What Jazz are you listening to now?

[XB-70 Valkyrie]

For some reason, I find Charlie Parker unlistenable.

Interesting. As long as we're confessing, I find Art Tatum to be difficult to take! Don't know why. I love Errol Garner, and many other jazz pianists (Red Garland, Oscar Peterson, Horace Tapscott, Cecil Taylor--quite a wide range).

[SimonNZ]

 

Huh. Somehow I don't know that one. I don't think I've even seen that cover before.

And so, playing now.

[SimonNZ]

Still working my way through this box. Although I am enjoying it more than the first time around, I am still not "getting it" like I get the regular albums from the Second Great Quartet.

What are others thoughts on this set/performances?

Its a fascinating document with much great music making, and I'm grateful for any release from the Second Quintet, but its been impossibly and unhelpfully over-hyped in some quarters (the Penguin Guide calls it "the Rosetta Stone of modern jazz").

To my ears the band often sounds bored still playing their old repertoire, and its not until they start branching out in new directions with the old tunes that excitement seems to build - a useful insight into the grinding three sets a day work of a busy band. And the sound quality is waaay worse than anyone seems to want to let on - seldom are all instruments well captured together and Miles has been mixed to that he's unnaturally louder than everyone else. You can, however hear every detail from the bar staff and the seemingly indifferent audience, which I find interesting, but suspect few else will.

[San Antone]

Interesting. As long as we're confessing, I find Art Tatum to be difficult to take! Don't know why. I love Errol Garner, and many other jazz pianists (Red Garland, Oscar Peterson, Horace Tapscott, Cecil Taylor--quite a wide range).

My favorite Art Tatum is with Ben Webster.

[George]

Its a fascinating document with much great music making, and I'm grateful for any release from the Second Quintet, but its been impossibly and unhelpfully over-hyped in some quarters (the Penguin Guide calls it "the Rosetta Stone of modern jazz").

To my ears the band often sounds bored still playing their old repertoire, and its not until they start branching out in new directions with the old tunes that excitement seems to build - a useful insight into the grinding three sets a day work of a busy band. And the sound quality is waaay worse than anyone seems to want to let on - seldom are all instruments well captured together and Miles has been mixed to that he's unnaturally louder than everyone else. You can, however hear every detail from the bar staff and the seemingly indifferent audience, which I find interesting, but suspect few else will.

Many thanks, Simon!

[Artem]

Today in the afternoon with headphones.

[asin]B00002597I[/asin][asin]B000003N69[/asin]

[San Antone]

Its a fascinating document with much great music making, and I'm grateful for any release from the Second Quintet, but its been impossibly and unhelpfully over-hyped in some quarters (the Penguin Guide calls it "the Rosetta Stone of modern jazz").

To my ears the band often sounds bored still playing their old repertoire, and its not until they start branching out in new directions with the old tunes that excitement seems to build -

Your impression is not supported by Wayne Shorter, as he described these dates in a biography which I have been reading. 

Far from being "bored" the rhythm section was being challenged by Tony Williams each night, actually, each tune, to depart from anything familiar about playing these songs.  As a consequence, they were at their most creative level - and driving the horns to some truly inspired soloing.  The band sounds so abstract and free-style that it freaked out Columbia who waited more  a decade, 1976, before releasing some, and then only in Japan.  A few more tracks turned up on larger compilations from 1982, but Columbia did not release them officially until 1995.

Twenty years down the road it was possible for people to fully appreciate what the band accomplished in these recordings, which at the time sounded extremely radical.

A great set - jazz hardly gets any better.

Re: live vs studio recordings.  I firmly believe that jazz is a performance art, and the best way to hear it is live, in a club or other venue. Next best are the live recordings.  Playing live "without a net" is the ideal environment for jazz, the live audience adds an intangible quality to the performance that cannot be duplicated in the studio.

