The Mastersounds on Fresh Sound

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

“With almost the same instrumentation as the Modern Jazz Quartet, The Mastersounds burst on the late 1950s scene when the MJQ was already established as the pre-eminent small group in jazz. But they were no imitators. Where the MJQ was all seriousness and sophisticated classical borrowings, the Mastersounds set out to get feet tapping, aided by the distinctive sound of Monk Montgomery's Fender bass. It worked. After securing a three-month booking at a club in Seattle during January 1957, the group went to play at San Francisco's Jazz Showcase, where producer Dick Bock discovered them. They were on their way, becoming the most successful quartet since the MJQ's advent. (... voted best new small combo in Down Beat's critics poll). … This CD presents their debut recordings, redolent of the time when they first caught the moment.”

- Jordi Pujol, Fresh Sound Records

One of the earliest pieces to appear on these pages was about The Mastersounds. It dates back to May 31, 2008.

The editorial staff at JazzProfiles revised it and re-posted it on October 16, 2013 to celebrate the issuance of a compact disc that contained music from a reunion of the group in the recording studios of Fantasy Records on August 10 and November 2, 1960 and the two albums that group made on these dates [Fantasy 3305 and 8862] which were combined and issued as Fantasy FCD 24770-2.  The cover art for this CD by Ray Avery was used as the graphic lead-in to that article.

But sadly, even at this later date, none of the Pacific Jazz recorded legacy of the Mastersounds had found its way onto compact disc.

The music The Mastersounds recorded for Dick Bock’s Pacific Jazz [later known as World Pacific] fell primarily into two categories: [1] the ubiquitous, for the times, Jazz interpretation of Broadway shows, in this case, The King and I, Kismet and The Flower Drum Song and [2] their arrangements of Jazz standards [e.g. an entire album devoted to Horace Silver tunes] and their interpretations of the Great American Songbook; the albums in this category consisting of both studio and in concert recordings.

Now for the good news as implied in the title of this feature - Jordi Pujol, the owner-operator of Fresh Sound Records has done the Jazz world a huge service by issuing two CDs that encompass The Mastersounds entire Pacific Jazz Jazz Standards and Great American Songbook output.

The first of these Fresh Sound CD releases in entitled Introducing The Mastersounds: Water’s Edge [FSR-CD 500] and you can locate CD or Mp3 order information about it as well as sample tracks via this link.

The second offering - The Mastersounds Play [FRS-CD 621-622] is even more impressive as it combines 3 LPs on 2 CDs including The Mastersounds Play The Music of Horace Silver, The Mastersounds Play Blues and Ballads and The Mastersounds in Concert, all of which are also available for order and track sampling via this link.

By way of background, the Mastersounds were formed in 1957 and included Charles Frederick “Buddy” Montgomery on vibes, Richie Crabtree on piano, William Howard “Monk” Montgomery on bass [originally a Fender electric bass, but later an upright string bass] and Benny Barth on drums. The Montgomery Brothers were natives of Indianapolis, IN as was their more famous guitar playing brother Wes, who was to join with them on two of their group LPs.

Monk Montgomery developed the idea for the combo while living in Seattle after he got off the road with the Lionel Hampton Big Band in 1956. According to Ralph J. Gleason, a down beat columnist at that time: “Monk, from his experience in Seattle, was convinced a good jazz group would have a chance to work in that city and he was right.”

The Mastersounds opened at Dave’s Blue Room on January 14, 1957 for a successful three month engagement. However, a dearth of work followed prompting the group to pool its meager resources and send Monk Montgomery on a trip to San Francisco and Los Angeles looking for gigs and a recording contract.

Shortly after arriving in San Francisco, Monk Montgomery stopped by The Jazz Showcase, a then newly formed club on venerable Market Street with a unique “soft drink only” policy. Dave Glickman and Ray Gorum, owner and manager of the club, respectively, upon hearing the Mastersounds tapes Monk Montgomery had brought along, booked the group into the room beginning in September, 1957 for an unlimited engagement.

The fairy-tale quality of Monk Montgomery’s California trip was to get even better when he continued his ‘quest’ down to Hollywood.  There he met fellow bassist Leroy Vinnegar whose immediate reaction to listening to the Mastersounds demo tapes was to call Dick Bock, president of World Pacific Records. Upon hearing them, Bock signed the group to a contract that would result in six albums being produced for the World Pacific/Pacific Jazz Series until The Mastersounds disbanded as a performing group in December, 1959.

The following are the liner notes from the World Pacific 12” Jazz Showcase Introducing the Mastersounds LP [WP-1271] by the noted Jazz columnist are writer, Ralph J. Gleason [1917-1975].

“There is a really terrifying tendency today, particularly in the music field, to believe that success can be bought, that talent and hard work count less than connections and "the hype."

And of course there are occasions when this seems to be true. Everyone connected with jazz has seen times when one group or one musician seems to have advanced far beyond true value merely because of the favor of someone with power and connections in the business.

The persistent talk of "payola," the fact that as a jazz musician pursues his career he will find, on occasion, a disc jockey who will take his money, a manager or an A&R [Artists and Repertoire] man who will want a piece of his original tune, merely makes the cynicism understandable.

Actually these events are the exception rather than the rule, as one eventually learns. "The hype" cannot sell something, in jazz, that is not intrinsically of value; or at least cannot sell it on any long-range, substantial basis. For every success which, rumor has it, was produced by the power of money rather than talent, there is a Dave Brubeck who, throughout his career, has operated without benefit of press agent, "payola" or personal manager.

