George Shearing and Leonard Feather

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

"Leonard Feather has dedicated his life to the development and propagation of jazz, mainly as a distinguished journalist and critic. This book, compiled from his diaries, documents his varied experiences in the jazz business as musician, songwriter and record producer. We are all fortunate that he has chosen to share his rare experiences with us."

— Benny Carter, Jazz saxophonist, composer-arranger, bandleader

I recently came across a copy of Leonard Feather’s The Jazz Years: Eyewitness To An Era. The paperback version was published by DaCapo Press in 1987. Over the years, I had misplaced mine and I found a very fine used copy on offer at a local bookstore.

The young clerk who helped me complete my purchase asked me if “He was anyone important like Bing Crosby?” “How did you learn about Bing?,” I asked. “Oh, he was featured on TV program that was broadcast on public television recently," he replied. "Whad'ya think of him?," I asked. "He was a pretty cool dude," he said. He smiled at the look of stunned amazement that must have come over my face at his response.

My reply to his question about Leonard Feather was something along the lines of this quotation by the distinguished Jazz author Gene Lees:

"Leonard Feather is the most important critic and chronicler jazz has had. He has written about the music longer—uninterruptedly since 1934—and more consistently than anyone else in the world.”

I think my description of Leonard’s importance in the world of Jazz had about as much impact on the bookstore clerk as the viewing of the Bing Crosby TV program that he had viewed as part of his studies, but I was glad to have Leonard’s book in my library so I could re-read it and share some of his singular memories with you on these pages.

I was fortunate to be in Los Angeles when Leonard was hired in 1965 by Charles Champlin, the Entertainment Editor of The Los Angeles Times, and charged with contributing regular features about Jazz to the newspaper. It was always a delight to read Leonard’s columns which appeared in that paper twice weekly and in the expanded Sunday edition as his writings were insightful and instructive. If Jazz can, as some say, be learned and not taught, then I learned a lot about Jazz from Leonard.

In addition to contributing many articles about Jazz to select periodicals beginning in the 1930’s, Leonard Feather was the author of numerous books on the subject, including his standard reference work Encyclopedia of Jazz [which has since become co-authored by Ira Gitler], Laughter from the Hip (with Jack Tracy, the former editor of Downbeat and record producer for Argo, Emarcy and Mercury), and Inside Jazz, all published by Da Capo Press.

Leonard Feather's autobiography - The Jazz Years: Eyewitness To An Era - is also the story of jazz over the last half-century. Since arriving in New York from London in 1935, he has managed to distinguish himself as a producer, composer, pianist, and one of the music's most acute critics. He was one of the first to champion the innovations of bebop in the pages of Esquire and Downbeat, also an ardent campaigner against racial barriers, and a friend to dozens of musicians. There are stories here about Feather's relationship with Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Dinah Washington, Dizzy Gillespie, George Shearing, Joe Williams, Toshiko Akiyoshi, and many others. Filled with information about the recording business and the tricky art of criticism, this earwitness account of a lifetime in jazz caps a career that has been dedicated to the best that American culture has to offer. Leonard died in 1994 at the age of eighty [80]

Regular visitors to these pages will no doubt recall that the editorial staff at JazzProfiles are huge fans of the late pianist George Shearing.

As the following remembrance from Leonard’s autobiography makes clear, those of us who are fans of George and what came to be known as “The Shearing Sound” owe a huge debt of gratitude to Leonard.

George    

“The end of the 1940s produced irreversible changes in the course of jazz and, consequently, in the pattern of my activities.

The blues as I had known the idiom in the early to middle 1940s had begun to fade. Dinah Washington and many others were phasing out most of their blues repertoire and moving into pop songs or R & B.

Big bands also were beginning to pass their peak; by the end of the decade several of the most valuable ensembles would disband, some temporarily like Basie's, others for ever.

Overshadowing both these trends was the second Musicians Union recording ban. After experiencing, during 1946 and 1947, my most active and enjoyable years in the studios, I found it a serious blow to be shut out during all but the last two weeks of 1948.

