Cal Tjader, Paul Horn and the 1959 Monterey Jazz Festival [From the Archives]

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

For many years, newspaper columnist Ralph J. Gleason [San Francisco Chronicle], radio disc jockey and impresario Jimmy Lyons, newspaper columnist Philip Elwood [San Francisco Examiner] and Jazz educator and writer Grover Sales, provided a running commentary on the San Francisco Jazz scene.

All were particularly devoted to those musicians who based themselves in that lovely city with special emphasis on Dave Brubeck [even after he left to take up residence in Wilton, CT], Cal Tjader and Vince Guaraldi.

And all were very proud of their association with the Monterey Jazz Festival, which Jimmy Lyons and Ralph co-founded in 1958 and which has been held at the Monterey County Fairgrounds on the third weekend in September for much of its storied existence.

Today, Jazz Festivals are so universal that it is difficult to remember how novel they were when first established at Newport, RI and Monterey, CA in the 1950s.

The standard Jazz environment of the time, aside from occasional forays into philharmonic halls and auditoriums, was usually a nightclub in the seedier part of town. Booze and blues went hand-in-hand.

I was fortunate to be able attend both the Newport and the Monterey Jazz Festivals quite early in their existence.

As you would imagine, Cal Tjader the San Francisco-based vibraphonist and percussionist made numerous appearances at the Monterey Jazz Festival where he received a kind of “local-boy-makes-good” welcome from the fans.

I particularly enjoyed Cal’s appearance at the 1959 MJF because he added flutist and reedman Paul Horn to his standard quartet and also brought along conguero Mongo Santamaria. Like Cal and pianist Lonnie Hewitt, Paul was a great straight-ahead player and his flute lent an added “voice” [dimension] to the Latin Jazz numbers.

Here’s a more detailed look at Cal Tjader’s Monterey Concert [Prestige PR 24026], one of the earliest recordings associated with the Monterey Jazz Festival which as Phil Elwood explains was not actually recorded at the MJF, but which had a lot to do with ensuring the success of later festivals.

By way of background, “Phil Elwood blazed a trail with his jazz shows on FM radio, primarily KPFA in Berkeley, from 1952 to 1996 and was a respected critic for the San Francisco Examiner from 1965 to 2002. He died of heart failure on January 10, 2006, just two months shy of his 80th birthday.” [S. Duncan Reid, Cal Tjader: The Life and Recordings of The Man Who Revolutionized Latin Jazz, p.43].

© -  Concord Music Group; used with permission; copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“The Monterey Festivals have been a basic annual part of the jazz scene for so many years that it isn't easy to recall that way back in 1958 they got off to a rocky, money-losing start. Then came this [April 20, 1959] "preview" concert by Tjader prior to the '59 Festival; it was hugely successful, and another permanent jazz institution was launched! This package presents the concert in its entirety.

Standing still as an artist in a readily defined field is a lot easier than to shift, drift, and change one's image. Look around pop music and jazz—there are plenty of petrified performers still going through the same old thing for their same stagnant audience.

In popular music of all kinds categorization and definition have long been tools of dedicated enthusiasts as well as casual fans and the musicians themselves. Terms like the "swing era", "traditional jazz", and "cool", and the artists identified with such classifications, are assumed in jazz studies.

But when a boat-rocking jazzman like Cal Tjader comes along, all kinds of established attitudes are jumbled. Cal's music has never remained stationary long enough to be permanently defined—or to have petrified.

It's best termed just Tjader jazz.

Back in the 1948-1951 period when Callen Tjader, Jr., was teamed with pianist David Brubeck he might have been identifiable as a jazz drummer. But even then, Cal was doubling on vibraharp and coming up with some highly individualistic rhythmic material, both in the Brubeck trio and in the experimental Octet in which Brubeck, Tjader, Bill Smith, Paul Desmond and others participated.

Tjader recorded in 1949 with a full drum set, plus bongos, and conga. Yet in 1953 he was quoted as saying, "I am not an innovator, I am not a pathfinder—I am a participator."

That, of course, was a ridiculously (though typically) modest comment. What

Tjader really should have admitted was that he has remarkably good ears, and instrumental talent to make use of what he hears. When he is a "participator" it means that he is playing, and Tjader's playing for 25 years has been opening up his listeners' ears to all kinds of new musical worlds.

When Tjader made that remark, in '53, he was exactly at the point in his career that Latin music was becoming his dominant expression. He had joined George Shearing's quintet, where he stayed for 18 months, and was discovering all kinds of Latin music cul de sacs around the nation (which Shearing toured regularly), especially in the East Coast cities.

