The Stan Kenton Orchestra's 1947 Version of "Machito"

Based in New York and who along with Tito Puente and Tito Rodriquez would lead the Mambo craze that swept the country in the 1950s, Machito was one of the first Latin band leaders to use Jazz concepts and soloists in his "Afro-Cuban" compositions.  Machito was a big fan of the Kenton band. Pete Rugolo composed and arranged this tribute to him in 1947.  Kai Winding and Chico Alvarez take the initial trombone and trumpet solos, respectively, and the signature Kenton high stuff at the end is performed by trumpeter Buddy Childers and trombonist Skip Layton.

Stan Kenton - The Beginning Days

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

Michael Cuscuna and Michael Sparke have provided the editorial staff of JazzProfiles copyright permission to reproduce the following introductory portion of the insert notes to The Complete Capitol Recordings of Stan Kenton 1943- 1947 [Mosaic MD7-163].

We thought that this would be an excellent way to “begin-at-the-beginning” with the development of the many iterations of The Stan Kenton Orchestra.

Our plan is to follow this feature with a piece based on a portion of Bud Freeman’s insert notes to “The Kenton Era” which was originally issued as a 4-LP set on Capitol [and reissued as a 2-CD set on Sounds of Yesteryear], a profile of the orchestra during an era when it relied primarily on the arrangements of Bill Russo and Bill Holman [often referred to as The New Concepts of Artistry in Rhythm band], and then to wrap up our visit with the Kenton band with a piece focused on its Later Years or Last Decade from 1969 until Stan’s death in 1979.

© -Michael Sparke and Mosaic Records; used with the author's permission; copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“Stan Kenton always referred to the years when his band was young, the style had not yet been finalized, and its very existence was in jeopardy, as the beginning days. And at the beginning Stan, one of the most successful band leaders of all time, was quite convinced the job was not for him. He wanted a band very much, if only to hear played the library of scores he had written which he felt were new and different and adventurous; but he personally was too tall, too awkward, too tongue-tied to be a leader. His idea was he should play piano and write the music, but someone more capable should front the band for him.

In fact, when Stan conducted, he soon found his infec­tious enthusiasm, his magnetic personality and sheer physical presence were vital selling points; the Kenton charisma mesmerized his audience, and held them as spellbound as the unorthodox music the band was playing. There had been over a year of workshop rehearsals, test recordings, and more latterly the odd one night stand, before the Kenton orchestra opened its first proper engage­ment for the summer at the Rendezvous Ballroom in Balboa on June 6, 1941.

It was there that the teenagers of southern California discovered Stan Kenton, and gave him his first taste of suc­cess. They identified with his music, and their enthusiasm was reflected in the band's spirit and urged the musicians to greater heights. Stanley gave his all, and demanded as much from every member of the band, who responded with the zeal of men working for a cause, rather than a pay-packet. The sincerity was evident and contagious. As Audree (Coke) Kenton told me, "The Kenton band was so entirely different from anything the kids were used to. It was a totally different sound, and very exciting. Stanley was a dynamic, dramatic conductor. When Stanley got up there, he waved his arms and all but fell off the stage, twice a night. The youngsters responded to this, and what he was giving them was not what they were used to. It was not swing, in the way that Goodman and Shaw were swing; it was something new, and there was a tremendous excite­ment generated. Part of it was Stanley himself, a lot of it was the music, much of which he had written, and it just knocked the kids out. They had come to dance, but they would end up standing in front of the bandstand, hour after hour."

Many of the guys in the band were musicians Stan had enjoyed working with as sidemen in other orchestras (Everett Hoagland, Gus Arnheim, Vido Musso), and whom he knew had similar musical ideals to his own. Key men included Canadian-born trumpet soloist Chico Alvarez, destined to remain a Kenton stalwart for many years; first alto player Jack Ordean, who attracted much favorable attention for his Hodges-inspired saxophone improvisa­tions; tenor saxophone soloist and singer Red Dorris, formerly with Ben Pollack; band manager Bob Gioga, whose baritone anchored the saxophone section until 1953; and bassist Howard Rumsey, who would later lead Lighthouse All Stars.

Every night's performance at the Rendezvous was expertly programmed as Stan explained in a magazine called Band Leaders. "The band was originally designed, through both orchestration and presentation, to thrill as much as possible. I strove for flash and wanted every arrangement, whether slow or fast tempo, to be a produc­tion in itself. Everything was written to swing to a driving beat. Spirit and enthusiasm had to predominate at all times. I wanted to play the strongest swing possible and yet to present swing in as elevated a manner as I could. I fig­ured that 11:30 to midnight gave us our high period. Our climax was so complete at that time of night, that had you touched any kid in the audience, I think he would have thrown off sparks!"

