Mundell Lowe - “Our Waltz”

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

  

 “Improvisers intimidated by the unhurried ballad’s unavoidable requirement to think often address the problem by doubling the established tempo and falling back on a familiar pattern of notes. Mundell Lowe, a deep thinker and consummate guitarist, uses no such trick because he doesn’t need to. He observes the melodies of these cherished songs, sometimes embellishing them a bit, sometimes using their harmonies as touchstones for lovely melodies of his own. It is an album of mood music for the mind as well as the spirit.”

- Orrin Keepnews

Donald Byrd said to the author, critic, editor Gene Lees many years ago, "After all my years in this business, I have concluded that the hardest thing to do is play straight melody and get some feeling into it." Gene followed up with: "Listen to Bill Evans playing Danny Boy and you will know exactly what he means." 

This quotation also brought to mind Mundell Lowe's interpretation of David Rose's Our Waltz with its gentle, loving, introspective, beautiful examination of the tune, in which all the glories of Mundell's guitar-playing are on display. I think Mundell's playing on this track is a quintessential example of playing straight melody with some feeling in it.

Mundell Lowe has been a part of my Jazz Life almost from its beginnings as I was fortunate to acquire two of his earliest recordings for Riverside Records just after they were issued in 1955/56.

Orrin Keepnews, the owner, operator of that label, was also fortunate in terms of his association with Mundell because due to Mundell's southern "roots," Lowe introduced him to pianist Bill Evans who was then a student at Southeast Louisiana State College [Mundell is from Laurel, MS, about a two hour drive northeast of SELSC].

After Mundell passed away on December 2, 2017 in San Diego, CA at the age 95. the editorial staff at JazzProfiles remembered him on these pages with the following retrospective of the highlights of Mundell’s career by Gene Lees, some excerpts from Orrin's insert notes to Mundell's two Riverside albums and a  YouTube with Mundell's beautiful rendition of David Rose's Our Waltz serving as its soundtrack.

When I mentioned Mundell in a recent correspondence with a Jazz friend, he commented: "A genius of harmony, tasteful accompaniment and amazingly inventive voicings. A top tier master!

I thought, hmmm, that comment alone warranted a re-posting of this earlier piece.

© -Gene Lees, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“Guitarist Mundell Lowe has performed in a notable variety of styles and idioms. From 1936, when he was fourteen, until 1940, he played traditional New Orleans jazz in that city, at a time when many of its founding figures were still around. Then he went to Nashville and played what was then known as hillbilly music, later refined to country and western, per­forming on Grand Ol' Opry radio broad­casts. He went with the Jan Savitt band in 1942, then into the U.S. Army. On being discharged in 1945, he joined the Ray McKinley band and stayed for two years. Somewhere along the way, he—like Herb Ellis and just about every other guitarist in jazz — came under the influence of Charlie Christian, and then in the period of bop evolution, of Jimmy Raney.

Mundy, as he is known to friends, then played in small groups led by Mary Lou Williams, Red Norvo, and Ellis Larkins while studying composition with Hall Overton, working on staff at NBC, and even doing some off-Broadway acting. He formed a quartet that included Red Mitch­ell on bass, and while working with Mitch­ell in New Orleans discovered and hired a pianist from New Jersey who was then a student at Southeastern Louisiana Uni­versity— Bill Evans. Mundy Lowe was Bill's first champion in the business.

Mundy was a member of the Sauter-Finegan Orchestra in 1952 and '53, and in 1952 began working with Benny Good­man. He played with Goodman intermit­tently until 1984.

In 1965 Mundy moved to Los Angeles, where he worked mostly as a film and tel­evision composer. In 1983 he became music director of the Monterey Jazz Fes­tival. All the while he continued to per­form in his polished, thoughtful, unassuming style, touring from time to time with Benny Carter. He also toured with his gifted wife, singer Betty Bennett. He speaks pretty much as he plays, softly and with a sound of the South.”

Guitar Moods [Riverside RLP 208/Original Jazz Classic OJCCD- 1957-2]

"In these days of apparently countless quantities of jazz albums, variety would seem to be the watchword. The end-product of more than a few recording sessions appears merely to be a rather casual cross-section of the work of a particular group or artist; as if to say "here is a sampling of just about all the types and tempos we have to offer." Not that this is necessarily a poor way to go about things: much good music (as well as some bad and a great deal of indifferent) has been produced by this kind ot approach. Nevertheless, it does serve to point up just how rare it now is for a jazz musician to be so daring as to attempt an LP entirely devoted to a single specific theme, or to building and maintaining a single mood—that, in short, has unity.