Interestingly enough it was during the same period that Shearing, too, made a noticeable shift into Latin material, and, like Tjader, explored the possibilities for harmonic and melodic adventure that Latin music could provide.

The prime source for both Shearing's and Tjader's Latin-kicks was the giant string bassist, Al McKibbon, who was playing with Shearing at the time and is with Tjader on the two 1959 concert LPs in this set.

There was little in the stiff and self-conscious rhythms of most 1950 "bop" that had the swing and freedom that Latin rhythms offered. And whereas the jazz of the '50s moved increasingly away from the dance scene (and thus, that "participation" that Tjader finds so important), the Latin music world assumes dance-participation.

Tjader and McKibbon toured the Spanish Harlem music scene whenever the Shearing band got near New York, and the more he heard, the more Tjader liked.

The work of Machito and Tito Puente especially intrigued him. And, typically, he plunged into this "new" musical world with energy, persistence . . . and participation.

Tjader, McKibbon and guitarist Toots Thielemans (who doubled on harmonica) developed some fantastic rhythmic patterns within the Shearing group and contributed immeasurably toward Shearing's own emergence as an "Afro-Cuban" jazz interpreter.

While around New York in 1954 Tjader recorded his first Latin-jazz sides, for Fantasy, including conga performer Armando Peraza in the personnel;  in that same March week, in '54, Tjader also recorded a number of jazz and pop standards, using Peraza and/or Roy Haynes or Kenny Clarke as percussionist. He was already making his musical category rather difficult to identify.

When Tjader left Shearing and returned to his San Francisco Bay Area home (a house boat at that point), Tjader's future musical direction was discernible. Before the end of 1954 he had hired pianist Manuel Durand and his brother Carlos, on string bass, as well as conga performer Benny Velarde and bongoist Edgar Resales (all from the S.F. Latin music community) and was appearing as "Cal Tjader and his Modern Mambo Quintet."

Within a year or two Tjader's name was well known in California and his earliest Fantasy "Mambo-jazz" records were spreading the word, and sounds, nationally.

Some people were even beginning to pronounce his name correctly.

An eastern tour in 1956 was something less than spectacular but it did get Tjader into Manhattan, where his mambo jazz was booked opposite Dizzy Gillespie's big band for a couple of weeks at Birdland. And Tjader also laid the groundwork for future New York engagements for his combo in various Spanish Harlem dance halls.

"None of the country was ready for Latin-jazz", Tjader commented, recalling that tour, "except parts of California and the big eastern cities."

Returning to the San Francisco area late in 1956, Tjader established some kind of a record by producing nearly two dozen Fantasy LPs in a four year period, and identifying himself nationally as the leader in Latin-jazz expression.

In the midst of that awesome four year output the Monterey Jazz Festival's managing director, Jimmy Lyons, brought Tjader's group to Carmel's Sunset school auditorium on April 20, 1959, to give what was called a "Jazz Festival Preview." Actually the performance was designed to get some local interest going for the big September event (the first Monterey Jazz Festival, the fall before, had suffered financially) and also to work out some concert-production difficulties with the same crew that would handle the Festival.

The complete concert from that April night in '59 comprises the music of this pair of Prestige discs.

That period at the end of the 1950s was a particularly important one for the larger jazz scene—from which Cal Tjader can also not be separated. Jazz festivals were burgeoning jazz clubs were in greater abundance than at any other time (before or since) and, although none of us was quite sure of it, the end of the most significant of all jazz eras was not far off. Basic blues-rock rhythms in pop music were arriving fast, ready to capture the public's fancy and swamp the free-blown sounds of the 1960's avant garde "jazz".

Cal Tjader has always been frank in his observations and thoroughly professional in his attitudes toward music and in structuring his presentations. Looking over the selections from the 1959 Monterey peninsula performance one is struck by their variety.

A handful of ballads—mellow, standard, material. Tjader loves pretty music—over the years I cannot think of a musician friend who gets more turned-on by the beauty of some popular ballads.

On the concert he also included three bop-oriented themes ("Doxie", "Midnight", "Tunisia"), a couple of swinging originals and some Latin-inspired specialties.

This is the Tjader approach and it is the reason for his continuing popularity, regardless of the current rages in pop or jazz or "free music". Tjader plays his mallets off, and tries to provide some kind of musical stimulation for everyone in any audience.

At the Monterey Jazz Festival, for instance, no artist has played more often nor been so successful. And there are plenty of San Francisco area nightclub owners who are quick to acknowledge that Tjader draws larger and more enthusiastic audiences year in and year out than do most of the "big name guys that we import from the east", as one put it to me recently.

