Gary Foster, The Peacocks and A Timeless Place

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

One of the most wonderful things about maintaining this blog is all the great musicians who “drop by” the editorial offices of JazzProfiles from time-to-time [metaphorically speaking, of course].

Such was the case recently when I re-posted an archived feature on vocalist Norma Winstone which elicited this response from flutist, reedman, composer-arranger and all-round great guy, Gary Foster.

“Dear Steve:

It was interesting to find Norma Winstone as your recent subject. Perhaps something not well known about her relates to Jimmy Rowles’ “The Peacocks.” In 1991, Jim and I recorded “The Peacocks,” for Concord using his choice of the alto flute as the solo voice. Previously the song had been recorded by Jim, Bill Evans and Stan Getz.

“The Peacocks” is an AABA song form. The bridge is quite unique in that it is highly chromatic. In the early 90’s Jim had an actor/singer friend who wanted to write a lyric to the song but couldn’t deal with the bridge and asked him to change it by making it melodically more simple. That, of course, wasn’t going to happen.

I was at Jim’s house one afternoon when the postman delivered a cassette recording of Norma Winstone singing her lyric to “The Peacocks.” Her quite original treatment of the bridge was perfect. Rowles reacted immediately and made arrangements to record the song with her. I don’t remember any of the details but I believe George Mraz and Joe La Barbara were on the recording.

As a vocal, Norma titled the song “A Timeless Place.” Rowles contacted his publisher and arranged to share royalties with Norma when and if the song was released commercially with her title and lyric.

In 1999, several years after Jim’s death,  Tierney Sutton asked me if I had any unusual songs that she might consider recording. I sent along a few obscure favorites including “ A Timeless Place.” We recorded it on her 2000 Telarc recording, “Unsung Heroes.” Tierney sings it perfectly – like a classical art song. I wish Jim could have heard her.

I would be pleased to send along copies of the original sheets to “The Peacocks” and “A Timeless Place” for you files….

Best Regards,

Gary”

After saying “Yes, please” to a copy of the sheet music to both The Peacocks and A Timeless Place, and being the clever guy that I am, I decided to surprise Gary by putting together a video montage of peacocks and place it at the conclusion of this piece using Gary’s alto flute performance of Jimmy Rowles’ composition The Peacocks from Gary’s Make Your Own Fun Concord CD CCD-4459]

[Incidentally, I am now the proud owner of 8 pages of sheet music that contain Norma Winstone’s clever lyrics set to Jimmy Rowles’ melodic refrains for "The Peacocks."]

After the video was made, I sent Gary a link to it on YouTube. Unfortunately, due to copyright restrictions, I had to take the video down. However, these restrictions are either not as severe or they are easily bypassed elsewhere, so while I cannot incorporate the video into this piece, I can reproduce it in the banner above it so you can listen to it after you read this post.

When I made the now deleted video and sent Gary the link, I also suggested to him that if he should like to recount how the experience of recording "The Peacocks" with Jimmy Rowles on piano, John Heard on bass and Joe LaBarbera on drums came about that perhaps I could weave all of this together into a blog feature.

Here’s Gary response.

“Dear Steve,

Once again – thank you for the surprise You Tube of "The Peacocks" and your kind words about the performance.

You suggested an accounting of how "The Peacocks" happened to be on the Make Your Own Fun recording. I just reread the liner notes and that reminded me that probably twice as many songs were considered  as could be on the final record. Typical of anything musical that passed through Jim’s scrutiny, every detail – The key, exact melody, rhythm, the perfect chord change - had to meet his standards. That alone was a great music lesson in our preparation. After graduate school, my wife and I decided on life on the street before the PhD. Clare Fischer, Warne Marsh, Jimmy Rowles. Larry Bunker all provided my PhD.

One night at Jim’s house, in late 1990, we we chatting and I asked him how he happened to write "The Peacocks" for Arthur Gleghorn. They were drinking buddies he said, and in their bar hopping days they referred to themselves as “The Peacocks.” Arthur was a first desk studio flute player in the film and TV studios. I worked with him a few times when I first started doing dates. I asked Jim if Arthur ever played "The Peacocks" for him. He said “No.” I offered to play it for him sometime. He said “Now?” and I went to the car for my flute.

