Beets Brothers - In The Beginning

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

Marius Beets [pronounced “Bates”] is one of three brothers, all of whom are prominent players on the Dutch Jazz scene.

Brother Peter is a remarkably gifted pianist who reflects the influence of Oscar Peterson in his playing both with his own trio and as a member of the Jazz Orchestra of the Concertgebouw.

Alexander Beets is a big-toned, straight-ahead tenor player who performs with a number of small groups as well as with The Beets Brothers Powerhouse Big Band.

It was in the latter context that I first heard Marius on a The Netherlands based Maxanter CD entitled Marius Beets and the Powerhouse Big Band Vol. 1 75232.

Drummer Eric Ineke whose association with Marius dates back over a quarter of a century had these observations about Marius in his autobiography The Ultimate Sideman:

MARIUS BEETS

“The oldest and wisest one of the illustrious Beets Brothers. I knew Marius since he was a student at the Royal Conservatoire and he developed as one of the best bass players around. When Koos Serierse left the Rein de Graaff Trio in 1999, it was already obvious that Marius would take his place. He was subbing before on a few occasions and when Rein called me to talk about Koos successor, Marius was first choice to both of us. At the same time it offered him a great opportunity to work with all these famous jazz legends.

An important moment and an eye opener for him was when Rein brought the eminent James Moody over to tour with us. Moody took a liking to Marius playing and he got to explain some interesting stuff about scales, etc. Marius was very keen to learn and before the sound check, they really got going, even after the concert they went on. It also showed the enthusiasm and generosity of Moody and now Marius is doing the same for [tenor saxophonist] Sjoerd Dijkhuizen. This also shows his personality, he wants to share his knowledge and pass it on. He is a very social guy and is always willing to put his energy in a project. A great example is that when 1 started my group the JazzXpress and asked him to take the bass position, he immediately started writing some great tunes which also determined the sound of the band.

He is a great swinging bass player in the best tradition of Ray Brown, Paul Chambers, Sam Jones and Ron Carter. When I play with Marius its clock time from the first note on! You can say that we are a real rhythm section. I always announce

him as the 'Mercedes-Benz' of the bass and that's aptly titled because he collects them. We are also part of Lieb's trio [saxophonist Dave Liebman] when he comes over to Holland and Marius is the perfect bass player for such a setting, a real anchor and also a great soloist.

Besides all of this he is an excellent recording engineer. He knows how to clean up stuff and he saved many musicians' career including his own and mine!”

And from the same source, here’s Eric take on pianist Peter Beets.

PETER BEETS

“One of the younger seasoned stars on piano and one who keeps the Jazz tradition alive is Marius Beets' younger brother. He is bursting with talent and watch out when he grabs the bass or sits behind the drums. Frans Elsen (his teacher) once said: 'One day Peter will drown in his own talent.' He comes out of the Oscar Peterson tradition, but lately also more Be-bop and more modern influences are seeping through. He has incredible technique, fantastic time and he swings like mad. He wants to sit real close to the drums and he insists on the Oscar Peterson setup, that means piano on the left site, with the double bass in between the piano and drums very close on the hi-hat side. His timing is so in the pocket that there is only one way and that's his way. He can make every non-swinging drummer sound good. Because we are both working in different scenes we never had a chance to play a lot with each other, although when we bumped into each other in one of the clubs in The Hague, we always spoke about it. Finally it happened when I was asked to do a theater tour with the Beets Brothers and Piet Noordijk in 2009. The third brother was Alexander Beets, a fine tenor player in the Stanley Turrentine tradition and a clever business man. That tour was fun and we had a ball and Peter and I had some great moments together, especially when we got into the cross rhythms (McCoy); we would just go and see where we would finish! Most of the time we were cool. That was great fun. That same year we also recorded an album with Ronnie Cuber which came off very nicely.

As a person Peter is a very nice cat who is always a big stimulator for the upcoming young musicians in that very dangerous Jazz scene in The Hague (the best Be-bop scene in the country).

You will always catch him late at night in some club playing piano, bass or drums until the wee small hours of the morning, when nobody could play anymore, he goes on... and many a student gets a lesson for the rest of his or her life.”

The Beets Brothers initial recording - Beets Brothers: A World Class Jazz Act - was issued on Maxanter Records [CD 26666] and you can locate order information www.maxanter.com.