It is precisely this sort of rarity that Mundell Lowe has created here. The strongly enthusiastic critical reactions to his work customarily lay stress on the warm, flowing lines of his guitar. This eventually and inevitably has encouraged Mundell to proceed with a project that has long been close to his heart: an album exclusively concerned with the sort of tune that listeners used to call (and musicians still call) "ballads'—songs that demand a slow tempo and delicate, sensitive handling, and that are capable of rewarding the proper treatment by conjuring up a soft and warm glow.

This is music with a deep romantic tinge, but it is never in any danger of slipping over the line into banality or saccharine sweetness. For it remains thoroughly in the jazz idiom. Backed by firm, sure rhythm, and making rich use in his arrangements of the unusual colorings offered by such nonstandard instruments as bass clarinet, flute, and oboe, Lowe emphasizes the beauty and pathos that are among the basic features of jazz.

The repertoire he has selected here is an important part of the picture. From the haunting tenderness of Kurt Weill's "Speak Low" (and it took a little willpower to avoid turning that title into a pun and making it the title of the album!), through the work of such superior artists as Alec Wilder and Harold Arlen to Gordon Jenkins's mournful "Goodbye" (inevitably the closing number), these are melodies of sufficient depth and structure to lend themselves with great effectiveness to the web of intricate and subtle improvisation that Mundell spins. . . .

This album marks another large step in Lowe's progress toward recognition as an outstanding figure among the top-ranking modern jazz guitarists. He commands—as any artist of real stature must—a distinctive, highly personal style. While quick to admit his admiration for several other ma|ot guitarists of today—men like Tal Farlow, Jimmy Raney, Johnny Smith—he is clearly not exactly like any of them. One influence, of course, he does share with just about all current performers of this instrument. For all owe a very substantial debt to Charlie Christian, who must be given credit not only for the prevalence of the electric guitar in jazz today."

The Mundell Lower Quartet [Riverside RLP-204/Original Jazz Classic OJCCD 1773-2]

"On this LP a talented quartet led by guitarist MUNDELL LOWE creates some highly interesting, inventive, often intricate and always melodic jazz. Their music is exciting — because of the swinging drive on most numbers, and the fascinating and thoughtful interplay between instruments on all of them. It's also extremely pleasant, easy-listening jazz — because these men just couldn't play jagged or unrelaxed music, and because Lowe is a particularly fine hand at the clean and beautiful sounds the guitar is so capable of.

These days, quite a few musicians — such as Tal Farlow, Jimmy Raney, Johnny Smith, Barney Kessel — are putting the electric guitar to most impressive and varied use. And Mundell Lowe, as this album should clearly indicate, is rapidly staking out a claim to recognition as a very top-ranking member of this distinguished company.

His approach is very much his own. "I admire men like Farlow and Raney and Smith, but I don't want to play exactly like any of them.") For one thing, his sound is somewhat mellower than most guitarists, avoiding both shrillness in the upper register and that booming effect that can so easily crop up in the low tones on an amplified instrument. This certainly does not keep him from swinging crisply and vividly on up-tempo numbers, nor from achieving the full richness of a ballad. Also, although Lowe is the featured performer here, he does not attempt to stand out alone and unaided. The quartet's unique sound gains much of its effectiveness from being so thoroughly integrated."

Paul Horn - Profile of a Jazz Musician - 03 - Lazy Afternoon

Elvin Jones and Philly Joe Jones by Bobby Jaspar

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

“We know that the creative daring of Kenny Clarke originated an evolution in rhythmic concepts in jazz. This process, starting at the beginning of the war, was carried on by the contribution of great drummers like Max Roach and Art Blakey. However, during the past few years, it seemed that the reaction in rhythmic ideas that came with the "cool school had led to a rejection of some of the most exciting innovations of these men. I can now say, after my trip to the United States, that this view is not justified.