The band's style was achieved through the writing of Kenton himself. But as early as 1940 Stan brought in musician-friend Ralph Yaw (who had also arranged for Chick Webb and Cab Galloway) to help ease the burden. Yaw copied the Kenton staccato-style beat and saxophone voicings, commenting, "To my mind, the saxes are treated in the right way for the first time. It really scares me!" Yaw contributed his scores for free because he knew money was tight, and he was happy to write for a band with which he felt so much empathy. During 1941, a young writer named Joe Rizzo also added numerous charts in the Kenton style. "Joe was a young Californian who felt the same way musically as I did," Stan, explained. Even after he was drafted into the army, Rizzo continued to contribute the odd score (I'm Going Mad For A Pad is Joe's), and in later years he became a permanent arranger for the Lawrence Welk TV show.

Despite all the success stories, by no means every night at the Rendezvous was a rave-up. Charles Emge wrote in Down Beat, "It would be an exaggeration to say the band has been a 'sensation.' It's too good to crash through in that manner." And many years later Stan reminisced on CBC radio, "Today we talk about the large crowds that came to Balboa and all the excitement that was created, and hon­estly, I don't think business was very good that summer. In fact, I remember times when we played that I actually wor­ried about whether the owner of the ballroom was going to come out financially or not."

Nevertheless, the publicity roused led directly to a Decca recording contract. But the first session was a dis­mal failure, the producer insisting on a toned-down taboo, and three other titles that were cover versions of existing hits, rather than the jazz scores the band was familiar with. Much better were the dozens of sides recorded for radio play by C.P. MacGregor Transcriptions. And on November 25, 1941, Kenton opened to excellent business at the most famed west coast ballroom of them all, the Hollywood Palladium. Count Basic told the story of how one night he invited his musicians traveling to their next job by bus, to listen to a Kenton broadcast from the Palladium. "That," Basic told his bandsmen, "will be the next king!"

Basie was right, but the crown was still several years away. On their first visit to New York in early 1942, Stan's music certainly did not thrill patrons of the Roseland Ballroom, where the band (in the vernacular) "fried an omelette." Everyone knew that Roseland, home of host­esses and strict-tempo dancing, was the wrong spot for the jazz happy Kenton crew, but it was still a major setback when the band was pulled out after only three weeks of an eight-week engagement. Word of the Roseland debacle spread quickly, and when a band hit that sort of trouble it was common practice for other leaders to swoop and pick up sidemen for their own orchestras. Kenton said it was Jimmy Dorsey who personally helped him in New York to keep his outfit together and protected him from being raided for musicians by other bands.

The guys hung in there with Stan until the draft started to hurt, but throughout 1942 the band faced an uncertain future and a daily struggle for survival. It was only Kenton's tenacity and belief in his music that enabled him to carry on in the face of public apathy and war-time adversities. Even the critics were beginning their war of attrition, com­plaining in particular that the music was too loud and pretentious. (It wasn't until the 1970s that Stan's music in general began to be recognized for its worth by the critical fraternity, something the fans had known all along.)

Stan was forced to make concessions to the song plug-gers, and play many of the pop hits of the day, usually sung by Red Dorris or Dolly Mitchell (who replaced Eve Knight in September 1942). But Kenton was determined that even pop tunes were going to be played in a musical way, and brought in a young writer named Charlie Shirley to help him with the arranging chores. Shirley told Pete Venudor, "I was hired by Stan because he was impressed with my work for the Sam Donahue band. Kenton was headed for a lot of radio air time and needed a full complement of cur­rent pop arrangements. So I was hired to help ease the pressure on Stan and try to develop a pop style for the band. Stan assured me he'd use anything I came up with in the way of experimental stuff, either pop or jazz. We exper­imented on the ballads with woodwinds and classic voicings, and I feel I had some influence on the direction Stan swung into after the war. Kenton himself was one of the straightest men I've ever met, a valued friend and a fine leader."