The year was far from a total loss. I had a new radio series on WHN in addition to working, during the summer, on Duke's programmes. I presented two concerts with Dizzy Gillespie (the first including Charlie Parker) at Carnegie Hall. Bird, Joe Newman, J. J. Johnson, John Lewis, Tommy Potter, Jimmy Jones and Max Roach all played in the first of a series of jam sessions I produced on Tuesday nights at the Three Deuces.

Best of all the events that year was my final citizenship hearing: I became an American at 9.15 a.m. 26 April 1948 after duly recalling the correct answers to a number of questions about the country's history, most of which might stump me if I were asked them again today.

Unhappily, I was involved for some time in a rather disagreeable job. Late in 1947 I had been hired as a programming consultant for a daily record show hosted by Tommy Dorsey. It was one of the very few times in my life when I had to report for work at a certain hour and stay all day. This would not have mattered if I had had even a token measure of artistic freedom, but on the occasions (fortunately few) when I had to deal directly with Dorsey, he would quench whatever enthusiasm I might have mustered with some remark such as: Take out that Dizzy Gillespie record. You know I don't want any of that bebop shit on my show.' Musical opinions aside, Dorsey was one of the least pleasant people I ever worked for.

Consequently, it came as a source of relief when, later in the year, I stopped working for Dorsey and was hired to write for a similar show with Duke Ellington as the host. There were no problems with Duke except for the minor one that because he was too vain to wear glasses and had trouble reading the scripts, they had to be transferred to a machine with extra-large type. Duke's show did not enjoy as much commercial success as Dorsey's, but he and I enjoyed the process of putting it together.

Undoubtedly the most auspicious event during those last two years of the decade, in terms of the gratification it gave me rather than the financial reward, was the slow but inexorable rise to prominence of George Shearing.

George and I had first met late in 1938, when I was conducting a meeting of the No.l Rhythm Club in London. After some of my recently imported American records had been played, the time arrived for a session of live music, and someone brought in the nineteen-year-old alumnus of Claude Bampton's band, all of whose members were blind except the leader.

In a country where live jazz from America was almost nonexistent and even records were in relatively short supply, one did not look to domestic talent for creativity or originality; but when this blind teenager began to offer his impression of how jazz should sound - clearly inspired by the records of Meade Lux Lewis, Earl Hines, Art Tatum, Joe Sullivan, Teddy Wilson and whoever else he had heard on imported records - there was a minor commotion in the room. Here was a young man clearly wise beyond his years. I also found out a little later that he was an accomplished jazz accordionist. Since I had been recently engaged in a running battle with the magazine Accordion Times, claiming that 'jazz accordion' was a contradiction in terms, I felt obliged to write a follow-up confessing that George Shearing had proved me wrong.

It might have been better if I had left it at that; instead, when I was able to set up a Decca recording session for George a few weeks later, one of the tunes was an ad lib accordion solo, 'Squeezin' the Blues', for which I provided the very inept piano accompaniment.* [*I was not the first record to George. Vic Lewis, an old friend with whom I co-produced a session in 1937, had him at the piano on several small-group dates in 1938-9, released on Lincoln Rhythm Style and Days Rhythm Style 78s.]

George soon established himself solidly in England, playing on his own radio series, working often with Vic Lewis and Stephane Grappelli, and appearing as a guest with the popular Ambrose orchestra. By the time he had won the Melody Maker poll for several years, it began to become clear to him that there was no place to go above the top, except by moving to the US.

We had kept in touch, and by 1946 George's wife, Trixie, wrote to tell us that they and their daughter, Wendy, would come to New York, strictly for a visit, later in the year.

The Shearings' first visit was purely exploratory. George's records had not been released here, which meant that he was totally unknown in this country. Much of the time during this three-month visit was taken up inspecting the New York jazz scene, particularly along 52nd Street. One night we ran into Teddy Reig, of Savoy Records, who arranged to produce a date in February 1947, with Gene Ramey on bass and Cozy Cole on drums.

