immediately promoted him to the position of deputy leader, to front the band in the event of Goodman's absence. This feeling of admiration however was not mutual and in later years Wardell was reluctant to speak of his term of service with Benny.

The band recorded for "Capitol" although Wardell was not featured greatly. He did not solo on the studio recording of the band's best number, Undercurrent Blues, although a broadcast transcription of the number once used as a signature tune on AFN had three solo choruses of Gray's tenor. The twelve bar Hucklebuck a commercialized re-hash of Parker's Now's the Time, has a typically efficient chorus by Wardell, while the original coupling, Having A Wonderful Wish, has a dolorous vocal by Buddy Greco which is redeemed by eight bars of Warden's tenor in his best ballad style. Just prior to his visit to England to play at the London Palladium in the summer of 1949, Goodman recorded four titles with his sextet for "Capitol", three of which had fine solos by Wardell and trumpeter Doug Mettome. Mary Lou Williams' tune In The Land Of Oo-Bla-Dee has instrumental solos inset into the vocal choruses sung by Greco, while the choice of Blue Lou was probably activated by the success of Wardell’s previous record taken from the Gene Norman concert. Bedlam is a retitling of the blues which Gray recorded the year before as Stoned.

In April of 1949 pianist Al Haig made two sessions for American "Seeco", a label which, until then, had specialized in Latin American music. On four sides Haig chose Stan Getz as the featured tenor soloist, replacing him with Wardell Gray on the remainder. For two of the latter titles Goodman vocalist Terry Swope harmonised with the tenor man in the thematic choruses. In A Pinch utilizes the chorda! progression of All God's Children. Five Star is I Got Rhythm with a new middle-eight, while Sugar Hill Bop is a twelve bar with Wardell in fine form. The closing Talk Of The Town is a beautiful and sensitive interpretation of the ballad played with ail of Gray's warmth of feeling and respect for melody.

On severing his association with Goodman later in 1949 Wardell went back to the Basie fold and remained there until 1951. He played on the Columbia Basie sides dating from this period, notably Little White Lies, I’ll Remember April and his own tune Little Pony. He recorded two sessions for "Prestige", the first in New York with the combined Charlie Parker-Stan Getz rhythm section (Al Haig, Tommy Potter and Roy Haynes) which produced the aggressive but swinging Twisted and the smooth, slow Easy Living. He cut the second set of four titles in Detroit with a locally recruited rhythm section including Art Mardigan on drums. In Hollywood with Basie, he made some sides privately for Eddie Laguna which were released both here and in France by Vogue, but which have not, apparently, appeared in America. Of these the outstanding titles are the confidently played and well-titled Easy Swing (actually the Parker tune Steeplechase) and the perennial Gershwin ballad The Man I Love.

Although a native of Oklahoma City, Wardell made his new home in Los Angeles after leaving the Count.  The wheel had turned full circle from 1947 to 1951 and deposited Wardell back at his point of departure after a tour which had taken in many of the forty-eight States. West Coast concerts at which he appeared later were taped by Gene Norman (Chase and Steeplechase with Dexter Gordon and Conte Candoli on Brunswick LA8646) and by "Prestige" (Jazz On Sunset and Klddo with Clark Terry, Sonny Criss and Hampton Hawes). "Prestige" also recorded Gray at a not entirely successful session with his protégé Frank Morgan on alto and "Nu Di" expert Teddy Charles on vibes. 

A far better set of six titles was made for the same label in January 1952 using Gray's regular group which contained trumpeter Art Farmer, pianist Hampton Hawes and drummer Larry Marable. Four of the tunes have now appeared here on "Esquire' (EP 91) comprising two blues, Jackie and Farmers Market (both vocalized later by Annie Ross with suitable lyrics), April Skies based on the I’ll Remember April sequence and Bright Boy.

Gene Norman, the man who had recognized Gray's talents in 1947 and devoted so much record time to his work, organized an eight-title session built around a small Ellington group. Wardell was added to the Ducal line-up and was given a long solo feature on the Hodges stand-by The Jeep is Jumpin. On Billy Strayhorn's arrangement of Johnny Come Lately the tenor man blew one of the best solos of the day and was obviously very much at home in yet another set of musical surroundings.

Norman Granz picked Wardell for the large band he assembled in the "Clef" studio under the leadership of Louis Bellson and featured him strongly on Don Redman's For Europeans Only. Granz used Gray later in an all-star Jam Session with Stan Getz, Harry Edison, Buddy De Franco, Count Basie, etc. The last recordings before his death were made with a group under the leadership of Frank Morgan (to be released here by Vogue) and supervised by Gene Norman.

Wardell Gray achieved an excellent reputation amongst other musicians as a man of consistency, imagination, technique, unfailing good taste and, pervading all these other qualities, a sense of swing almost unrivalled in jazz. Due to his encouragement and help, younger men, notably Art Farmer, Frank Morgan, Frank Foster and Paul Quinichette, gained experience and a guiding hand along the difficult pathway to progress. Wardell was possessed of a likeable personality and an equable temperament which eschewed petty backstage bickerings. Through no fault of his own he lacked only one important quality, namely the respect and public recognition due to an artiste of his calibre.

Jazz is very much poorer by his passing.”

The Fabulous Gerry Mulligan Sextet [Fresh Sound CD 418-419] - Alun Morgan

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

Born in Wales in 1928, the esteemed British author and critic Alun Morgan [d. 2018] became a Jazz fan as a teenager and was an early devotee of the bebop movement. In the 1950s he began contributing articles to Melody Maker, Jazz Journal, Jazz Monthly, and Gramophone and for twenty years, beginning in 1969, he wrote a regular column for a local newspaper in Kent. From 1954 onward he contributed to BBC programs on Jazz, authored and co-authored books on modern Jazz and Jazz in England and wrote over 2,500 liner notes for Jazz recordings.

Alun was a gentle and genteel person with many significant achievements as a Jazz writer and critic during his long career.  His writing style is succinct, accurate and easy to read and understand. Held in the highest regard by the British Jazz community, it’s an honor to have the writings of Alun Morgan featured once again on these pages.

