Cedar Walton - Live at Boomers/Naima - Gary Giddins

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

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

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

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

- Gary Giddins

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SO WITHOUT SACRIFICING THEIR FIRST CALL STATUS IN SIDEMANLAND.

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

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

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

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

KEEP A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW.

JOEL DORN

FALL '97

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

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

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

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

Giddins: How long have you been playing with Clifford?

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

G: Was that your first major gig? 

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

G: Who had you played with before? 

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

G: Who did you first listen to? 

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

G: How old were you when you started playing?

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

G: Did you start with classical stuff? 

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

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

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

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

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

G: When did that come? 

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

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

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

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

J: Not the sound...

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

G: How would you classify your style? 

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

G: Do you listen to the avant-garde? 

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

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

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

G: Clifford, who did you first listen to? 

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

G: What was your first major gig? 

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

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

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

G: How would you classify your music? 

J: I would classify it as classical music.

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

J:No.

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

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

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

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

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

G: Who's in your band, Cliff? 

J: Cede. We all have the same band. 

W: It's really interchangeable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

G: Do each of you write much? 

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

G: Do you enjoy playing standards? 

J: Sure.

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

G: How's the piano at Boomer's? 

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

G: Who do you listen to? 

J: Cede, McPherson, McCoy... 

G: You dig McCoy, Cedar? 

W: Oh yeah, very much. 

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

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

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

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

W: Higgins, Hayes...yeah. 

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

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

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

G: Where is your music taking you? 

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

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

G: Where is jazz going?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gary Giddins

Sam Jones - Down Home with the Soul Society and The Chant

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

Recorded from 1960 - 1962 with arrangements by Ernie Wilkins, Jimmy Heath and Victor Feldman these largely forgotten sessions present bassist Sam Jones in a variety of orchestral and large groups settings with a host of marvelous musicians including his mates from Cannonball Adderley's quintet, plus Frank Strozier and Blue Mitchell and the likes of either Louis Hayes, Ben Riley and Vernel Fournier booting things along from the drum chair.

Jones was the bassist with alto saxophonist Cannonball Adderley’s quintet and Julian served as an informal musical advisor to Orin Keepnews who was co-owner of Riverside and the producer for its recordings.

At the time, it wasn’t unusual for a bassist to be a leader for a recording date - let alone three - but it was uncommon.

Not surprisingly, Cannonball, who was articulate in writing as he was in speaking before an audience at a club or a concert at which his group was performing, provides the following insert notes for the first of these recordings - Sam Jones - The Soul Society [Riverside - OJCCD 1789-2; RLP 1172].

As they contain a wealth of information about both Sam’s background and what went into the making of the album, I thought I’d share them with you “as is.”

Incidentally, Sam Jones - The Soul Society along with its successors - Sam Jones Plus 10 - The Chant and Sam Jones & Co. - Down Home - is still available on CD, both individually and in a combined format of three LPs on two, remastered CDs.

A word in passing. Given how little actual primary source documentation there is available to accompany much of recorded Jazz history, as the years move along, these anecdotal notes from the back of LP sleeves have become an invaluable repository of information.

Notes by   JULIAN "CANNONBALL" ADDERLEY

“It is a special pleasure for me to write the notes to this SAM JONES album. As everyone should know, Sam is my bass player (by which I mean a lot more than just that he is the bassist in my band), and I am happy to have a connection with his first album. As I realized when I showed up at the recording studio for one of the sessions, everyone on the date was obviously also very happy to be a member of this particular "Soul Society." This pleasure and affection for Sam can very easily be heard (and, I'm sure, will be shared) by everyone listening to the album.

During the past two years, Sam has become the most sought-after bass player for recording in New York. This situation is simply a testament to the general awareness of the universal feel in his playing and to the fact that a great many of the best modern drummers choose Sam as the most relaxed section-mate they can find.

"Home," as he is affectionately known to his friends, was tagged with that name in much the same way as Lester Young became known as "Pres" — for Sam refers to everyone else as "Home"! Although born in Jacksonville, Florida (in 1927), he considers Tampa as his home town, for his family moved there when he was three years old. "Home" played bass drum in the Middleton High School band; however, he was always fascinated by the string bass, and began his professional career on that instrument in Ralph Duty's local band while still a Tampa high school student.