In the summer of 1943, comedian Bob Hope was look­ing for a new band to replace army-bound Skinnay Ennis, and liked what he heard in the Kenton outfit. Stan for his part was desperately trying to balance the books and knew the security of a year's work with the Hope entourage would ease his financial worries. Nevertheless, if ever there was a musical mismatch, the Kenton/Hope collabora­tion was it. Even as he was preparing to indulge in the onezy-twozy brand of corn demanded by Frances Langford, Jerry Colonna and Hope himself, Kenton was making state­ments like, "Out of the swing music of today will evolve an original, modern concert music distinctly American in character." Not on the Bob Hope Show it wasn't! Bob's weekly broadcast was probably the most popular on the air, but the house band received limited exposure, and within weeks Kenton was regretting his acceptance of Hope's con­tract, even though the alternative might have been no band at all.

Commercially a triumph, musically the Hope associa­tion was the nadir of Stan's entire career. But Kenton made clear his beliefs had not changed when he told Down Beat in July 1943, "Sure, I've made concessions that I never thought I'd have to make. It was either that or completely giving up a musical idea that I still think is right. But don't think I've said so long to my so-called idealism — I still think the kind of music we used to play exclusively is the best." And things really started to look up for Stan in the fall, when some record labels made overtures to the Musicians' Union to end the first recording ban, then in progress. As a result, Kenton was approached by Capitol Records, a young Hollywood company whose executives expressed a keen interest in the band's music and whose policy Stan felt to be more in keeping with his own brand of idealism than the more conservative Decca label.

Every Kenton devotee will have his own favorite period from the orchestra's four decades of recorded music. For some it may be the mellophonioum "New Era," for some the Holman/Russo "New Concepts," for others the roaring bands of the 1970s. But for many, the definitive Stan Kenton, the music that above all other epitomizes the sounds that made Kenton distinctive and different, is that of the 1940s, when Stan's reputation had still to be estab­lished, and his urge for creativity and experimentation was at its peak. Which is where our musical story in this album begins....”

Stan Kenton - This is an Orchestra!

We wanted to do something special to recognize the publication in April of this year of Michael Sparke's book entitled Stan Kenton: This is an Orchestra! While the editorial staff at JazzProfiles is developing this feature, we thought that visitors to the site might enjoy the following video tribute which uses for its audio track, the signature piece of Kenton music which Michael has selected for the title of his book.

STAN KENTON – RECOMMENDED LISTENING

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

Discographies [listings of recordings by an artist] usually appear at the conclusion of retrospectives about a musician’s career, which is why the editorial staff at JazzProfiles debated about including one at this point in our visit with Stan Kenton and his music.

Because the Kenton oeuvre is so extensive, we decided that it might be more practical as well as helpful to make available an attenuated list of recommended recordings by the Kenton Orchestra.

We may choose to populate the columnar side of the blog at a later time with a formal discography courtesy of Messrs. Michael Sparke and Peter Venudor, both of whom are recognized authorities in such matters.

And although we have had our favorites Kenton recordings over the years, certain periods or eras of his music are more pleasing to us than others.

So as a way of working around our own biases, we put out a call to some internet friends for their suggestions.

Amongst the many enumerations that we received, we thought the following recommendations from Wes Pfarner and John Tapscott would be both comprehensive and manageable for those wishing to put together a basic collection of Stan’s recorded music. Our thanks to Wes and John for allowing us to use their lists.

“Hi Steven --

I won't pick CDs from all eras, but here are my selections for certain time periods.

No. 1 for an "All-Time Best CD" from the Kenton band is "Contemporary Concepts" on Capitol 42310.  It represents the absolute peak of the organization's efforts. [Mid-1955 to late 1956]

No. 2 from the Innovations era is "The Innovations Orchestra", Capitol 59965.  There's way too much music for a single CD, so this one takes two to present it all.

[early 1950 to late 1951]

No. 3 is "Easy Go" Capitol 24553, which presents a wide spectrum of Kenton's band playing charts by Kenton, Roland.  Very mainstream Kenton. [Mid-1950 to early 1952]

No. 4 is "New Concepts of Artistry in Rhythm", Capitol 92865, with the Kenton band playing Mulligan, Russo and Holman charts.  [September, 1952]

Of course, one could always go with "The Kenton Era" on Sounds of Yester Year DSOS723 which reprises the original four-LP set from Capitol on two CDs.

Or with Capitols' 4 CD set, "Retrospective" #97350 which touches on all eras of the Kenton band. The Kenton band of the early to mid-1950s had it all - the

best writers and arrangers, the most memorable soloists and a direction in music that made everyone want to be part of this group.

My opinion, others may judge differently.