Tjader's life has always been in musical performance, a fact that no doubt accounts for his consuming interest in all aspects of his art— and in his awareness of the broad variety of taste likely to be represented in any audience.

When you start in as a four year old vaudeville tap dancer (as Cal did) and four decades later you're still out there performing before a crowd, a certain dedication is obvious.

And this absorption in his musical craft has meant, naturally, that all manner of instrumentalists have been Tjader colleagues over the years.

Mongo Santamaria and Willie Bobo, with Cal on these LPs from Monterey, had underground Latin-popularity prior to their associations with Tjader. But their widespread fame came with Tjader, who was usually cast in the role of a dual catalyst.

He introduced Santamaria and Bobo (and many other Latin musicians) to a jazz-oriented audience and the Latin musicians, in turn, brought many of their followers into jazz surroundings and introduced that phase of American music to their ears.

What has been happening in "Latin-rock" with such groups as Santana or Malo (not surprisingly, both San Francisco bands )is a continuation of what Cal Tjader has been doing since the early 1950s.

And note that on these concert recordings the flute and alto sax of Paul Horn are featured —an extra, added attraction for the performance. Horn's flute brings some of the melodic beauty that Tjader so loves into the presentation, and his alto helps to shift the sound, occasionally, closer to the Brubeck-style combo jazz that Tjader also presents with integrity.

There are few instrumentalists whose careers have been broader in scope than Horn —the last time I saw him he was soloing behind Donovan, and he is abundantly evident on rock, pop and soul recordings.

Horn is, of course, only a single example of the astonishing breadth and depth typified by the Tjader colleagues over the years.

By never being static, even in the size of the groups, Tjader has given himself as well as his audiences the opportunity to absorb the whole spectrum of musical sound. I guess that's what he means when he says he's just a "participant".

I'm glad I've been a participant in his participation all these years. When Cal's playing there is always something worth hearing.”

—Philip E wood, S.F. Examiner

The following video features Cal and Paul Horn along with Lonnie Hewitt on piano, Al McKibbon on bass, Willie Bobo on timbales and Mongo Santa Maria on conga drums performing A Night In Tunisia.

Paul Horn: 1930-2014 [From the Archives with Revisions]

I'm in the process of developing features for the 3rd Volume of my Jazz West Coast Reader that will include a section of articles focused on the musicians who established their careers on The Left Coast in the early 1960s.

This brought to mind this earlier piece on Paul Horn [1930-2014] and its description of a quintet he led from around 1959-62.

The feature originally posted to my blog on July 4, 2014.

I've made some revisions to the text and added a video of the full "Something Blue" HiFi Jazz album which marked the first appearance by the group on record.

A much expanded version of this piece will appear in the JWC V.3 compilation.

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

“The Paul Horn album, entitled Something Blue, was obviously influenced by the Miles Davis album, and indeed the Paul Horn group was one of the first fully to explore the new territory opened by Miles.

Paul Horn's 'Dun-Dunnee', for instance, is a forty-bar AABA tune with but one chord or scale for the eight-bar A sections. (It can be thought of as either one long G7 chord or a mixolydian scale; that is, a scale starting on G using the white keys of the piano.)”

- Bob Gordon, Jazz West Coast: The Los Angeles Jazz Scene of the 1950’s

“Though the Paul Horn Quintet has a readily identifiable sound through the blending of the leader's alto saxophone or flute with Richards' vibraphone, it is the writing rather than the instrumentation that lends these performances their most personal quality. Paul and his sidemen alike, instead of relying on horizontal melodic values alone, tend to create compositional structures in which the harmonic setting, and often the metric variations, are striking characteristics that give these works much of their originality of color and mood.”

- Leonard Feather, The Sound of Paul Horn

“One final word: if you are not a musician and can't tell a bar from a saloon, don't let this deter you. As Paul cogently observed: ‘Any layman could listen to this music and tap his foot to it without knowing there is anything so different about our approach to time or meter.’ Then he thought a moment, smiled, and added a postscript: ‘Except, of course, the layman might wonder once in a while why his foot was out of step.’"

- Leonard Feather, Profile of a Jazz Musician

Some of this has been previously posted on these pages, but I just realized that this is a 50^th anniversary year in my life and I wanted to revisit some of these memories on the blog.

Or to put it another way, my goodness, where have the last 50 years gone?!

In  April, 1962 during what was then called "Easter Week", I was the drummer in a quintet that won the Intercollegiate Jazz Festival which was held annually at The Lighthouse Cafe located in Hermosa Beach, CA.