The "Basie tradition", modified by innovations of the "bop" movement, apparently holds the central place in contemporary jazz; several important drummers, like Chico Hamilton and Connie Kay, remain faithful to classical ideas based on symmetry. At the same time other drummers have appeared who are carrying on the evolution where their predecessors stopped. Two young drummers particularly impressed me when I heard them in person (their records of the past few years have shown their real worth only in a very imperfect way, especially the boldness of their conception).

They are Philly Joe Jones and Elvin Jones. Though they have the same last name, the two musicians are not related: Philly Joe, as his name implies, comes from Philadelphia; Elvin is the younger brother of Hank and Thad Jones. Bobby Jaspar who played with both, in groups led by Miles Davis and Jay Jay Johnson, gives us here his thoughts on the importance of their contributions…..”

- Andre Hodeir, a musician composer and author who in 1954 founded and became the director of Jazz Groupe de Paris of which Bobby Jaspar was a member.

Tenor saxophonist and flutist Bobby Jaspar [1926-1963] was born in Liege, Belgium. Jaspar made his name in Paris in the 1950s, and he moved to the USA when he married vocalist Blossom Dearie. His most famous associations were with a quintet he co-led with trombonist J.J. Johnson and a brief spell in Miles Davis’ group in 1957. He died in 1963 following complications from heart surgery.

While some of his discography has been reissued on CD, unfortunately Bobby has become a largely forgotten figure.

This article was reprinted from JazzHot by permission of Charles Delaunay, the directing editor of the magazine, in The Jazz Review, Vol. 2, No. 2, February, 1958.

It is unusual from a number of perspectives, not the least of which was Jaspar’s early recognition of how Elvin Jones and Philly Joe Jones continued and yet changed the direction of modern Jazz drumming from the way it was played by Kenny Clarke, Max Roach and Art Blakey.

I find it especially interesting to consider Bobby’s remarks about Elvin Jones’ playing considering that Elvin’s tenure with John Coltrane’s iconic quartet was still about four years in the future at the time of this writing in 1958.

The article is also somewhat unique in that one does not often encounter pieces written by hornmen describing in detail what it feels like to play in front of a particular drummer.

For example, many observers noted that Philly Joe Jones played too loud and too busily when he was a member of Miles’ quintet in the mid 1950’s prompting Davis to remark: “I like his fire.” Not particularly loquacious, but I guess one could say, descriptive to a point.

Fortunately for those who prefer to dig a little deeper, Bobby does set forth many interesting observations in the following essay on Elvin and Philly.

“Years ago, I wrote an enthusiastic letter to a friend about a drummer, John Ward, an emulator of Kenny Clarke and Max Roach, who particularly impressed me then. After trying to describe his playing unsuccessfully I resorted to a little drawing. The drawing showed a little car moving straight along at a constant speed, symbolizing the constant tempo, and mounted on top of this car, a smaller car that rolled back and forth. The movements of the second car represent a secondary rhythm superimposed on the basic beat represented by the motion of the first car. I now return to this drawing to describe the playing' of the two drummers who recently have impressed me the most: Elvin Jones and Philly Joe Jones. The first time I played with Elvin Jones I found it hard to understand what he was doing. He played so many strange overlapping rhythms that I found it hard to hear the basic tempo. I thought that he was in poor form, and just couldn't keep time. A talk with the bass player reinforced my opinion, for he told me that he had the greatest difficulty in playing with Elvin too. (That was during the earliest days of the J. J. Johnson quintet.) Then, little by little, I began to understand the mysteries of Elvin's playing, so different from the metronomic ideas of Frank Isola and his school, and of other drummers I knew and understood. Then the drawing of the two little cars, which I had forgotten, came back to mind.

I came to the conclusion that what Elvin was doing was really the continuation and development of the principles that Kenny Clarke and Max Roach had pioneered. Since then, working with him every day, I have had the chance to learn to appreciate Elvin. I have never tired of his complex and highly stimulating playing. The basic tempo is there once and for all; it never varies throughout a performance (obviously this should always be so ; but sometimes it seems to disappear almost completely.) There is the basic metronomic pulse which each musician must register sub-consciously (symbolized by the constant speed of the larger car). Over this beat is grafted a series of rhythms so complex that they are almost impossible for me to write out. These rhythms (like the movements of the smaller car) create a sort of secondary or tertiary tempo. At times, playing with Philly or Elvin Jones, the whole band seems to be speeding up or slowing down in an astonishing way, when actually this is not so, since the basic tempo hasn't changed at all. While playing with J. J. Johnson's quintet, Elvin, Wilbur Little, and Tommy Flanagan were able to develop a collective feeling for rhythm and for section playing. It was marvelous to hear them accompanying a slow blues, for example.