Having tested the water, the Shearings returned home. He worked a variety of jobs (in London that summer, to my surprise, I found him playing accordion in a band led by Frank Weir), but before the year was out he came back to New York, this time for good, and Teddy Reig gave him another date, using Curly Russell and Denzil Best.

Once again, though, George found that the assurance he had been given in London that the American public would greet him with open ears was wildly exaggerated. At least one club owner whom I approached told me that a blind artist would be too depressing a sight (this despite the huge success of another British artist, also blind and now living in the States, Alec Templeton). George played a Monday off-night at the Hickory House, then settled in for a long run at the Three Deuces, where the scale was $66 a week.

At the club George slowly built a local following, working at first solo, then with Oscar Pettiford or John Levy on bass, J. C. Heard on drums and, for a while, Eddie Shu on alto sax and trumpet. By late 1948 he was hired for the Clique Club, on the site of what later became Birdland. With him were John Levy, Denzil Best and the incomparable clarinettist Buddy De Franco.

The recording ban, which had begun 1 January, ended 15 December, and I at last succeeded in landing a date for George with his own group, for Discovery Records, run by Albert Marx, whose Musicraft company had brought so much durable jazz to the studios.

We planned to use the Clique Club personnel, but a hitch developed: De Franco was under contract to Capitol.

Some years earlier I had experimented with a quintet sound, using piano, vibes and guitar, first at a Slam Stewart session using Johnny Guarnieri, Red Norvo and Chuck Wayne, then in 1946 on the all-woman Mary Lou Williams date with Margie Hyams on vibes. 'Why not,' I suggested to George, 'get Chuck and Margie, and try out a group along the same lines?'

George liked the idea. We set a studio for 31 January 1949; but meanwhile, MGM Records had expressed interest in signing George to an exclusive contract.

Preferring to save his own music for this major record label, George had me write most of the originals for the Discovery date.

That maiden voyage came off remarkably well. George displayed his locked-hands technique in my 'Life with Feather' and 'Midnight in the Air', played accordion on 'Cherokee' and a blues, and distinguished himself throughout this auspicious day.

By the time we were due to make the first MGM recordings on 17 February, George had developed a new and unprecedented blend for this instrumentation. He would play four-note chords in the right hand, with the left hand doubling the right hand's top-note melody line, the guitar doubling the melody, and the vibes playing it in the upper register. This was the basis for 'September in the Rain', the big hit of the first session, as well as for Til Remember April', 'Ghost of a Chance' and most of the other ballads.

For the jazz instrumental the formula would usually consist of a unison theme statement, followed by guitar and vibes solos and a two-stage statement by George, beginning with rapid single-note lines and evolving into sumptuous, brilliantly executed 'locked-hands' or block-chord improvisation.

Though this sound remained essentially unchanged through the years, the personnel underwent many changes. In 1953 George began adding Latin percussion. But the 'Shearing Sound' by now was so well established that the group became one of the most popular in jazz, with a reputation that was soon worldwide.

With Harry Meyerson of MGM, I produced all the sessions for the first two years of the five-year Shearing contract. The pattern for the group had been so firmly set, and in such continuous demand, that George was reluctant to make any changes. Not long after I had moved to Los Angeles, the Shearings also decided to make their home on the West Coast, where we lived only five minutes apart.

At one point I tried to interest George in a new concept, using two horns and accordion; we even made some trial tapes, but nothing came of it. The quintet went on its way, occasionally with such illustrious sidemen as Joe Pass, who toured with George from 1965-7. On the twentieth anniversary of the quintet's formation, George was working at the Hong Kong Bar in Century City, which gave me an opportunity to spring a surprise on him. I called several former members of the group to drop in at the room. During one number Colin Bailey quietly eased on to the bandstand and took over from Stix Hooper; Al McKibbon replaced Andy Simpkins on bass; Dave Koonse turned over his guitar to Joe Pass, and Charlie Shoemake handed his mallets to Emil Richards.