Our thanks to Jordi Pujol, the owner-operator of Fresh Sound Records for the preview copy of The Fabulous Gerry Mulligan Sextet [Fresh Sound CD 418-419].  Founded in 1983 in Barcelona, Spain, the Fresh Sound catalogue has an exceptional selection of recordings from the Golden Age of Modern Jazz and you can visit the collection on offer by going here.

“The well-known author, lecturer and historian Bob Reisner began holding Sunday jam sessions at the Open Door in New York's Greenwich Village (at West Third Street and Washington Square South) on April 26, 1953. It soon became a focal point for jazz; Charlie Parker was a frequent visitor and participant. It was also a place where young, up-and-coming soloists could perform, one of whom was trumpeter Jon Eardley from Altoona, Pennsylvania. Years later Jon told Pat Sullivan in a Jazz Monthly magazine interview that "one night there were three trumpeters on the stand: Tony Fruscella, Don Joseph and me. Gerry Mulligan and his wife were in the audience. When we'd finished Gerry's wife, Arlyne, came over and asked me, 'how many white shirts do you have?' It was a way of inviting me to join the band. The following Friday, Gerry gave me about 16 LPs and a record player and I had to learn the lot by Monday when we opened in Baltimore." All this took place in the autumn of 1954 and Eardley was to work with the Mulligan Quartet and the later Sextet for nearly two years... with a few breaks in-between.

The formation of the Sextet came about originally as a one-off concert staged at Hoover High School in San Diego shortly before Christmas 1954. During October and November of that year, the Stan Getz Quintet plus the quartets of Mulligan and Dave Brubeck were part of a Norman Granz package titled Modern Jazz Concert, headed by Duke Ellington and his orchestra. The concert personnel appeared at fifteen locations across the United States, from Carnegie Hall in New York to the closing appearance at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles. Mulligan's quartet was completed by Jon Eardley, bass player Red Mitchell and drummer Frank Isola. The Getz Quintet contained valve trombonist Bob Brookmeyer, who had worked with Gerry in the early months of 1954. Although Getz returned to the east coast after the Modern Jazz Concert tour ended, Brookmeyer remained in Los Angeles and was available for the San Diego school musical event. It was an opportunity for Mulligan to write for, and play in, a six-piece band rather than the quartet lineups which had been his main force since August 1952 when he launched the foursome with Chet Baker. In some ways, the famous west coast Mulligan Quartet was something of a setback in his career. Although highly rewarding in terms of finances and personal publicity, it was not the direction Gerry wanted to take. Left to his own devices, he would have preferred to write for—and lead—a big band.

In Chet Baker he had an ideal frontline partner who had an intuitive grasp of what was required and could produce just the right musical lines which interlocked with, or complemented, those produced by Gerry. The original quartet was disbanded in June 1953 when Mulligan was found guilty of narcotics possession and given a custodial sentence. Released on Christmas Eve 1953, his immediate aim was to reform the quartet with Chet Baker, if only to give himself some breathing space and an income. But while Gerry had been serving his six months at the Peter Pitchess Honor Farm in Saugus (thirty miles north of Los Angeles), Baker had formed a quartet with pianist Russ Freeman which was a musical and financial success. Actually, they had recorded in April — two months before Gerry left the scene. The May 6 Down Beat carried a review of "The Lamp Is Low" and "Maid in Mexico." This session at Gold Star Studio is listed in all discographies as late July. The discrepancy can probably be traced to Dick Bock, who wasn't the most organized man when it came to hard facts about his sessions. When the two men met after Mulligan's release, Chet demanded a weekly salary of four hundred dollars to rejoin a reformed quartet. Gerry terminated the discussion at this point.

The baritone saxist then telephoned Bob Brookmeyer in New York, asking him to fly out to Los Angeles with "a New York rhythm section." Bob arrived with bass player Bill Anthony and drummer Frank Isola, two men who had worked with Brookmeyer in the Stan Getz Quartet. Mulligan reformed the Tentette he had employed for recording purposes a year earlier and played one concert with the group at the Embassy Auditorium in Los Angeles. A few weeks later he flew back to New York. He then replaced Anthony with Red Mitchell and this was the quartet which remained in being until Gerry fulfilled his contract to play at the Third Salon du Jazz in Paris at the beginning of June 1954. However, the idea of a larger group was never very far from Gerry's thoughts. He must have looked back with pleasure on that evening in San Diego when he played alongside not only Jon Eardley, Bob Brookmeyer, Red Mitchell and Larry Bunker, but the sixth member of the group: the constantly-swinging Zoot Sims. At that time, Zoot was resident in Los Angeles, having left the Stan Kenton band in November 1953. Amazingly, this outstanding musician had difficulty in finding regular musical work and was forced to take any available employment. Ed Michel, an ex-bass player who lived in California during the early Fifties and later worked in the record industry, once told me Zoot was so frustrated at this time he was prepared to sit-in with any kind of band just to play. "I've seen him playing with a Latin-American band, his knuckles covered with green paint because he'd been painting fences that day in order to make some money."

The San Diego concert remains a highlight in the Mulligan discography. It was recorded direct to two-track by sound engineer Phil Turetsky, who had recorded the very first Mulligan-Baker Quartet recordings. "Bernie's Tune" and "Lullaby of the Leaves" were done on an Ampex tape recorder in August 1952 in his bungalow on Wonderland Park Avenue off Laurel Canyon Boulevard in the Hollywood hills. The transfers heard here present the best sound yet achieved and preserve the immediacy of the live recording. The Hoover High School concert commenced with five tunes played by a quartet (Mulligan, Eardley, Red Mitchell and Chico Hamilton) which have not been included here as this album concentrates on the Sextet's music.