I have a convenient triple case that holds a piccolo, flute and alto flute. The case was open on the chair and after we played it on the flute. Jim saw the alto flute and asked “How would it be on the big one?” We played it with the alto flute and he commented that he liked it. As I was backing out of the driveway later, he came out of the house and to the car. I rolled the window down and Jim said “'The Peacocks' is the alto flute!”

___________________________________________________________

Regarding Rowles:  Before we moved here in 1961, I had a couple of Rowles LP’s and hoped to hear him live once we were in LA. I looked for mention in the paper of where he might be playing and, once I had a Union directory, I phoned him and asked where he was playing. After a silence, and true to his cynicism, he said “Is this a gag?” I went to The Carriage House/Chadney’s many times over the next few years to hear him. It is possible that you were there, of course. I was playing regularly with Larry Bunker in Clare Fischer groups and in 1968 Larry introduced me to Jim. It gives me pleasure to relive mentally the years after that with Rowles in my life. ….

Best Regards,

Gary”

And here are Gary’s insert notes to Make Your Own Fun Concord CD CCD-4459 which are followed by some observations about Gary by Carl Jefferson who produced the CD for his label, Concord Records.

“A new jazz recording which focuses on the improvised solo is a document, in its time, of the beliefs, influences and growth of the individual performers. As a basis for improvising on this recording, I chose a few standards, two originals and a few not-so-standards. Loosely organized, this material was used to try to find those elusive few moments that might be called "a good eight bars." Finding the right tempo and a feeling of spontaneity were common thoughts of all involved. Carl Jefferson produced this recording. He gently nudged things here and there but, with great care, allowed the music to evolve on its own.

THE MUSICIANS

John Heard brings to any jazz performance a keen sense of what is right. He produces a beautiful sound, his time is strength itself and he is purely intuitive in the way he puts it all together. John has played with everyone. For many years we played together with Toshiko Akiyoshi's band. His graphic art works and his sculpture are becoming as well known as his bass playing.

Every time I've seen Joe LaBarbera in recent years we always talk of playing sometime. This recording became the reason to make it happen. Every tune on this album has moments which show Joe's beautiful taste and unfailing musical sense. Warne-ing was written for Joe to play along on the displaced rhythm of the melody and features him playing an extended solo on brushes.

Jimmy Rowles is a jazz man; the real thing. In the 1970s Jimmy moved to New York City for a few years and finally received the recognition and documentation on recordings that he had long deserved. I see him as a direct line to the jazz that counts. Billie, Ben, Pres, Sarah and all who have worked with him have sung his praises. He has gained the respect of all in the old fashioned way. He earned it! Jimmy never just comps. He reacts to the music around him and he can never be anticipated. His solos are conversational and confidential. They are full of invention, wit and surprise. His presence here gives me great personal satisfaction.

THE MUSIC

Jazz lore has it that Minnie Pearl was asked to sit in and "just sing something" on a TV talk show. Rowles, the pianist on the show, quickly asked, "how about 'Lush Life' Minnie Pearl?" To her credit, Minnie didn't accept the challenge and I doubt if Easy Living or Some Other Spring found their way into her repertoire either. These old standards have rich notes of the harmony throughout their melodies and have become jazz favorites for that reason.

Alone Together, I'll Close My Eyes, I Concentrate On You and Nica's Dream also fall into the standard class. With these beautiful songs it is a matter of agreeing on the right harmonic road map, getting a beginning and an ending and then making a try for a spontaneous performance.

Jimmy's The Peacocks is now a part of the jazz repertoire. It was written for Arthur Gleghorn who was for many years the preeminent flutist in the Hollywood studios. Asked if Arthur had ever played the song, Jimmy answered, "eight bars or so." After trying it with the flute, Jimmy asked to hear it on the alto flute and that became his choice for the melody. I asked Jimmy to sing one and he chose the beautiful, but obscure, What A Life.