'I knew something strange was going on,' George said later, 'and when I heard the vibes played in octaves, which was Emil's style, I had a pretty good idea of what had been happening. That was one of the nicest surprises of my life.'

Another nine years elapsed before George finally decided that enough was enough. He began phasing out the quintet in 1978; the time had come to work within a more intimate framework, a duo that would leave room for more freedom of expression. 'I said when I gave up the quintet,' he told me recently, 'that I'd never do it again except for Frank Sinatra or Standard Oil. Well, Standard Oil never came through, but Sinatra wanted a quintet for two weeks at Carnegie Hall in 1981, and I did it. That was all.'

During the early years of the quintet George was often treated with disdain, or at best faint praise, by many of the critical establishment. Ironically, today he is enjoying more acclaim than ever; in his mid-sixties, he seems to have reached a new level of creativity. It's an encouraging thought that this is the same artist whose very appearance was once considered 'too depressing' even for a one-night stand on 52nd Street.

A few years ago George moved back to New York, where he lives on the upper East Side with his second wife, Ellie, a group singer. He records for Concord Jazz, and was teamed with Mel Torme, his frequent concert partner, for a Grammy award-winning album. Almost forty-eight years after he sat in at that Rhythm Club session in London, our friendship survives.

Not long ago I was a guest on his WNEW radio programme; we played four hands for a couple of minutes, and George said 'Let's play "Mighty Like the Blues".' That was the theme song on his British radio series. Who said nostalgia isn't what it used to be?”

The Ray Brown Trio at Starbucks

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

A FIRST FOR STARBUCKS

Before the music begins, Ray Brown, Geoff Keezer and Karriem Riggins blend into the crowd, sipping freshly pressed coffee, chatting about the day's events. The Starbucks store at 23rd and Jackson—a corner that was once the heart of the Seattle jazz world— is the scene of this landmark event, the first live recording at Starbucks. Ray Brown's presence here pays homage to past history and sets a trend for future events.

As he picks up his bass, a hush settles on the crowd, and the first rich tones of his music signal the start of a vital, inspiring musical experience. The musician and his instrument become one, transporting us to another world where rhythm and melody are all-engrossing.

Jazz bonds this room into a musical community that leans together toward the stage as if we could touch the sounds pulsing around us. The lines between musicians blur as the audience claps along, nods and calls out encouragement. There can be no reserve, no room for cool detachment. The music itself demands to be revelled in.

I’m not certain of the exact dates that the version Ray Brown Trio that featured pianist Geoff Keezer and drummer Karriem Riggins was in existence, but I am certain that I never got to see and hear them in person, to which I can only add - Bummer!

Of course, Bassist Brown’s piano-bass-drums trio credentials are legendary and date back to when drummer Ed Thigpen was added to pianist Oscar Peterson’s Trio in the late 1950s.

Along the way, various iterations of Ray’s trio included pianist Phineas Newborn, Jr., Gene Harris, and Benny Green and drummers Jimmy Smith, Jeff Hamilton and Gregory Hutchinson, all of whom I did see and hear in performance.

Messers Keezer and Riggins are prime examples of the explosive virtuosity today’s younger generation of Jazz musicians.

And while their technical wizardry is awe inspiring, you can hear in their playing that they are bringing the tradition along with them

And what better representative of the modern Jazz “tradition” can these guys have as a mentor than Ray Brown who has played with all the greats from his generation. Ray was 73 years old at the time of this recording, but he more than held his own with these two, young powerhouse players.

At times these generational forces combine to create a music on this recording that almost sounds operatic in terms of its sweeping intensity, bold textures and awesome displays of musicianship of the highest order.

Here are Will Friedwald’s insert annotations about the musicians and the music on Ray brown Trio - Live at Starbucks [Telarc CD 83502] after which you’ll find an audio-only Soundcloud File and a YouTube video montage to help you sample some of the music from this recording.