Cheers, Wes Pfarner

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Steve: No "expert", but let me put in my 2 cents worth, since I enjoy these kinds of challenges.

The first choice for me would be  the "New Concepts of Artistry in Rhythm" CD because it includes Richards  "This Is An Orchestra" from which the book derives it's name.  In any case, I would rank it among my top six.

The hardest era in a way is the '40's, since I don't know what Cd's are in print that really have the band's major works from the 40's. The 7 CD Mosaic set is out of print, and impractical for this purpose anyway.

So perhaps "Kenton in Hi-Fi" from '56 which has re-makes in good sound of many of the band's major 40's successes. 

From the 60's mellophonium era - "Adventures in Blues"  in order to get Roland in, but with "Adventures in Jazz" a very close runner-up.

From the 70's there are a few good possibilities.  Probably "Live at Butler University" 1972 is the overall best representative with major works from Levy, Hanna and Maiden.

Now this is where is gets tricky, but  I think my final two would be "Cuban Fire" (Richards' magnum opus)  and "Contemporary Concepts" (in order to get a good example of Holman's brilliant writing and to showcase the really swinging side of Kenton). It pains me greatly to leave off "Adventures in Jazz" and  "Kenton Showcase", both of which are equal to the ones I've listed.

To recap:

New Concepts of Artistry in Rhythm (1952)
Contemporary Concepts  (1955) Kenton in Hi-Fi (1956)
Cuban Fire (1956)
Adventures in Blues (1961)
Live at Butler University (1972)

These six will not steer anyone wrong regarding Stan Kenton, and yes, I'd be satisfied with these six on a desert island.

John Tapscott”

Stan Kenton - The Innovations in Modern Music Orchestra

"Maybe even Stan sensed that this was the nearest he would ever come to leading a permanently-organized, full-fledged concert orchestra, playing America's finest auditoriums and concert halls, and performing a new, exciting and original form of progressive American music."

- Michael Sparke

The editorial staff at JazzProfiles wanted to compliment and complement Michael Sparke's piece on Stan Kenton's Innovations in Modern Music Orchestra [1950-1951] which is currently featured on the columnar side of the site with the following video tribute which uses a combined audio track of Stan's Artistry in Rhythm that segues into Trajectories at 0:55 by Franklyn Marks.

 

Herbie Hancock – A Jump Ahead

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

Before he became a sizzling Jazz-Rock Fusion superstar for Warner Bros. and Columbia Records during the 1970s [and beyond], pianist-composer Herbie Hancock made seven LPs under his own name for Blue Note Records in the 1960s.

A few of these albums were hugely successful, especially for someone like Herbie, who during the 1960s was still primarily a Jazz musician and who was largely unknown to the greater public.

That lack of recognition would begin to change almost immediately with Herbie’s first LP for Blue Note – Takin’ Off - which contained the commercial hit tune – Watermelon Man. [conguero/band leader Mongo Santamaria also recorded a very successful version of the song].

The year was 1962, which was also a seminal year for Herbie as he joined the Miles Davis quintet along with Wayne Shorter on tenor saxophone, Ron Carter on bassist and drummer Tony Williams. This was to be Miles’ last “classic” Jazz quintet before he moved on to add more Rock ‘n Roll elements to his music along with a host of electronic instruments as these made their appearance in the late 1960s.

Herbie’s additional Blue Note LP’s were to all have at least one horn fronting a rhythm section, with one exception, an album he recorded in August 1963 that almost went unnoticed.

Entitled Inventions and Dimensions, it is a piano-bass-drums trio album although Osvaldo “Chihuahua” Martinez plays Latin percussion on all but one track.

The album marked the first time that Herbie had ever worked with bassist Paul Chambers and, for many of us, it was the first chance to hear Willie Bobo play a Jazz drum kit. Throughout most of his career, Willie was primarily known as a timbales player and Latin percussionist

As Nat Hentoff explains in his liner notes to the original LP, Inventions and Dimensions gets it title

“… [from the fact that it] reflects Hancock's increasing preoccupation with releasing himself from what he terms the customary jazz ‘assumptions.’ Usually, he explains, ‘you assume there'll be chords on which to base your improvisations and you assume most of the time that the playing will be in 4/4 and that the bass will automatically walk. On this date, I told the musicians not to assume anything except for a few rules I set for each piece, and every time those rules were different. As it happened, Paul Chambers did often play a walking or a recurring rhythm, but that was because he wanted to play that way. I didn't suggest it, and he could have done whatever he wanted. There were no specific chord change on any of the tunes except Mimosa, nor did any of the tunes have a melody to begin with.’”