‘Teef is a blues I have played for many years. The title alludes to Yusef Lateef. It works well as a duo-line for alto and bass. John took hold of this and roared.

In his New Yorker profile of Warne Marsh, Whitney Balliett referred to Warne as a "True Improviser." I had the pleasure of making music with Warne for nearly twenty-five years. Warne set and achieved the highest standards. Warne-ing, written over a set of his favorite changes, is not meant to capture Warne's musical way. It is simply a tribute from a grateful friend.

Sweet Lips was written for another great musician and friend, Wilbur Schwartz. The beautiful, soaring clarinet sound of Glenn Miller's music was created by Wil. In great contrast to that lead sound, Wil could produce a soft, intimate and personal sound that we called "sweet lips." A unique and brilliant man who took life on his own terms, Wil often advised, "make your own fun." Not a bad idea for life...or for an album title!

Gary Foster, March, 1991”

“Naturally, Gary neglected to write about himself, so I'd like to take this opportunity to share some of my personal insight into one of today's foremost reed men.

We've all heard Gary Foster on numerous recordings, TV and movie soundtracks over the years, as he is one of the most in demand studio musicians in the business. I have had the pleasure of recording Gary many times with such distinguished artists as Cal Tjader and Poncho Sanchez, as well as with the Marty Paich Dek-tette on two records with Mel Torme. Gary has always proven to be the epitome of professionalism as well as a consummate jazz musician, greatly enriching every project with his musical presence. Whenever Gary is involved, those "elusive moments" he refers to are virtually guaranteed.

On top of all this, he is simply a fine individual. Part of the concept for this album, had a lot to do with Gary's affection for Jimmy Rowles.

In conclusion, I wish all the dates were this pleasant. This is a well thought out album with exceptional musical values.

-Carl E. Jefferson

President, Concord Jazz, Inc.

A Brief History of Improvising by Whitney Balliett

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

Reeds and woodwinds master player Gary Foster sent this to the editorial offices of JazzProfiles and we thought it too good not to share.

In its original form, it appeared as the first paragraph from Whitney Balliett’s profile of Warne Marsh in the October 14, 1985 edition of The New Yorker Magazine.

It has subsequently been published as part of Whitney’s chapter JAZZ: A TRUE IMPROVISER [Warne Marsh] in his book American Musicians II: Seventy-one Portraits in Jazz [Uni. of Mississippi Press].

The paragraphing has been modified to fit the journalistic format of the blog.

At the conclusion, you’ll find a video montage with Warne Marsh and Pete Christlieb improvising on the changes to Just Friends.

© -  Whitney Balliett, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“A short history of jazz improvisation, the heart and soul of the music, might go like this.

It began in the rural South in the nineteenth century as random gestures of black protest: a bones solo accompanying a buck-and-wing; the field hollers, which formed a secret, constantly evolving code; the endlessly invented and often satirical blues lyrics, and the guitar or banjo variations that decorated them. In short, it began as any kind of Afro-American music that did not go by the white man’s book.  

When Reconstruction faltered and racism closed down again, in the eighties and nineties, black improvisational music had taken a clearer shape. It was played mainly by rough small bands, which in time used cornet or trumpet, a reed instrument, trombone, piano (not always), guitar or banjo, bass or tuba, and drums. These groups, generally made up of day laborers, were offshoots of the New Orleans marching bands, and their improvisations – embellishments, really - were largely collective. It was an ensemble music that parted for occasional solos.

In his autobiography, Treat It Gentle, the great soprano saxophonist and clarinetist Sidney Bechet tried to describe what happened in the early improvisation: “It has to be put inside you and you have to be ready to have it put there. All that happens to you makes a feeling out of your life and you play that feeling. But there’s more than that. There’s the feeling inside the music too. And the final thing, it’s the way those two feelings come together.”

By 1924, two years before Jelly Roll Morton unwittingly memorialized the New Orleans music with the sixteen brilliant Hot Pepper sides he made in Chicago, Louis Armstrong and King Oliver, also recording in Chicago, and Armstrong and Sidney Bechet recording in New York, had demonstrated that they were the first jazz soloists – the first true melodic jazz improvisers.