“Perhaps it's instructive to lay out first what the Ray Brown-Geoff Keezer-Karriem Riggins Trio is not. For starters, it's not your average jazz piano trio in which the pianist is the star and the bass and drums mere sidemen. And for all of Brown's virtuosity, it's not a unit designed to showcase a series of bass solos by the leader. It is a group where, as great as the individual members are, the collective is everything, and strong as the solos may be, it's the interplay between the three individuals that makes the whole thing work.

Brown bookends this set with two samples of the blues, the fast Up There (the title referring to the tempo) and Starbucks Blues, a Brown original. The latter, closing item reminds us how infrequently the slow blues form is heard in contemporary jazz. You still hear blues changes used as the basis for a swinging uptempo, which has been a tradition since the birth of jazz,

But lately musicians seem to be avoiding the blues in slow tempos. You have to be a true blues virtuoso to want to confront that kind of playing head-on, which is exactly what Brown is, and why "Starbucks Blues" works so well. Here's a long, slow, sexy blues to sink your chops into.

Brown's other original is titled Brown Bossa. While the title suggests that this may well be Brown’s answer to Kenny Dorham's Brazilian-influenced jazz classic Blue Bossa, the rhythms of the piece are more island than South American in nature and may suggest to some ears "Brown Calypso" as a better title. The piano textures on this catchy item are also at times suggestive of the great Cuban keyboardists — Brown Rhumba anybody?

The use of original material by jazz musicians has probably become too much of a good thing in recent years; almost every new album consists primarily of new compositions, the majority of which are rarely as memorable as we'd like them to be. But when Brown gives over valuable space on one of his CDs to new music, you know the melodies are going to be well worth it. The bulk of the program consists of jazz standards, like When I Fall in Love and I Should Care  both part of the jazz repertoire for so long it's easy to forget they weren't written by true jazzmen.

When I Fall in Love rates a funky, soulful treatment, as if it were When I Fall in Love Blues, which puts listeners in mind of Brown's considerable experience with pianist Gene Harris of Three Sounds fame. There's a cascading piano-drum crescendo that serves as the bridge between the melody and the piano solo that's bound to grab your attention. Keezer is so committed to the glory of interplay that he even engages in it by himself— initiating a one man call-and-response pattern. Keezer's other opportunity for play is his rubato feature, This House is Empty Now, which introduces the better known, I Should Care (in ballad time for the first chorus, swinging lightly in the second). Riggins' chance comes with his particularly zesty arumming on Our Delight, one of the major early bop gems. And the title fits the mood in Lament (remembered from Miles Davis' Miles Ahead), which ranks as one of jazz's most melancholy lamentations of the '50s.

Each of the three Duke Ellington delights, as interpreted here, has something to say about the nature of inter-relationships. For all the intricacy of much of Ellington's music, Mainstem has always been one of the Duke's most celebrated blowing vehicles, a minimal melody and a welcome excuse for protracted jamming. Brown gets most of the main melody on both Love You Madly and Caravan. Kicking off with an imposing introduction, Brown phrases "Madly" almost as if it were countermelody to Dave Brubeck's famous Ellington homage, The Duke. Then, on Caravan, the leader uses his bow to extract the full exotic effect of Juan Tizol's classic desert drama. Ray Brown is the only bassist to record a full-length album with Ellington himself at the piano - one of many indications that Brown is the heir apparent to Jimmy Blanton, the short lived father of modern jazz bassistry.

This suite of three Ellington classics shows that, although Brown never played in the Maestro's band, his roots in Ellingtonia run deep. From blues to jazz to pop to Ellington standards (he was indeed a category all to himself), Brown, Keezer and Riggins need only one more ingredient to cover all the jazz bases. They find it with Lester Young's classic, Lester Leaps In, one of the heavy duty anthems of the swing era. Again, the interplay's the thing here. Riggins' drumming seems more like dancing — it's an interesting kind of partner routine that he does with Keezer. Rather than dancing simultaneously, like most couples, they do their steps in turns, first one and then the other. Throughout the performance all three musicians create this dance, sprinkling their craftsmanship with elements of play, melding their talents into a solid trio. But don't forget that this is Ray Brown's trio. And he brings to the group his own infusion of energy and enthusiasm that makes us all thrill in the music.”