And there's also the more and more frequent story of a good group which was able to be heard, to launch its career and to start the climb to financial success by straight life methods, aided along the way by men of good will.

The Mastersounds are such a group and the story of their success and this album is a beautiful illustration of all the truths that the cynics deny.

One day in the summer of 1957, Leroy Vinnegar called Dick Bock, president of World Pacific Records, and said "I have a tape I want you to hear. It's a terrific group." It was just as simple as that. Bock heard the group and this is the LP.

But there's a background to this which needs telling. The Mastersounds didn't spring forth full blown, full swinging, a success. They worked for it first. And hard.

In the winter of 1956, William Howard "Monk" Montgomery returned to his native Indianapolis for a visit. He had been living in Seattle for a few months following several years on the road with Lionel Hampton. With Hamp, Monk played bass—Fender bass, that electronic, oversized guitar-shaped bass.

When Monk came back from Seattle he was burning with the idea of starting a jazz group. He and his brother, Charles Frederick "Buddy" Montgomery, had always wanted to do this and on that winter 1956 visit they decided to go ahead. For drummer they chose another Indianapolis jazz player, Ben Caldwell Barth, who had played with them previously. For piano they sought out Richard Arthur Crabtree whom they remembered from jam sessions when the Johnny "Scat" Davis band had passed through town.

So the Mastersounds were born. The name, incidentally, was suggested by Buddy Montgomery's wife, Lois Ann.

Monk, from his experience in Seattle, was convinced a good jazz group would have a chance to work in that city and he was right. On January 14, 1957 they opened a three month engagement at Dave's Blue Room in Seattle. The group was set up as a co-operative one (it still is). "The whole idea was Buddy's," Monk says, "with each man in charge of one department." Monk, for instance, acts as spokesman for the others; Richie handles the book-work and the uniforms; Buddy sets the tempos and calls the tunes, and Benny is in charge of the rehearsals, among other duties.

After the initial success in Seattle, the group was prepared for anything but the drought of the next three months. "We just struggled after that, playing wherever we could," Monk says. "We were so far from home, there was nothing else to do but fight it out." They tried contacting record companies, musicians they knew — everything. But nothing worked. Then they made a demo tape, pooled their money and sent Monk on a trip to San Francisco and Los Angeles to look for a job and to try to get a record date. "It was just about the last gasp, took all our money," Monk says, "but waiting it out with the right fellows you don't mind it so much."

On the way to Hollywood, Monk stopped off in San Francisco and met Ray Gorum who was managing the Jazz Showcase", a non-alcoholic nightclub on Market Street. Gorum heard the tapes and decided immediately to book the group into the club.

Thus, from a real "scuffle" in Seattle, The Mastersounds were transported to San Francisco, a featured spot at a nightclub and a record contract with a jazz label. All without the benefit of a press agent, a manager, "payola" or any of the things some cynics consider necessary.

"It's still almost unbelievable," Monk says. "I never thought it would happen like this. All I can say is that we are so grateful."

The Mastersounds' instrumentation is the same as that of the Modern Jazz Quartet but there is no similarity in sound or approach. Their originality is so pronounced that they are able to play some of the same tunes as the MJQ does without leaving themselves open to charges of imitation.

Their approach is based on the concept of swinging ("The first thing is it must swing," Monk says) and on working out arrangements (they have almost 100 numbers in the book, each of them planned arrangements).

However, they seldom work from music, relying on heads and voicings worked out in rehearsals. Their repertoire includes original numbers by the group and by Wes Montgomery, Buddy's and Monk's guitar-playing brother. Both Buddy Montgomery and Richie Crabtree contribute extensively to the book and it all has the benefit of Monk's road time experience with Lionel Hampton. "I learned a lot from Hamp," he says, "and we've been so lucky so far."

On hearing the Mastersounds in person you are at once struck by the odd-looking bass Monk plays. He began playing on an upright bass but switched to the Fender bass when he joined Hampton. "You can make it swing," Monk says. "It won't replace the upright bass, and I'm a long way from mastering it after playing it five years, but it has advantages. For one thing, I don't get tired playing it. It's so much less work, it's more accurate and you have more speed. I can't play a tempo that's too fast for it. And I can't run a clear scale on a big bass!" Of the sides on this LP, Wes Montgomery arranged "Wes’ Tune" (which he also wrote) and "Dexter's Deck" (written by Dexter Gordon). Bud Powell's arrangement of "Un Poco Loco" is used and Richie Crab-tree arranged his own composition "Water's Edge" for the group. Otherwise all the arrangements are by Buddy Montgomery who also wrote "Drum Tune."

Here are capsule biographies of these four young men: Charles Frederick "Buddy" Montgomery: vibes, born 1/30/30, Indianapolis, Ind., hobby is checkers, favorite artists include Tatum, Milt Jackson, Garner, Wes Montgomery, Earl Grandy (a blind Indianapolis pianist). William Howard "Monk" Montgomery: bass, born 10/10/21, Indianapolis, Ind., has played with Lionel Hampton, Georgie Auld, Art Farmer, Jerry Coker; digs Percy Heath, Johnny Griffin and says he "just picked up" bass. Richard Arthur "Richie" Crabtree: piano, born 2/23/34, Sidney, Montana; has worked with Conte Candoli, Johnnie Davis; says painting and reading and writing are his hobbies; digs Bird, Diz, Miles, Bud, Philly Joe, Sonny Rollins, Ray Brown and wants "to play good someday." Ben Caldwell "Benny" Barth: drums, born 2/16/29, Indianapolis, Ind.; attended Butler University and, he says, "Indiana Ave. School of the Blues"; also plays trumpet and tap dances; has played with Lennie Niehaus, Conte Candoli, Lee Katzman, Slide Hampton, his hobbies are tennis, records, fishing and eating; digs Thelonious Monk, Art Blakey, Philly Joe Jones, Diz, Vinnegar, Basie, Max, Bird, Buddy Rich, Pres, Clifford, says his inspirations have been Krupa, Dave Tough, Jo Jones, and Big Sid and that his ambition is to be either a fish and game warden or a jazz disc jockey and critic!”