The site also contains more information about each of the Beets Brothers as well as annotations about other Maxanter recording artists.

Here are the insert notes from the maiden voyage CD which will provide you with still more information on the Beets Brothers - In the Beginning.

The Beets Brothers" is a Jazz-Quartet from Groenlo. a small town in the east of The Netherlands. Their music can be best described as Jazz from the Sixties.

Their first performance was in 1983 and in 1985 they were discovered at the Jazz-Festival in Doetinchem. In the same year they played in various radio programmes i.e. "Fur Elise". "Akkoord" and "Duyskotheek". Also in 1985 pianist Peter Beets appeared together with the famous pianist Pim Jacobs on television.

In 1987 the Beets Brothers were second best at the N.O.S. Jazz-Festival as well as the Polaroid Jazz-Festival in Enschede. A year later Peter Beets earned 10.000 guilders [about .56 cents to the US $1.00], winning the most important Dutch Jazz contest, 'The Pall Mall Export Swing Award" in a completely sold out [concert hall] "Concertgebouw" in Amsterdam. Much attention was paid to this victory by both the daily papers (i.e. "De Telegraaf) and Magazines (i.e. "Jazz Nu" and "Man"). The quartet performed in several television programmes like TV3". "Reiziger in Muziek" and "Studio Rembrandt".

Throughout the years the Beets Brothers were regular guests in various radio-programmes, recently "Dubbellisjes". "Veronica's Trend" and twice in "TROS Sesjun"[Dutch PBS radio show that aired from 1973-2004] In 1989 pianist Peter Beets won the "Edith Stein" concours [now the Princess Christina Concours which offers monetary prizes and additional coaching for winners in classical music, composing and Jazz]  in The Hague and as a result was invited to make recordings at the BBC studio's in London. This was the first of many invitations from abroad including those from Spain, Belgium, France and Germany.

Their success continued in the Netherlands winning the "Rein Gieling Trophy" for the most original and promising band. They played together with the famous Dutch pianist Louis van Dijk and in 1990 and 1991 performed at the North Sea Jazz Festival in The Hague.

Here’s what the press has written about the Beets Brothers?

"The Beets Brothers show what swing is all about" (Telegraaf)

"You can barely think of a group of musicians, better tuned into one another than these three brothers and their drummer" (Tubantia)

"What the Beets Brothers bring is absolutely fantastic. Every performance shows their great musical talents" (Gelderlander)

"This is one of the most refreshing Dutch jazz-combo's I have heard in years" (Nieuwsblad van het Noorden)

"Un concert de jazz de grande qualite" (Nice Matin)

The following audio-only sampling of Peter Beets’ original composition Thirteen Ain’t Too Much forms the lead track to their Beets Brothers: A World Class Jazz Act CD.

In January of 2001, the Beets Brothers Orchestra performed at Nick Vollebregt’s Jazzcafe’ in Laren, The Netherlands and the following video features the band playing Marius Beets’ original composition “Tubbs” from that performance.

Billy Strayhorn - The Bill Coss Interview

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

For nearly everyone interested in jazz, the names Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn are, if not synonymous, at least inextricably connected. But the connection is not as close, though it is unique, as might be assumed.

This connection is a corporation, really a co-operation, that has, except when the members are working singly, produced some of the finest music and offered one of the greatest orchestras available in Jazz, in, for that matter, American music.

But for most, even for those closely associated with Jazz, the relationship has not been clear. Who did, does, will do, what? Or, more precisely, how does Strayhorn fit into the Ellington dukedom?

In June, 1962, Down Beat's associate editor Bill Coss spent an afternoon talking with Strayhorn in his apartment. The conversation ranged from the particular to the general and the inconsequential. Strayhorn, as charming as Ellington, never was at a loss for words. The following is a transcription of the pertinent parts of the conversation and it contains perhaps the best description I’ve ever come across of how the musical relationship between Strayhorn and Ellington actually worked.

Coss: How did you and Ellington first get together?

Strayhorn: By the time my family got to Pittsburgh, I had a piano teacher, and I was playing classics in the high-school orchestra. Each year in the school, each class would put on some kind of show. Different groups would get together and present sketches. I wrote the music and lyrics for our sketch and played too. It was successful enough so that one of the guys suggested doing a whole show. So I did. It was called Fantastic Rhythm. I was out of high school by then, and we put it on independently. We made $55.