During the next fifteen years or so, jazz became a music of soloists. And among the greatest were Armstrong and Bechet, Earl Hines, Bix Beiderbecke, Coleman Hawkins, Red Allen, Jack Teagarden, Benny Goodman, Django Reinhardt, Red Norvo, Lester young, Art Tatum and Roy Eldridge.

Their predecessors had worked mostly with the blues and with ragtime materials built on two or three strains. Armstrong and his followers began using as their stepping-off points the new theatre and movie songs of Jerome Kern and Irving Berlin and George Gershwin and Harold Arlen. They reinvented melody. They would take a Kern or Gershwin tune and improvise a parallel song that both freshened and shadowed the original.

By the early forties, they had amassed a body of recordings that were melodically and rhythmically unique and had a spontaneity that had not been heard in Western music since Bach.

But jazz has little patience, and by the mid-forties and new kind of improvisation had appeared, shepherded by Charlie Parker, Bud Powell and Dizzy Gillespie. These three had studied Art Tatum’s giant harmonic edifices, and, borrowing from him, they widened the harmonic base of jazz improvisation by improvising on the chords of a song instead of on the melody. They cast out melody and entered a wilderness of chords, altered chords, expanded chords. Or thought they were casting out melody – their improvisation were in fact highly melodic but in ways that were undanceable and largely unsingable. Called bebop, it was an engulfing, baroque music, through which no silence was allowed to show.

Late in 1959, Ornette Coleman, the Texas alto saxophonist, dropped from the skies, and a third kind of improvisation was born. Its adherents threw everything out – melody, chords, keys, choruses, and steady rhythms. They improvised on themselves, on their moods, on the air around them. They made any kind of noise on their instruments which entered their heads – barnyard sounds, jungle sounds, traffic sounds. This was called “free jazz,” and for a long time it has laid a disquieting hand on the music.”

Alone Together with Rein de Graaff and The Metropole Orchestra

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

“Rein de Graaff is a man of contrasts. He is one of Europe's foremost jazz musicians, but he describes himself as "a jazz fan who happens to play the piano." He turned down many offers to go on tour with American stars like Sonny Stitt and Archie Shepp because he has not much time to travel; he is a businessman on weekdays who gigs only in the weekends.

He will explain to you at length that he considers himself a jazz musician rather than a pianist: "I don't play the piano like a pianist does. I comp like a drummer and play single-note lines like a horn player." However, he has recorded some of the most fluent, swinging and beautiful piano solos I've ever heard in the Low Countries.”

- Jeroen de Valk, Jazz author and critic

Although, the general focus of most of the postings to JazzProfiles is about Jazz musicians and Jazz styles, there are occasions in which we like to spend time with Jazz interpretations of our favorite tunes.

Or to put it another way, no tunes, no Jazz for as the late bassist Charles Mingus stated: “You’ve got to improvise on something.”

As Charles implies it’s all intertwined as one thing leads to another and I generally find myself recounting who the Jazz musician or Jazz group is that’s performed one of my favorite tunes.

Or to rework the tile of this piece a little, Alone But Together; you really can’t separate the Jazz musician from his/her music.

Which brings me to a tune that has always fascinated me - Alone Together.

These excerpts from Ted Gioia’s continually fascinating The Jazz Standards: A Guide to the Repertoire go a long way toward explaining why.

“Alone Together - Composed by Arthur Schwartz, with lyrics by Howard Dietz

“At 14, Arthur Schwartz played piano accompaniment to silent films in his native Brooklyn, and from an early age he showed a knack for writing his own songs. At his father's urging, though, Schwartz put music on the back burner and pursued a career in law. With degrees from NYU and Columbia in hand, he was admitted to the New York bar in 1924, and practiced law for four years before turning his back on the legal profession to work full-time as a songwriter. Around that same time Schwartz met up with lyricist Howard Dietz, another Columbia University alum (where Dietz had been a classmate of Lorenz Hart and Oscar Hammerstein), and the following year they launched their first Broadway production, the successful revue The Little Show. ...

