Wednesday, December 24, 2008

The last word in jazz, 2008

Culled from a year's worth of interviews, here are some of my favorite quotes from jazz artists I spoke with over the past 12 months.

"I had a dream, the strangest thing, that my music should be like a hurricane or a tornado. Always turning and lifting up things and throwing things up and down. ... And I thought about Cecil Taylor and the way the plays and seems to create a hurricane. So I started to listen more to CT at that time, and I didn't develop his style, but I developed his magnetism, to sweep things up and bring them back down. It was like a development we had to practice to see where we could go."
— Bobby Few, on the influence of Cecil Taylor (February)

"It's not like I suddenly went out to make millions, I was just trying to follow my voice where it was leading me. I haven't abandoned what I was doing before in any way. It's just that I feel another dimension has been added. I always say that; it's not that I suddenly just went crazy and abandoned everything I ever did or was. That's all totally a part of me, and when I play solo concerts, that's very much in evidence, I think."
Marilyn Crispell, on the more lyrical direction her music has taken over the years (March)

"I like to improvise, but I like to find ways to say it with words. ... Not necessarily vocalese, either, but when it comes to improvistation, I kind of split the difference. There might be some wordless vocals, but I'll try to find some way to connect ... . So I place a lot of value on how to bring in the new listener. I constantly struggle with that. If I'm going to sing a tune, and I'm going to improvise, and it's not just scatting for scatting's sake, and I find that I gravitate toward language, to use words to express a feeling, kind of in the way that Aretha Franklin does when she's in the back end of a tune, and she's just kind of doin' what she soes so brilliantly. It's kind of like taking the words and going exponentially to the next level of expression."
— Carmen Lundy (March)

"When I wrote it ... I said to myself that every tear that wanted to come out of my eye, I would hold back and somehow transcribe it into words. ... My mother, the first time she heard it, she started crying. Because she always felt guilty that her priorities — we can only do so much being human beings, and sometimes things fall through the cracks. I said, 'There's no reason to feel guilty. This is my love song to you, and this to let you know that through it all, the feeling that remains is one of love and one of longing. But sometimes we just gotta do what we gotta do.' "
— Vocalist Simone, on her song "Child in Me," which was written about growing up as the daughter of Nina Simone (April)

"Jazz, and the people involved in jazz, are creepy. First of all, writers and the people in magazines think they got some parvenue to hog everything about jazz. They're the only ones who can write about it; you can't write about it, because they're a jazz magazine. ... I know more about jazz than they do because I've been following it since 1936."
— Fight Doctor Ferdie Pacheco, on his long love of jazz (May)

"It was the same energy and the same attitude and the same sense of rebellion that those early punk bands had as the free jazz guys had in New York in those days. So I felt very comfortable listening to the music. Of course, the decibel level was much higher, but still, it was just free, man. The early punk bands, it wasn't slick at all, not like the recordings that came afterwards. ... The early days of CBGBs had a big influence on me, to this day, and I'm now starting to realize that."
— Kenny Millions, on his punk roots (May)

"By 1946, I was already in the Apollo Theater in New York, I was already in the clubs in Chicago, St. Louis, Dallas, Texas, gone all over the country two times. I was already booked to go back to these places and I said, 'It's too soon. This is not all I want to do, to be like this. If I want to be a writer, I've got to study some more classical music.' And that's what I did. I disbanded my band. I came home here and started studying ... ."
— Gerald Wilson, on his decision to take a hiatus from the bandstand in 1947 (August)

"Who woulda thought, I listen to Donovan. Everytime I see or hear something by Donovan, I think, 'Shit, that's good!' I didn't necessarily realize it, but it holds up. I didn't like 'Mellow Yellow' or anything, but I do now."
— Randy Newman, on songs that survive the test of time (August)

"I didn't like it."
— Ellis Marsalis, on his reaction to first hearing Monk's music, to which he paid tribute on his 2008 quartet release An Open Letter to Thelonious


"So what happened was, Jon [Hendricks] took Henry [Grimes] cross-country, and Henry had a little dog with him. And they're going through the Salt Lake Desert, and Jon doesn't like Cecil Taylor and those [avant-garde] guys. Because a lot of them, to be honest with you, can't swing. So Jon is saying Cecil Taylor is crazy. And Henry Grimes likes Cecil Taylor, so they get in this argument. I wasn't there, but they tell me Jon said, 'If you like Cecil Taylor, you're crazy, too.' And Henry gets his bass and his dog out of the car and drops out in the desert. And he goes to San Francisco. But Henry, I had a great time playing with him."
— Larry Vuckovich, on a serious culture clash between Jon Hendricks and Henry Grimes (September)

"The door opened and all this smoke came out, I had never smelled anything like that before. And one of them said, 'Come on in, kid.' And they're all wearing their undershirts, whiskey and gin all over the place. So one of them asked me, he said, 'So you want to be a jazz musician?' I said, 'Yeah!' He said, 'Well, look around the room.' So I went to every face, and looked at one person then went to the next face. He said, 'Do you want to end up like this?' I said, 'Yeah!'"
— Charlie Haden, on meeting the members of the Kenton band at a hotel when he was a teenager (November)

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

The best jazz and blues spins of 2008

I don't really have any sweeping statements to make about the jazz or blues worlds in 2008. Both genres continue to be marginalized by popular culture, with the occasional radar blips, such as Herbie Hancock's River: The Joni Letters winning a Grammy for Album of the Year (a hen's-tooth rare honor for a jazz recording), or the big-screen epic Cadillac Records, basically a Chess Records bio-pic, reminding the mainstream how cool jazz and blues are ... for about a second. That said, jazz and blues artists continue to chug along and, against all odds, released some excellent recordings this year. Here are my favorite jazz and blues albums of the past 12 months.