—Ralph J. Gleason Down Beat columnist Editor, JAM SESSION (Putnam's)

The sixteen-foot speaker displayed behind the Mastersounds on the cover is, according to Bill Loughborough, the world's largest—photographed in Sausalito, California by William Claxton.

As noted at the outset, the second Fresh Sound CD offering - The Mastersounds Play [FRS-CD 621-622] combines 3 LPs on 2 CDs including The Mastersounds Play The Music of Horace Silver, The Mastersounds Play Blues and Ballads and The Mastersounds in Concert,

Here are the original liner notes from the 12" World Pacific Records album The Mastersounds Play Compositions of Horace Silver at the Jazz Workshop (Stereo-1284)

Speaking as a composer, it's a great thrill to listen to another artist or group of artists interpret your composition. Every artist will give them a new and different concept. I am especially thrilled that The Mastersounds have chosen to do an album of my composition because I have long admired the group. I've listened to them at Birdland and at the Newport Jazz Festival, and they are a well-rehearsed, well arranged (but not over arranged), swingin', blowin' group.

I'm sure that everyone who hears this album will be as pleased with the interpretations given my composition as I am, and equally pleased by the solos.

- Horace Silver

“The Mastersounds at the Jazz Workshop have come to be something of a San Francisco institution. Shortly after the success of their second album for World-Pacific (Rogers & Hammerstein's The King And I), recorded late in 1957, they played their first engagement at the famed North Beach jazz club. Although the group has played across the country from the Blue Note in Chicago to Birdland in New York, and up to Newport for the Jazz Festivals, they spend much of their playing time at the Jazz Workshop in San Francisco, the city of their adoption (Monk, Buddy and Benny hail from Indianapolis, Indiana; Richie is from Sidney, Montana).

The music of Horace Silver provides a perfect vehicle for The Mastersounds to project their very earthy yet sophisticated jazz conception. The group has never been recorded in better form. This performance points up how well integrated these four sensitive musicians have become. The arrangements stem from the imagination of Richie Crabtree, with the spontaneous assistance of the rest of the players. All of the group's arrangements eventually become a group project, usually starting from a point suggested by Buddy or Richie. I have yet to see any written scores within the group. The arrangements, as they develop, become indelibly impressed on each musician's consciousness.

The Mastersounds have reached a jazz maturity that has developed from over three years of playing together. This collection of the music of Horace Silver, one of jazz' greatest new composer-arrangers, represents a high point in The Mastersounds' career.” —Richard Bock

Below are Jon Hendricks original liner notes from the 12" World Pacific Records album Ballads & Blues (Stereo-2019)

When I first got the gig to write Album Notes for this MASTEROUNDS album, I was goin' along coolin' at the prospect of having a "captive audience" — an audience before which I could say things that would get me arrested from a soap box, but which, on the back of an album, would be hailed as "entertaining and informative." Then I began to wonder how I could say anything at all about the MASTERSOUNDS without comparing them with the MODERN JAZZ QUARTET.

Both groups use the same instrumentation, except for the basic difference between Monk Montgomery's Fender electric fiddle and Percy Heath's wood. Both groups consist of a vibraphone surrounded by rhythm. They must sound somewhat alike. Comparisons are inevitable. At the same time, comparisons usually denote competition, and there really is no competition called for in jazz. Although Buddy Montgomery loves "Bags" out loud and Richie Crabtree pays musical respect to John Lewis on occasion, they are imitating no more than two preachers preaching the same sermon. The MASTERSOUNDS are as fresh as they want to be. If they sound like anyone else it's because they want to—and don't mind spreadin' the word.

Concerning the MASTERSOUNDS' work, Monk Montgomery, who acts as spokesman for the group, says, "The first thing, it must swing." This it does, as the success of their other albums for World-Pacific indicates. The group is a cooperative one in every sense, and was Buddy Montgomery's idea. This is a further indication of the more mature outlook of jazz musicians in general, for only in a cooperative group can the full potential of each individual be realized. It also serves to hold a group together longer, giving each of them the invaluable opportunity to become thoroughly aware of the artistic attributes of the others — thereby paving the way for a pure give-and-take rapport that is a joy to see and hear. As one deeply and vitally interested in jazz and its practitioners, I am happy that the MASTERSOUNDS have chosen this cooperative approach. It exemplifies the true spirit of jazz much more than the leader-sideman relationship. And most important of all — it gives each man a feeling of dignity in his work. This is something jazz musicians sorely need to offset the sometimes undignified surroundings in which they must perform. As we say in the vernacular, "It's a way it 'po'd t'be."

