Hampton Hawes
The Sermon
Contemporary OJCCD-1067-2
A highly influential bebop jazz pianist prior to drug-related jail time coinciding with the strongest period of his genre, the unlucky Hampton Hawes converted several gospel and spiritual numbers to swing/bop on this new reissue of one of his most obscure recordings. Recorded just a few days before his sentencing, the record as reissued today is at the same time a jazz trio time capsule, preserving the general ambience of that bandstand line-up at its best circa 1958 and a convincing essay on the common roots of sacred and secular music within African-American culture.
"Go Down Moses," "Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho," "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," four other familiar religious melodies and one temporal original piece make a pleasing, cerebral album, with the listener's permission. Some jazzophiles might find the attack a bit hackneyed and the material overly fervent for today. To these people, I suggest an honest attempt to listen to the record in context, to admire Hawes as the pioneer who came up with an approach to jazz keyboard expression that's been copied extensively over the years. Yes, you have heard it before, but this is the man who let you hear it for the first time. Listen again, listen carefully and listen to it done right.
by Arthur "LoveWhip" Shuey
Barney Kessel
Barney Kessel's Swinging Party
Contemporary OJCCD-1066-2
Two facts about guitarist Barney Kessel jump out of my jazz encyclopedia. First, he is "frequently viewed as the most complete of the immediate inheritors of Charlie Christian," and, second, his "distinct blues overtones" have worked "to the detriment of his overall playing." I interpret this to mean that, while copping some good horn and section riffs, he also sounded like he was playing electric guitar at times, certainly a tacky thing to do at the time of his heyday.
Barney Kessel began as a sideman for Chico Marx, which dates him pretty well, as we know that Chico Marx began in vaudeville pit musician situations, replaced at one theater by a young George Gershwin, which dates Chico Marx pretty well. Active until a 1992 stroke forced his retirement, Kessel worked gradually and steadfastly into an "elder statesman" position within the world of American jazz, straddling swing and bop more convincingly than did many of his peers.
Swinging Party is a quartet recording from 1960 . . . guitar, bass, drums, and Marvin Jenkins switching between piano and flute. Of the six tunes, three ("Bluesology," "Lover Man," "Now's the Time") have familiar titles. Of these, only "Lover Man" bears any close similarity to any other artist's treatment. Where a swing purist would convert a tune to a study in dance rhythms and a bebop extremist would see each song as a challenge to see which player could get the greatest distance from the melody the quickest, Kessel accepts them all as art works to be revered. His treatments polish, explore and spotlight the pieces more than they build new inventions above and around them.
This sort of good taste, judgment and respect on the part of an accomplished player is that rare kind of jazz release that can find a happy home in swing, bop and even blues collections. The label is to be commended for reissuing this record. Please consider supporting their efforts to support jazz by purchasing it.
by Arthur "LoveWhip" Shuey
James Clay and David "Fathead" Newman
The Sound of the Wide Open Spaces
Riverside OJCCD-1075-2
Originally conceived as a Texas tenor sax showcase(say that ten times, fast), The Sound of the Wide Open Spaces finds itself today, as a new reissue, in competition and comparison with the work David "Fathead" Newman did with his usual boss, Ray Charles. So crucial to the sound that he actually shared billing with Charles on some record sleeves, Newman made a name for himself and set a standard that this record challenges with partial success. Let's get the big objection out of the way immediately - There's nothing on this record that stands up to the instrumental "Willow Weep for Me" that he cut with Charles.
Neither when first released nor in this reissue is the album's purpose to append to the Ray Charles albums, though. Its purpose was and is to encourage two Texas tenor saxmen to stretch out in a modern jazz medium that was barely mature in 1960, when it was recorded. The album producer, who was doing the encouraging, was Julian "Cannonball" Adderley, and he pushed as hard for innovation and expression here as he did in his own superlative playing.