Much of the music that our quintet played was inspired by and/or derived from the Paul Horn Quintet. Although it was formed in 1959, our quintet didn't catch-up to Paul's group until 1961 when Paul started to make a regular mid-week gig at Shelly's Manne Hole in Hollywood. Once we heard Paul's group, its music was to have a huge and lasting impression on us.

The original group consisted of Paul Horn [alto sax/flute], Emil Richards [vibes], Paul Moer [piano], Jimmy Bond [bass] and Billy Higgins [drums], although by the time it made the gig at Shelly's, Billy Higgins was in New York making all of those wonderful Blue Note recordings and Milt Turner had replaced him as the drummer.

The quintet that I performed with at the 1962 Lighthouse Intercollegiate Jazz Festival had the same instrumentation as Paul Horn's quintet except that guitar replaced vibes.

By 1962, nearly every Jazz fan was familiar with the modal Jazz played by the Miles Davis Sextet in the Kind of Blue album,  and with "unusual" time signatures immortalized by the Dave Brubeck Quartet's Time Out! album.

Modal Jazz uses scales instead of chord progressions as the basis for its themes [melodies] and improvisations. For “unusual time signatures” think the 5/4 of Paul Desmond’s Take Five or Dave Brubeck’s Blues Rondo a la Turk which is in 9/8 time but counted as 2-2-2-3 . In other words, those in other than the more standard 2/4 and 4/4 time.

What made the Paul Horn Quintet particularly appealing to our us was that it was playing modal Jazz in combination with unusual time signatures, just the thing to peak the musical interest of 5 young lads ranging in ages from 18-22.

So there we were for almost a year, spending our Wednesday nights [or was it Thursdays?] straddling chairs with their backs turned toward the stage, nursing Coca Colas for over four hours while we soaked in this wonderfully different music. On many nights, the five of us made up half the crowd at the opening set and the entire crowd by the closing set!

Of course, none of these tunes were available as published music so we had to memorize them and later notate them, correcting any flaws through subsequent listening at the club.

To their credit, both Paul, Emil and Paul Moer, who composed all of the group's original music, were extremely helpful in correcting mistakes and explaining alternatives how their music worked.

And they couldn't have been nicer about stopping at our table when a set had concluded to answer any questions before going out for a smoke or to visit the den of metabolic transmigration.

Sometimes we had so many questions that they didn't get treated to a break between sets. I guess our enthusiasm and energy was contagious and they were pleased to be with others who shared their musical interests.

We listened to this music so often that thinking and playing modal Jazz in complex time signatures became almost second-nature to us.

By the time of our 1962 performances at the Lighthouse Intercollegiate Jazz Festival no one in our group needed to count the unusual time signatures - we just felt them!

We effortlessly breezed through Count Your Change, a blues in 4/4 time for the first 8 bars of the theme followed by six measures in 5/4 time concluding with two measures again in 4/4.  I mean, your basic 16 bar blues, right!?

Or how about Half and Half with its two introductions, the first centered around the piano and bass improvising on two chords and the second introduction consisting of a 12-bar section in 6/8 time with the tune breaking down into three phrases: [1] the first 12-bar phrase in 4/4 and is made up of 8 bars of ensemble or horn solo and 4 bars of drum solo, [2] an 8-bar phrase in 6/8 and [3] a final 8-bars in 4/4.

I particularly liked this one because as the drummer I got to finish the last four bars of every one's solo in the first 12-bar phrase. :)

By the time we started playing Paul Moer's Fun Time it was imperative that we "felt" the time instead of having to count it as the measures in the choruses run 3/4,3/4,/5/4 [repeated 4 times] followed by a chorus of 5/4,5/4,3/4,3/4.5/4!

I could continue with many more of these musical roller coaster rides contained in the quintet's musical repertoire, but I hope you get the idea from these brief descriptions about how intriguing and adventurous this music was and how proud we felt to be able to accomplish it.

I think perhaps the uniqueness of the music that our group featured at the 1962 Lighthouse Intercollegiate Jazz Festival may have played a major role in our wining the competition both as a group and on all of our individual instruments, respectively; another reason for us to be indebted to the Paul Horn Quintet.

Much of this wonderful and intriguing music is preserved on the Collectibles two-fer CD that includes the Columbia albums Profile of a Jazz Musician and The Sound of Paul Horn [Collectibles COL-CD-7531, Sony AZ 61328] and Something Blue [HiFijazz J-615 reissued on CD as OJCCD 1778-2].

The Paul Horn Quintet will always have a special place in my heart for making this musical journey possible in my life.