If there are those among you who will hear the MASTERSOUNDS for the first time, you have a refreshing musical treat in store. For those of you who already know and appreciate them, Ballads and Blues will be a welcome addition to your collection. I shall not make pointed comments on specific aspects of the music herein by calling your attention to the 4th bar in the second 8 bars of the third chorus, or any such thing as that — because by the time you go to all that trouble you'll be so confused you won't listen. And that's all you really have to do.”

And finally, these liner notes were written by C. H. Garrigues for the 12" World Pacific Records album The Mastersounds in Concert (Stereo-1026)

The release of "The Mastersounds in Concert" marks another very important step in the solution of a problem which these four very remarkable musicians set for themselves at the beginning of their careen the problem of producing jazz which is delicately dynamic, subtle in melodic content, rich in harmonic development—and which yet swings freely and unrestrainedly.

When I first heard them at the Jazz Showcase in San Francisco in the summer of 1957 there was no doubt that they were swingers. Their best number—one which always brought cheers from the crowd and kept the Showcase jammed night after night—was a romping, roaring, tempestuous version of Bud Powell's "Un Poco Loco": a version much more loco than poco and one which never failed to delight.

But even then they had a problem. It was all very well to play uptempo numbers—but a group which cannot swing at medium and ballad tempos is only half a group. Yet, how could a group consisting of vibes, bass, piano and drums play delicately, play subtly, play ballads and blues, without either becoming "soft" and ceasing to swing or, alternatively, invading the territory of the Modern Jazz Quartet? How, in other words, could they enter this area—voiced as they were—and still manage to be completely themselves?

The history of their recordings—climaxed by this one—is the story of how well they have succeeded, a step at a time, in solving that problem.

Their first LR "Introducing the Mastersounds (WP-1271) was made a few weeks after Richard Bock, President of World-Pacific discovered them at the Showcase. It showed them a thumping jumping gang who could bring a crowd to its feet cheering but which would hardly be celebrated for its subtlety and nuance.

A few months later, though, something wonderful happened. Whether by some curious insight, or through the simple fact that show tune albums were selling well, Buddy Montgomery asked Bock for permission to do a jazz version of "The King and I." Agreement was reached. The Mastersounds came up with a hit record (WP-1272): a beautifully conceived, beautifully executed LP which will go down in history as one of the loveliest sets of songs and ballads ever recorded.

In the excitement, few took the trouble to note that there was very little pure jazz in "The King And I" (though Ralph J. Gleason, writing the liner notes, pointed it out); there was melody, there were arrangements of sheer loveliness but it wasn't the jazz as jazz that the listener remembered.

Next came "Kismet" (WP 1243) and "The Flower Drum Song" (WP 1252) each was a step in the further integration of the opposite tendencies shown in (say) "Un Poco Loco" and "The Puzzlement." Each was a popular and critical success. But in neither, perhaps, was there a complete unfolding simultaneously of both the excitement of the Showcase album and the delicacy of "The King and I."

That, however, was soon to come. Late in 1958 the Mastersounds boldly tackled the problem of proving that the field of delicacy and nuance in the vibes quartet was by no means preempted by the MJQ. The album was called "Ballads and Blues" (WP 1260), and as though to emphasize a declaration of independence which was never really needed, they chose John Lewis' "Fontessa," long a hallmark of the MJQ, as one of the tunes on their blues medley.

This record, too, was an immediate and continuing success—so much so that Bock decided to record them "live" in a program of jazz standards where they could display the degree of continuing maturity since their 1957 debut. By this time the Mastersounds were on the road almost constantly; a tour of the Midwest culminating in a successful engagement at Chicago's Blue Note was succeeded by a long SRO run at San Francisco's Jazz Workshop. But when they returned to Southern California early in 1959 for an engagement at Jazzville and a college concert tour, Bock picked their concert at Pasadena Junior College on April 11 as the date to record.

The record within this envelope is the result. From the delicately romping opening of "Stompin"' through the charming, tongue-in-cheek sentimentality of "In a Sentimental Mood," into the flying carpet of "Love for Sale," through the thoughtfully lyric development of "Two Different Worlds"... it would be difficult to find any area of sincere jazz feeling in which they are not at home.

To pick out any particular moment for comment would be to slight many others. But, just for taste of the whole, take the openingfigures of "Stompin"'—notice how gently Buddy's vibes come in to overlay Richie's piano and take the solo away so gracefully that you fancy you hear the ghost of Richie's fingers still tripping behind Buddy's mallets. But notice, too, how Benny's firm, insistent rhythm {and a little later, Richie's chopping, staccato chords) break up any tendency for the lyricism to become over-sentimental. Note, too, a similar development in "Star Eyes"; then observe how deftly Benny's drums continue to develop the melody after Benny's first solo... and note how different are Benny's propulsions and patterns behind Buddy and behind Richie. Listen to Monk's fine solid anchor support... and then listen again and hear his electric bass wandering like a third hand among the lower piano chords. You will agree, I think, that the answer to their problem has been found: the swinging of "Un Poco Loco" and the delicacy of "Something Wonderful" have come together into the same number. After completing these tracks, the Mastersounds took off for a successful engagement at Birdland—punctuated by an appearance at the Newport Jazz Festival. Such is the measure of success.

—C. H. Garrigues

Stanley Turrentine/Oliver Nelson Big Band - "A Kettle of Fish" (feat. Herbie Hancock and Grady Tate)

Stanley, Herbie and Oliver! Herbie Hancock was still working as a sideman when this was recorded in 1965. Checkout what he does with a simple figure beginning at 0.44 to set the groove for the track. This was Stanley Turrentine's first big band album and Oliver Nelson arranged it masterfully. Don't miss the shout chorus at 3:26 with Ernie Royal's trumpet skying over the band and drummer Grady's Tate's fireworks, Throughout, Grady puts on a clinic on how to kick a big band from the drum chair.