At a certain point (in the second or third chorus of a solo) they will double the time in a very gradual and subtle way. (See musical example.) At the double tempo, the bassist plays a line of triplets mixed with notes played on the beat, the pianist plays off-beat chords, and the drummer plays a series of fast triplets and semiquavers on the ride cymbal: the polyrhythm of the three instruments implies the basic tempo of the blues, doubled but creates enormous excitement and allows the soloist great freedom in improvising. After a roll on the snare, the band goes back to the original tempo, having reached an indescribable pitch of excitement. Elvin Jones uses triplets freely, but he seldom uses the high-hat to mark a regular or symmetrical beat. The accent on the weak beat often disappears entirely, to be replaced by complicated cross-rhythms on the ride cymbal reinforced by the familiar snare drum accents of modern drumming. I must especially emphasize the absence of the afterbeat accent on the high-hat. When one is not used to its absence, one feels a sensation of freedom, as though floating in a void with no point of reference.

Actually this kind of freedom is a trademark of the greatest jazzmen. Charlie Parker carried this kind of floating on top of the time the farthest, I think"; and the great soloists at their best moments seem completely free of the alternation of "strong-weak, strong-weak" that some people mistakenly call swing. At up tempo Elvin follows the same methods. At up tempos though, whether through intention or through flaws of technique, Elvin sometimes creates a rhythmic climate that cannot be sustained (at least when he drowns out the bass in volume).

From that point of view, Philly Joe seems to be the better drummer of this school. I know of few soloists in New York who can improvise freely in front of Elvin at up tempo without falling off the stand. I suppose that Elvin will simplify his style in the end, but apparently he is still discovering new possibilities every day and looking toward wider horizons. This concept of drumming, as I said, comes directly from Kenny Clarke, Max Roach, and Art Blakey. Elvin Jones and Philly Joe Jones seem to me worthy successors in the tradition. Upon the innovations of their predecessors they have elaborated this kind of polyrhythm to a sometimes unbelievable degree.

Their playing is only now beginning to win the recognition it deserves among musicians in New York. This previous lack of enthusiasm is not hard to understand. It's much easier for a soloist to be backed by a comfortable metronome who hammers the tempo into your head and gives you constant sign-posts! Few musicians of the Basie-Lester school can get used to such complicated rhythms.

Stan Getz has become fascinated by Elvin's playing, though, and it has been a revelation for me to hear these two musicians playing together. Getz has spoken appreciatively of this school of drumming, but he has had trouble finding a bass player strong and steady enough to hold his place in the fierceness of Elvin's attack. At fast tempos Getz sometimes has to stop playing for awhile and listen to the temporary confusion of the rhythm section. I have often had the same trouble with Elvin: the tension would build to a point where I had trouble finishing my choruses; I would begin trembling with internal excitement, but completely unable to tell where we were any longer . . . That is obviously a situation to be avoided .

But I am sure that Elvin will eventually master this lack of precision which is luckily caused by nothing more serious than over-enthusiasm. We often forget that syncopation is the essence of jazz rhythm. The famous phrase "syncopated rhythm" has become a cliche we laugh at. There was a time in Paris when we tried to play as exactly on the beat as we could. We then believed that swing could be achieved by placing notes with mathematical accuracy, by steady time, and strong pulsation with heavily accented afterbeats. How could we have been misled by such foolishness? I have found the same misconceptions in some lifeless bands in New York, where the least rhythmic freedom raises the eyebrows of the musicians. They have the expression of a clerk who finds his ink-stand out of place one morning.