Sam's reputation preceded him to New York by quite a few years, via musicians who travelled through Florida, while "Home" himself was gathering experience in the Southern states. (Some of that experience was non-musical, including most of the fabled circumstances encountered by itinerant musicians. Certainly his having been stranded in Texas and arrested in Florida are among the factors that contribute to his earthy soul.) He was leader of a swinging quintet in Miami that included Blue Mitchell on trumpet; and he played in numerous rhythm-and-blues and commercial bands, including those of Tiny Bradshaw and Paul Williams. His introduction to big time jazz, however, was in Illinois Jacquet's band. "Home" then became a member of my previous band in 1956, replacing Keter Betts (who is also effectively displayed in this album). He later worked with Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk before re-entering my present quintet when it was formed in the Fall of 1959.

Sam lists as his favorite bassists the veterans Ray Brown and Israel Crosby. Among the younger players he is particularly fond of Betts and Paul Chambers. "Home" also notes that "I never heard Jimmy Blanton in person, but his record of Jack the Bear with Duke Ellington influenced my direction more than any other bass performance."

Everyone's initial reaction to Sam Jones' playing is respect for his big sound and "choice" notes. Orrin Keepnews, Riverside's A & R chief, says: "Probably the best favor ever done for me by Miles Davis is that I was first introduced to Sam by him." Sam is now Riverside's first-call bassist and although I haven't actually counted, it is my distinct impression that he has appeared on nearly half the label's releases since mid-1958 when he made his debut with Riverside on a Clark Terry date on which the rest of the rhythm section was only Thelonious and Philly Joe!

But this album is no mere gift to reward a faithful performer. Says Keepnews: "This LP was planned as a showcase for Sam's neglected solo abilities on both bass and cello — 'neglected' even though he has of course had lots of solo spots on both instruments, because neither one gets too much attention from listeners unless you really make a point of shining the spotlight on it. And Sam has so much to say on both." Neither instrument dominates here, with Sam playing each on four of the eight tracks. 

Incidentally, "Home's" cello-playing talent was first revealed on one number in a Riverside album by my brother Nat Adderley (Much Brass: RLP 12-301) and has since been featured throughout another of Nat's albums (Work Song: RLP 12-318).

The opening track here, Some Kinda Mean, is a minor piece written for cello by Keter Betts. It is highlighted by a Belts bass solo that will be talked about for some time. All Members is a blues-format composition by Jimmy Heath. The Old Country is an adaptation of an Israeli folk tune, written by Nat. Outstanding here is a walking bass solo by Sam and Blue Mitchell's open-horn sound. (Nat and Blue divide the trumpet spot on this album, by the way, in recognition of both being just about equally close and long-standing friends of Sam's.) The side closes with Jimmy Heath's big-band-styled arrangement of Just Friends, on which Sam plays remarkable cello throughout.

The second side opens with a tune of mine, entitled Home. The melody is played by arco bass and is accompanied by a repeated rhythmic figure based on two chords. Deep Blue Cello, written by Sam himself, is a swinging medium blues. No Greater Love opens most effectively with unaccompanied cello playing a rubato melody; later the rhythm section joins in, swinging lightly. Finally, So Tired is a funky Bobby Timmons work featuring a melody played by pizzicato bass.

Since most of the performers here are well-known as among the most able around, it should be pointed out in particular that this album marks the Riverside debut of Charlie Davis, who demonstrates that he is a man to be reckoned with on baritone sax.

Notes reproduced from the original album liner.”

“It is one of the jazz world's frustrations that bassist Sam Jones [1924-1981] is more valued over a decade after his passing than in his lifetime; and one of its saving graces that labels like Riverside were recording such underrated musicians at their peak. This 1961 session was Jones's second, and clearly much more than an informal blowing date. With a big band constructed around the Cannonball Adderley quintet of the time plus such stellar additions as Blue Mitchell, Jimmy Heath, and Wynton Kelly; and with Heath and Victor Feldman providing arrangements of bluesy original tunes and jazz and pop standards, Jones found an exceptional setting for his bass and cello mastery.”

Fortunately, there was to be a 1961 sequel to Sam’s first Riverside Sam Jones Plus 10 - The Chant [Riverside OJCCD - 1839-2; RLP-358] and Orrin Keepnews explains how it came about in the following notes:

“The second meeting of the "Soul Society" is hereby called to order!

In other words, the impressively talented bassist and cellist named SAM JONES, whose first recording as a leader was the Riverside album entitled "The Soul Society," is back in the spotlight. And once again he is in the company of a group of his good friends, all of whom share such important qualities as: 1) exceptional jazz skills; 2) strong admiration and affection for the remarkable Mr. Jones, who happens to be one of the best-liked men in the business; and (3 the ability to create notably soulful music.

This time much of the emphasis is on a bigger and fuller sound than on Sam's previous album. A good-sized ensemble, performing unusual scores by two of the very best of the younger jazz arrangers, provides a suitably rich orchestral background for the leader's bass and cello. And the group also includes a number of first-rank blowers to share solo honors with Sam.