Lennie Niehaus - Best Of 3H (Thou Swell, Whose Blues?, Bunko and more...)

"The Forming of Philly Joe Jones" - by Ralph J. Gleason

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

The year 1960 arguably found Philly Joe Jones at the top of the heap of modern Jazz drummers. He had just finished a five-year association with trumpeter Miles Davis on the strength of which he was able to form and tour with his own group.

He was issuing LP’s under his own name with Riverside Records and was in constant demand at Blue Note, Prestige and other New York-based record labels that specialized in modern Jazz.

Miles would ask him to return to work on his themed LP based on the music from Porgy and Bess which was arranged by Gil Evans and he would close-out the decade of the 1960’s with frequent appearances as a member of pianist Bill Evans’ trio.

All Jazz musicians “come from somebody” and the following 1960 interview that Philly gave to the Jazz columnist, writer and reviewer, Ralph J. Gleason describes Philly’s journey through his drumming influences.

Philly was also a fairly astute observer on the Jazz scene as it was unfolding around him in 1960.

Kenny Clarke started it all, but Art Blakey, Max Roach and Philly Joe Jones became the heart and soul of East Coast Jazz. The pulse of the music would never have been the same without them.

Without getting into the East Coast versus West Coast Jazz thing that seemed to haunt the music and its makers from about 1955-65, there is a certain irony in having Ralph J. Gleason provide a comprehensive interview with one of the scions of East Coast Jazz drumming as Ralph was for many years the writer of all things Jazz for the San Francisco Chronicle.

To his credit, however much Ralph was a supporter of Dave Brubeck Cal Tjader, Paul Desmond, Vince Guaraldi, Shelly Manne and other musicians who were unfairly grouped into the West Coast school, Ralph, like most lovers of the music, embraced good Jazz wherever it was being played.

The Forming of Philly Joe Jones

- Ralph J. Gleason

"I always say a drummer has to find himself; seasoning means so much," said Philly Joe Jones, the drummer who shot to the forefront of modern drumming with the Miles Davis group and is now leading his own combo.

"Young drummers today are coming up in an era where all of us, all the drummers the young ones admire, are playing modern drums. Therefore, the young drummer doesn't have in his mind the older drummers, Chick Webb, Baby Dodds, or Sid Catlett. They haven't ever seen Baby Dodds or sat and watched him play like I did.

Or Sid. These are the drummers for the next 20 years. I don't care how the drums move. If any drummer can tell me he can't go back and listen to Chick and Dave Tough and Baby and Sid . . . and tell me that's not drums, I'll break up the drums and forget it!"

Let Philly Joe tell about Baby:

"When I was working with Joe Morris opposite George Shearing in the Three Deuces on 52nd St., I went across the street one night to the Onyx. Just casually, you know. And I happened to look at the placards outside that said BABY DODDS. Well, I had always been reading books and things and so I knew that Gene Krupa had been influenced by Baby and Baby had been hanging out with Gene.

"So, wanting to play the drums as bad as I wanted to, I said, I'm goin' to listen to this drummer.' So what I did, I went in the Onyx, and Baby was playing in there with a bass drum, and a snare drum, and ONE cymbal, a ride cymbal. It wasn't a sock cymbal. He was swingin' SO MUCH I was late an entire set! I didn't get back to work. I missed the entire set, and Joe fined me. I think it was a $30 fine. I couldn't leave, I sat down and just stayed."

Let Philly Joe tell about Sid:

"Sid was very close with me, he liked me. And I loved him, and I used to want to be around him as much as I could. Everywhere he was, I was there. I got most of my brush work from him. Sid Catlett used to sit down and show me the things I wanted to know. Of course, all the things I dream up now, I try to dream up original things. But the direction I got earlier, the foundation, the right way to go, Sid showed me. He taught Teddy Stewart of Kansas City, too. We used to practice together, and it came out that Sid showed Teddy the same things. We used to talk about how Sid used to play the brushes with so much finesse that it was just fabulous."

And Chick:

"I had heard Jo Jones years ago with the Basie band and I always admired Jo's drumming, and I loved him, and I loved the things he played. Jo Jones was merely a heck of an influence on me when I was a kid. But my mind used to go past Jo Jones because at the same time, the Savoy was hollerin', and Chick Webb was playin'."

"Chick was the drummer I used to listen to. I'd be listenin' to those broadcasts, and my mother used to really holler at me because I kept the radio on all night! Chick used to have a theme song called Liza. I memorized that tune, it's in my mind right now, I could hum the tune the way he played it. I used to listen to the drum solos that he played in between . . . That's the reason why I fashioned with this quintet I'm trying to get together the theme I'm using. Of course, I'm using Blue and Boogie, but I'm inserting drum things in between here and there; let them play a few, and then I play some drums and then go out with a big smash. Chick used to do that with Liza. It always impressed me. It was a beautiful thing."

On O'Neil Spencer:

"I changed my mind about drums when I met O'Neil Spencer [Mills Blue Rhythm Band which later became the Lucky Millinder big band]. O'Neil was the first name drummer I met, and, as I often say to myself, thank God I met him at the time I did. John Kirby was working in town, and he came by one of our sessions and liked what, we were playing, and he brought his drummer to hear me.