The idea of tempo should be a more general one, an idea that each player should have firmly once and for all at the beginning of a performance. The rhythm will have changed often and in many ways. Elvin will deliberately put himself into the most dangerous situation for a soloist—where he must find a way out by increasingly risky and always spontaneous improvising. Apparently, to do that, one needs perfect time, a sort of internal metronome in the "hypothalamus". American musicians have an expression for this; they say "He always knows where one is." Elvin Jones has a very powerful style, based on complete independence of all four limbs and an enormous volume of sound (probably the biggest sound of any drummer I know, which doesn't make him any easier to play with!) His cymbal sound is especially individual. He is very interested in African music. He knows that's the source of polyrhythms, and constantly listens to recordings of African tribal music. (After all, didn't Blakey take a trip to the Congo and come back raving about his exciting musical experiences?) Philly Joe Jones is Elvin's spiritual father in some ways. I have talked more of Elvin because I know his work better. Elvin still has some distance to go to match Philly Joe's mastery, but I am sure we have some happy surprises in store for us.

We often speak of jazz as "an artistic expression of a racial emancipation." I am not qualified to discuss such problems, though I face them every day; but it is certainly true that jazz is the most original art-form to have come out of the United States. That is not to say that we have no right to create an original and valid form of jazz in Europe, but it does seem to me that jazz is a protest, a relentless revolution. The moment that jazz is played without some sort of sense of liberation, it loses all meaning. This tradition of liberation, of revolt against the symmetry of the tempo in this case, I have found to the highest degree in Elvin Jones and Philly Joe Jones.”

"On Time" - With Les McCann and Joe Pass

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

As Kirk Silsbee alludes in the excerpts from the sleeve notes to the Les McCann and Joe Pass Pacific Jazz On Time recording [PJ A916] that follow this introduction, both The Bit, a club that pianist Les McCann often performed at in the early 1960s and Dick Bock, the owner of Pacific Jazz records, were “a bit off the beaten path” [horrible pun intended].

The club was not in Hollywood per se, nor was it quite on The Sunset Strip. It was between the two as you exited Hollywood to the west along Sunset Blvd. You had to know exactly where it was located [along a short curving pathway off of Sunset at the corner of Gardner], because when it first opened, there was no signage directing you to the club.

Les played The Bit quite often in the early 1960’s. His soulful, bluesy and funky style of playing really appealed to the younger Jazz audience who were becoming especially put off by the rapid changes going on in mainstream Jazz at that time.

As Ted Gioia described it:

“Jazz was like one of those newspaper chess problems: move from bop to free in ten moves. Change was the byword….

As is often the case with change, some of it had a positive effect on Jazz, but there were also disastrous consequences as well.

In a way, the soul and funk movement was a step to the side for Jazz or, if you will, a look backward at its rhythm and blues roots.

Dick Bock at Pacific Jazz records became the West Coast equivalent of Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff and their New York-based Blue Note Records in his attempt to add elements of the soulful gospel music of the sanctified southern Baptist Church to the hard bop then prevalent on the Jazz scene.

And no one was better at “signifyin’” and tesifyin’ than pianist Les McCann. His music was very straight-forward and very direct. You could clap your hands to it, snap your fingers or stomp your feet.

Many musicians criticized Les because of the emotional appeal of his music, the fact that it was commercially successful, and that it was often limited to Blues in B-flat and Blues in E-flat. To which Les responded: “My music makes people happy and the bread [money] I make from selling albums keeps me happy. What more do you want?”

As indicated at the outset of this piece, here are some additional perspectives on Les and his music from Kirk Silsbee’s sleeve notes to On Time.

“[Pianist] Hampton Hawes melded gospel with bebop in his piano playing, While Horace Silver, Bobby Timmons and other East Coast pianists used gospel devices in their essentially bop-rooted styles, Les McCann may have been the first to add jazz devices to an essentially gospel-rooted style. "'You know," contends [pianist] Mike Wofford, "I always thought that Les single-handedly created a genre: that gospel/blues school of jazz piano. I don't think he ever gets credit enough for being the innovator he was."

McCann was quite popular around LA, both through his Pacific Jazz albums and his tenure at The Bit, It was a legendary coffeehouse and jazz room on Sunset Boulevard at Gardner, in West Hollywood. The late and celebrated walking bassist Leroy Vinnegar and drummer Ron Jefferson made up McCann's original trio. He observes, ‘Leroy and Ron were like all my trios back then: they worked for the groove. They were a solid foundation, unwavering. I've seen a lot of guys try to copy all of Leroy s little nicks and bumps without getting to the highway. They don't understand that Leroy had the whole highway!’