At that time, I was working in a drugstore. I started out as a delivery boy, and, when I would deliver packages, people would ask me to "sit down and play us one of your songs."

It's funny — I never thought about a musical career. I just kind of drifted along in music. But people kept telling me that I should do something with it. By the1 time I had graduated to being a clerk in the drugstore, people really began to badger me about being a professional musician.

Then, one time Duke Ellington came to Pittsburgh, and a friend got me an appointment with him. I went to see him and played some of my songs for him. He told me he liked my music and he'd like to have me join the band, but he'd have to go back to New York and find out how he could add me to the organization. You see, I wasn't specifically anything. I could play piano, of course, and I could write songs. But I wasn't an arranger. I couldn't really do anything in the band. So he went off, and I went back to the drugstore.

Several months went by; I didn't hear anything, but people kept badgering me.

Finally, I wrote his office asking them where the band was going to be in three weeks. They wrote back that the band would be in Philadelphia.

At the time I had a friend, an arranger, by the name of Bill Esch. At the time he was doing some arrangements for Ina Ray Hutton. He was a fine arranger, and I learned a good deal from him.

Anyway, right then he had to go to New York to do some things for Ina Ray, so he suggested that we go together. He had relatives in Brooklyn, and I had an aunt and uncle in Newark, so we figured at least we would have a place to stay.

By the time I got to Newark, Duke was playing there at the Adams Theater. I went backstage. I was frightened, but Duke was very gracious. He said he had just called his office to find my address. He was about to send for me.

The very first thing he did was to hand me two pieces and tell me to arrange them. They were both for Johnny Hodges: Like a Ship in the Night and Savoy Strut, I think. I couldn't really arrange, but that didn't make any difference to him. He inspires you with confidence. That's the only way I can explain how I managed to do those arrangements. They both turned out quite well. He took them just the way they were.

From then on, Duke did very little of the arranging for the small groups. Oh, he did a little, but he turned almost all of them over to me. You could say I had inherited a phase of Duke's organization.

Then he took the band to Europe only a month after I joined the band in 1939. I stayed home and wrote a few things like Day Dream. When he came back, the band went to the Ritz Carlton Roof in Boston. Ivie Anderson had joined the band, and he asked me to do some new material for her.

After that, I inherited all the writing for vocalists, though not for those vocalese things he wrote for Kay Davis. I think what really clinched the vocal chores for me was when Herb Jeffries came with the band. He was singing in a high tenor range, and I asked him whether he liked singing up there. He said he didn't, so I wrote some things for him that pulled his voice down to the natural baritone he became after Flamingo.

Coss: How do you and Duke work together? Do you have a particular manner of doing an arrangement or a composition? How do you decide who will do the arranging?

Strayhorn: It depends. There's no set way. Actually, it boils down to what the requirements of the music might be. Sometimes we both do the arranging on either his or my composition because maybe one of us can't think of the right treatment for it and the other one can. Sometimes neither of us can.

Sometimes we work over the telephone. If he's out on the road somewhere, he'll call me up and say, "I have a thing here," and, if he's at a piano, he'll play it and say, "Send me something." I do, and eventually we get it to work out when we get together.

That's surprising, you know, because we actually write very differently. It's hard to put into words . . . The difference is made up of so many technical things. He uses different approaches — the way he voices the brass section, the saxophone section. He does those things differently than I do. That's as much as I can say. I'm sure that's as clear as mud.

Still, I'm sure the fact we're both looking for a certain character, a certain way of presenting a composition, makes us write to the whole, toward the same feeling. That's why it comes together — for that reason.

The same thing goes for the way we play piano. I play very differently than Edward. You take Drawing Room Blues. We both played and recorded it at a concert. Then I didn't hear it for about a year. I must admit I had to listen a few times myself to tell which was which. But that's strange in itself, because we don't really play alike. I reflect more my early influences, Teddy Wilson and Art Tatum, whereas Ellington isn't in that kind of thing at all.

It's probably like the writing. It isn't that we play alike; it's just that what we're doing, the whole thing, comes together, because we both know what we're aiming for — a kind of wholeness. You know, if you really analyze our playing, you could immediately tell the difference, because he has a different touch, just to begin with. Still, I have imitated him. Not consciously, really. It's just that, say at a rehearsal or something, he'll tell me to play, and I'll do something, knowing this is what he would do in this particular place. It would fit, and it sounds like him, just as if I were imitating him. . . .