"When I met O'Neil, something just dawned on me. This man was such a beautiful drummer, he did so many things that I dreamed of. He made me think about drums differently. O'Neil used to say to me, 'Why don't you do this and do that? Why don't you play an afterbeat on the two and four with the sock cymbals?' And that used to fascinate me. I had never heard anybody do this, and John Kirby used to say, 'That's it! That's the way it's supposed to be.' O'Neil was the first person I ever heard do it with the 2, 4 thing."

On Slim Gaillard:

"Slim Gaillard used to teach me all the cow bell tricks, and the things that he plays on cow bell are authentic. Other guys might not dig it, might not get close to Slim and listen. I had to listen to him - I was playing with him every night. And he plays authentic, actual rhythms on that cow bell. That throwing the cow-bell-up-in-the-air bit is something different. But he taught me the things to play on the top of the cymbal. Slim was responsible for all the Latin things that I've learned."

On local drummers who influenced him when he was a youth:

"There's an old fellow in Philadelphia, who's still there playin' — he's playin' every night—named Coatesville. He used to teach me how to play the drums, and I used to sit underneath the bandstand in the club because I was too young to be there, but he'd sneak me in. He's still one of the swingingest older cats I've met. In 1938, '39 I used to watch this guy and another old man. He used to play drums, used to sit up with a pipe in his mouth and play every night.

"I lived across the street from a place called the Lennox Grill in Philadelphia, and I used to peek through the windows in the back of the club, they had bars on the windows, and I used to always stand there and look at this drummer. He had a pipe in his mouth and a regular old setup of drums — you know, no high hat, nothing like that — just a bass drum and a little cymbal, cymbals were small then. But he was swinging like I don't know what. My mother used to come around the corner and look up and see me peeking in the window and say, 'Come on now,' and I'd go home — I only lived across the street. But I used to sneak out of the house sometimes at night because they'd be playin' after my bedtime ...  I had to go to school . . . but I used to sneak out, run across the street, 10:30, 11 o'clock at night and peek in that window and listen to him playing drums."

On Max Roach and Art Blakey:

"I left Philadelphia in 1947 and came to New York to live because during and before those years Max and Art used to come to Philly, and I'd be working in the clubs when they came to town, and I idolized them, and they used to say, 'Why don't you come to New York?' In fact, Art or Max would confirm that they've ridden with me when I was driving on the streetcar, and then Max came back a few years later when I was driving a grocery truck and used to ride with me in the afternoons, and we'd talk.

"I loved Max and Art, and I wanted to talk to them and be with them, and I couldn't because I was in Philly so I used to buy a train ticket. I used to commute from Philly to New York and go to Max' house over on Monroe St. in Brooklyn with Kenny Davis. I'd eat dinner and stay maybe six, seven hours, and we'd play. We'd go into his bedroom, and Max would be showing Kenny and myself different things. We'd be, so to speak, swapping notes. Max introduced me to Kenny Clarke. He told me, This is Kenny Clarke the forerunner of all of us!'"

On Miles Davis:

"Miles had this uncanny sense of time and rhythm, real different from anybody I've ever met. And he often said that my sense of time is strange and so between the two of us having these strange senses of time, we just seemed to get together with the sense of time, and I could never lose him, and he could never lose me. I always knew where he was. As much as I like to play the melody in things on the drums, I could get with Miles and go into anything, just like he does with me; he never stays with the drummer; he goes way out. But I know where he's at, and I know what he's doing, and with Miles I could play some drum things without having to stick close to the melody on the drums to let him know where I was at 'cause he had such an uncanny sense of time. He would know the amount of time that I had to be playing, and I'd come out right, and it would bring him right back, and he'd come right back where ONE was . . . and it was always beautiful.

"The greatest experience of my life was with Miles, of course ... I could never deny that — the greatest experience of my life other than the few times I worked with Charlie, meaning Charlie Parker. They were the greatest experiences of my life. To work with Miles later gassed me because I knew that he got all of his seasoning from Charlie.

"In Miles group, Miles would let me play 'most anything I felt like playing. He used to have a firm hand on me. With Miles, I'm a sideman, and there's so much I can do and so much I can't do. Miles used to get angry about some things I would do and limit me and have me play certain things and tie me down and I couldn't progress. I feel that if a drummer can experiment on the bandstand without upsetting the rhythm and disturbing people, it's good for you and makes you progress. But Miles wouldn't let me experiment too much, because he'd say I'd be getting in the way. With my own group, I can experiment the way I feel because it's my group! With my own group I feel more at liberty. If I feel something, to go into it. I used to feel things with Miles that might have been some spectacular things, but I wouldn't do them because I was afraid he would reprimand me.

"I believe in everybody in the band letting them play their own arrangements. That makes them a happy group. When I was in Miles' band that was the thing that I didn't like in the band. Miles would never play anything that I would write or that anybody else in the band would write. Course we could suggest, which I did. I suggested on numerous occasions how the format of an arrangement should be. "I'll play brushes here" like on All of You. Different things like that. That concept was me. I said, 'Miles, I want to play brushes in front of that' when he started the opening of All of You. That's my idea. We dreamed that up on a plane flying to Detroit or somewhere."

On young, outstanding drummers:

"Louis Hayes! He's going to be an excellent drummer. And a student of mine named Andrew Serrill — he's becoming a very good drummer. And a protege of mine from Philadelphia, a young boy named Endlove. They're going to be very excellent drummers."