The complete Sextet is heard on the following numbers: "Western Reunion," "I Know, Don't Know How" and the "Ellington Medley" which includes "Flamingo" on which Bob Brookmeyer switches to piano. There is an atmosphere of pure musical joy here, particularly on the saxophone duet of "The Red Door." Mulligan shows that the baritone saxophone need not be a cumbersome instrument as he treats "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" with loving care. I think we can assume that Gerry wrote "Western Reunion" specifically for the San Diego concert, and as a tribute to the meeting of Gerry and his old-time friend Zoot... probably a play on the telegraph company Western Union. If "I Know, Don't Know How" sounds familiar it is because Mulligan has done a little recycling. For the eight bar A section of this A-A-B-A construction tune, Gerry has used the middle-eight of his earlier composition "Line for Lyons." Perhaps the most stunning track is "I'll Remember April" which features Zoot Sims at his very best, superbly backed by a brilliant rhythm section with Larry Bunker   proving that exciting and driving drumming need not necessarily be loud. Brookmeyer again plays piano and it should be pointed out his keyboard work is not simply a useful "double" on occasions. Bob once worked as a full-time pianist with the band of Tex Beneke, and in 1959 he and Bill Evans made a brilliant two-piano album (The Ivory Hunters) together. Brookmeyer had taken the place of Chet Baker in Gerry's new quartet at the beginning of 1954; he was never happy with the arrangement although he pointed out to author Gordon Jack in his Fifties Jazz Talk: An Oral Retrospective (Scarecrow Press, 2004), "this was the official start of Gerry as a well-dressed, successful bandleader.

When he first arrived in California, he just wanted to play and write, but when he went on the road with the quartet he became a bandleader." Bob's problems with the Mulligan Quartet were musical ones. "I knew how good the group had sounded with Chet Baker, and I thought it really needed a trumpet, not a trombone. In other words, somebody higher up because Gerry and I were so close in sound."

Things came to a head at the Paris Salon du Jazz (also known as the Salle Pleyel Concert) at the beginning of June 1954. Even to we outside observers, it was sometimes obvious that Bob and Gerry were frequently at musical loggerheads and it was no surprise to learn Brookmeyer had given his notice and left the quartet after the Salon du Jazz. He returned to the United States, recorded an album for Dick Bock's Pacific Jazz label in Rudy Van Gelder's New Jersey studio with pianist John Williams and his ex-Mulligan colleagues. Red Mitchell and Frank Isola, then flew west to work (briefly) at The Haig club in a band he formed with Zoot Sims. As for Gerry, he continued with the quartet which now had trumpeter Jon Eardley as a replacement for Brookmeyer. Jon never tried to sound like Chet Baker; his tone was hotter and he could dig back into the Swing Era for ideas when the music called for it.

This quartet lasted until the end of 1954. Pacific Jazz taped the unit at two concerts, the first at Stockton High School; then a month later came the San Diego appearance by the group plus Brookmeyer and Sims. After that, Gerry disbanded and returned to New York to write some new music. The first half of 1955 found him appearing on the Steve Allen Show and various other gigs, often accompanied by Jon Eardley. In July 1955 he played at the Newport Jazz Festival where he appeared as a guest with both the Chet Baker and Dave Brubeck quartets as well playing with a pick-up group containing Miles Davis, Zoot Sims and Thelonius Monk. By August of that year he was ready to form his new sextet and had secured a contract with EmArcy, the newly formed jazz subsidiary of Mercury Records, headed by Bob Shad and Jack Tracy.

After a series of rehearsals, Gerry's sextet went on tour, opening at Cleveland's Loop Lounge on August 29. then proceeded with a one-week engagement at Boston's Storyville that lasted until September 18. Then, back to New York to record the September 21-22 sessions, and after a successful engagement at Basin Street, the group continued on the road, hitting the East and Midwest circuit, stopping only to record the October 31 session. The tour ended after a week at the Rouge, a night club in River Rouge, Michigan, on December 11.

The majority of the music on the enclosed Compact Discs comes from this most productive period and is played by one of the finest small groups ever to be formed and led by Mulligan. It benefited from its exemplary personnel (which remained virtually the same throughout the eighteen months of it’s existence), Gerry's impeccable leadership plus his understanding as composer and arranger. It gave him the sound palette he needed with a range from the top notes on the trumpet plunging more than three octaves to the lowest notes on baritone and valve trombone. Of equal importance was how the skillful writing often made the band sound bigger than it really was. Mulligan told Ira Gitler, "with the four horns we did a lot of clubs, a lot of concerts. It was a nice, hot band for playing theaters. We'd start with the four horns grouped around the microphone and by the time we were into the show we'd be all the way across the stage. I'd be at one end, then Bobby and Zoot, and the trumpet just spread all the way across. Really a ball."

The albums Jack Tracy supervised for EmArcy made use of some pre-existing pieces rearranged for the Sextet such as "The Lady Is a Tramp," "Bernie's Tune," and "Makin’ Whoopee" as well as material recently written by Mulligan for the new group. The impact of his music on both audiences and record buyers was the same, and in 1957 Ralph J. Gleason, reviewing the Sextet's first album for Down Beat magazine, awarded it the maximum of five stars. He drew attention to "the times, usually as an interlude towards the end of a number, when (Gerry) is able to direct the horns into a boiling and bubbling stew which can raise me right off the floor. I have heard no one else but Dizzy Gillespie do this particular thing successfully." Mulligan could take full credit for such matters. As Zoot Sims told Ira Gitler, "Mulligan doesn't do anything unless it's set, rehearsed. You know, it's all that playing together. Gerry's very well organized. He won't go on the road or in a club until it's set. That's the way I like it." Gleason continued his review. "As further evidence of his structural proficiency, his second chorus on piano in 'Blues' seems to be an almost classic example of construction, moving, as it does, from simplicity to full complexity without once losing definition. You will not want to miss this LP."

In later years, Bob Brookmeyer stated that the Sextet was Gerry's favorite group, even more satisfying than the quartet with Chet Baker or the various editions of his magnificent Concert Jazz Band. This six piece band comprised the most suitable group of players and had rare flexibility enabling it to tackle music from a range of eras and sources. For example, the highly successful "Ain't It the Truth" is Mulligan's interpretation of a number dating back to July 1942 when composed and arranged by Laverne "Buster" Harding for the Count Basie orchestra. It turned out to be the Count's last official recording session for twenty-nine months. (The AFM imposed a record ban which came into effect four days after "Ain't It the Truth" and six other titles were recorded.)