I can give you a good example of something we did over the phone. We were supposed to be playing the Great South Bay Jazz Festival about three years ago. Duke had promised a new composition to the people who ran it. He was on the road someplace. So he called me up and told me he had written some parts of a suite. This was maybe two or three days before he was due back in New York, and that very day he was supposed to be at the festival.

He told me some of the things he was thinking of. We discussed the keys and the relationships of the parts, things like that. And he said write this and that.

The day of the festival, I brought my part of the suite out to the festival grounds. There was no place and no time to rehearse it, but I told Duke that it shouldn't be hard for the guys to sight-read. So they stood around backstage and read their parts, without playing, you understand.

Then they played it. My part was inserted in the middle. You remember I hadn't heard any of it. I was sitting in the audience with some other people who knew what had happened, and, when they got to my part, then went into Ellington's part, we burst out laughing. I looked up on the stage and Ellington was laughing too. Without really knowing, I had written a theme that was a kind of development of a similar theme he had written. So when he played my portion and went into his, it was as though we had really worked together — or one person had done it. It was an uncanny feeling, like witchcraft, like looking into someone else's mind.

Coss: How about the larger pieces —  what's the extent of your work on them?

Strayhorn: I've had very little to do with any, of them. I've worked on a couple of the suites, like Perfume Suite and this one. I've forgotten the name of it. That day, it was called Great South Bay Festival Suite.

The larger things like Harlem or Black, Brown, and Beige I had very little to do with other than maybe discussing them with him. That's because the larger works are such a personal expression of him. He knows what he wants. It wouldn't make any sense for me to be involved there.

Coss: You have differentiated between arranging and writing. That can be confusing. As you know, writing can simply be a matter of a melody line; the majority of the work could be the arranger's.

Strayhorn: Not in our case because we do it both ways. We both naturally orchestrate as we write. Still, sometimes you're just involved with a tune. You sit at the piano and write what represents a lead sheet.

It all depends on how the tune comes. Sometimes you get the idea of the tune and the instrument that should play it at the same time. It might happen that you know Johnny Hodges or Harry Carney or Lawrence Brown needs a piece. Or you think of a piece that needs Johnny or Harry or Lawrence to make it sound wonderful. Then you sit down and write it.

After it's done, Duke and I decide who's going to orchestrate — arrange — it. Sometimes we both do it, and he uses whatever version is best.

We have many versions of the same thing. You remember Warm Valley? It was less than three minutes long. But we wrote reams and reams and reams of music on that, and he threw it all out except what you hear. He didn't use any of mine. Now, that's arranging. The tune was written, but we had to find the right way to present it.

I have a general rule about all that. Rimski-Korsakov is the one who said it: all parts should lie easily under the fingers. That's my first rule: to write something a guy can play. Otherwise, it will never be as natural, or as wonderful, as something that does lie easily under his fingers.

We approach everything for what it is. It all depends on what you're doing. You have the instruments. You have to find the right thing — not too little, not too much. It's like getting the right color. That's it! Color is what it is, and you know when you get it. Also, you use whatever part or parts of the orchestra you need to get it.

For example, you have to deal with individual characteristics. Like, Shorty Baker,   who   has   a   certain   trumpet sound. If you're  writing  for  a  brass section and you want his sound, you give him the lead part. The rest follow him. Or if you want Johnny Hodges' color or Russell Procope's color in the reeds, you write the lead parts for either of them.

For a soloist, you just have to look at the whole thing, just like looking at a suit. Will this fit him? Will he be happy with this? If it's right for him, you don't have to tell him how to play it. He just plays it, and it comes out him, the way he wants. If you have to tell him too much how to play it, it isn't right for him.

Here's a good example of writing for characteristic soloists. Duke wrote Mr. Gentle and Mr. Cool. He started off thinking of two people: Shorty Baker (Gentle) and Ray Nance (Cool). The tune wrote itself from his conception of these two people.

We write that way much of the time. Sometimes it doesn't happen right away. A new guy will come on the band. You have to become acquainted with him, observe him. Then you write something.

In Ellington's band a man more or less owns his solos until he leaves. Sometimes we shift solos, but usually they're too individual to shift. You never replace a man; you get another man. When you have a new man, you write him a new thing. It's certainly one of the reasons why the music is so distinctive. It's based on characteristics.