On tricks and stick twirling:

"It looks good. It's flash. It looks very good with those sticks being twirled in your hands, but you should be kept on the drums. You're supposed to be playing the drums. A lot of guys will say, 'Ah, man, I left my tom-toms home, and my other cymbal is gone.' Drums can be played with the bass drum, snare drum, and ONE cymbal. Or if you don't have the cymbal, you can use the snare drum. I know a lot of guys can sit down and play the snare drum.

"I don't like tricks, I don't like to resort to tricks. Now I try to do some kind of trick things with the cymbals, but I want to do them in the rhythm. It's not just a trick, and you don't hear it; it's a trick and you hear it. Twirl the sticks and that's a trick, and nobody hears it; it's all right, it looks flashy, but what looks flashy is one thing— what you hear is still rhythm that keeps it swinging. Don't do pantomime drums! 'Cause pantomime drums cannot be heard on a record.

"I've seen Buddy Rich do all kinds of solos, any way you can think of, and I've never seen him do tricks. He plays drums and cymbals all the time, both the hands and the feet. Buddy does things that are unbelievable for any drummer. I used to play the conga on stage while he was playing drums in his solo. I'd be playing rhythm, and I used to look over at him to see when he was going to come out of his solo . . . and I couldn't see his hands! I couldn't see them! They were a blur, the sticks were a blur. He's the greatest drummer I've listened to when you start saying, 'Go in there and play those drums.'"

On playing loudly:

"I am comparatively a heavy drummer. I like to play heavy, and I play forceful, and sometimes I tend to get loud, and it might be overbearing because I've seen some customers who sit close to the drums get up and move. So I understand.

"A lot of drummers play for themselves and don't think about the audience. I do. I think about the audience at all times when I'm playing. I have a feeling for their ears as far as volume is concerned. But on some tunes, you just cannot come down and make the tune effective, so I have to play loud. If I would play it much softer, it wouldn't be any good. It would kill the brilliance of the tune.

"But even though a drummer can play loud, I notice the public will accept it if the drums are loud and musical. If you're loud and not musical, they won't accept it."

On the future of drums:

"The era has changed, and it's getting so that people are getting more modern-minded. We're talking about the moon. The drums have got to go to the moon! You can't be playing the drums in 1923; it's 1960 now, and the drums have got to move along and progress, too. I think drums are changing constantly.

"We have so many young drummers that are coming up, and they listen to me and Art and Max and different cats that are playing, and they want to play different. They're constantly trying to surpass. That's the way I felt about the older drummers. I wanted to surpass what they did, so that I can be doing something progressive and get recognition, and the younger drummers that are younger than I are doing the same thing. Youth just comes on. Youth comes through, and it's with a different flavor. They're constantly searching, and there's no end to drums, what you can do with drums.

"The only thing I can say is for all drummers, including myself — and I'm really scuffling just to stay this way — I want to keep time behind me and don't let it catch up. When time catches up with you, you become passe, so I'm striving to keep time behind me. I don't want time to pass me, and go ahead, and wake up someday and I'm old-fashioned. I say, don't let "emit"— that's "time" spelled backwards — don't let "emit" get you."’

Source: March 3, 1960 edition of Downbeat magazine.

Marco Pacassoni - Frank and Ruth

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

Although I’ve never met him because of the geographical distance between California and Fano [near Urbino], in the northeast Tuscan-Romagnolo Apennines region of Italy where he lives, percussionist, composer and teacher, Marco Pacassoni and I have become social networking friends.

It’s a friendship that I value not only because of some obvious points - I’m Italian-American and he’s Italian; I play drums as does he and other percussion instruments as well; our shared interest in Jazz - but because my “friendship” with Marco helps keep me in touch with what’s going on in Jazz today.

Keeping current is a challenge for me; to be honest, I don’t like much of what I hear that passes for Jazz today. It just doesn’t speak to me. On the other hand, I don’t want to isolate myself from contemporary Jazz while relegating myself solely to the music, which I do favor, as it existed in previous periods of its development.

Jazz has always been ecumencial and ecclectic - it’s a music open to influences from a wide variety of socio-cultural sources - so it’s probably healthy for me to have associations with young musicians who hear and play the music differently and who help keep my ears moving in different directions.

But if that wasn’t enough, there’s another “connection” between Marco and me brought about by the concept of his most recent CD and that is, its theme is based on the music of Frank Zappa.

In 1962, the actor Timothy Carey wrote directed and starred in The World’s Greatest Sinner, a horror movie. Frank Zappa wrote the film score and I played percussion on it.

Along with about 60 other musicians who all agreed to play the music for a flat fee and a boxed lunch as our way of helping Frank keep the costs down, it was recorded during the summer of 1961 in the newly appointed recording studio that was part of the Claremont Colleges. [Claremont is a city on the eastern edge of Los Angeles in the Pomona Valley, at the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains.]

At the time this film score was recorded, Frank Zappa was not the big Rock Star he would later become. To me, he was just another working musician who happened to have a gig that I played on.

And although I was aware of his later astronomical career rise - I especially liked the humor in Zappa’s song and record titles -  I didn’t follow it closely because of the Rock ‘n Rock orientation of the music.

Now, thanks to the MARCO PACASSONI GROUP - Marco Pacassoni: vibraphone and marimba Alberto Lombardi: electric, acoustic and classical guitars Enzo Bocciero: piano and keyboards Lorenzo De Angeli: bass Gregory Hutchinson: drums - I’ve had the opportunity to revisit some of Zappa’s music through the Jazz-inflected Frank and Ruth. Released on Esordisco, the CD is available via Amazon and other online retailers. You can also visit Marco at his website.