McCann, with his gospel-rooted style, was the point man for Pacific Jazz's "Soul-jazz" platoon (which included The Jazz Crusaders, Richard ‘Groove’ Holmes, tenor saxophonist Curtis Amy and organist Paul Bryant).

‘Dick always had suggestions,’ states McCann. ‘He was the first one who asked me to sing. That's why when he suggested Joe, I was open to it. Dick often put ptople in the studio together to sea what would happen. His idea was: let's open the door...’

While Pass was clearly a guest on the date, he was certainly a welcome one. He added a bop-derived musical sophistication absent from most soul-jazz recordings of the period.”

Yours Is My Heart Alone is one of my favorite tracks from On Time. It is usually rendered as a slow ballad, but Les, Joe, Leroy and Ron add some soulful, “down-home” elements to it and take it at a medium tempo which turns the tune into a real swinger.

You can check out their version Yours Is My Heart Alone on the following video tribute to Les and Joe.

Cannonball Adderley Sextet - Planet Earth

Cannonball Adderley Sextet - Scotch and Water

The Cannonball Adderely Sextet in New York

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

I suppose that old adages are old adages because the ring of truth in them defies time and prevails to some degree in any generation.

One such adage that came to mind recently is how do you know where you are going if you don’t know where you’ve been?

The inference of the importance of a point-of-departure in this adage is particularly relevant as it relates to the Jazz tradition.

In this regard, I always find it fun to revisit favorite recordings and gain a perspective on where the Jazz tradition was “then” in order to better understand where the music is “now.”

One of the most celebrated working relationships in recorded Jazz history was formed by alto saxophonist Julian “Cannonball” Adderley and Orrin Keepnews of Riverside Records.

Not only did Cannonball’s groups record for Riverside, but Cannonball also served as a musical advisor/director for Orrin’s label before Riverside’s demise in 1964 due largely to the bad business practices of Keepnews’ partner, Bill Grauer. But it was a great ten years while it lasted [Riverside issued it first LPs in 1953].

The Cannonball Adderley Sextet in New York [Riverside RLP 404; OCCD 142] was part of the short-lived [due to cost factors] “Great Age of the Jazz Sextet” when the more traditional, two instrument modern Jazz combo began to add another “voice” to the front line.

Prime examples of this trend were Art Farmer, Benny Golson and Curtis Fuller of the Jazztet and Art Blakey’s Messengers with Freddie Hubbard, Wayne Shorter and Curtis who was later replaced by Julian Priester.

Cannonball and his brother Nat took the plunge by adding Yusef Lateef on tenor sax and along with his big, bluesy tenor sax sound, Yusef brought along his flute and oboe to add lots of extra dimension to the sonority of the sextet.

As the following will exemplify, not only did Orrin produce first rate Jazz recordings but he also had the uncanny ability to write informative and detailed liner notes about them.

If you want to know where Jazz “was” a half century plus ago, The Cannonball Adderley Sextet in New York would make a good starting point.

And a good point in comparison to where the Jazz sextet in on today’s Jazz scene can be had by listening to any of the recordings by One for All which features a front line of Jim Rotondi, trumpet, Steve Davis, trombone and Eric Alexander on tenor sax backed by a rhythm section usually made up of David Hazeltine, piano, John Webber, bass and Joe Farnsworth on drums. One for All has recordings out on both Criss Cross and the Sharp Nine labels. Trombonist Steve Davis and pianist/organist Mike LeDonne have also recorded extensively in sextet formats. You can find more information about my previous postings on One for All and about Steve Davis by using the blog’s“Search” feature.

“The saga of Cannonball Adderley's band, which has unquestionably been one of the most dazzling success stories in modern jazz history, has been highlighted by in-the-club albums that have only become possible because of the improved tape-recording and microphone techniques and equipment of recent years.

When a jazz group is the sort that responds vividly to audience reaction, and when it also provokes great excitement and enthusiasm among the customers, an in-person recording can be an emotional and musical experience of awesome proportions. And I can think of no combination of jazz musicians who surpass Cannonball's crew in this dual ability to stimulate and be stimulated by a club full of avid listeners. This was overwhelmingly demonstrated very early in the band's existence, when they were recorded on the job at the Jazz Workshop in the Fall of 1959.