WILL FRIEDWALD

AUTHOR OF JAZZ SINGING AND SINATRA! THE SONG IS YOU AND CO-AUTHOR WITH TONY BENNETT OF THE GOOD LIFE.

Modern Jazz Society - "Django"

The Metropole Orchestra

Terell Stafford - "Blow Your Horn"

Bobby Shew - CLASS REUNION

Mel Rhyne - A Different Approach to Jazz organ

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

“Rhyne immediately sounds different from the prevailing Jimmy Smith school of organ players. Instead of swirling, bluesy chords, he favors sharp, almost staccato figures and lyrical single-note runs that often don’t go quite where expected. … He has a way of voicing a line that makes you think of the old compliment about ‘making the organ speak ….’”

- Richard Cook and Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6^th Ed.

“Mel Rhyne is certainly among the best Jazz organists. He has fluent ideas, good time, and a clean, light touch. In his hands, the controversial instrument never becomes overbearing or cloying.”

- Dan Morgenstern, Director, Institute for Jazz Studies, Rutgers University

"Melvin's very unique because he's got his own thing. He really doesn't play typical organ. The organ just happens to be his instrument but he doesn't use it in the common way. Like any jazz player, he plays his lines, which are really subtle and personal. It's not like he's pulling out all the stops and doing the organ thing. He's unique, like a Hank Jones of the organ, a really subtle player."

- Guitarist, Peter Bernstein

"Melvin's got great time. I noticed that the first time I played with him, that his time does not move. Not only that, his choice of bass notes is always right. In fact, just his choice of notes period, the way he constructs his lines. There's nobody around playing organ like that. He's playing just as good as he did or better than on those classic Wes Montgomery sides. It's a pleasure to play with him because his time is so steady, which is something that doesn't happen all the time and that can be very hard on the drummer. But let me tell you, it's a gas to play with Melvin Rhyne."

- Drummer, Kenny Washington

A recent listening to tunes from Wes Montgomery's best selling Verve LPs that featured on a playlist from a digital music service brought back memories of when I first heard Wes on his guitar-organ-drums trio recordings for Orrin Keepnews' Riverside label.

The music on these albums was recorded in April, October and November of 1963 and Orrin issued them on three, separate LPs. All have subsequently been reissued as Original Jazz Classic CDs: Wes Montgomery: Boss Guitar [OJCCD-261-2], Portrait of Wes: The Wes Montgomery Trio [OJCCD-144-2], and Guitar on the Go: The Wes Montgomery Trio [OJCCD-489-2].

[We will have more about Orrin's time with Wes  at Riverside and how all of that came about in a following piece drawn from his autobiographical The View From Within: Jazz Writings 1948-1987.]

Aside from being blown away by Wes' unique approach to Jazz guitar, I was very impressed by Melvin Rhyne, the Hammond B-3 Organ player who appeared on all three of Wes' Riverside discs and whose style of playing the instrument was quite unlike Jimmy Smith's hard charging and high energy way of dealing with the "axe." [Jimmy was such a force of nature on the Hammond that Miles Davis upon first hearing and seeing him perform in person labeled him "the 8th Wonder of the World."]

By contrast, Mel played the Hammond B-3 Organ as though it were a piano and achieved orchestral effects through the use of the keyboard and not by employing the stops and other devices that can so abruptly [and, at times, obnoxiously] alter the sound of the instrument.

Sadly, for Orrin and Jazz lovers everywhere, Riverside was about to descend into bankruptcy in the following year, but luckily for Wes, producer Creed Taylor brought him to Verve and the commercial success that followed.

Somewhat ironically, just as Wes' star was rising, after Mel made the Riverside LPs with him, he retired to the relative obscurity of the Jazz scene in his native Indianapolis and later moved to Milwaukee, WI where he had a prosperous career and where he was rediscovered in the 1990s by Gerry Teekens at Criss Cross Records.