At the other end of the scale Mulligan's Sextet used pieces seldom played by jazz units. A prime example is "La plus que lente" first recorded by the Sextet in October 1955; and again the following September with trumpeter Don Ferrara replacing Jon Eardley. (This later recording was the only occasion Ferrara worked with the group.) The title translates as "Slower than Slow" and is based on something Gil Evans transcribed from music written by the French Impressionist composer Claude Debussy. It is largely an ensemble piece, beautifully played by the Sextet which maintains the almost ethereal mood of the music. It bears out the assertion of critic and musicologist Max Harrison in 1959 that "the real nature of (Mulligan's) subsequent achievement was hinted at early in his career by his facility in arranging and his concern with unity. In addition to the personal expression of his solos, what Mulligan has given jazz is a fresh ensemble style. Whereas men like Armstrong and Parker, in forging a new mode of solo utterance, give us primarily themselves. Mulligan like Gil Evans has given his fellow musicians a new way of thinking about playing together, a new approach to the jazz ensemble" (from These Jazzmen of Our Time, Victor Gollancz, 1959).

The Sextet was a success wherever it played in the United States; then in the spring of 1956, the six musicians embarked for Europe aboard the Italian passenger liner Andrea Doria to play dates in France, Germany, Italy, et al. While in Paris, Gerry bought a soprano sax and Zoot an alto at the Selmer factory.

On some dates they came across Chet Baker, who was also touring Europe at the time and there is at least one recorded German transcription (from Landstuhl) of Baker sitting in with the Sextet. When the band returned to the United States, Jon Eardley left and the last studio records by the group in September had Don Ferrara on his only appearance with the Sextet. The final date was at the Preview Lounge in Chicago by which time Oliver Beener had the trumpet role. Zoot Sims left to freelance in New York before teaming up with Al Cohn while Mulligan reverted to the quartet format, partnered by Bob Brookmeyer.

Although the life of the Mulligan Sextet was comparatively short, it was a most important phase in Gerry's musical development. In April 1957, he was commissioned by Columbia Records to assemble a big band and provide original arrangements for a recording session. For some reason, most products of the session were not released for twenty years by which time Mulligan's own Concert Jazz Band had performed widely in both the United States and Europe. In almost every manifestation of the CJB, the triumvirate of Mulligan, Brookmeyer and Sims was present indicating the importance of the personnel chosen for the Sextet.

Of paramount importance to the Sextet was that original concert held at San Diego's Hoover High School. More than half a century after the event. Bob Brookmeyer confirmed that rehearsals indeed did take place in Los Angeles before the group traveled the one hundred and twenty-five miles south for the event. And he recalled that the poster in front of the auditorium simply stated, "Gerry Mulligan and His Band," giving no mention of precisely what the audience might expect to see and hear that evening. After the opening numbers by the quartet, the appearance of Bob and Zoot for the remainder of the concert was a well-orchestrated surprise. As may be heard here, the music was a revelation and is now enhanced by improvements made in the remastering for this Fresh Sound release. It can be said that this collection is a fitting tribute to the undoubted genius that was Gerald Joseph Mulligan.”

— Alun Morgan May 2006

The Miles Davis 1948/49 Group - from "Modern Jazz" by Morgan and Horricks

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

For the longest time, I was under the impression that the primary treatments on the subject of West Coast Jazz or, if you prefer, Jazz on the West Coast, were contained in the books written on the subject by Ted Gioia, Robert Gordon and Alain Tercinet [in French; no English translation that I am aware of].

[Gordon Jack’s fine series of interviews with prominent West Coast Jazz musicians as contained in his Fifties Jazz Talk: An Oral Retrospective and the many articles and interviews by John Tynan the West Coast Editor of Downbeat during the 1950s and early 1960s are also important sources on the subject.]

When I mentioned this observation about the Gioia-Gordon-Tercinet West Coast Jazz trilogy in casual conversation with a friend whose knowledge of all-things-West-Coast-Jazz I greatly admire he replied:

“Of course you know about the chapters on the subject in Alun Morgan and Raymond Horricks Modern Jazz: A Study of Its Development Since 1939” [1956, Gollancz; Greenwood, 1977]. And then there’s also Woody Woodward’s Jazz Americana” [Trend Books, 1956].

While I “knew of” Woody’s book [really a magazine], but didn’t own a copy, I had no knowledge of the one by Morgan and Horricks. I was aware of Alun as something akin to the Senior Dean of British Jazz critics and authors and I knew of Raymond Horricks’ compilation of a discography on Gerry Mulligan’s music, but knowledge of their writings in tandem on the subject of Modern Jazz in general and West Coast Jazz in particular had eluded me until my buddy’s reference.

With a copy of the Morgan-Horricks book now in hand and a paperbound version of the Woody Woodward’s work on the way, I thought it would be interesting to share Alun and Raymond’s thoughts on the evolution of West Coast Jazz in a contiguous, three-part blog based on the relevant chapters from their book.

A caveat at the outset: in these racially sensitive times, one wonders about categorizations such as “White Musician” and “Negro Musician” with the connotation that the latter is superior to the former.

I suppose that it is too much to be hoped for that one day, those who play this music will simply be referred to as Jazz musicians, but in the context of the times in which the Morgan-Horricks book was written - the mid-1950’s - these distinctions were still in vogue.

For many students of Jazz, the predominant style of Jazz that developed in California primarily between 1945-1965 had its beginnings in what have come to be known as the Miles Davis, Birth of the Cool recordings.

So let’s begin there with Alun and Raymond’s take on the significance of the 1948/49 Miles Davis Group and its relationship to the development of the “Cool” style of Jazz on the West Coast.

“In September 1948 New York's Royal Roost presented a nine-piece modern jazz unit led by the young Negro trumpeter Miles Davis. In comparison with the familiar attractions at the club this group had a most unusual instrumentation. With a front-line of trumpet, trombone, alto and baritone-saxophones, French horn and tuba, it represented the first real step beyond the confines of the unison-ensemble small group. Collectively the musicians had achieved a unique orchestral effect; a confirmation of the many experiments which haphazardly had contributed to the evolution of the modern movement in jazz. Miles and his fellows had created a new sound, at last a satisfactory co-ordination of the ideas growing from the Minton theorists. Even today the group represents the highest artistic level ever attained by the modernists.