[San Antone]

Here's some of what is in the biography about these gigs:

After only a few gigs, Miles's sidemen began to feel restless. Though the band was thrilled to be on the road with Miles again, they'd become almost too accomplished at playing Miles's classic repertoire—still the same old "Round Midnight," "Funny Valentine," and "So What." "The band was never conventional, so I can't confine it to being that," Herbie said. "But even within our very creative and loose approach to the music, everybody did things according to certain kinds of expectations. I knew if I did this, Ron would do that, or Tony knew that if he did this, I would do that. It became so easy to do that it was almost boring." Especially after they had tried out some fresh ideas during those productive months away from Miles, his music felt predictable and complacent.

Just before their final gig of the year, in Chicago, Tony came up with a solution. "Hey, what if we made anti-music?" he asked. "Like, whatever someone expects you to play, that's the last thing you play?" The rest of the rhythm section wasn't sure. This onstage parlor game would feel awkward and could sound disastrous. But in the end, they all agreed to sacrifice the gig for the "betterment of the band." They didn't have a choice. It was time to grow, or die.

The Plugged Nickel club in Chicago's bohemian Old Town seemed like a good place to test their experiment. The Plugged Nickel's audience would be expecting to hear the smooth band they knew from Miles's records, but hopefully they'd be more forgiving than New York's scrutinizing jazz cognoscenti. And the adventurous "Great Black Music" of Chicago's AACM (Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians) proved that experimentation wasn't necessarily antithetical to tradition in the city. Still, expectations for this show were especially high, since Miles had cancelled dates at the club in July, August, and October.

When the musicians walked into the Plugged Nickel, they were surprised to see Columbia Records producer Teo Macero stringing wires across the stage. What was he doing there? Miles was waiting backstage, where he confirmed that Columbia wanted to record the gig. Tony glared at the other guys in a silent warning: Nobody was turning back from their sabotage mission. So what if there'd be recorded evidence of the "anti-music" gig for everyone to hear?

Then, for some unknown reason, Miles refused to be recorded on the first night of the gig. On the second night, threatened with a suspension of his contract, he acquiesced. That night and the next, Macero recorded a total of seven sets, capturing the band's dynamic creative process on an album that was later released as Live at the Plugged Nickel.

From the intro to the first tune, "If I Were a Bell," it was clear that Miles's sidemen were up to something new. Usually there was a clear statement of the melody at the start of a tune—something you could whistle—but this intro was as abstract and erratic as the wind. A few bars in, Ron uprooted the chord's foundation on his bass; on piano, Herbie pulled away from the tune's tonal center. Miles quickly reacted, testing out some off-kilter phrases of his own, but his final musical phrase had the querulous upward curve of a question mark: What the fuck is going on here? It was clear that improvised improvised solos were going to be collectively forged by the band. Anything a soloist said would have to be vetted by the rhythm section.

By the start of the second set, Miles was enjoying the band's game. The trumpeter always ran his bands on musical meritocracy—the best ideas ruled, and even the leader had to be hip and selfless enough to follow them. But Miles's chops were still weak from his extended time off. So he challenged the others by simply leaving them extra space. Lots of space . . . while the audience waited for his next phrase, seasons changed, people fell in and out of love . . . and the band faltered. It took the band members almost seven minutes to coax the anti-music from Miles's deep silence. But when they did, they quickly climaxed, and nobody was faking it.

If Miles liked the rhythm section's anti-music game, Wayne was thrilled by it. "When I heard those guys dropping the bottom out from under me, I knew it was 'Go for it' time!" he said. "I'd been in the band for a little over a year, and the next thing I knew we were way out there. It was like . . . this is what freedom means. The awareness was that the great responsibility that came with the territory was to push the envelope. You heard responsibility converted into expression that sounded like a great adventure." The adventurous rhythm section pushed Wayne into some of the most brilliant playing of his career. On tunes like "Green Dolphin Street," Wayne expanded the harmony until he seemed lost. Then he resolved everything with such natural logic that he seemed to be mocking, "Oh ye of little faith."

[SimonNZ]

Thanks for the excerpts. Very interesting.

I'm not sure your reply contradicts what I wrote, though. I said they sounded bored with the old tunes until they start branching out from them and then the excitement builds.

I've only played the full set a few times but haven't heard whatever might have been worrying the Columbia people. It doesn't sound wildly experimental to me.