That was actually a rather accidental happening — we were anxious to bring out an album by this newly formed quintet as swiftly as possible, San Francisco was the scene of their first extensive engagement, and that otherwise wonderful city doesn't particularly have recording studio facilities. So we brought our equipment into the club, and the result was "The Cannonball Adderley Quintet in San Francisco"—a. most gratifyingly best-selling phenomenon whose virtues included a remarkable atmosphere of audience participation.

The present album can be considered something of a companion piece to that first LP, created just over two years after it and at the other end of the continent. It presents a group that is rather more mature in terms of self-assurance and experience in working together, but every bit as electric and spirited as it was then.

Four members of the unit have been on hand since the start: Cannonball, the country's top-ranked altoist; his brother, the brilliant cornetist Nat Adderley; and the incomparable rhythm team of bassist Sam Jones (who, like the Adderleys, could attribute much of his down-home jazz feeling to having- been born down in Florida) and Detroiter Lou Hayes on drums.

Their pianist, who joined the band in the Summer of '61 but is recording with them for the first time here, is Joe Zawinul, born and raised in Austria, whose playing manages to disprove a great many geographical and racial cliches about jazz.

Yusef Lateef, a second emigrant from Detroit and a big-toned tower of strength on tenor sax (and flute and oboe), was added to the group only three weeks before this recording was made, thus turning it into a sextet. There seems no need to comment on the fact that Yusef was instantly assimilated into the group, or on the equally important facts that he has never sounded better than in this context and that his presence appears to have really fired up all concerned. All this is thoroughly evident on the LP, with the seemingly impossible result that the most fiery and soulful of jazz bands now sounds

As befits a 'live' date, the album has been put together much in the pattern of an actual performance. It opens with a few trenchant observations by Cannonball, who has long established himself as a rarity among bandleaders by invariably seeking to warm and welcome his audiences and to tell them what's going on. Then the sextet launches into the strong and compelling jazz waltz, Gemini, named for the zodiac sign of the Twins and written by  tenor sax man Jimmy Heath a close friend of the Adderleys and himself a Riverside artist. Lateef states the theme on flute, and later follows solos by Julian and Nat with some soaring tenor comments. Then there's an ensemble interlude well worth special mention — not only on this album, but just about every time the band has played this tune, it draws applause, possibly the only time a mid-way ensemble chorus has consistently grabbed audience approval in this way.

Lateef's Planet Earth (Cannonball is apt to describe its title as "insurance—it's how to make sure where we're at") is a lusty number that displays how well the band now uses its three-horn status to construct effective backgrounds for the soloists.

The second side is a good example of a the variety and pacing of a typical club set. Dizzy's Business is a swift-moving "opener." (It was originally written, by Ernie Wilkins, for Dizzy Gillespie's big band and, as Cannon sometimes puts it: "Dizzy's business and our business are pretty much the same thing — to swing.").  Lateef's Syn-anthesia, which utilizes his command of the oboe, is a strange and delicate piece; Yusef explains its title as referring to "a mixture of the senses." Zawinul's Scotch and Water is a rocking blues that features solos by the leader and the composer. Lastly there is a closing theme, written by Sam Jones, that is more than just a curtain-call device: after Cannon introduces the cast, they proceed to blow up a final storm that leaves the crowd clapping, beating time, and obviously reluctant to have things end — which is not at all an unusual way for an Adderley set (or record) to come to a close.”

—ORRIN KEEPNEWS

JULIAN "CANNONBALL" ADDERLEY, alto sax; NAT ADDERLEY, cornet; YUSEF LATEEF, tenor sax, flute, oboe; JOE ZAWINUL, piano; SAM JONES, bass; LOUIS HAYES, drums. New York; January 12 and 14, 1962.

SIDE 1

1.  Introduction- - by Cannonball   (1:56)

2.  Gemini (11:36)                                        (Jimmy Heath)

3.   Planet Earth   (7:54)                               (Yusef Lateef)

SIDE 2

1.   Dizzy's Business  (6:59)                         (Ernie Wilkins)

2.  Syn-anthesia (7:00)                                 (Yusef Lateef)

3.  Scotch and Water (5:52)                         (Joe Zawinul)

4.  Cannon's Theme  (3:15) '                        (Sam Jones)