Miles made one of the worst financial flounders in the history of jazz. As a regular unit the group's duration can be counted in weeks. Its music was incomprehensible to audiences seeking only the frenzy of jazz, its appeal so esoteric that the superior musical policy was hardly appreciated outside a small circle of musicians. Yet through just three recording sessions for Capitol (supervised by Pete Rugolo) Miles achieved an orchestral cohesion never to be equalled since by a modern jazz group. Greater individual solos have been created.  Certain musicians have succeeded in expressing more drive, more abandon, more of the vital emotional inspiration so necessary to jazz. For a representation of collective modern jazz, however, and for imaginative scoring to assist and accentuate the soloist, there the group's style climbs worthily on to its historical pedestal. Without destroying the essential elements of jazz it took on the careful preparation normally found  only in  chamber and symphony music.

The thought of forming such a group was conceived by Miles Davis during the summer months of 1948. Meetings with Gerry Mulligan, then a little-known arranger and baritone player with the Claude Thornhill band, brought the opportunity to discuss the idea in practical terms. With a strong emphasis on the written aspect of jazz Miles would obviously require a concentrated pool of arranging heads. Men capable of exploiting the new group to its fullest extent. In turn Mulligan and the Thornhill staff arranger, Gil Evans, assured the trumpeter of the wide possibilities offered by such a band. Ideas for scoring were legion. With the right musicians the plan could certainly take shape.

Gradually the three men brought their blue-print to the reality stage. Through several discussions, test sessions and hours of burning the midnight oil on experimental writing, a concrete policy was laid. Basically the need was for a medium-sized group, capable of supporting soloists with scored backgrounds after the fashion of a full orchestra. They wanted to improve jazz in written form but at the same time maintain an atmosphere of relaxation for the individual. It meant the innovation of a new ensemble sound, of contrasting section voicings within the front-line. Yet these respective changes were skillfully introduced without impairing in any way the force of the rhythm section. The beat had to be preserved because it holds the key to every form of jazz. There was a conventional rhythm section, using of necessity written parts, but not restrained in its punch behind the ensemble.

The final constitution of the band was determined by several important requirements. Without being a power-house group the front-line needed depth. Miles wanted a rich, full sound, mellow in its unison voicings, but prepared for definite contrapuntal designs within the arrangements. The baritone, French horn and tuba would increase the tonal depth, offering the arrangers an ensemble range of three and a half octaves. In the overall voicing the complement of light and deeper-toned instruments was perfectly balanced. Plenty of room was left for the arranger to stress light and shade while the melody instruments were not too unwieldy to be pushed and swung by the rhythm section. The tonal quality of the ensemble could be varied considerably by the distribution of the lead parts. Looking through the group's records one can distinguish marked changes in the arranger's attack on, say, Israel with a trumpet lead and Jeru with its two-saxophone lead. The richness of voicing remains common to both, but the former has a harder edge, a stronger impact which stiffens the entire ensemble effect.

In the main, of course, the orchestra reflected the subtle, devious approach originally advocated by Lester Young. The desire to occasionally leave the obvious road and explore the beautiful woods on either side. Yet as with Lester there was a certain natural warmth about the music. Its sounds were relaxed but never in the cold, detached sense that for several years was to envelop the younger white modernists. Miles might unconsciously have pointed a finger towards the cool style, yet the relaxation of his group was no mere affectation; it was only the logical outcome of the instrumental design being used. The ensemble was never allowed to drift listlessly through the orchestrations. Continually the arrangers were taxing its elasticity with complex scoring devices and new thematic material. Many jazz groups have developed a stereotyped style through the reins being completely in the hands of one arranger. Even the best musicians are very much at the mercy of their staff writers in this respect. (Exceptions, of course, are bands portraying the written work of truly gifted minds like Ellington, Carter and Redman.) Miles wisely avoided any possibilities of this pitfall, however, by having a varied panel of arrangers, each one able to present a different facet of the ensemble scope. The music never became a stagnant pool.

A group of this kind required an acute concentration from its musicians. The wide range of material naturally placed a limit on the men Miles was able to employ. To avoid becoming a precision machine, completely devoid of all musical emotion, the trumpeter aimed for musicians who from his own acquaintance he knew to be sincere. He sought sound technicians, alert to the increased complications of transcribed jazz, yet also men with a creative ability. There was no sensational collection of soloists. No high-priced stars to disturb the productivity of the group with their purple passions and egocentric gluttony for the spotlight. The musicians were competent readers, fully conscious of their role within the group. The recorded solo work was tasteful and free from exhibition. The fact that greater individual solos have been recorded is not meant as a derogatory remark about the group. Solo contributions maintained a high standard (Miles's own imagination in particular can hardly have been more vividly inflamed by a supporting group), and this aspect of the soloists is only pointed out to illustrate more clearly the make-up of the band. Virtuoso musicians of the Gillespie and Parker calibre had given way to the younger modernists, to musicians less matured in their outlook and therefore better suited to the group's pattern. Everything was calculated to place the most pliable material in the hands of the arranger. For the guiding light of the band unquestionably shone from its reservoir of scoring talent. If any solo weakness existed it was belittled by the collective produce of the band. No other modern jazz group has ever held such a strong writing staff.

At the outset the larger proportion of the scoring came from Gerry Mulligan. It was really the first definite step in the saxist's career. Previously he'd earned appraisal from musicians for his “Disc Jockey Jump” with Gene Krupa and a little scoring for Thornhill, but the seeds of his present reputation were sown through his work with the Davis band. Having taken an active part in the construction of the ensemble, Mulligan revealed a firm grasp of its value even on his earliest scores. He wasn't the most gifted mind ever to write for the group, but in the embryonic stage of the experiment he played the most vital writing part.

Mulligan's style represents a compromise between the extremes in jazz composition of Ellington and the white school of Bill Russo. He is basically a technical writer, with none of Ellington's racial romanticism or melodic invention. A composer concerned with strong group construction as opposed to sensitive material. Yet through this medium of technique he shares the Duke's gift for writing to offset the soloist. He keeps the musician at ease with his scoring; and although a far less talented creator his work seems to carry a conviction through to the soloist. There's a rhythmic pulse in his style which has defied all attempts to class him alongside the cold abstraction of Bill Russo. The arrangements of Mulligan carry a direct attack while those of Russo are moody and introspective. They have a swing which is often found lacking in the white arrangers.