The Flute in Jazz and Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds

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

“All in all, the Davis [Birth of the Cool] Nonet was much like a band of apostles, gathered together for a brief time before scattering in their several separate directions, each inspired to proselytize others in turn ….

Although the [West Coast Jazz] movement was never as monolithic as the term suggested, a certain convergence of aesthetic values could be seen in many of the West Coast recordings. The music was often highly structured, rebelling against the simple head charts of East Coast modern jazz and reflecting a formalism that contrasted sharply with the spontaneity of bebop. Counterpoint and other devices of formal composition figured prominently in the music. Larger ensembles — octets, nonets, tentettes — continued to thrive in West Coast jazz circles, long after they had become an endangered species elsewhere. Unusual instruments were also embraced with enthusiasm, and many of them — such as flute and flugelhorn — eventually came to be widely used in the jazz world. Relaxed tempos and unhurried improvisations were frequently the norm, and the music often luxuriated in a warm romanticism and melodic sweetness that was far afield from the bop paradigm.”

- Ted Gioia, The History of Jazz

This feature is an extension and an elaboration of Ted’s comment in the above quotation regarding the role of the flute in Jazz and how the eclecticism and experimentation that was a keynote of Jazz on the West Coast helped to establish the instrument in Jazz in general. 

Christopher Washburne offers the following synopsis of the flute in Jazz in the following excerpt from his essay Miscellaneous Instruments in Jazz in Bill Kirchner, ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz [2000]:  

Musicians create jazz in innumerable ways, and at times have defied orthodoxy by developing their voices on instruments that have not attained a prominent role in jazz. 

The flute was used only sporadically in early jazz styles; its popularity, however, has steadily grown throughout this century. Way-man Carver, who performed with Benny Carter and Chick Webb, is known as the first jazz flutist. In 1953 he recorded one of the earliest flute solos on Carter's "Devil's Holiday" (Columbia). Webb's 1937 recording of "I Got Rhythm" (Decca) is particularly representative of Carver's work. It was not until the 1950s that the flute's use became widespread, due in part to the interest of several saxophonists—-known as "doublers," for their ability to play a variety of woodwind instruments-—to play jazz on the instrument. 

The doublers active in the 1950s who became noted as accomplished flutists include Frank Wess, James Moody, Yusef Lateef, Buddy Collette, and Bud Shank. Wess, a saxophonist with the Count Basie orchestra (1955—64), was one of the first popularizers of the instrument. His warm, breathy, rich sound and virtuosic ability are heard on the 1955 Basie recording "Midgets" (Verve). James Moody's approach to flute soloing favored a beautiful clear tone and cleanly executed virtuosic melodic lines. One of his most remarkable solos is heard on his recording of "Cherokee" (Milestone). Lateef explored more unconventional approaches to playing the instrument and popularized the multiphonic technique of simultaneously singing and playing. A good example is heard on Lateef's 1957 recording of "Take the 'A' Train" on The Sounds of Yusef Lateef (Prestige), where he alternates between playing a conventional bop solo and multiphonics. In 1958 Buddy Collette was the first to record all the instruments of the modern flute family (piccolo, flute, alto, and bass), on Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds (EmArcy). Bud Shank was an important figure in West Coast jazz of the 1950s, playing with Howard Rumsey's Lighthouse All-Stars. His 1954 recording with Laurindo Almeida, Brazilliance (World Pacific), captures his soloing style.

Other notable doublers include Eric Dolphy, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Joe Farrell, and Lew Tabackin. Dolphy played flute in modern and free jazz settings. His work with Chico Hamilton on the 1958 recording Gongs East (Warner Bros.) showcases his expressive soloing style. Roland Kirk explored more unconventional playing styles utilizing multiphonics and circular breathing extensively. In addition to playing the modern flute, Kirk performed on a variety of wooden and ethnic flutes. His 1964 all-flute album I Talk With the Spirits (Limelight/Verve) showcases his abilities. Joe Farrell was a member of Chick Corea's Return to Forever, a group that fused Brazilian and Latin musics with contemporary jazz. Their 1972 recording Return to Forever (ECM) includes several extended flute solos, capturing Farell's light, clear, and vibratoless tone. Lew Tabackin has been a featured soloist with the Toshiko Akiyoshi Big Band and his own groups since the 1970s.

Musicians who are known primarily as flutists include Sam Most, Herbie Mann, Hubert Laws, Jeremy Steig, and James Newton. Most's first recording as a bandleader (1955), The Sam Most Sextet (Prestige), firmly established him as the first bop flutist. 