Mel began making a series of recordings for Gerry Teekens' Criss Cross label right up until his death in 2013. On many of these discs, Mel resurrected the guitar-organ-trio format from his days with Wes using Peter Bernstein on guitar and Kenny Washington on drums.

All you need to know about the “disappearance” and reappearance of Mel is contained in the following insert notes by Lora Rosner from Mel Rhyne’s first Criss Cross CD which is appropriately named Melvin Rhyne: The Legend [Criss Cross Jazz 1059].

You can locate more about Mel’s Criss Cross Recordings by going here.

Thanks to "The Age of YouTube" many of Mel's Criss Cross CDs are available in their entirety and we've placed links to some of them at the conclusion of this piece.

© -Lara Rosner/Criss Cross Records, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

"Legend" is derived from the Latin verb "legere", meaning "to collect, gather or read" and the word has come to mean "things to be read or collections of stories about notable figures"; legends are both such people and the lore that surrounds them. When a musician makes a historic contribution or is part of a historically significant group, an undying interest in the personality and the documents he has left behind, combined with a lack of current information will often engender tales of his recent activities and past achievements which are created to satisfy and feed the public's curiosity and hunger for such news. While Mel Rhyne is too modest to feel comfortable being called a legend (Teekens' title), the legend of his whereabouts and his slim recorded output from 30 years ago are now happily supplemented and brought up-to-date with fresh recordings by this brilliant, original voice on the organ and master of his instrument at the peak of his powers.

Mel Rhyne (born 10/12/36) is best known as the lyrical, inventive, understated organist and longtime associate of Wes Montgomery who complemented the guitarist so beautifully on four of his Riverside LPs, including his first and last for the label: Wes Montgomery Trio; Boss Guitar; Portrait for Wes; Guitar on the Go. Wes' Riverside recordings document the period of his first maturity and the core of his purest, most inspired, small group playing (10-9-63). Wes and Rhyne both played with great imagination and a certain disregard for convention; they also shared great respect for one another. Wes loved his "piano player's touch." Mel has a good left hand from learning boogie woogie from his father as a child, which made playing basslines easier when he began playing organ in the mid-50's in order to get more work as a sideman.

One of the first jobs he did on organ was with Roland Kirk, another highly original, maverick performer grounded in the roots of jazz and the blues. While he later became a fan of the John Coltrane Quartet with McCoy Tyner, a devotee of Red Garland and a student of great organists like Milt Buckner, Jimmy Smith, Wild Bill Davis and Jackie Davis, his earliest musical education was based on listening to Nat Cole, Art Tatum, Oscar Peterson and Erroll Garner records.

People interested in jazz history know that Chicago had DuSable High School, Detroit had Case and Sam Brown taught at Jefferson High in south Los Angeles. Russell Brown was the open-minded band director and free spirit at Crispus Attucks, the only high school in Indianapolis' black neighborhood, who encouraged the jazz activity and featured the talents of many famous Indianapolites: J.J. Johnson; Slide Hampton; Leroy Vinnegar; Larry Ridley; Buddy Montgomery; Mel Rhyne; Freddie Hubbard; Virgil Jones; Ray Appleton - to name a few. Many young musicians took night school classes at the city's numerous clubs and after-hours joints such as the Turf Bar, the Hub-Bub, the 19th Hole, the 440 Club and of course the Ebony Missile Room where Wes Montgomery often held forth, drawing young talent and music lovers to him like a magnet.

From 1959-64 Rhyne played and toured with the guitarist except when Wes had the chance to work with his brothers as part of the Mastersounds. The difficulty of transporting an organ contributed to the group's demise but the final deathblow came when Riverside went into receivership and Creed Taylor, Wes' new manager, led him off into a world of large orchestras and more commercial music where Rhyne would have felt superfluous and out-of-place.

