Showing posts with label derek ansell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label derek ansell. Show all posts

Thursday, October 29, 2020

Jackie McLean and "The Connection" at The Crossroads

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



The editorial staff at JazzProfiles has previously posted about Jack Gelber’s play The Connection and the music that pianist Freddie Redd composed for the Broadway [NYC] production from the perspective of the West Coast version of it that we saw performed at the Ivar Theater in Hollywood, CA with Redd’s score performed by tenor saxophonist Dexter Gordon. You can locate that feature in the blog archive by going here.


In that piece we used, with his permission, the following excerpts from Ira Gitler’s insert notes to the Blue Note LP The Music from the Connection: Freddie Redd Quartet with Jackie McLean [[B2-89392].


THE CONNECTION by Jack Gelber is a play about junkies but its implications do not stop in that particular circle. As Lionel Abel has stated in what is perhaps the most perceptive critique yet written about the play (Not Everyone Is In The Fix, Partisan Review, Winter 1960), "What adds to the play's power is that the characters are so like other people, though in such a different situation from most people."


The situation in which the four main protagonists find themselves is waiting for Cowboy (Carl Lee), the connection, to return with the heroin. These four, Solly (Jerome Raphel), Sam (John McCurry), Ernie (Garry Goodrow), and Leach (Warren Finnerty) are in attendance at the latter's pad with the bass player. One by one, the three other musicians drift in. They are also anxiously awaiting Cowboy's appearance. Also present, from time to time, in this play-within-a-play, are a fictitious playwright Jaybird (Ira Lewis), producer Jim Dunn (Leonard Hicks) and two photographers (Jamil Zakkai, Louis McKenzie), who are shooting an avant garde film of the play.


The musicians not only play their instruments during the course of the play but, as implied before, they also appear as actors. Some people have raised the question, "If they are actors, why are they using their real names?" Pianist-actor Freddie Redd, composer of the music heard in The Connection answers this simply by saying that he and the other musicians want recognition (and subsequent playing engagements) for what they are doing and that there would be no effective publicity if they were to appear as John Smith, Bill Brown, etc. Author Gelber concurs and says that having the musicians play themselves adds another element of stage reality.


When The Connection opened at The Living Theatre on July 15, 1959, it was immediately assaulted by the slings and arrows of outrageous reviewers, a group consisting, for the most part, of the summer-replacement critics on the local New York dailies. Although several of them had kind words to say about the jazz, none were explicit and one carper stated that the "cool jazz was cold" which showed his knowledge of jazz styles matched his perception as a drama critic.


A week later, the first favorable review appeared in The Village Voice. It was one of many that followed which helped save The Connection and cement its run. In it, Jerry Tallmer didn't merely praise the jazz but in lauding Gelber as the first playwright to use modern jazz "organically and dynamically", also pointed out that the music "puts a highly charged contrapuntal beat under and against all the misery and stasis and permanent crisis."


This, the music does. It electrically charges both actors and audience and while it is not programmatic in a graphic sense (it undoubtedly would have failed if it had tried to be) it does represent and heighten the emotional climates from which it springs at various times during the action.


The idea to incorporate sections of jazz into The Connection was not an afterthought by Jack Gelber. It was an integral part of his entire conception before he even began the actual writing of the play. If Gelber did not know which specific musicians he wanted onstage, his original script (copyright in September 1957) shows that he knew what kind of music he wanted. In a note at the bottom of the first page it is stated, “The jazz played is in the tradition of Charlie Parker." (The Connection is published by Grove Press Inc. as an Evergreen paperback book.)


Originally Gelber had felt the musicians could improvise on standards, blues, etc., just as they would in any informal session. When the play was being cast however, he met Freddie Redd through a mutual friend. Freddie, 31 years young, is a pianist who previously has been described by this writer as "one of the most promising talents of the '50s" and "one of the warmer disciples of the Bud Powell school". During the Fifties he played with a variety of groups including Oscar Pettiford, Art Blakey, Joe Roland and Art Farmer-Gigi Gryce, all of whom recognized his talent.