Herbie Mann was the first jazz musician to establish his career performing only on flute. Although versatile in many jazz styles, it was with his jazz-rock playing and his explorations into Latin music styles in the 1960s and 1970s, well represented on his 1968 recording Memphis Underground (Atlantic), that he attained his greatest popularity. Hubert Laws also plays flute exclusively and is accomplished in both the jazz and classical styles. His 1964 recording The Laws of Jazz (Atlantic) demonstrates his large and refined tone and impeccable intonation. Jeremy Steig was active in jazz-rock and other modern jazz settings. He favored an approach to soloing that often included the use of vocalizations; his work on Bill Evans's 1969 recording What's New (Verve) is illustrative of this. James Newton, inspired by Eric Dolphy, has been active in avant-garde and other settings since the late 1970s; his 1981 album Axum (ECM) is a good introduction to his work.”

Thanks to a disc jockey friend of the family who hosted a very successful popular music AM radio show, whenever our families got together, I was able to choose from “anything along the living room wall” a stash which usually consisted of preview Jazz LPs that would never get airplay on his radio show.

To my good fortune, one of these hauls contained an album with four flutists dressed as monks on the cover, three of whom [Buddy Collette, Bud Shank and Paul Horn] I had heard play the instrument in other settings while one [Harry Klee] was new to me.

The recording just clicked with me [I think today’s phrase is “to resonate with”] and I’ve been a fan of the instrument in a Jazz setting ever since.

And it would appear that I’m not the only one with whom the album resonated.

Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds 1958 LP must have been somewhat of a success as there was a sequel issued the following year entitled Buddy Collette and His Swinging Shepherds al the Cinema.

Both of these recordings have been combined on one CD in the Jazz City Series on Fresh Sound Records FSR 2258 and you can locate order information by going here.

Nat Hentoff’s Original Liner notes from the 12" album

Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds (Mercury SR 80005 stereo/ME 36133 mono)

“During the short but fervent recent struggle of jazz flutists to be admitted into the legitimate company of jazz instruments, the usual charge leveled against the flutists (who finally won) was that the instrument had so slight a tradition in jazz history.

Had the flutists, however, wanted to throw historical weight around, they might have pointed out that if tradition is the criterion, there have been funky flutes on the earth for many more centuries than such neophytes as the tenor saxophone or the vibes. Or, as Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians puts the case, "a visit to any representative ethnographical collection will show that the flute in some form or another is known and loved by primitive tribes all over the world." It's hard to get any more basic than that.

Actually, within jazz itself, the flute is not without some history. Wayman Carver was playing solos on flute with Chick Webb at least as early as 1937, and his work, as I had occasion to rehear during the past few months, was far from "novelty" playing. His solos swung and had a good jazz conception.

Another of the earlier jazz shepherds was Harry Klee of this present assemblage, who recorded Caravan with Ray Linn in the early '40s, was with Boyd Raeburn in the mid '40s on alto saxophone and flute, and was heard on flute in a Mary Ann McCall set in the early'50s.

The fully-committed march of the flutes into jazz, however, did not begin to shape up until about 1954. Herbie Mann and Frank Wess in the east and Bud Shank on the west coast began to demonstrate marked affection for the instrument and a degree of idiomatic jazz facility with the horn. More and more recruits were added until in the 1957 Down Beat Readers Poll—in which a separate flute category made its second annual appearance—there were 13 candidates who received enough votes to be listed.

Buddy Collette, the leader of this four-way flute album (possibly the largest single assemblage of flutists yet gathered on one jazz date), has had a considerable share in accelerating the acceptance of the flute in jazz by his work when he was with Chico Hamilton and by his recordings.

Among his converts, for example, is Edgar Jackson of the stately British Gramophone, who wrote recently of Buddy; "If my personal preference is for his flute playing it is probably because I find his tone more attractive than that of any other jazz flutist." "Versatility has been the downfall of many jazzmen, but Collette seems able to make the switch from one instrument to another with the utmost ease and without the tone of any one suffering. Always graceful, he has a flair for melody,"

William Marcell (Buddy) Collette was born in Los Angeles, August 6, 1921. He began on piano at 10, added the alto at 12, and headed his first band that year with sidemen Charles Mingus and Britt Woodman. He accumulated the clarinet at 14, went to Jordan high school, and during his last year there (he was leader of the school dance band) he began studying theory with Floyd Reese. A classmate at Jordan, by the way, was Joe Comfort, the bassist on this session.

After some professional experience in and around Los Angeles, Buddy served in the navy for 3 and half years, eventually becoming leader of military and dance units therein. He formed an all-star band in 1946 that included Mingus, Woodman, and Lucky Thompson; and later worked with, among others, Edgar Hayes, Louis Jordan, Benny Carter, and Gerald Wilson.