The musical departure inherent in this last sentence is what caught my ear when I first heard the album.

But the music on this recording is no exercise in what came to be known as Free Jazz in the sense of doing away with all musical rules and conventions.

According to Bob Belden in his insert notes Herbie Hancock: The Complete Blue Note Sixties Sessions

“On August 30, 1963, Herbie went to Englewood Cliffs to record another Blue Note album. Instead of the typical Blue Note dates he was creating, Herbie sought to do something different, something that reflected what he felt about his playing at the time. Since he had been on the road steadily since May, he may not have had enough time to write complex new material. His associations with more open musicians may have planted the seed of adventure, but the confidence of being Miles Davis's pianist had a lot to do with Herbie's next album.”

To my ears, what is so compelling about this recording is best exemplified in the track entitled A Jump Ahead, which we have used as the soundtrack to the video tribute to Herbie’s Blue Note years located at the end of this piece.

As Herbie denotes above in the Nat Hentoff quotation, A Jump Ahead does not have a conventional melody or theme.

Instead, the tune gets its structure from a four-bar ostinato played by bassist Paul Chambers.

An ostinato is a short melody pattern that is constantly repeated in the same part at the same pitch.

Nat Hentoff’s notes contain this further elabaoration:

“The rule which Hancock set for A Jump Ahead was for Paul Chambers to select an introductory four-bar pedal tone. ‘Then there come sixteen bars of time,’ Hancock points out, ‘in which what I improvise is based on the pedal tone Paul played during the first four bars. Another four-bar break follows, for which Paul selects another note. I never knew what Paul would play, and that's how this one got titled. He was always a jump ahead. Incidentally, since any one note can be related to all twelve tones on the keyboard, I had complete freedom to utilize Paul's pedal notes any way I wanted to. Those notes acted as a note in a chord, but I formed the chords in my own way. Again, there was no preconceived melody, and the harmony came from the notes Paul chose.’”

Structurally, A Jump Ahead is what may be referred to as tonal music.

And in tonal music, a pedal tone is a sustained tone, played typically in the bass. Sometimes called a pedal point, a pedal tone is a non-chord tone.

The term “pedal tone” comes from the organ’s ability to sustain a note indefinitely using the pedal keyboard which is played by the feet; as such, the organist can hold down a pedal point for lengthy periods while both hands perform higher-register music on the manual keyboards.

In effect, Chambers acts like the organ pedal keyboard while Herbie plays over it using both hands on the piano keyboard.

One other point that may be of interest is Willie Bobo’s use of very thick/heavy drumsticks that really serve to crackle & pop the snare drum and crash the cymbals. Such large sticks take great control and using them masterfully,Willie generates tremendous swing on this six-and-a-half minute cut.

Paul’s four-bar ostinato can be heard at the outset of the track, again at 18 seconds, and again at 35 and 53 seconds and so on.

Each time it is followed by a 16-bar improvisation that Herbie conceives based on the pedal tone that Paul selects.

In effect, A Jump Ahead is the Jazz equivalent of the geometric head-start in which one never catches-up.

To my ears, Herbie’s solo really hits its stride on A Jump Ahead at around the 2:42 mark [which Willie conveniently underscores with a cymbal crash!] and just soars thereafter.

See what you think.

Beboppin’ and Testifyin’ with Benny Green

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

The editorial staff at JazzProfiles was reminiscing about some of the details in this piece on Benny Green and thought it might be fun to revisit it by re-posting it to the blog.

It’s hard to forget the first time I heard pianist Benny Green beboppin’ and testifyin’ as both he and the circumstances surrounding the experience made a lasting impression on me.

The date was January 16, 1994. a Sunday evening in Southern California. I had moved to San Francisco a couple of years, earlier.

Since I had business meetings scheduled in Los Angeles for most of the week of January 17^th that year, I decided to fly into Burbank, CA where my folks lived and have dinner with them Sunday night in order to get an early start on Monday.

My parents generally liked to watch TV following dinner, so I rolled my well-stuffed tummy into the rental car and took the Hollywood Freeway over to Catalina’s Bar & Grill, which was then located just up the street from the original Shelly’s Manne Hole.

I had no idea who was playing at Catalina’s.  My plan was to catch the first set along with an after-dinner drink and then get back to my hotel for a good night’s sleep prior to the advent of the workweek.