For example, when Johnny was out of the band, we played very few of his solo pieces — well, the blues-type things and Warm Valley, but Paul Gonsalves played that solo. You see we wouldn't give it to another alto to play. We changed the instrument; otherwise, except for things you have to play, we just avoided those songs. Otherwise, you'd spoil the song itself. It was written for him — maybe even about him.

Coss: So many people suggest a question which, I suppose, is the kind you expect when someone gets into a position as important as is Duke's. What it comes down to is that Duke doesn't really write much. What he does is listen to his soloists, take things they play, and fashion them into songs. Thus, the songs belong to the soloists, you do the arrangements, and Duke takes the credit.

Strayhorn: They used to say that about Irving Berlin too.

But how do you explain the constant flow of songs? Guys come in and out of the band, but the songs keep getting written, and you can always tell an Ellington song.

Anyway, something like a solo, perhaps only a few notes, is hardly a composition. It may be the inspiration, but what do they say about 10 percent inspiration and 90 percent perspiration? Composing is work.

So this guy says you and he wrote it, but he thinks he wrote it. He thinks you just put it down on paper. But what you did was put it down on paper, harmonized it, straightened out the bad phrases, and added things to it, so you could hear the finished product. Now, really, who wrote it?

It was ever thus.

But the proof is that these people don't go somewhere else and write beautiful music. You don't hear anything else from them. You do from Ellington.

Coss: How about those people who say Duke should stay home? They say, look, he's getting older, he has enough money coming in; why does he waste all his energy on the road when he could be at home writing?

Strayhorn: He says his main reason for having a band is so he can hear his own music. He says there's nothing else like it, and he's right. There's nothing like writing something in the morning and hearing it in the afternoon.

How else can you do it? Working with a studio band isn't the same thing. You have to be out there in the world. Otherwise you can't feel the heat and the blood. And from that comes music, comes feeling. If he sat at home, it would be retreating.

He'll never do it. He'd be the most unhappy man in the world. The other is such a stimulus.

On the road, you find out what is going on in the world. You're au courant musically and otherwise. It keeps you alert and alive. That's why people in this business stay young. Just because they are so alive — so much seeing things going on all over the world.

Coss: Duke is often criticized for playing the same music over and over.

Strayhorn: What else can you expect? Even though that's not a fair criticism, some part of it has to be true merely because he is the talent he is.

Have you any idea how many requests he gets? After he's through playing all of them, the concert or the dance is all over, and he's hardly started with other requests .... That's why he does the medley that some writers criticize.

Actually, there's a great deal of new music all the time. The thing I'm concerned about is that some of that will get to be requested. Then what will happen? What it really comes down to is that there is never enough time to hear an excess of talent.”              

Source:

Down Beat Magazine

June 7, 1962

Jane Ira Bloom - Early Americans

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

Crystalline beauty - I never thought I would use this phrase in describing the sound that comes from a soprano sax - but that’s exactly what comes to mind when Jane Ira Bloom plays the instrument.

Jane has such a grand and glorious tone that she plays one note and your hear the whole instrument.

There’s so much profundity in just one note - she’s thoughtful and reflective and takes her time with phrases, letting a note trail off or naturally fade away while still holding it - that her sound evokes a sad or bittersweet beauty in her music.

Because Jane has such great control over her instrument she is able to render a plaintive, beautiful and emotive expression of a song’s melody; she just let’s the melody speak, clearly and distinctly.

The other element of Jane Ira Bloom’s approach to Jazz that has alway struck a responsive chord with me [pun intended] is her use of space which helps lend an atmospheric quality to her lines [improvisations].

The crystalline beauty of her tone, her judicious use of space that allows the music to breath is further enhanced on her forthcoming CD - Early Americans - by her choice of contexts, in this instance, her association with bassist Mark Helias and drummer Bobby Previte.

In some ways, a trio made up of a horn, a string and a percussion instrument strips the context down to a bare minimum and allows the musicians to listen to one another more closely while affording the listener a chance to hear each musician more clearly.

The results are magical.

Jane Ira, Mark and Bobby bring a virtuoso level of musicianship into an intimate trio setting and produce music that is warm, flowing and “conversational” - the epitome of the kind of dynamic interaction one would expect from a blending of such exceptionally talented musicians.

Jane Ira Bloom - Early Americans launches as an Outline [OTL 142] stereo CD on May 13, 2016. It is available for pre-order on Amazon as either an Mp3 download or a CD and you can locate more information about it and Jane’s other recordings by visiting her at www.janeirabloom.com.