Pierre Ruiz is the producer of Frank and Ruth and his notes to the recording will provide you with more information about its background and the musicians who created the music for it.  

PRODUCER’S NOTES

“I cannot exactly remember when the idea of this album was born in my mind. What I am sure of is that I always wanted to complete such a project, which was to realize the dream of a vibraphone and marimba tribute to the music of my favorite musician composer, Frank Zappa.

I met Marco Pacassoni about six years ago. I called him because we were looking for a vibraphonist for a tour with the artist Bungaro. We immediately developed a real friendship and when I told him about my idea and my fascination with [keyboardist] Ruth Underwood, explaining that for me the best Zappa albums were the ones on which she played, he admitted that he knew only a part of that music, but that he would love to learn more. So I began to feed him tunes to listen to, sharing with him an imaginary track list. When Marco decided to really go for it (about two years ago), his first statement was that it was impossible not to include Peaches en Regalia and The Black Page on the album. That made me very happy because those are two of my favorites, and there was no better way to acknowledge the technical challenges behind this adventure. Marco studied Ionisation by Edgard Varese when he was in Conservatorio Rossini of Pesaro, even before he graduated in percussion at the Berklee College of Music [Boston, MA]. It was strange for me that he could know more about Varese than about Zappa! I liked his idea of playing The Black Page alone at the marimba, just adding the beat, as if hearing the footsteps of an imaginary listener turning around. Who could it be?

My very first wish was to include Pink Napkins with Zappa’s guitar solo played at the vibraphone. Marco worked on Steve Vai’s score for guitar to create this incredible adaptation. Linking this to Black Napkins was the plan, as they are actually the same tune – but then Alberto Lombardi came on board. His unique guitar fingerstyle offered us the opportunity to add Sleep Dirt (which has often been also called Sleep Napkins). I thought it would be nice to call this arrangement Sleep, Pink and Black (the Napkins Suite).

From the beginning, when we first spoke of possible musicians, it was very clear to Marco that he needed to invite Lorenzo De Angeli [classical, acoustic, electric guitars] and Enzo Bocciero [piano and keyboards] to this project. Both talented musicians, and members of his quartet, I agreed that they would perfectly fit. Marco and I both wanted a guitarist – and since is a very courageous decision for a tribute to Zappa – I was convinced that Alberto Lombardi, with whom I had worked on another album, was equally technically and artistically perfect for such a project.

I discovered Gregory Hutchinson when he was playing drums with Joshua Redman in 2000. Since then, he’d been for me one of my top-of-mind drummers. He is so incredibly inspired, rich with nuance and musicality. When I called him, I felt like I was excusing myself. “I have to tell you that this will be a tribute to Frank Zappa’s music.” His answer was akin to, “hey man, what’s the problem?” I felt blessed that he accepted the project.

The first arrangements that Marco made was for Blessed Relief, and soon after, Echidna’s Arf. Both are completely revisited, which was the entire purpose of our project; there is no copy and paste here. No doubt that if Zappa was still alive, he too would be permanently rearranging his music – he always did.

Marco also wanted to pay tribute to Ruth. That’s why he wrote For Ruth. I love it, and hope one day she can listen to it.

The Zappa Songbook represents more than half of the music that he published. It would have been illogical not to include at least a couple of songs. Alberto is actually an accomplished singer, having recorded two albums. The Idiot Bastard Son is one of his favorites, and this selection was met with much enthusiasm by Marco because we’d had this particular tune on our shortlist.

I also had in mind to feature Petra Magoni on this album. She is one of my favorite Italian voices, and in my opinion, Petra’s tone is perfect for Zappa music. She is not merely rock, pop, jazz or classic, but rather so versatile that she can perform all genres. It is for this reason that she is an inimitable talent. She and I met and talked about the meaning of the lyrics of Planet of the Baritone Women. Then I proposed this absolutely free improvisation with Marco’s marimba in the middle of the tune, and the result has made me exquisitely happy. It all happened here.

We had three days to record the album. At the end of the second day, we were ahead of schedule, so we decided to record one more tune – Stolen Moments – the day after. We all adored the cover that Zappa did on Broadway the Hard Way. Well, that third and last day did not run as smoothly as we had hoped, and had little time left. However, we still recorded the tune, even with only minimal rehearsal of a few bars. The version you’ll hear is take one, with no edit.

There are no words to thank Marco, Alberto, Enzo, Lorenzo, Greg and Petra. What they have given to the album is awesome.

Music is the best. Pierre Ruiz”        

Baltimore, 19 April 2018

Album concept by Pierre Ruiz and Marco Pacassoni.

Executive Producer: Pierre Ruiz  for Esordisco.

Produced and mixed by Alberto Lombardi.

All songs arranged by Marco Pacassoni except: Sleep, Pink and Black (the napkins suite) by Alberto Lombardi.

Vocal arrangement of Planet of Baritone Women by Petra Magoni.

Illustrations by Beppe Stasi.

MARCO PACASSONI GROUP Marco Pacassoni: vibraphone and marimba Alberto Lombardi: electric, acoustic and classical guitars Enzo Bocciero: piano and keyboards Lorenzo De Angeli: bass Gregory Hutchinson: drums Special Guest: Petra Magoni on “Planet of the Baritone Women”

Harry Carney With Strings (1955) (Full Album)