Formatwise, the record has the saxmen fronting a piano/bass/drums trio, weaving in and out of harmony, bouncing from teamwork to challenge. Liner notes identify Newman as the first soloist on the first (title) track, and it is fascinating to try to identify the players, and their Texas roots, from that point on. Along the way, one realizes that the backing trio of Wynton Kelly(piano), Sam Jones (bass) and Arthur Taylor (drums) are themselves a powerful force. "Some Kinda Mean," the third of five long cuts on this record, showcases the rhythm section extremely well.
Centerpiecing two great saxmen in the studio and another in the producer's chair, this one belongs on the "essential" list for jazz collectors.
by Arthur "LoveWhip" Shuey
Arnett Cobb
Movin' Right Along
Prestige OJCCD-1074-2
Solid, but at the same time quirky, this record imparts a strong, distinctive ambience. Sweaty, wailing and rhythmic, with congas recorded at high volume and pitch, this is music you imagine yourself going down a flight of stairs late at night to hear. You step over a puddle and enter a basement room so full of cigarette reek that you can blow smoke rings without having to light up, so crowded with the acrid tangs of gin, coffee and the sweat people sweat only after drug abuse that your nostrils pinch and your eyes water 'til you get to the bar, shout your order and become acclimated.
The second of eight tunes, "All I Do is Dream of You," is an exception to the general tone of the album, and a questionable inclusion. It's good, it's energetic, it's this and that complimentary, positive thing, but it doesn't belong in that room at the base of those stairs. It's that sappy chorus line thing . . . "All I do / Is dream of you / The whole day through / Na na Na na na na" . . . and it's disturbing in the context of an otherwise cool collection of songs.
With that exception, "cool" is exactly what this record is. Finger snapping, husky whispering, beat poetizing cool on a par with anything Miles Davis ever released. That is serious praise, intentionally given. What is most impressive is that this is Arnett Cobb. He was a generation older than his Movin' Right Along sidemen, and he was Movin' Right Along with them, sounding current, even cutting edge, throughout the record so well that it still sounds fresh today.
I think that if you audition a couple of songs from this album courtesy of your local jazz radio DJ or record store, it will stand a good chance of going home with you.
by Arthur "LoveWhip" Shuey
Woody Herman
King Cobra
Fantasy OJCCD-1068-2
Sound is pushing air, and that's what big bands were about. That's what happens when massed horns play together. Other instruments contribute as well, but, outside of drums, there is no acoustic source that can take the crease out of your trousers like a horn section. No one knew that better than Woody Herman, the survivor, the nice guy, the living legend who kept coming up with hits in the contexts of decade after decade. You may associate his name with "Blues in the Night," "Laura" or "Red Roses for a Blue Lady," depending on your age and orientation, and your association will be correct.
This release is from the mid-'70s, a difficult time for band leaders looking for current material suitable for jazz treatment ("Welcome Back, Kotter?" "Rhiannon?" "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown?" These possibilities do not create pretty aural images), yet if anyone was up to the challenge, it certainly would have been Woody Herman.
What he does on "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing," "Jazzman," "Come Rain or Come Shine" and four other contemporary tunes, is both interesting and effective. He takes it outside. I swear, you can hear sunshine in this record. It's bright, it's happy and it's warm. A riverside beer garden here in Wilmington, NC used to feature jazz on Sunday afternoons, and from March to November, hundreds of old and new jazz fans independently invented simple percussion instruments with pebbles and empty beer cans. That music in that environmentcompelled them to do so. King Cobra does the same thing indoors on a rainy morning. It's the damnedest thing.
In 1975, Woody Herman was 62 years old. His solos on the record are rich and full of craft. His direction is that of a veteran, of THE veteran, and it leads to a product he was willing to put his name on. If his intro and singing on Carole King's "Jazzman" are not good, it's okay. He's just making the point that this song is about jazz, but not about vocals. On that and every other song on the record, you can feel the authentic air of a big band horn section in full throat coming out of your speakers and, again, it takes you outdoors on a summer day.
It's the damnedest thing.
by Arthur "LoveWhip" Shuey