A lot had changed since the closing of Shelly’s club in the early 70’s including the disappearance of any and all free parking on the surrounding streets.

After virtually spending my young, adulthood in Hollywood,  I still knew my way around and I was able to find a free parking spot at the nearby Ivar Theater.

As I walked up to the club, the name “Benny Green” was on the marquee. The only Jazz musician I knew by that name was “Bennie Green,” a trombonist. I thought he had passed away in the late 1970’s [1923-1977].

Upon entering, the maitre d’ asked me if I had a reservation, and when I said I didn’t he informed me that I was lucky - there was still a seat at the bar.

When I looked out at the seating in the club, I saw what he meant by “lucky:” the placed was packed.

Fortunately, the one remaining seat at the bar offered a clear view of the bandstand [everyone else seated at the bar had a clear view into one another’s eyes, if you know what I mean].

I placed my order with the barkeep and while he was filling it I asked him who was performing that night.

He said: “You are in luck: [the second time within 5 minutes that someone had used that word with me] pianist Benny Green, with Christian McBride and Kenny Washington.”

It took me a minute to place them, but I had remembered hearing both Benny and drummer Kenny Washington on tenor saxophonist Ralph Moore’s Images CD [Landmark LCD-1520-2] which was recorded in 1989.

You can hear a cut from this album as Ralph’s version of Elmo Hope’s One Second, Please forms the soundtrack to the following tribute to Jazz drumming. Benny’s solo begins at 2:32 minutes and both he and Ralph trade 8-bar solos with Kenny Washington starting at 3:27. Peter Washington is on bass.

“Christian McBride,” Benny’s bassist that night, was a name that was new to me.

Vague recollections and newness were soon to be replaced by a smile of recognition when the music commenced.

Benny, Christian and Kenny were in fine form that night, so much so that I forgot to drink my wine during the first set, finished it during intermission and had a coffee while staying for the second show.

To use a particularly apt phrase given what was to come later that night, Benny and the Boys blew-the-place-down; it was some of the most inspiring and swinging Jazz that I had heard in years.

Benny plays in a style that is marked by carefree exuberance and daring. At the same time, he exhibits phenomenal technical precision. 

There’s plenty of Bud Powell, Horace Silver and Walter Bishop, Jr. on display, so in this regard, much of what he plays is “in the tradition,” yet, he puts it together in such a way that he makes it sound original.

And he swings, oh does he swing; thus never forgetting the first rule of Jazz.

After the set concluded, I made my way up toward the bandstand to express my appreciation to Benny, but soon concluded that this was not a good move because judging from the mob scene around him it seemed that every one in the club had the same idea.

Instead, I “talked drums” with Kenny Washington who was taking his cymbals down and putting them in their carrying-case. “You play?” he asked. “Did” I responded before telling him how much his playing reminded me of Philly Joe Jones to which he responded with a knowing smile.

Is there a better joy in Life than the first-hand experience of well-played Jazz in the intimate surroundings of a Jazz club?

With this thought in mind, out the door I went, past Shelly Manne’s old club [talk about many first-hand Jazz listening experiences when the World was young!], got in my rental car and headed-off to my hotel.

For reasons of convenience, I had chosen one across from the Burbank [CA] airport which was a relatively quick drive from Catalina’s in Hollywood.

I happily settled into with the music still playing in my mind and fell off to sleep almost instantly.

I was to be lucky again for a third time.

At 4:30 AM, I was awakened by sound that made me think that I had fallen asleep inside KW’s bass drum while he was dropping “bombs” with it.

The infamous January 17, 1994 earthquake had struck that morning and a very large portion of the greater Los Angeles area and the San Fernando Valley in north west portion of that county was particularly hard-hit by it.

Many of my business meetings for that week were scheduled in cities heavily affected by what was later referred to as The Northridge Quake of 1994.

I spent most of that morning rescheduling these and, fortunate once again given the severe interruptions in the flight schedule caused by the jolt, I was able to catch an afternoon flight home to the Bay area.

Shortly after this incident, I learned that pianist Benny Green was born and raised in Berkeley, CA, a part of this very same “Bay area” when I read in a local newspaper that Berkeley’s [a suburb east of San Francisco, CA] own “Benny Green … would be appearing for a week with bassist Ray Brown trio featuring Jeff Hamilton on drums at Yoshi’s Jazz Club and Sushi Bar.”

What an irresistible combination!