Rhythm-section members are not often given albums of their own—even when they reach status such as Jones has achieved ("New Star" bassist in the 1960 DownBeat Critics' Poll; constantly in demand for record dates; a key member of the high-flying Cannonball Adderley Quintet; and regarded with something like awe by most fellow-musicians). One possible reason for this scarcity is the problem of figuring out just how to go about featuring a drummer or bassist, other than the not-particularly-satisfying idea of giving him a long solo on each number. But in the present case the initial problem can't really be said to have existed at all. For one thing, Sam has (if you'll pardon the expression) an extra string to his bow: in addition to being a bassist of unsurpassed firmness and inventiveness, he is a uniquely intriguing pizzicato cellist, providing legitimate instrumental variety right from the start. Furthermore, he is a musician of considerable taste and imagination, which led him to specifically request from tenorman Jimmy Heath and from Victor Feldman, the British-born pianist and vibist who is the newest member of the Adderley group, arrangements designed to showcase the melodic properties of both cello and bass.

The result is an album in which the leader's playing is strikingly integrated into the overall framework. Feldman scored his own deeply earthy The Chant and Benny Golson's Blues on Down for the bass session, and arranged Charlie Parker's Blue Bird and a Sam Jones original dedicated to Ray Brown, In Walked Ray, for the cellu date. Heath built versions of Miles Davis' Four and young composer Rudy Stevenson's Off-Color to feature bass, and arranged two standards for the cello session: the Harold Arlen ballad, Over the Rainbow; and the old Al Jolson vehicle Sonny Boy (Sam's performance of which is intended as a tribute to the late Oscar Pettiford).

The formation of the literally all-star group here was simply a matter of selecting from among friends and co-workers. It's easy enough to spot in the personnel listing the other members of the tight-knit Adderley group—Cannonball and Nat, Vic Feldman, Lou Hayes. Blue Mitchell has been a friend since they worked together as 'teen-agers in Florida; Nat, Lou, Blue. Jimmy Heath and Keter Betts (who plays bass on Sam's cello selections) were all present on the first Jones LP. Wynton Kelly shares the piano spot with Feldman for the simple reason that the two men share a top place in Sam's opinion- both as soloists and as invaluable accompanists. Les Spann, whose guitar is added for fuller rhythm support on numbers where bass is featured, worked alongside Sam in Dizzy Gillespie's Quintet. And so on ...

Born in Jacksonville. Florida, in November of 1924, our Sam Jones is not to be confused with the basketball Boston Celtics' Sam Jones (who is the same height but jumps higher} or the San Francisco Giants pitcher of the same name (whose right arm is probably stronger but certainly no more supple). This Jones was with Cannonball's original quintet, then with such top stars as Gillespie and Thelonious Monk before rejoining Adderley when he formed his present group in the Fall of '59. Perhaps aided by the vast amount of attention paid to the sensational Adderley band, Sam has of late begun to receive deserved recognition as one of the most important of today's bassists: an impeccable rhythm-section member and an increasingly forthright soloist. As noted previously, he is in demand for more record dates than one man could possibly get to with particular emphasis on the fact that — by the specific insistence of a great many Riverside artists — he appears on as many of this label's albums as is possible.

Among the horns, the solo emphasis here is on Mitchell, Nat Adderley and Jimmy Heath (Cannonball, feeling that the spotlight belongs on his sideman, solos only on Blues on Down, otherwise functioning as leader of the sax section). In those cases where there might be room for confusion, note that Nat solos on The Chant, Blue on Down, Sonny Boy and Off-Color. Both play on Blue Bird (Nat is first) and on Blues on Down (Mitchell playing the opening melody and taking the first trumpet solo). The piano solo on Sonny Boy is by Kelly; on Blues on Down and Off-Color by Feldman.”

—Orrin Keepnews Notes reproduced from the original album liner.

Thankfully, Orrin once again assembled Sam and his cohorts in June and August of 1962 to produce the third in the series -  Sam Jones & Co. - Down Home [Riverside OJCCD 1864-2 RLP-9432] which DownBeat rated as four stars in its review.

Bassman's Holiday could be the subtitle for Sam Jones's third Riverside album. It includes a version of Ray Brown's "Thumbstring," Jones's own "O.P." in tribute to bass/cello pioneer Oscar Pettiford, and six tracks where Jones is supported by his peers Ron Carter and Israel Crosby. This particularly well conceived collection features four tracks by a nonet/tenet playing Ernie Wilkins arrangements with the leader heard on bass, and a like number of quintet titles with flute and Jones's cello providing the lead voices. With assists from old working partners like Les Spann and Joe Zawinul, and a sampling of solos from the other all-stars heard in the ensemble, the entire program shows once again that the man they called "Home" was one of the most down bassists (and cellists) in jazz history.