After he had gotten a quartet together at Gelber's request, auditioned for him and was given the acting-playing role in The Connection, Freddie told Jack of his long frustrated wish to write the music for a theater presentation. Armed with a script and the author's sanction, he went to work. In conjunction with Gelber, he decided exactly where the music was to occur. By familiarizing himself with the play's action, he was able to accurately fashion the character and tempo of each number. What he achieved shows that his talent, both the obvious and the latent of the '50s, has come to fruition. He has supplied Gelber with a parallel of the deep, dramatic impact that Kurt Weill gave to Brecht. His playing, too, has grown into a more personal, organic whole. Powell and Monk, to a lesser degree, are still present but Freddie is expressing himself in his own terms.


The hornman he chose to blow in front of the rhythm section and act in the drama, has done a remarkable job in both assignments. Jackie McLean is an altoman certainly within the Parker tradition but by 1959 one who had matured into a strongly individual player. His full, singing, confident sound and complete control of his instrument enable him to transmit his innermost musical self with an expansive ease that is joyous to hear. It is as obvious in his last Blue Note album (Swing, Swang, Swingin' — BLP 4024) as it is here or on stage in The Connection. As an actor, Jackie was so impressive that his part has grown in size and importance since the play opened.


During the early part of the run, Redd's mates in the rhythm section were in a state of flux until Michael Mattos and Larry Ritchie arrived on the scene. Mattos has worked with Thelonious Monk, Randy Weston, Max Roach and Lester Young among others. Ritchie came out of B. B. King's band to play with Phineas Newborn and later, Sonny Rollins. Together they have given the group on stage a permanence; the fusion of many performances' playing as a unit is evident here.”



Recently I came across the following information in Derek Ansell’s Sugar Free Saxophone: The Life and Music of Jackie McLean [2012] that broadens the perspective of Jackie’s role in the production and performance of The Connection and I wanted to share it with you, as well as, post it in order to record it in the blog archives. You can purchase Derek’s excellent book from its publisher via this link.


In many ways, 1959 and The Connection could also have been labelled The Crossroads in Jackie’s career because some of his best Blue Note recordings would be created shortly before and after his appearance in the play and, of course, on the recording of Redd’s score.


But to compound matters, he was married with three children, had lost his cabaret card due to a conviction for narcotics possession [which made it impossible to work in NYC night clubs], and was about to appear in a play about Jazz musicians and drug addiction!?


“The irony would not have escaped McLean and his family on July 15th 1959 when the altoist began work as a musician and actor in Jack Gelber's highly controversial play The Connection. The Living Theatre in New York City presented the play about four jazz musician addicts waiting around in a seedy pad for their 'connection', a character called 'Cowboy*, to arrive. The four actors are joined from time to time by a playwright, a producer and two photographers and a sort of play within a play takes place as these latter characters are supposedly shooting an avant-garde film of the play


McLean, at this time addicted to heroin and not allowed to perform in jazz clubs in NYC, was allowed to appear on stage in a New York theatre, playing saxophone and acting and - yes, that's right - playing a jazz musician who is addicted to heroin. The music for the play had been designated by the writer Jack Gelber as being 'in the tradition of Charlie Parker'. By all accounts, Gelber would have been happy for the musicians on stage to play standards and various twelve bar blues concoctions but when pianist composer Freddie Redd was hired to lead the bop quartet on stage, he made it clear that he wanted to produce all new music, specially composed for the play. Gelber, who was very happy with this suggestion, promptly armed Redd with a script and that is how the music for The Connection was born.


McLean and Redd were old friends and had played together in clubs and concerts frequently. Although the rhythm section changed often in the first few months, it settled down when bassist Michael Mattos and drummer Larry Ritchie were recruited and they stayed, along with Jackie and Freddie, until the play ended its run. It is fascinating and instructive to go to YouTube on the internet and view the sample from the film of the play shown there. A slim, youthful-looking McLean can be seen and heard blowing alto in that emotive, blues inflected manner he had, with Redd pounding out the chords at the piano, and Mattos and Ritchie supporting on bass and drums. As the music plays, the action of the play, such as it is, continues. A photographer worries about running out of film for his avant-garde movie and various characters slouch around or sit looking vacantly into space, waiting hopefully for their fix to arrive. A second drummer sticks in hand but with no kit, apes every movement Ritchie makes, flourishing the air with the drumsticks. After a minute of silence and little stage activity an actor urges Freddie to 'play something' and the pianist launches into a new composition.