Starting with Jerry Fielding on the Groucho Marx Show in 1950, Collette has been in ubiquitous demand in west coast radio, TV, and recording studios. He also played for a time on tour with the Chico Hamilton quintet.

Buddy had started studying at the Los Angeles Conservatory after his 1946 band broke up, and it was there he began on the flute. He later did advanced work with Martin Ruderman and Henry Woempner while continuing his study of the other reed instruments and theory.

In addition to Harry Klee, long established in Hollywood studios, Buddy's flute associates in this session include Bud Shank, the Kenton alumnus, who is also known on alto and in recent months, has begun considerable concentration on tenor. Paul Horn is also multiple-skilled (alto, clarinet, piccolo, flute, alto flute) and became generally known in the jazz field when he replaced Collette with Chico Hamilton in September, 1956, after a previous term with the Sauter-Finegan orchestra. He has since left Chico to settle in Los Angeles,

As for the program, Buddy wrote the melodically animable Flute Diet with Bud Shank on alto flute and the rest on C flutes. Short Story is also Buddy's, with Horn and Shank on alto flutes, Klee on bass flute, and Buddy on C flute. It's a reflective story and illustrates again Buddy's skill at constructing quickly ingratiating melodies. Pete Rugolo wrote the tribute to Machito in which the opening alto flute solo is by Harry Klee. There is doubling to piccolos by members of the confraternity later in the number.

The pastoral Improvisation with conga drum opens with overtones of Ravel and involves Buddy on C flute, Horn on piccolo, Shank on alto flute, and Klee on bass flute. It was "done right on the spot," notes Buddy, "with one take." Pony Tale is by Paul Horn (all the composers, incidentally, arranged their own works) and utilizes three C flutes and one alto flute.

The Funky Shepherds (perhaps a redundancy) is by Bud Shank with two C flutes, an alto flute and one bass flute. Tasty Dish is Collette's with all the front line this time playing C flutes. The second Improvisation is without rhythm section and indicates the viability of the flute even in such multiple consanguinity. The closing The Four Winds Blow is by Paul Horn, and for the second-time in the album, all four are C flutes.

Thus endeth the flute seminar, a presentation in four-fold force of the thesis that the flute, like any other instrument, has the capacity to be part of the jazz species. It's not the instrument, after all, that determines eligibility; it's the player.”

—Nat Hentoff

John Tynan’s original liner notes from the 12" album sequel - Buddy Collette and His Swinging Shepherds al the Cinema (Mercury SR 60132 stereo / MG 20447 mono]

“In this set of songs and themes from 11 Hollywood Flickers, Buddy Collette's "Swinging Shepherds" (Bud Shank, Paul Horn and Harry Klee) combine with the leader to produce by pen and assorted flutes one of the freshest albums of movie tunes to come along in a month of cliché-ridden Sundays.

Until the release of Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds (Mercury MG 36133), the flute in jazz had generally been utilized in solo context. Then came the Shepherds with their unique arrangements for a quartet of flutes, blowing free and off-the-chart modern jazz as the mood dictated.

Little need be added to Nat Hentoff's comprehensive summation of the action and the personnel on the first album except to note that Collette, Horn, Shank and Klee (and, of course, the worthies in the rhythm section Bill Miller, piano, Joe Comfort, bass, and Bill Richmond, drums and conga) continue to reign supreme on their instruments in the west coast jazz sphere. All remain top studio musicians on many of the most popular television programs, motion pictures and records.

In this album, where the instrumentation is of such complexity and variability, it would appear worthwhile to list the different flute voicings and order of solos. Bassist Red Mitchell is present on all the tracks; piano and drum chores were split between Bill Miller and John T. Williams (on piano) and between Shelly Manne and Earl Palmer (on drums). Jim Hall is on guitar.

So far as the flutes are concerned, suffice to say that confusion may seem the order of the day to the casual listener. But, for the assiduous fan, here is the track-by-track breakdown:

Colonel Bogey, a light, sprightly treatment of the Bridge on the River Kwai theme (composed as a military march by K.J. Aldford and adapted for the film by Malcolm Arnold), was arranged by Bud Shank. It's very tongue-in-cheek and cheerful and is scored for Horn and Shank on E flat flutes before a switch which casts Shank on the solo C (or "regular") instrument with Collette, Horn and Klee manning an alto flute apiece behind him. Collette has a brief statement on alto flute, and the piano soloist on this track is Bill Miller. Earl Palmer is on drums.