“In a 1957 Down Beat interview, the late Oscar Pettiford described the bass as "one of the most important — if not the most important — instruments in any orchestra. You can take just a bass and somebody can sing to it or play to it. You don't need piano or drums. The bass can be much more of a horn than it often has been in the past. When I finish, the bass will be right down front where it belongs."

Pettiford's death in 1960 unfortunately robbed us of undoubtedly important future contributions from him. But his prophecy had already begun to come true; the scope of the bass in general has broadened, and in particular its importance as a solo instrument has greatly increased. One of the strongest illustrations of this growth is the series of albums that bassist SAM JONES has made for Riverside.

Jones is a highly regarded sideman with Cannonball Adderley's group and on many a record date, but in his sets for this label he has been given opportunities to really express his own musical personality. In "Down Home", as before, he makes the most of the situation — as a remarkable bassist and cellist; as leader of an outstanding, hand-picked supporting cast; and as a composer. In the present album there is heavier emphasis than previously on this last quality; three of the eight selections, including the title tune, were written by Jones.

Throughout this album, Sam is "right down front" — as Pettiford put it. As on his previous LPs, he divides his time between bass and cello, with four tracks devoted to each instrument. And, also as before, he is joined here by some of the finest sidemen available. Sam is one of the best-liked musicians around, and his colleagues seem always to make that extra effort towards ensuring the success of his records. Jones' regular boss, Cannonball, does not participate as a musician this time, but he did lend his services as A & R man for the session that produced 'Round Midnight, "O.P.", and Falling in Love with Love. That, by the way, was probably the last record date for Israel Crosby, the vastly respected veteran bassist, in recent years a cornerstone of the Ahmad Jamal trio. (When Crosby died, of a heart ailment, on August 11, 1962, his last leader, George Shearing, paid him a supreme compliment. Asked who would take Israel's place, Shearing replied: "I don't

think anybody   is   going  to  take  his  place;   nobody  took Art  Tatum's  place.  .  .   .")

Bassists and references to bassists abound in this album. Sam plays cello on the three tracks noted above, with Crosby in the rhythm section behind him; on Down Home, his cello is backstopped by Ron Carter on bass. Carter, one of the most impressive of the great new crop of young bassists, is also on Strollin' and Come Rain or Come Shine. Here Jones' bass is voiced with the horns in a melody part on the ensembles, with Ron functioning as the rhythm man. Sam is the soloist on both, but there is a bit of a bass duet near the end of the latter tune.

According to his "Encyclopedia of Jazz" biography, Sam's preferred bassists are Al Hall, Milt Hinton, Jimmy Blanton, Pettiford and Ray Brown. This list gives a clear indication of where he stands: squarely in the middle of a great tradition which he is continuing and enriching. And there are direct references in the material here to the last two names on the list. 

Thumbstring was written by Brown, who has explained that the title refers to the fact that the bass parts are "done with the thumb only, and going in the opposite direction from the normal way of playing" the instrument. Sam does this expertly, and a captivating strummed blues sound is the result. "O.P." is, of course, in honor of Petti-ford, who pioneered jazz cello in 1949, and is a suitably bright and joyous line.

Ernie Wilkins is responsible for the fine, functional arrangements on the four band-and-bass tracks. (The first of these, the irresistibly swinging Unit 7 — composed by Jones — has for some time now been heard in clubs as the closing theme for each set. by the Adderley group.) Ernie's ensemble passages are full of good ideas and voicings. Especially effective are the backgrounds that perfectly set off Sam's strong, sure and well-developed solos. There are also other fine choruses sprinkled through the album, by Jimmy Heath, Blue Mitchell, Frank Strozier, Les Spann (on flute), and pianists Joe Zawinul and Wynton Kelly.

Down Home is a title with several ramifications. First of all, it well describes the mood of that blues piece and, for that matter, the feeling of the album as a whole. Secondly, "Home" is Sam's nickname (he calls a lot of other people "Home'', too, the way baseball pitcher "Bobo" Newsom used to call everyone "Bobo"); and since he is a very "down" and soulful cat, this interior pun contains a strong element of accuracy.

In the interview quoted at the start of these notes, Oscar Pettiford also said: "The bass, after all, is the root of the whole thing." And certainly, after all, Sam Jones has some pretty strong roots.”

— IRA GITLER

Notes reproduced from the original album liner.