The music written for the play, which includes 'Music Forever', 'Wiggin" and 'Theme for Sister Salvation', is best heard on two discs first released in the early 1960s; The Music from the Connection by the Freddie Redd Quartet featuring Jackie McLean on Blue Note BST 84027, and an album featuring Redd, tenor saxist Tina Brooks (Jackie's understudy in NYC) and trumpeter Howard McGhee, reissued as Boplicity CDBOP 019. The play ran for more than three years and McLean was part of the company travelling to the UK in 1961. A production in California featured Dexter Gordon in the part Jackie played in NYC, Although harrowing as presented with all the realism that the actors and, particularly the musician-actors could inject into it, the play was a success. It shocked and worried a lot of people in the 1960s, people who went regularly to the theatre but didn't expect, at that time, the levels of realism that were presented to them.


'No, it was like that,' Jackie said in 1994. 'It was like that was a real hunk of life, that play It was way ahead of its time.' He went on to add, chillingly, that America later experienced widely the problems the play had predicted. And he added, perhaps tellingly, that when the company arrived in Britain, the play didn't work very well because there was no drug problem in the UK at that time. 'They had legalized drugs over there,' he told the interviewer and went on to say that there was no waiting for a connection to arrive in Britain because addicts could get drugs from their doctor. 'They had three drug convictions in the whole country' This statement prompts the obvious question, whatever happened to the enlightened attitude and laws of i960s?


This was a successful period in McLean's early years as a professional jazz musician and he acquitted himself well as an actor. Much of the credit for the play's success, however, must go first to Gelber and then to Redd for his high quality music score and, of course, to the rest of the quartet that played it night after night.


Aficionados will hear some of McLean's best solos of the period on the Blue Note Connection disc, recorded in February 1960. He is both brash and at times acerbic and, as always, there is that distinctive undercurrent of melancholy as in all his work at this time. Given that this was a result of his lifestyle, my only surprise, if that's the right word, about The Music from the Connection, would be that it is almost all bright and upbeat. A couple of dark, sombre minor compositions would surely have suited the mood and ambiance of the play? Only Freddie Redd can address that comment but it must be acknowledged that all the music from the play is memorable, distinctive and, of course, enhanced considerably by the solos of McLean and Redd and the rhythm backings.


*       *       *


The changes in McLean's mature style began in 1959 and possibly much of it was worked out as he played, night after night, in The Connection, working on the same Freddie Redd compositions but doubtless applying fresh variations over a period of nearly three years. He was always a restless, explorative soloist and, unlike most, unwilling to set a style and play it virtually unchanged for the rest of his life. The new sound of McLean was to be heard late in 1959 and much more in 1960. Perhaps by coincidence, some of his most advanced and probing solo work was caught in January 1959 when he recorded 'Blues Inn', 'Fidel' and 'Quadrangle', for Blue Note. In 1960, three tracks from a September 1st session were added to make up Jackie's Bag, which came out later that year on Blue Note BLP 4051.


The first three pieces show how much Jackie's writing had developed and matured. 'Quadrangle' is a fascinating composition which he admitted in 1962 (in the notes to Let Freedom Ring) did not fit easily with rhythm changes. When these tracks were recorded, however, he was in the process of working out new methods of writing and playing and the style here is not much removed from earlier attempts in this type of piece. Even so, the alto solo is intense, supercharged and swings like mad, courtesy of Jackie's own inbuilt sense of time and the driving, slashing rhythm section comprising Sonny Clark, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones, one of the best units he worked with. 'Quadrangle' benefits from exceptional solos by McLean and Philly Joe with Clark laying out on this track. Listen to the pianist on ‘Fidel’ where he easily matches the invention and intensity of the leader. McLean stated in the liner notes to Jackie's Bag that he had written 'Quadrangle' four years earlier and it had been a style of writing he had been working towards for some time. 'I had some trouble at first putting chords on it for blowing on,' he continued, 'but I wanted to have a firm basis to play on, as well as those figures that came into my head.'