Jazz:
1. History, Mystery: Bill Frisell (Nonesuch). Frisell once again ventures into eerie, backwoods Americana, his razor-stropped guitar lines dancing gleefully through a soundscape rife with the tones and colors of jazz, country, chamber music and world music over the span of two sonically fascinating discs. Featuring familiar cohorts such as violinist Jenny Scheinman, violist Eyvind Kang and cellist Hank Roberts, Frisell's ensemble has been honed to a keen edge, beautifully bringing his singular, sepia-toned vision to life.
2. Dreams Come True: Andrew Hill and Chico Hamilton (Joyous Shout). Idiosyncratic pianist and composer Hill engages in eloquent musical conversation with drummer and composer Hamilton, the pair responding to one another with terrific sensitivity. Rather than simply keeping time, Hamilton comments on Hill's fractured, Monk-inspired bop lines, adding layers of texture and excitement and showcasing a dazzling virtuosity at any tempo, any volume. Recorded in 1993, the session serves as a unique entry in the discography of Hill, who died in 2007.
3. Norma Winstone: Distances (ECM). British vocalist Norma Winstone's crystalline intonation and dreamy, image-laden lyrics are set jewel-like against the sparse accompaniment of pianist Glauco Venier and reed player Klaus Gesing. The mood is introspective, as Winstone sings poetic, metaphorical verses that wander "unfathomed streets," vaguely recall "villages of confused colour" and gaze out on "sun-silent seas." Bass clarinet and soprano saxophone add to the tonal pallette and accentuate the air of mystery and melancholy. (Winstone, Venier and Gesing will perform in West Palm Beach in February. Details to come.)
4. Solo Piano: Paul Bley (Justin Time). Over the years, Bley, 76, has returned time and again to the solo format, finding new avenues of expression each time. Here, Bley explores the long form, as he departs on a 33 and a half-minute journey that takes him through ever-shifting emotional terrain, from pissed-off to mocking to surprisingly tender. For a followup, the pianist dives into the familiar changes of Sonny Rollins' "Pent Up House," a humor-filled and affectionate nod to his own bebop roots.
5. Live at the Village Vanguard, Vol II: Paul Motion Trio 2000 Plus Two (Winter and Winter). Drummer Motian's subtle shadings and nuances render him as of one of jazz's true master impressionist. His Trio 2000 Plus Two was captured in all its thorny glory during a live set at the Village Vanguard in 2006, the second volume of which was released earlier this year. Here, the drummer's sly, silvery percussion insinuates itself throughout an exceptional set alongside saxophonist Chris Potter and bassist Larry Grenadier. Pianist Masabumi Kikuchi also provides spiky explorations throughout.

Blues:
1. One Kind Favor: B.B. King (Geffen). This stripped-down, powerful album is one of my favorite B.B. King recordings in years. With bare-bones production from T-Bone Burnett, the 82-year-old blues icon touches bedrock with versions of classics by heroes such as Blind Lemon Jefferson, T-Bone Walker, Howlin' Wolf and Lonnie Johnson. Nathan East's rich-toned bass and Jay Bellerose's ever-present bass drum root the selections in the loamy soil of the Delta, as King — in terrific if somewhat aged voice, and still making Lucille sing with heartrending, jazzy precision — makes each selection indelibly his own.
2. Roamin' and Ramblin': Honeyboy Edwards (Earwig). A variety of harmonica players provide accompaniment on new and vintage tracks by nonagenarian blues great Edwards, whose haunting, dusty vocals and distinctive fingerpicking engage with Bobby Rush, Billy Branch and the late Big Walter Horton. An archival cut from 1942, "The Army Blues" provides a snapshot of Honeyboy as a young artist and shows how deep was Robert Johnson's influence on his young protege just a few years after his tragic death.
3. Midnight Blues: Magic Slim and the Teardrops (Blind Pig). Despite constant personnel changes, Slim and the 'Drops have long ruled the Chicago blues scene, and the incarnation captured here provides ample justification. Guest stars such as James Cotton and Little Ed Williams up the excitement ante, but Slim's big voice rightly remains centerstage as he digs in on classics such as Muddy Waters' "You Can't Lose What You Ain't Never Had" and Willie Dixon's "Spider in My Stew."
4. 2 Man Wrecking Crew: Cedric Burnside and Lightin' Malcolm (Delta Groove). The grandson of Mississippi Hill Country blues giant R.L. Burnside, drummer Cedric Burnside teamed up with guitarist Lightnin' Malcolm on the appropriately named 2 Man Wrecking Crew. The pair pay heartfelt homage to forebears such as Junior Kimbrough, and of course, grandpa Burnside, who's celebrated on the opening track that bears his name, but they're obviously determined to forge their own sound with all original material.
5. The Mannish Boys: Lowdown Feelin' (Delta Groove). An allstar assemblage of veteran bluesmen takes turns fronting a superb band, with Chicago vocalist Bobby Jones featured prominently. He's spelled at the vocal mike by equally character-rich singers Finis Tasby and Johnny Dyer, as well as Little Sammy Davis, who damn near steals the show with a read of his laid-back groover "When I Leave." Instrumental backing throughout is topnotch, with stinging contributions from guitarists "Paris Slim" Goldwasser, Kid Ramos and Junior Watson.