You never know what American original soprano saxophonist Jane Ira Bloom is going to do next. After the success of her 2014 all-ballads release "Sixteen Sunsets" Bloom shifts into another gear showcasing the kinetic energy of her acclaimed trio playing with the musicians that she knows best on Early Americans (OTL142).

It's her first trio album, sixteenth as leader and sixth recording on the Outline label. Her sound is like no other on the straight horn and she lets it fly on every track. She's joined by long-time bandmates Mark Helias on bass & drummer Bobby Previte and with over fifty years of shared musical history together the album is sure to be a winner. Bloom's collaboration with Helias dates back to the mid 70's in New Haven CT and her unique chemistry with Previte has been ongoing since 2000.

She brought the group together in summer 2015 to Avatar Studio B in NYC to capture their breathtaking sound in both stereo and surround-sound with renowned audio engineer Jim Anderson. The album features twelve Bloom originals ranging from the rhythmic drive of "Song Patrol" and "Singing The Triangle" to the spare melancholy of "Mind Gray River." She closes the album with a signature solo rendition of the American songbook classic, Bernstein & Sondheim's "Somewhere." World-renowned portrait photographer Brigitte Lacombe contributes a stunning cover image of Bloom. "Playing in threes" has always held a special fascination for jazz artists - it offers the possibility that something can be slightly off balance and that's just what fires the imagination of players like Bloom, Helias, & Previte.

With Early Americans Jane Ira Bloom stands in the vanguard of her generation carving out new territory in the heart of the jazz tradition, Don't miss this trio of "fearless jazz explorers who share a commitment to beauty & adventure."

Soaring, poetic, quick silver, spontaneous and instantly identifiable are words used to describe the soprano sound of saxophonist Jane Ira Bloom. She's been steadfastly developing her singular voice on the straight horn for 35 years creating a body of music that marks her as an American original.

She's an eight-time winner of the Jazz Journalists Association Award for soprano sax, the Downbeat International Critics Poll, and the Charlie Parker Award for Jazz Innovation and has collaborated with such outstanding jazz artists as Charlie Haden, Ed Blackwell, Kenny Wheeler, Julian Priester, Mark Dresser, Jerry Granelli, Matt Wilson, Billy Hart and Fred Hersch. Her 2014 all-ballads release "Sixteen Sunsets" was nominated for a Grammy Award for surround-sound. In addition she's garnered numerous awards for her creativity including a Guggenheim Fellowship in music composition and the Mary Lou Williams Women In Jazz Award for lifetime service to jazz. JIB was the first musician commissioned by the NASA Art Program and was honored to have an asteroid named in her honor by the International Astronomical Union (asteroid 6083janeirabloom).

A strong visual thinker, Bloom's affinity for other art forms has both enriched her music and led to collaborations with other innovative artists such as actors Vanessa Redgrave & Joanne Woodward, painter Dan Namingha, cartoonist Jules Feiffer, director John Sayles and legendary dancer/ choreographer Carmen DeLavallade. Her long-standing interest in space exploration and neuroscience has lead to cutting edge recording projects inspired by outer and inner space. Performance venues include Carnegie Hall, the Kennedy Center, Dizzy's Club Jazz @ Lincoln Center, St. John the Divine Cathedral and the Einstein Planetarium in Washington DC.

She has composed several works commissioned through the Chamber Music America/ Doris Duke New Jazz Works Program including Chasing Paint, a series of compositions inspired by painter Jackson Pollock, Mental Weather, a suite of neuroscience inspired pieces, and recently Wild Lines, a jazz reimagining of Emily Dickinson's poetry that premiered at UMASS/ Amherst in the poet's hometown.

The subject of numerous media profiles on network television, on radio, and in major national magazines, JIB has recorded and produced 16 album projects since 1977 for CBS, Arabesque, ENJA, Pure Audio and Artistshare Records, and founded her own record label (Outline Records). A professor at the New School for Jazz in New York City, she holds degrees from Yale University, the Yale School of Music and continues to find inspiration merging her music with the world of arts and ideas.”

I have re-posted my earlier review of Jane’s Sixteen Sunsets as the featured blog in the side bar and the following video will provide you with a sampling of the music on the forthcoming Early Americans disc. The tune is entitled Rhyme or Rhythm.