Ill put it on again later today and see if my view has changed.

[George]

[SimonNZ]

Just played the first disc/set of the Plugged Nickel and I'm still not hearing whay the Shorter book describes.

In light of reading that it seems now that Miles sounds pissed off after his argument with Columbia and Two and the contrariness in his playing is more flipping them the bird rather than being challenged by the band. He abandoned ideas without resolution and without caring where the band is headed. They seem to be often holding back to see what he will do rather than driving him or collaborating equally. He enters early during one of Herbies solos. This attitude as opposed to the difficulty of the performance which is in no way "anti music" may be the reason Columbia weren't happy to release it. Plus Ron Carter is often so poorly captured is most of the time like he's not even there.

[San Antone]

Just played the first disc/set of the Plugged Nickel and I'm still not hearing whay the Shorter book describes.

In light of reading that it seems now that Miles sounds pissed off after his argument with Columbia and Two and the contrariness in his playing is more flipping them the bird rather than being challenged by the band. He abandoned ideas without resolution and without caring where the band is headed. They seem to be often holding back to see what he will do rather than driving him or collaborating equally. He enters early during one of Herbies solos. This attitude as opposed to the difficulty of the performance which is in no way "anti music" may be the reason Columbia weren't happy to release it. Plus Ron Carter is often so poorly captured is most of the time like he's not even there.

The first disc begins with the sets on the second night, it is still early in the week and they are still getting settled with the new approach that Tony Williams is bringing.  This approach is purposely designed to make them uncomfortable, so it will take them a few sets to get the hang of playing together without being self-conscious.  But already on the first tune I hear what the book describes. 

Remember you are hearing this over fifty years after the fact - after hearing all the jazz that has happened since these recordings were made.  Of course it will not sound as startling as it did Dec. 1965. 

That said, I am not hearing what you describe.

[SimonNZ]

You mean you can hear Ron Carter clearly?

The audience doesn't seem to be especially shocked by what they're hearing so Columbia should have had a little faith.

I enjoy this box very much and these critical words shouldn't  suggest dislike or dismissal. It's a set that every serious Miles fan should hear. I just disagree with the Everest Sumit hyperbole it's had.

[SimonNZ]

I'm looking forward to relistening to one set from that box a day for the next few days.

but now:



Art Blakey - Blue Night (1985)

[San Antone]

Just noticed that my son wrote the review in Pitchfork:  "...this compilation documents the sessions in their virtual entirety (there are a couple of missing takes, but nothing too essential), offering an incredible six hours of largely unheard material. As with the previous boxes from this era, fans will delight in hearing just about everything the musicians put to tape, as well as paging through the invaluable session info, extensive liner notes, and unseen photos included in the extensive and beautiful packaging."

[Spineur]

Sonny Rollins, Colossus.  My copy had a different cover but it is the same 2cd set

[SimonNZ]

King Oliver - Call Of The Freaks: The Complete Victor Recordings Vol.1

[Baron Scarpia]

Sonny Rollins, Colossus.  My copy had a different cover but it is the same 2cd set

This is my clear favorite among Sonny Rollins' albums. "Tour de Force," mentioned above, is probably my least favorite.

[SimonNZ]

This is my clear favorite among Sonny Rollins' albums. "Tour de Force," mentioned above, is probably my least favorite.

Newks Time would be mine - and now I want to play that next.

I've never understood the fuss over "St.Thomas" (just while, it seems, I'm in a contrarian mood).

edit: playing now:



Sonny Rollins - Newk's Time (1957)
Bobby Hutcherson - Four Seasons (1985)



Betty Carter - Out There (1958)
Jazz Ensemble des Hessischen Rundfunks - Atmospheric Conditions Permitting (1995)

[Alek Hidell]

Just one jazz rekkid today.



The Vandermark Five: Elements of Style, Exercises in Surprise

Apropos the above, I may just need to pull out Saxophone Colossus for a listen; it's been a while. I think it's my favorite Rollins album, but like SimonNZ I'm sure fond of Newk's Time too (and Way Out West, and Volume Two ...). Boy, what a string of albums he put together in 1956-57, eh?