At times the role of Gerry Mulligan's composition has been exaggerated in jazz. One cannot afford admittedly to discount the obvious qualities in his work with regard to precision and orchestral control. On the other hand, Mulligan as a composer is still only a miniaturist. He is gushing with ideas regarding presentation, the actual execution of his thoughts, but his themes are limited by their own purely technical make-up. As yet they have not provided a basis for written jazz in extended form. Instead of blending into a strong melody they remain a collection of technical phrases. They cater for the soloist through the strength of their harmonic changes, but they lack the melodic beauty necessary for a logical expansion. Mulligan composes for a certain group of instruments; it's not always easy to convert his themes to other jazz groups. He is in approach the complete arranger. Here lies his real strength. The ability to cope with technical problems as they arise; to perfect the actual executive work of a group. As a baritone player he can be excused his tendency to overscore the reeds at the expense of the brass.  This mannerism has its advantage. The slight melodic content of his writing is rather enhanced by the sleek run of the saxophone voicings. It certainly seems that Mulligan is really more the engineer than the sculptor. When examining his work the arranging strength appears to dominate the actual composition.

Similarly Gil Evans's real value sprang from his understanding of the orchestra rather than from the creation of original material. Years of scoring commercial music had coated his style with a strong melodic sense, a gift for blending attractive voicings in his arrangements. In this respect Gil remained a continual asset to the group for the scoring of standard melodies. He could make alterations to the melodic lines without destroying the intrinsic beauty; create an elastic interpretation of a commercial theme to suit the style of the group. This is doubly evident in his scoring behind a vocalist. On the occasions that Kenny Hagood sang with Miles it was Gil Evans who carved the supports. He used the voice as he would a solo instrument. Hagood appeared to be surrounded, rather than backed by the group. Gil's scores are not content to occasionally stress points in the singing. They must continually be portraying the melody with him, blending tonally with his voice and adding richly-banked harmonies to the overall sound.

Other musicians had also contributed to the band's repertoire. Since coming to New York, Miles himself had studied at the Juilliard Institute and he began writing originals for the group. Single compositions came from Bud Powell, Cleo Henry and Johnny Carisi. Carisi, a little-known New York trumpeter, wrote the futuristic “Israel.” Like Emily Bronte's novel this solitary score was a masterpiece. Carisi gained the utmost effect from the contrast of sectional voices in a contrapuntal design. He tossed the theme around the ensemble like a ball, using mainly a trumpet lead, though continually playing brass against reeds, one moment swelling, the next retracting the volume of sound. Johnny arranged the composition himself for the group and presented the melody in a most dramatic light, with unusual rhythmic accents behind the sharply-defined main phrases of the theme. It is indeed unfortunate that Miles didn't record any further material by Carisi.

The trump card of Miles's arranging, however, came shortly after the group's inception. The trumpeter gained his one truly great composer in the person of pianist John Lewis. For whereas Gerry Mulligan has a competent mind for orchestral jazz, Lewis has all the gifts of a composer. While being well-versed technically, he has the imagination and the natural inspiration to create music worthy of expansion. He is the first composer since Ellington to write real jazz in extended form. His thoughts are often simple, at times invoking the serene beauty of the French Impressionists, but they may be developed along logical lines. John's writing with Miles gave one of the earliest pointers to the later developments of Negro jazz in New York. He dispelled the theory that written jazz must eventually incarcerate the natural feeling of the soloist. Intelligent writing can be sensitive to the needs of improvisation; John's orchestrations will have a scored part for every musician in the group, even to the rhythm section, and in the resulting sound not one musician will appear strained. The acute orchestral sense of Lewis provides a backing suitable to the musician. His scores have the same sympathy for Miles or Clifford Brown that Ellington's impart behind Cootie Williams. Like the Duke, his deep technical knowledge serves only as a gilt to the expression of ideas. The propensity for correctness, the orderly form of presentation, the minute detail of his construction—these elements in the make-up of John's style are the tools to model his creations. Being a sound technician increases the power of his portrayal. It is employed to develop not to submerge jazz. Every group for whom John Lewis writes appears to be illuminated by his ideas. The Miles Davis unit was no exception.

When selecting the musicians for the group Miles made no distinctions regarding colour. The men were required for a band pattern, not a prolonged jam session.  Considering that most musicians are normally reluctant to join experimental units, the response to the trumpeter's venture yielded a good harvest of rapidly developing soloists. The band represented a strong racial co-operation; probably the final alliance of any importance prior to the movement of modern white jazz to the West Coast.

The white musicians again came chiefly from the Claude Thornhill band. Mulligan on baritone, tuba player John Barber, bassist Joe Shulman and the young altoist Lee Konitz were the first to cross over to the new group. French horn player Sandy Siegelstein joined from Thornhill shortly afterwards.

Mulligan had already developed into a confident soloist at this time. His soft intonation became a familiar solo sound with the group and minimized the absence of a tenorman. Actually Gerry handles this normally unwieldy saxophone with the facility one might expect from a tenor. He slides lucidly through each register with the structural perfection so typical of his writing. Although it would be hard to imagine him unleashing the full emotional force of a great Negro saxophone player he does play with a beat. In a way he suffers from the elegance of his expression. Rather than risk one badly-phrased note he will abandon the gutty impetus of a baritone player like Harry Carney. Restraint can be an aid to beautiful phrasing, but too much of it can also withhold the feeling from a solo. The inspiration remains within the musician instead of being communicated through his playing to the listener. Taste and technique remain Mulligan's gods. He impresses the intellect as a fine musician, but fails to arouse the same excitement as a gushing, forceful blower like Charlie Fowlkes, the less technically minded baritone player with Basie.