In the year and a half separating these two sessions, Jackie had begun playing modal music more frequently and had found other ways to interpret pieces like 'Quadrangle'. Playing on scales rather than the more conventional chord progressions was something that he had learned in Charles Mingus' Workshop bands in 1957 but it had not become common practice by 1960. Much of Mingus' practice at the time was forward looking and original but, as with all things, it took the general public and most other musicians a long time to catch up. The main thrust of inspiration for Jackie is most likely to have been Miles Davis’ groundbreaking Columbia LP Kind of Blue, recorded in March 1959 and beginning to gain momentum on its journey towards becoming the best-selling jazz record of all time. Davis, who pushed McLean to play standards and to study music thoroughly, also taught him to use space intelligently and effectively. So it should come as no real surprise that on the second session that made up the six tracks of Jackie's Bag, the altoist kicked off with ‘Appointment in Ghana' which uses a modal structure in the main phrase. As Bob Blumenthal noted in his insert for the updated CD release of Jackie's Bag in 2002, the practice of playing scales had not entered McLean's writing until this session.' It provided an alternative to standard harmonic sequences that McLean would apply to later performances of ‘Quadrangle', and that served him well in the more open approach he would soon document on such albums as Let Freedom Ring and One Step Beyond.


All that was in the future; in 1959 and through most of 1960-62, Jackie was developing as a major soloist and experimenting with new forms and methods of expression. By the time Jackie's Bag was released in 1960, he had already put out three good Blue Note LPs including New Soil and The Music from the Connection. Over that period of time his music had begun to move very slowly away from the solid hard bop of 'Quadrangle' towards more modal and challenging writing and playing such as we find on the six 1960 tracks that comprise the full, 2002 release of Jackie's Bag. Over the next two years it would change even more radically and dramatically but on the later tracks of this album he shared composition duties with the brilliant, ill-fated tenor saxophonist Tina Brooks. It was Brooks who played tenor on these tracks and the blend of his gospel-influenced, warm tenor and Jackie's often strident, slightly sharp, bluesy alto sound was wonderfully successful. Also featuring Blue Mitchell on trumpet, Kenny Drew on piano, Art Taylor at the drums and Paul Chambers as bassist on both dates, these selections really smoke and pulsate with vibrant modern hard bop solos.


Jackie's Bag turns out to be one of Jackie's most successful Blue Note albums of all and the others were all in the very good category. Perhaps it was the fact that the first session had only produced three good tracks that made this, eventually, the big success story that it became. When the later six tracks were added it offered stirring music from some of the best front-line and rhythm section players active at the time and, duly inspired by all of them, some of the very best McLean solos available to that date.


During the early 1960s Jackie recorded prolifically for Blue Note and other companies and his records offer a selection of standard but very adventurous hard bop, but also new music that is experimental and searching. From around this time it should have been obvious that McLean was not a musician to be put into any single category although it is true that the man who had followed, played with and shared a horn on occasions with Charlie Parker never abandoned his lifelong love affair with bebop.


On April 17th 1960, he headed to New Jersey for the Englewood Cliffs studio of engineer Rudy Van Gelder to record Capuchin Swing, (Blue Note 84038), with Blue Mitchell, Walter Bishop Jr., Paul Chambers and Art Taylor in support. It is another first rate release with tracks such as 'Francisco' and 'Condition Blue' outstanding. More Blue Note recordings followed in 1961, an important year if only for the release of two really exceptional albums: Bluesnik recorded in January of that year and A Fickle Sonance recorded on October 26th.