Laura spotlights the bass flute work of Harry Klee and Pete Rugolo's richly colorful arrangement of this David Raksin composition for the Gene Tierney-Dana Andrews picture. Note the startling key change as the bass flute enters to state the theme after the C flute introduction. There is a sinuous Latin beat behind the two-part writing for the C and E flat flutes of Shank and Horn, respectively. If you listen carefully it is easily discerned that Shank is quite close to the mike here. Soloist is Collette.

Smile, the poignant theme in Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times is here given a medium-up, swinging treatment by Collette, who arranged it for two C flutes (himself and Klee) and two altos (Shank and Horn). Collette has the lead in the ensemble section before guitarist Jim Hall's fine solo, then returns to take the first flute solo. Horn plays the second flute solo, followed by Bill Miller on piano. Note on the final chorus the big, fat ensemble sound achieved by Collette in his section writing for the four flutes. Shelly Manne is on drums.

The Bad and the Beautiful, one of the most haunting movie themes of all time, is another David Raksin composition for the film of the same name starring Lana Turner and Kirk Douglas. In the picture, it may be recalled, the first full soundtrack statement of the theme was played by trombonist Si Zentner as a "mood catcher'" for actress Turner. Here the blue legato feeling is sustained in Paul Horn's sensitive arrangement for his own C flute, the altos of Shank and Collette and Klee's bass flute. Note Jim Hall's effective downward guitar slur which ends the introduction, effectively preparing the listener for the mood to follow.

The Shrike, composed originally by Pete Rugolo for this film, is the only number here arranged by the original composer. It is appropriately eerie, but swings in medium tempo to Shelly Manne's drums. A high spot of this arrangement is Horn's piccolo performance, on which instrument he doubles with the alto flute; Collette is on C flute. Shank on E flat and Klee on bass. Rugolo's reputation for "far out" writing certainly is not belied here. Note in particular the manner in which he achieves unusual tonal color by manipulating instrumental voicings; e.g., the flutes, piccolo and piano toward the close manage to suggest an almost "Moonlight Sonata" feeling. Williams is on piano.

I Can't Believe That You're in Love with Me, by Clarence Gaskill and Jimmy McHugh, has been featured in a number of films, most recently in The Caine Mutiny. Always a good tune for jazz blowing, here it skips happily under Bud Shank's pen through 16-bar exchanges between the four flutists. First comes Shank, then Collette, then, finally Klee. Red Mitchell's brief but excellent string bass solo precedes a riding ensemble exercise on the final chorus.

The Trolley Song summons sentimental memories of a young, fresh Judy Garland in the picture Meet Me In St. Louis. Buddy Collette's interpretation of the Hugh Martin-Ralph Blane tune features the C flutes of himself and Klee and the altos of Shank and Horn. After motorman Earl Palmer clangs into up tempo, Klee takes the lead, then drops an octave on the first bridge. Note Bill Miller's economical and intelligent piano solo here.

Intermezzo inevitably recalls to the imagination a very young, refreshing Ingrid Bergman and the late Leslie Howard. The romantic theme is sentimentally handled by arranger Pete Rugolo who wrote for two C flutes (Collette and Shank), alto (Horn) and bass (Klee). Horn opens, followed by Collette, and Klee's is the final voice.

Ruby arranged here by Buddy Collette, was composed as a theme for the film of the same name by Mitchell Parrish and Heinz Roemheld. Guitarist Hall opens with a statement of the melody line backed by The C flutes of Collette and Horn and the altos of Shank and Klee. Following Bill Miller's piano solo, Mitchell enters for a 12-bar bass statement before the flutists command for a series of 8-bar breaks: Horn is first (note his flutter), then Klee; Collette follows and, finally, Shank. Drummer Palmer sends the ensemble riding home to the coda.

Invitation is another movie title tune — this time composed by Bronislau Kaper — was arranged by Paul Horn for his own alto flute lead, the C flutes of Collette and Shank, and Klee's bass. With drummer Palmer playing stick against tom-tom shell and guitarist Hall plinking a bongo effect at the bridge of his instrument, an exotic rhythmic pattern is achieved behind the flutes. Bill Miller is heard in a brief and tasteful piano interlude, and the piece closes with a high C flute note by Shank.

Would You Like to Swing on a Star will be remembered as the musical query posed by Bing Crosby in Goin' My Way. Composed for the film by Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen, this version was arranged by Paul Horn for three C flutes and Klee's alto. Solos by all four are on the C instrument and the order is Horn, Collette, Shank and Klee. There's a wild flurry of flutes before Red Mitchell steps in for a short solo, inviting the Shepherds to pipe the album back to the fold after an uncommonly happy gambol.”