Joe Shulman, really a disciple of the Tristano school, produced a strong drive behind the ensemble. Barber and Siegelstein were sound studio musicians, chosen to play the difficult written parts, and on record they blend well with the various voicings. Lee Konitz was perhaps a less happy choice for the group. The altoist was already infatuated with the cold, almost abstract style of improvisation. His playing was fluent but concerned entirely with technique for its own sake. The ideas displayed no strong melodic content. On record, at least, their ring is shallow. Even the tone has the limp, dewy tracery of a water-lily. Beautiful yet so fragile. When Konitz joined the Kenton orchestra several years later his style underwent a rapid change of face. He began to blow with a piercing tone; to swing instead of merely moving mechanically with the beat. Obviously the altoist was passing through an awkward phase while with Miles. He seems unsure of his true position in jazz and only rarely does his solo work flicker with inspiration.

Miles opened with Kai Winding, the Danish-born musician on trombone. Later he brought in Jay Jay Johnson, the greatest technician of the younger Negro trombonists. As with John Lewis's composition, Johnson uses his technique to create jazz. He swings all the time. He has a very direct attack as opposed to the poetic, fanciful flights of Benny Green. For the easy swing and tonal beauty he is slightly outclassed by Benny, though for range and swift articulation he is ahead of everyone. Johnson handles his slide with the apparent ease of a valve trombone.

Pianist Al Haig (like Kai Winding) only made the first recording session with the group. Shortly afterwards John Lewis took over the position. On drums Max Roach was reading the parts without difficulty. Nothing ever disturbed the precision of his playing. His beat remained a tower of strength behind the ensemble; light, relaxed, pliable to the rhythmic contrasts, yet swinging all the way.

Crowning the group was Miles himself, one of the most sincere soloists in modern jazz. A trumpeter whose artistic expression transcends all criticism of his technical shortcomings. It is true that Miles is dwarfed as a technician when ranked alongside the dynamic virtuoso Gillespie. He was quick to grasp the scored side of modern jazz and the new styles of phrasing, yet his trumpet lacks a powerful tone. His tone is soft, noticeably warm but clouded in comparison with the cutting edge of Gillespie's or Navarro's. This naturally reduces the impact of his top-register work. With continued practice Miles' technique today has improved beyond measure, as indeed his recordings with the younger New York school will show. At the time of the Capitol sessions, however, he found it difficult to blow a sustained high note. His phrasing was often clipped, staccato style as he avoided the longer melodic lines.

The group's arrangers recognized these drawbacks and avoided taxing his technique unduly. They conceived subdued backgrounds with organ-styled harmonies to cushion the natural relaxation of his playing. Given this support the trumpeter excelled himself. One can sense him feeling the expression of every note. The phrasing is precise but garnished by many beautiful ideas. Miles had a most fertile imagination. His logical development of a theme cannot be darkened by the technical faults. The inspiration given to him by the group greatly reduced the hesitancy of his early solos with Charlie Parker.

Miles first took the group into the Capitol recording studios on January 21, 1949. With him on the date were Mulligan, Konitz, Winding, Junior Collins (French horn), Barber, Haig, Shulman and Roach. They recorded four scores: “Godchild,” “Budo,” “Jeru” and “Move.”

“Godchild,” a composition of the modern pianist George Wallington, was arranged by Gerry Mulligan. From the opening bars of the theme the saxist draws back the curtains to reveal the complete ensemble range. The composition has an ascending main phrase and Gerry opens the score with the tuba, the deepest voice, leading the front-line, then moves the phrase to the lighter instruments so that the trumpet seems to fly upwards from the full ensemble. Miles must have been very impressed by this design, for he flows from the written line into one of his best recorded solos. A lyrical piece of invention, expressed with the normal subdued but feeling approach. It is interesting to note from the record how Mulligan has determined to obtain a maximum expansion of the composition. For the final thirty-two bars, instead of merely reiterating the opening chorus, he has conceived a new thematic statement, with an entirely different melody built over Wallington's chord sequence. This is a breach of jazz ethics which should occur more often. The imagination of an arranger ought not to be lazily curbed by the satisfaction of producing an original theme. If the composition is worthy of further development then the material should not be wasted.

The moody “Budo,” as its title implies, was officially composed by pianist Bud Powell. Bud also recorded the theme himself under the alias “Hallucinations.” Actually the piece has more structural tissue than is normally found in his pretty piano compositions. This bears out his own admittance that Miles helped to write the piece. With the exception of “Tempus Fugit,” Bud's piano themes have never really lent themselves as features for a group. We think Miles took a major part in composing this one. “Jeru,” on the other hand, can be easily identified as a Gerry Mulligan composition. This is one of the baritone man's typical swingers with its light reed voicing and smoothly-riding phrases. The supple movement of the ensemble is fully demonstrated here. Underlined by Max Roach's superb open cymbal work, the whole band swings along in complete concord.

John Lewis scored the fourth title, “Move,” a composition by drummer Denzil Best. His close interplay of the reeds and brass immediately gives the impression of a much larger band. “Move” is not a theme of great melodic power. It gives itself to orchestral exploitation essentially as a piece of impact; the rather plain phrases flimsily cover a series of strong rhythmic accents. John's score, poised perfectly on the beat, seems to incite every member of the group to uncoil and blow with remarkable force. The punching ensemble is most impressive for a smallish jazz group. Nothing is strained about the sound. The effect has the freedom of a head arrangement. With records of this standard it becomes very difficult not to admire the abilities of John Lewis in modern jazz.

On April 22, 1949, Miles recorded four further scores. With a reshuffle of musicians the personnel read as follows: Miles (trumpet), Jay Jay Johnson (trombone), Sandy Siegelstein (French horn), John Barber (tuba), Lee Konitz (alto), Gerry Mulligan (baritone), John Lewis (piano), Nelson Boyd (bass) and Kenny Clarke (drums). Nelson Boyd had played with the Gillespie big band in 1948. He joined Miles from Charlie Barnet. Although preferring a four-string bass to the more commonly accepted five strings, Nelson generates a powerful force behind the ensemble. His sure-fingered accuracy is yet another case to point of a fine musician playing in an artistic, but completely unappreciated group. Kenny Clarke, of course, was the foremost pioneer of the modern drumming system. In joining the band he renewed a long-standing musical association with John Lewis. Whilst in the Army Kenny had been the first modernist to recognize the pianist's writing talents. Later he'd introduced him to Gillespie. At the end of Dizzy's European tour of 1948 the drummer had stayed on in Paris to teach and record with some of the younger French musicians. This record date was his first important engagement after returning to the New York scene.