The end of that year saw two enthusiastic hard core followers of the musician, Dick Prendergast and Jim Harrison, staging a special concert, An Evening with Jackie McLean, at Judson Hall in NYC. These two, named by Ira Gitler in his sleevenotes to Fickle Sonance, had felt that the New York cabaret card restriction was grossly unfair and they staged this special event which included a table in the foyer displaying the covers of all the LPs featuring McLean as leader. Whether it had any effect on the NYC Police Department is unknown but surely unlikely It does show however the extent to which fans of the saxophonist were willing to go and how much they felt that his banishment from New York clubs was unreasonable. It also demonstrated just how well-known and appreciated he had become in the lives of jazz enthusiasts who, even though they could only hear him at theatres, at least had a fair number of recorded performances to enjoy.


Jackie McLean had made it in terms of recognition as a major jazz soloist and bandleader.”



Saturday, May 19, 2018

Workout: The Music of Hank Mobley by Derek Ansell

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved


“A thorough view of the ill-fated and sorely neglected Mobley .... [Ansell's] analysis of the tenorist's recordings, virtually all Blue Note classics, is finely articulated and makes this a recommended read.”
-Will Smith, Jazz Times.

“Through an analysis of his recordings, Ansell argues convincingly for Mobley's importance as a hard bop innovator, as a creative and inventive soloist and as a composer and arranger. Studies like this possibly represent the most fruitful way forward in jazz literature.”
- Chris Yates, Jazz Rag.

“A useful guide to a saxophonist described by Horace Silver as ‘one of the most underrated musicians in jazz.’”
- Peter Vacher, Jazz UK

“[Ansell] succeeds in making the reader go to the music, which as much as anything else is surely the purpose of the book.”
- Nic Jones, allaboutjazz.com

In JazzProfiles’ continuing efforts to shed more light on the career of tenor saxophonist and composer, Hank Mobley [1930-1986], we now come to the only book on him that I’ve been able to find and the fact that there is a book length treatment on him at all seems to be a minor miracle in and of itself.

A major reason for our efforts to help rescue Hank from obscurity can be summed up in the following quotation from Derek Ansell, the author of the biography which is entitled Workout: The Music of Hank Mobley :

“He was one of a relatively short list of great tenor saxophonists; innovative, creative jazz musicians who not only had a distinctive sound but contributed immensely to the development and evolution of the music.”

In order to rectify Mobley’s underrated, overlooked, underappreciated position, Derek extensively examines and details all of Hank’s recordings as both a sideman and as a leader.

One could argue that given the limited primary material on Hank - he sat for one extensive interview with John Litweiler which was published in Downbeat in 1973 - that Derek’s reliance on Hank’s recordings and their liner notes offers a limited perspective on his life and artistry.

But the main benefit of this approach is that it gets the reader back to listening to Hank’s music and, in a sense, back to where Mobley’s true importance lays. To paraphrase the late, Richard Sudhalter: Jazz musicians are their music; the two are one and the same; inseparable.

Derek offers some compelling reasons and possible explanations for Mobley’s diminished position in Jazz circles, as well as, a number of convincing arguments for establishing him as a significant figure in modern Jazz from 1955-1975 in the following Introduction and opening pages to his first chapter.


“Introduction

Hank Mobley was unique. He was much admired by other musicians, many of whom rated him as one of the very greatest modern stylists, and a tenor saxophonist who sold more records than almost anybody else on the Blue Note label. Yet he still managed to attract a lot of flack, at best, from critics and jazz commentators who undervalued his solo strengths and contributions to modern jazz and, at worst, from those who regarded him as obscure and unimportant.

A jazz musician who recorded twenty-five LPs as a leader for one independent record label and more for other companies can hardly be called obscure. Add in numerous sideman appearances in the 1950s and 1960s - far more than most musicians in his sphere, and a face that was well-known from liner photographs and even made the cover shot of The Blue Note Years: The Jazz Photography of Francis Wolff and you have a significant musician. And yet Hank Mobley was consistently underrated, unfavourably compared with some of his more flamboyant contemporaries of the day and never really given his due as a consistently inventive and often innovative tenor sax soloist and a composer of considerable skill and imagination.