Alone Together made its debut in the 1932 show Flying Colors, which closed as a financial failure after 188 performances, ...The song fared better than the show, however, and Leo Reisman enjoyed a top 10 hit with his recording that same year.

"Alone Together" has an unusual form, with a 14-bar A theme that resolves surprisingly in the tonic major, but in the last restatement is truncated to 12 bars that conclude in the minor. The form can confuse the uninitiated, and don't be surprised if you hear the pianist at the cocktail bar try to squeeze "Alone Together" into a standard 32-bar AABA form. Yet I suspect that the very peculiarities in the composition, especially the major-minor ambiguity, account for much of the appeal to improvisers.

Artie Shaw played the key role in establishing "Alone Together" as a jazz standard, recording it with his band in 1939,  … When Dizzy Gillespie recorded "Alone Together" in 1950, he followed the Shaw playbook with a somber rendition over string accompaniment. Miles Davis adopted a far more modernistic approach in his 1955 recording, with the countermelodies and shifting rhythms bearing more the stamp of Charles Mingus (who was bassist on this date) than the trumpeter.

The personality of this song would change gradually over the years, as it lost its exotic, mood music origins and emerged as a dark, minor-key song in a straight swing rhythm. In the right arrangement, "Alone Together" can sound like a hard bop chart written for a Blue Note session. In fact, given the dark, brooding quality of the tune, I'm surprised it didn't show up on more Blue Note dates, but when it did (as on Stanley Turrentine's 1966 session with McCoy Tyner for the Easy Walker date), it fit perfectly with the grit and groove of the proceedings. Sonny Rollins takes a similar tack on his 1958 performance for the Contemporary label [Sonny Rollins and the Contemporary Leaders].

The composition is still typically performed at a medium tempo, not much different from what Leo Reisman offered back in 1932 — although usually more medium-fast than medium-slow nowadays. But fast, aggressive versions are increasingly common —.”

The version of Alone Together that prompted the development of this feature is the one that Dutch Jazz pianist Rein de Graaff recorded on October 3, 1992 in Hilversum, The Netherlands with The Metropole Orchestra conducted by the renown Rob Pronk.

You can located in it on the Timeless CD Nostalgia [SJP 429] which is a compilation CD made up of five tracks with Rein performing with the Metropole in 1992, two tracks of Rein performing with Barry Harris in Groningen, Holland in 1991 with a rhythm section of Koos Serierse on bass and Eric Ineke on drums and four tracks recorded in 1994 in Monster Holland, with alto saxophonists Gary Foster and Marco Kegel and Rein, Koos and Eric.

Thanks to some visits together during his recent trips to the United States, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know Rein somewhat. In conversation - by the way, his English is better than mine, - he is soft-spoken, extremely polite and mild-mannered. He loves “a piece of bread” with all manner of food and in a conversation over a meal he is relaxed, unassuming and an attentive listener; although I suspect that on the subject of most things to do with bebop, he could finish my sentences for me, but demurrers [did I mention that he was polite?].

But all of that vanishes when he sits down at a piano keyboard and becomes a take-no-prisoners, monster improviser who is capable of unfurling line after line of dotted eighth note, syncopated melodies that are loaded with bebop licks that you’ve heard before, but never quite combined in this manner. He becomes an original by the way in which he weaves together the unoriginal as he tries to get as close as possible to the nirvana of interlacing chorus after chorus of uninterrupted improvisations [what Jazz musicians referred to as “lines”]. Sometimes, ideas seem to come to him so fast and furious that he can barely put them together before moving on to the next set of musical thoughts or suggestions. It’s like he’s managed to memorize every piece of bebop ever played in the past, deconstruct them and put them together in a new and different way - instantaneously.

And he doesn’t rush - he pushes the time because he plays ahead of the beat - but he doesn’t rush.

In listening to a lot of Rein’s recordings lately [he’s sending me more!!] - I always suspected that one of the keys to his success as an improvisor was his ability to chose the right tempo to play the tunes he favors.