The scores used on the session were Gerry Mulligan's “Venus De Milo,” Johnny Carisi's “Israel,” John Lewis's “Rouge” and Cleo Henry's “Boplicity.” Lewis had also arranged the last-named composition. Mulligan again incited the leader to conceive a really fine solo with his “Venus De Milo” tribute theme. The piece has an attractive melody and the later trumpet improvisation does it full justice. In turn “Rouge” must have bubbled into a fountain of inspiration for Lee Konitz, because his sixteen-bar solo here is without question the happiest thing he ever recorded with Miles. The thirty-two bar opening theme portrays a well-balanced contrapuntal design between the deep and lighter toned instruments. It is a clever statement, every instrument being expertly woven into the complete tapestry. Even the middle-eight is a perfect fit. Instead of standing as a passage of sharp relief it traces in its final two bars a logical reintroduction for the main melodic line. The relaxation only arrives with John's subsequent piano solo—a simple, unruffled half chorus over light background harmonies from the front-line. Konitz follows, flashing into double time, then relapsing in favour of easy, legato phrases. Apart from the solo interest of the succeeding chorus by Miles it's worthwhile noting how John builds up the ensemble strength behind the trumpet, gradually stacking the instruments in preparation for the final theme statement. A closing point of interest is the skillful key modulation in the coda.

In contrast the rich tonal shading in the melancholy “Boplicity” reflects the sensitive touch of Lewis. Employing a thick voicing, dominated by the deeper sounds of the ensemble, the pianist succeeds in creating a mood of ultra-relaxation. His impression of serenity and shadows has been faithfully captured on the score-sheet. Towards the conclusion he takes a piano solo and even as an active band musician he continues the pattern of his mood. There are no thoughts of a technical flag-waver. Obviously he has deeply considered the atmosphere of the piece and constructed his solo in agreement with its solemnity.

The third and final Capitol session took place on March 13, 1950; organized in the aftermath of the band's complete financial failure. Throughout America modern jazz groups were trying to imitate the voicings and complex scores propagated by Miles, yet the public refused to appreciate the fountain-head. An ironic gesture. So typical of the crave for sensationalism in jazz. Musical value is ignored. Anything bizarre and pretentious is automatically swallowed. This session was Miles' swan-song as a leader, but still a tribute to his sincere ideals.

With him in the studio that day were Jay Jay Johnson, Gunther Schuller (French horn), John Barber, Lee Konitz, Gerry Mulligan, John Lewis, Al McKibbon (bass) and Max

Roach. McKibbon, another fine bassist, plays with a full, clean tone. He'd played on and off with Gillespie since 1947. Like Nelson Boyd he imparted a definite drive behind the group. Again four scores were used at the session: the two standards, “Darn That Dream” and “Moon Dreams,” Miles' “Deception” and Gerry Mulligan's “Rocker.” “Darn That Dream” has an impressive score built by Gil Evans around Kenny Hagood. It proves a most intelligent setting for the voice within a jazz group. While Kenny's expression of the melody remains the focal point of attention it appears to ride lightly with the ensemble in the manner of a solo instrument. “Moon Dreams” may also be a Gil Evans score, yet in parts one senses the methods of John Lewis again. There is that same blending of the deeper voices that John introduced with “Boplicity.” Principally it remains an orchestral feature. The solo work is limited to four bars from Lee Konitz and four from Mulligan. (Miles's trumpet is used sparingly as a lead instrument, occasionally playing accents to the wistful melodic line.) One central passage strongly recalls the Lewis touch. From Mulligan's solo the instruments assemble for an ascending phrase, then are one by one peeled away until only a sustained high note from Konitz remains; a thin, watery sound, quite the extreme from the rich ensemble which moments later engulfs it. “Deception” and “Rocker” use faster rhythms. The former has a complex interplay of instruments but reveals a chord sequence based on Shearing's “Conception.” Mulligan's tune is a thirty-two bar, with the main-eight revolving around a reiterated three-note phrase. For this score the saxist again built a second theme over the chord sequence. He features it in a central ensemble chorus, then breaks the pattern in eight bars of solo baritone to reintroduce the original melody.

Perhaps the most unfortunate feature of the band's dissolution lay in the section of its score-book which remained unrecorded. Several items like “Broadway Theme” (a Max Roach feature), John Lewis's “S’il Vous Plait” and another Evans-Hagood collaboration, “Why Do I Love You?,” were privately recorded during Royal Roost concerts. Yet part of the repertoire has presumably been shelved for ever. While so much musically sterile material was being recorded at a prolific rate by commercial groups the precious Davis book received only a coating of dust.

One of the most significant qualities of true jazz is its durability. The records we have by this short-lived band even today do not appear in the least dated by the latest developments in jazz. No one can claim to have advanced upon the Davis formula and yet still be creating jazz. Certain musicians have introduced new technical devices, but the frantic search for fresh sounds has not innovated a modern voicing to out-class the nine-piece unit of Miles. And while the band as an active force may have been silenced, its individual musicians have continued to infiltrate their ideas through to the newer experiments in jazz. Konitz, after having absorbed much of the Tristano influence, turned to a big band and stamped the cool alto style of the younger white modernists. Mulligan, via arranging for Kenton and Elliot Lawrence, made his way to the West Coast, where he innovated the designs for a piano-less quartet and a ten-piece group which partly followed the path of Miles' band. John Lewis laid the foundations for the written side of the New York school. Miles, Jay Jay and Max Roach began to shape the solo styles of the younger New Yorkers. The nine-piece unit was the last real act of co-operation by the white and coloured factions of the younger modernists. These factions have now gone their separate ways. As a result the racial affinity of ideas which came through the Minton movement has been torn asunder. The younger Negro modernists feel unable to participate in the trends of white technical development now growing on America's Pacific Coast. They are guarding more jealously the emotional elements of jazz in their search for advancement. In consequence the same separation of white and coloured jazz which existed with the swing era of the thirties has now returned.”