Although the original Yoshi’s was located in a converted home in a residential district, because of the refurbished premise’s proximity to a business zone, the club had managed to get a commercial license which enabled it to offer food and entertainment.

So off I went one rainy Spring evening, taking the Bay Bridge [US Highway 101] east from my downtown San Francisco flat, connecting to Interstate 80 east, then to California State Highway 24 toward Berkeley and Walnut Creek before exiting at Claremont Avenue.

All of these meanderings were necessary just to cover a mere 14 miles!

Set back from the street with a most unassuming entrance and hardly no parking of its own, Yoshi’s had the good sense to be within walking distance of the Dryer’s Grand Ice Cream factory’s parking lot on College Avenue. And College Avenue was also the home of one of the locations of Barney’s Gourmet Hamburgers.

With the money saved from the Free Parking, I filled my tummy with one of Barney’s best and headed over to catch the 8:00 PM set and more of Benny Green’s ferociously swinging piano. Once again, although I hadn’t planned to, Benny, Ray and Jeff played so well that night that I stayed for the second and final set. 

In the fall of 1994, Benny was back at Yoshi’s, but this time he brought in his own trio comprised again of Christian McBride [b] and Kenny Washington.  I was there often and got to chat with Benny during the breaks. I told him my earthquake story; Kenny Washington and I also “talked more drums.”

As you can hear in the soundtrack to the following video, Benny writes catchy tunes. This one is entitled Nice Pants in which Benny and the trio are accompanied by a horn section made up of Byron Stripling [tp], John Clark [Fr.H], Delfayo Marsalis [tb], Herb Besson [tuba], Jerry Dodgion [as/fl] and Gary Smulyan [bs].  Benny and Bob Belden did the horn arrangement.

In addition to Benny funky solo, some highlights in the music to the following video include: Christian playing in unison with Benny’s left hand in the Call and Response sequence, first with the piano at 0:58 seconds and then with the horns at 1:20 minutes, KW launching into a shuffle beat when Benny begins his solo at 1:42 minutes and the long quotation from Work Song beginning at 3:51 of Christian’s solo.

For the next few years, Benny continued to appear at the original Yoshi’s with Ray Brown and his own trio, although in each case, Gregory Hutchinson replaced Jeff Hamilton in the drum chair.

And while living in San Francisco is always fraught with feeling a few tremors, I am delighted to report that the geological shaking was minimal during this period of time.

Here’s more about the formative years in and influences on Benny Green’s career from Stanley Crouch’s insert notes to Benny’s Prelude CD [Criss Cross 1038].

© -Stanley Crouch, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“'I began studying with a teacher named Carl Andrews, who was instructing me in jazz harmony. I studied with him for about two years.' Green would try to get in jam sessions and play jazz whenever he could. 'I would go hear pianists Bill Bell and Ed Kelly, who taught me a lot at that time. Dick Whittington was also a big help and Smith Dobson gave me some important pointers. I was starting to understand the music much better and could see how much more is needed to learn.'

At about sixteen, Green was hired by a singer named Faye Carroll and began performing with her frequently. He learned a lot while with the singer because she gave him a lot of room top/ay, which is how jazz musicians really develop their skills. No matter how many classes they might take or how many improvisations they might memorize or techniques they might work out, unless those materials are brought to the level of performance function, they are largely academic. It is within the sweating demands of the moment, when everything is in motion and every decision has to count, that the jazz player must be able to create musical logic expressive of the emotional qualities that define the individual sensibility. Aware of that, Green would sit in with the best musicians he could, which he did with trumpeter Eddie Henderson after meeting him in San Francisco.

'I sat in with Eddie whenever it was possible, and a few months later he called me to work with him. He was working with a tenor player named Hadley Calliman. Both of them encouraged me a lot. I learned so much being around Eddie. He played me tapes of live gigs with Herbie Hancock that were fascinating to me because of the way the music moved through so many forms, and how one performance could slide through many colors. It was very inspirational and added to what I was already trying to learn. My father had turned me on to Art Tatum, Bud Powell, and Monk. I was trying to get a scope of all the eras, so I was listening to a lot of musicians, particularly Red Garland, Tommy Flanagan, Wynton Kelly, Herbie Hancock, and McCoy Tyner.'