Should you wish to know more about the major jazz musicians who made their names in the 1950s and 1960s, you will find plenty of books about John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins and other key figures of the bop and hard bop movements of that time, but until now there has not been one about Hank Mobley. Why? The general consensus seems to be that Coltrane, Rollins
and even lesser talents such as Johnny Griffin, possessing hard, edgy tones in the fashion of the day, all tended to overshadow Mobley's quieter approach.

The hard bop sound was certainly used and developed by those musicians and you could hardly ignore the spectacular playing of Rollins and Trane, but it really wasn't that simple, as I attempt to show over the following pages. Partly, of course, it was a question of influences: Rollins from Coleman Hawkins; Trane from IHawk and Lester Young; Stan Getz from Lester Young. Getz is a good example: tremendously popular, he developed a modern, Parker-influenced variation of Young's approach to tenor playing but, because the earlier styles and sound were so well known to jazz aficionados, he was quickly accepted and soon winning polls and filling venues. Hank Mobley, on the other hand, had a light, lyrical sound that was all his own, not like that of anybody who had gone before, even though his style descended directly from Charlie Parker.

Jazz, for all the innovation, excitement and boundary pushing by key musicians over the years has, curiously, always managed to breed ultra-conservative followers. Jazz fans tend to stick to what they know and like and take slowly, if at all, to new ideas and styles. It took a long time for most fans to adjust to the modern jazz of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, and even longer for them to accept Thelonious Monk, that iconoclastic genius of modern piano. It took years for the innovations of Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor and Eric Dolphy to become absorbed into the mainstream and many jazz enthusiasts have still not made the final transition. Most jazz critics and writers cannot agree about anything much and fans tend to stick with a particular style and era to the exclusion of all else.

It is true to say that all jazz enthusiasts have a particular favourite jazz era, the one in which they first started to listen to the music. This overrides almost every other consideration for most people. I have yet to meet anyone who is exempt from this rule, myself included. Older people often have a lifelong love of New Orleans jazz that seldom extends beyond the swing era of the 1930s and early 1940s. The big band era is everything to some batches of enthusiasts and they have little time for other jazz periods.

Others, including many prominent critics, embraced the bop revolution of the 1940s, happily congratulating themselves on their powers of understanding, but could never quite come to terms with the minor revolution of the 1960s avant-garde movement. Yet more are totally overwhelmed by the cool music of the West Coast school in California and have little or no time for any other style.

Show me someone who embraces the best of jazz and the greatest musicians from New Orleans to California by way of Chicago and New York City, who can and does enjoy a wide range of jazz by Armstrong, Beiderbecke, Young, Hawkins, Parker, Gillespie, Monk, Coltrane, Rollins, Mobley, Coleman, Dolphy, Taylor (Cecil, that is) and many others, and you will be showing me a real jazz enthusiast, someone who understands the true, ever-changing, ever-developing, constantly evolving nature of this music. But there are precious few of them around.

Hank Mobley was just one of many who missed out on the accolades and the big time and the fame and fortune. Partly, his ultimate, overall failure to make it was his own fault; it happened for many other reasons too. This is his story.”

Chapter 1

Early Messages 1954-55

“Hank Mobley seemed to arrive on the jazz scene in New York City from out of nowhere, with a sound and style all his own. Where others had taken years of preparation, rehearsal and work in various rhythm and blues bands, there was Hank, with little playing experience behind him, fully formed and raring to go. He was one of a relatively short list of great tenor saxophonists; innovative, creative jazz musicians who not only had a distinctive sound but contributed immensely to the development and evolution of the music.

Consider the most important musicians on the tenor saxophone. Coleman I lawkins came along first and made his mark as a distinctive soloist. For many years Hawkins was the major influence and source of inspiration to all jazz musicians who played tenor sax and the most important of them took their lead and general stylistic approach from him. Then, some years later, Lester Young showed that a radically different approach was possible. Many years after that, Sonny Rollins came along with an updated approach to the Hawkins concept and a little while later John Coltrane appeared with a sound and style that were utterly unique. Although his style had roots in what Hawkins and Young had done before, it was completely and utterly new and original. So new and original, in fact, that it took many commentators and people who thought they knew a thing or two about jazz at least ten years to appreciate the man's importance. In the 1960s, briefly, Albert Ayler offered yet another unique voice with a sound and style that were both radical and, in their reliance on old folk strains, fairly conservative.