And what do you know, he confirmed this in a recent conversation about his playing on the tune Flamingo on a CD that he along with Marius Beets [pronounced Bates in English] on bass and Eric Ineke on drums made with tenor saxophonist Scott Hamilton. [You can find this track in a video montage at the end of this piece.]

I was sharing with him how the sequence of choruses he plays on this eleven [11] minute track had literally reduced me to giggles they were so good when he blurted out - “It’s the tempo!”

Bingo! - the implication being that the tempo was just right in leaving him time to think and connect one well-constructed, improvised line [melody] with the next.

Of course, notwithstanding his incredible talent, I imagine it helps to have been doing this for 50 years!!

Jeroen de Valk who recently published a revised and expanded biography of trumpeter Chet Baker wrote these insert notes for the Nostalgia  CD.

“Rein de Graaff is a man of contrasts. He is one of Europe's foremost jazz musicians, but he describes himself as "a jazz fan who happens to play the piano." He turned down many offers to go on tour with American stars like Sonny Stitt and Archie Shepp because he has not much time to travel; he is a businessman on weekdays who gigs only in the weekends.

He will explain to you at length that he considers himself a jazz musician rather than a pianist: "I don't play the piano like a pianist does. I comp like a drummer and play single-note lines like a horn player." However, he has recorded some of the most fluent, swinging and beautiful piano solos I've ever heard in the Low Countries.

The most astonishing aspect of Rein's artistry is his understanding of the bebop language. He is almost entirely self-taught as a pianist and has been living most of his life in a small town in the north of the Netherlands. But when he visited New York for the first time as a young man, he felt at home right away. At a jam session in Harlem, a big fat mamma from this black neighbourhood hugged him warmly, with tears in her eyes. "You sound like a black man!", she shouted. This was obviously the highest praise that could possibly be bestowed on Rein.

Although it may sound weird, it is perhaps his jazz fan status that makes him sound so consistently inspired and professional. He makes music because he loves to do it and for no other reason. Music is for him, to quote Zoot Sims, "serious fun". He always plays with at least a hundred per cent dedication.

On this record, you hear what Rein does: playing bebop piano. While listening to the duo-tracks with Rein's favourite pianist, bebop master Barry Harris, you will notice how much they sound alike. Their solos are characterized by clarity; each phrase is a small melody with a beginning, a middle and an end.

Rein plays the first seven choruses in Au Privave, Barry the next five. Then they alternate eight choruses, followed by 'fours' until the last theme. In the next tune, you hear

Rein plays Nostalgia and Barry Casbah, two tunes based on the chords of Out of Nowhere. Barry plays two choruses, Rein the next two. Then they take half a chorus each, they alternate 'eights' for one chorus, followed by a chorus of 'fours'.

Another passion of Rein's is the musical world of Lennie Tristano, the legendary pianist, composer and guru of the cool school who died in 1978 at the age of 59. In four tracks, he plays with two alto saxophonists who know a thing or two about Tristano's concept: Gary Foster from LA (right channel) and Marco Kegel, a 22-year-old from Holland. Their collective improvisations will remind you of Warne Marsh and Lee Konitz, Tristano's great saxophone team.

As usual, the themes are complicated lines, based on standards. Tristano used to say: "That's our link to the people." Ablution is All the Things You Are. Lennie's Pennies is Pennies from Heaven (in a minor key, for a change), Dreamstepper is You Stepped out of a Dream and Subconscious-Lee is What Is this Thing Called Love. The rhythm section is once again Koos Serierse (bass) and Eric Ineke (drums). They have been working with Rein for almost twenty years.

In the first five tracks. Rein is featured soloist with the Metropole Orchestra. The arrangements, written by Dolf de Vries (Alone Together),  Rob Pronk (How High the Moon, I Cover the Waterfront), Henk Meutgeert (Afternoon in Paris} and Lex Jasper (Cherokee), are just right for this combination: relaxed and inspiring. They give the rhythm section room to swing, allow the horns and strings to phrase as one man, and Rein to improvise freely at great length.

Rein sounds as if he has been working with these experienced studio musicians for a hundred years. Listen to him playing bebop piano. He is brilliant.”

• Jeroen de Valk