By the time Green got out of high school, he was doing trio jobs of his own, which allowed him to work at making the things he was listening to and discovering function within his own improvisational efforts. He was listening to Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers when they would come to town and he was noticing that there was something different going on in the music of the musicians who were from New York. He could hear a more powerful level of swinging, a deeper groove, a more substantial grasp of rhythmic components that fuel the phrasing of jazz. He knew he had to move east. 'I had that on my mind for the last few months that I was in California, regardless of what I was doing. I worked for those months with a band led by the bassist Chuck Israels, which was about twelve pieces. Then I got to play with Joe Henderson for one night before I left. I knew if I was going to be serious about this music, I had to go where the sound I was hearing from the musicians in New York was coming from. I knew I was missing a lot being in California. There was a focus to swinging I heard coming from New York, which was more definite, more disciplined. In the Bay Area, a lot of the musicians played with a very loose feeling. So I moved to New York when I was nineteen, in 1982.'

Shortly after Green got to New York, he heard Walter Bishop with Junior Cook

and Bill Hardman. He approached Bishop about studying with him and became a student of the older pianist, who helped him a great deal. 'He showed me a lot about comping because I was impressed by the big sound he got out of the instrument.' Bishop was the link to Bud Powell and he was willing to show Green how he voiced his chords. But, most importantly, Bishop encouraged Green to look for his own music, not just emulate somebody else. 'Walter said that there are three stages of development: imitation, emulation, innovation. Not to say that a musician gets to all three, but those are the logical stages of development. He got me to think about the extensions of the tradition of the piano that have come since Bud Powell'.

At that time Walter Davis and John Hicks also gave Green valuable instructions. Bishop introduced Green to alto saxophonist Bobby Watson, who eventually hired the pianist. While working with Watson, he met pianist James Williams, who also encouraged him to work on his music and stick with it. Williams' encouragement was in line with the assistance and inspiration the young pianist had received from Mulgrew Miller, whom he had heard with Woody Shaw just before leaving the Bay Area. Green was strongly impressed by the sense of tradition and the personal approach within Miller's piano work. Miller also pointed him in productive directions by giving him specific and useful advice. Johnny O’Neil was also very helpful. O'Neil had just joined Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers and was willing to share his knowledge with Green. 'I had heard Donald Brown with Art when the band recorded live in San Francisco. Hearing such a fresh voice was enlightening. I'm grateful to Donald, Mulgrew and James for being at once so inspirational and supportive.'

Green freelanced around New York for about a year, then was called to audition for Betty Carter, who had heard him on a job on Long Island. Green started working with the singer in April of 1983 and remained in her group a few weeks short of four years. 'Betty is a great musician and you learn from her in every possible way. She is a master of pacing. She understands rhythm and tempo and how they fit with harmony and melody perfectly. And most of all Betty Carter swings* Her gig is very challenging because she has very precise things she wants to achieve but she is also very spontaneous. She also helps to heighten her musicians' awareness of their role within an ensemble. That was a very good job for me and it is a very good job for any young musician. Like Art Blakey because she's always finding young musicians, giving them work, teaching them a lot of music, and encouraging them to dedicate themselves. Betty Carter is a great musician and a great person.'

In April of 1987, Green left the singer's band for the Jazz Messengers. 'Playing with Art Blakey has been, by far, the greatest experience of my life. I never have before and I'm sure I never will again come in contact with a greater musical spirit. When Art comes on the bandstand, whatever else is going on in life is forgotten and the music takes over. Art truly practices what he preaches in washing away the dust of every day life with music. And this is certainly the musician's job. As I mature, I hope to come closer to being able to achieve this on my own.'

For his first time out, Benny Green has put together a group of players that have come to New York from such different places that it is obvious how wide the message of jazz still stretches. Terence Blanchard is from New Orleans, Javon Jackson is from Denver, Peter Washington is from Los Angeles, and Tony Reedus is from Memphis. Green chose each of them because he wanted to have a date of players from his age group and musicians who were inspirations to him. Each of the young men is gathering a list of credits and is working at his craft, doing the homework that is so obvious in what they play as they move through the program. The concerns heard in the thoughts and the playing of the leader are sustained in the work of the rest of the players, which makes for a date that shows, again, just how much dedication and how much courage these young people have. They are far from conventional in that they have chosen the path of greatest resistance and are obviously intent on adding their artistic signatures to the declaration of musical democracy that is jazz. Such young people are of priceless importance, and pianist Benny Green should be commended for putting together such a solid ensemble and for making such an honest statement on his first date as a leader.”

Stanley Crouch (N.Y.C., 1988)

Here’s another sampling of Benny’s piano work on Bopag’in, the Jimmy Heath tune that forms the audio track on a tribute to vibist Milt Jackson.