The odd man out was Hank Mobley. He started to play with big name bands in 1951 when Max Roach hired him but, from then until his premature death in May 1986, he was creative, original, often brilliant, but consistently underrated by observers and critics of the music.

Those are the bare facts. To examine the reasons why he was so important we need to study his music. Fortunately he recorded prolifically: twenty-five alburns as a leader for Blue Note between 1954 and 1970 but, after including other labels such as Prestige, Savoy and Roulette, the total is more like thirty-four. Alfred Lion, the founder of Blue Note Records, recognised the innovative skills and competence of Mobley, who soon became a leader on records. But most of the rest of his career was spent as a sideman in other people's bands and that gives us our first clue to the personality and character of Hank Mobley, the man and the musician.

Mobley was never a forceful or assertive character. We know from other musicians with whom he worked, and from observers of the jazz scene in the 1950$ and 19605, that he was always something of a recluse, going out to work in various combos and orchestras, playing his part and then returning home.

During the intervals at clubs he would disappear out to the car park or street and sit smoking in his car until it was time to play again. Writing his obituary in the September 1986 edition of Jazz Journal, Dave Gelly told of the time he visited the USA in 1963 and heard Hank play at the Five Spot Cafe in a combo with pianist Barry Harris. In conversation with Gelly, the pianist said: 'Don't bother trying to talk to Hank. He doesn't even talk to me. He's sitting out there in his car and he won't come until it's time for the next set.' Harris pointed out of the window and Gelly saw a shadowy figure sitting in an old, beaten-up Buick parked at the kerbside. Like some professional actors who hide behind a part and can bellow out the lines of King Lear or Henry V on-stage and then come off and be almost inarticulate off-stage, Hank could play with the very best jazz musicians on equal terms but once off the bandstand he became quiet, reticent and very introverted.

Gelly’s Jazz Journal obituary also pointed out that Mobley's sound, live, was something to marvel at, especially for those who were sitting close to the bandstand and hearing it direct. Although the recordings for Blue Note engineered by Rudy Van Gelder were very good and he probably produced the closest thing to a natural jazz sound on records, he did have his own idiosyncratic methods, adding a little echo and, as Gelly put it, he 'boosted Mobley's volume in relation to the rest of the band ... In person the sound shrank to a conversational level. It was laconic and somehow beady-eyed, a cool tone for a cool head.'

Van Gelder always jealously guarded the secrets of his methods of recording and the details of the equipment he used, even from fellow-professional recording engineers, so we are unlikely ever to know exactly what was added or subtracted from the natural sound of musicians such as Mobley. We can be sure, however, that the engaging, light blue gauzy sound that we hear on the best recordings was enhanced by the natural balance obtained in good clubs with light amplification; a situation that seems lost beyond recall in these days of massive over-amplified PA sound systems.

If booked to play in a band Mobley would always give his very best but if, as sometimes happened, he was distracted by another soloist, or found on arrival at the gig that another musician that he hadn't known about had been booked alongside him, he would retreat into his shell and play as little as possible, doing just enough to fulfil his obligation to the bandleader but shunning the chance to solo often, if at all.

He was, certainly, reticent and quiet most of the time, living for his music but unwilling, it seems, to take on the responsibilities of leadership. This must account, in part, for some of his early failure to attract attention or to show just how good a soloist he was, for his appearances could be limited by his own reservations and attitude. Early on in life, however, Mobley had decided that he wanted to be a musician.”

Workout: The Music of Hank Mobley by Derek Ansell is available through Parkwest Publications which has been a US distributor of UK publishers since 1983 and which you can visit via this link.  Once there, click on "Northway" for more music titles. You can also purchase through online booksellers.