In 1969 Rhyne moved to Madison, Wise, to work with guitarist John Shacklett and his brother Ron Rhyne on drums and also appeared on Buddy Montgomery's This Rather than That (Impulse). Early in his career, Mel had backed great acts like T-Bone Walker, B.B. King, the Four Tops, Aretha Franklin and Arthur Prysock, but after working with Wes he only wanted to play jazz. Buddy Montgomery persuaded him to move to Milwaukee in 1973, a town with enough jazz activity at the time to keep him working and stimulated. Last year Herb Ellis asked him to play the B-3 on Roll Call (Justice) and a few months ago Milwaukee native, trumpeter Brian Lynch who has known Mel since 1974, asked the organist to appear on his third CD for Criss Cross.

A few weeks before his record date Lynch heard guitarist Peter Bernstein at the Village Gate and was so taken with his playing that he asked him to be on the date as well. Bernstein predictably gains the respect of every great musician he works with; Jimmy Cobb first asked Peter to work with him in April '89 when he was all of 21 and the guitarist recently led his own quartet featuring Cobb for a standing-room-only week at the Village Gate. Lou Donaldson thought he was listening to a Grant Green record the first time he heard Peter play, subsequently featured him on his CD, Play the Right Thing (Fantasy). Peter's playing incorporates the best qualities of Wes Montgomery and Grant Green. He's an expressive soloist whose horn-inspired lines draw much of their power, beauty and effectiveness from his soulful time.

Criss Cross producer Gerry Teekens was so pleased with the results of Lynch's date that he asked Rhyne to do an impromptu trio recording the next day and Mel was quite happy to have Bernstein and young veteran Kenny Washington with him again in the studio. Although Organ-izing (Jazzland) was issued under Rhyne's name in order to capitalize on the organ fad of the time, the LP (1960) was a thrown-together session of four blues featuring horns, organ, piano and bass which limited his role as an organist; he had no idea he was the leader of the date. It seems hard to believe but The Legend is Melvin Rhyne's first recording as a leader; the world has waited long enough and so has Rhyne. His stunningly original ideas, impeccable taste and time, humor and unique sound make this CD special from its opening moments.

After so many years of imposed silence Rhyne bursts onto CD with a performance of Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis' Licks A-Plenty which conveys his youthful exuberance and enthusiasm and sheer delight in making music. While the title is an apt description of the head, a good name for the solos (especially Rhyne's) might be "Expect the Unexpected." The rhythmic shapes of his lines are irregular and unusual and have an arresting vocal quality. He plays with his audience setting up riffs which he deconstructs with subtle amendments, sly timing or the big sound of surprise when he pulls out a few more stops during a shout chorus. A drummer of Kenny Washington's caliber is needed to keep up with the organist's utterances. Bernstein can't help but respond to Rhyne and his solo reflects some of Mel's rhythmic originality. In his discreet comping Pete defers to Mel the way Mel deferred to Wes. The atmospheric Serenata is played much more slowly than usual and shows off Bernstein's beautiful sound and feeling for melody. He learned the tune in the studio without music. Mel told me that he thought Peter did a marvelous job; he was particularly happy with the trio's pleasing contrast of sound.

Dig the relaxed feeling and great solos on Savoy which is surely one of the highlights of the session. Mel digs in with a strong, dense sound and makes a blistering statement on The Trick Bag. Bernstein is an extension of Rhyne's lyricism and taste on a soulful Old Folks (gorgeous intro). Next Time You See Me was a 1958 hit for Frankie Lymon and many singers have done it since. Rhyne phrases the melody the way a vocalist would. True to his bebop roots and his own inner voice, Rhyne reinterprets Groovin' High at a brisk pace. Contributions from guests Brian Lynch and Don Braden brought the session to a close.

Melvin hopes to record again in the near future which will no doubt be eagerly anticipated. He is very happy with everyone's efforts and the music on The Legend. I'm sure all you listeners will agree with me -- it's been worth the wait!

Thanks are due to Ted Dunbar and Prof. David Baker for their invaluable insights on the Indianapolis scene. Enjoy!

Lora Rosner Jackson Heights, NY March 1992”

Joey De Francesco: A Tribute