It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
Some good music never goes out of style: Jazz fans everywhere revere the cooking hard bop of the 1950s. So why is the other big '50s trend, cool jazz, barely on modern radar? If you want to know how fresh and airy it still sounds, hear trumpeter/composer/arranger/cool exemplar Shorty Rogers on "Popo," "Didi," "Four Mothers" and "Sam and the Lady" from his first 1951 octet session: tightly arranged, swinging jazz with breezy orchestral colors, and… more »
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
In May 1956, when Sonny Rollins and guest John Coltrane locked horns on the friendly throwdown "Tenor Madness," Coltrane was 29, and Rollins four years his junior. But at this point in their careers, Sonny had the jackrabbit head start. He'd been recording under his own name since 1951, and was much admired; Coltrane hadn't yet made a record of his own.
It's easy to forget, sometimes, Coltrane wasn't always lionized; some reviewers of his early… more »
It used to be easier to pretend that an album was its own perfectly self-contained artifact. The great records certainly feel that way. But albums are more permeable than solid, their motivations, executions and inspirations informed by, and often stolen from, their peers and forbearers. It all sounds awfully formal, but it's not. It's the very nature of music — of art, even. The Six Degrees features examine the relationships between classic records and five… more »
Before Bob Dylan or David Bowie or whoever else became famous for periodically reinventing themselves, Miles Davis was already at it. He first gained attention playing fast bebop trumpet with Charlie Parker, then fronted the nine-piece band that established softer cool jazz. (One of his collaborators was arranger Gil Evans, who'd go on to direct a series of orchestral LPs for Miles.) In the '50s Davis founded his first great quintet, a highly influential group… more »
A few years ago, Italian saxophonist Daniele D'Agaro was visiting Chicago, and a critic friend put on a fairly obscure record to stump him. D'Agaro listened for about three seconds, said: "Lucky."
Good ears. He knows the distinctive sound of Lucky Thompson after he started hanging out in Paris and playing sumptuous tenor saxophone ballads recalling old idol Don Byas's Parisian sides. On "Solitude" and "We'll Be Together Again," from Lucky in Paris 1959, his tenor's… more »
In 1955 or so, when Jimmy Smith was popularizing the Hammond B-3 electric organ in jazz, a Philadelphia bar owner who'd rented one coaxed Shirley Scott into giving it a try. They hit it off right away.
Scott played piano, so she knew the keyboard (the B-3 has two, and two octaves of bass pedals arranged like white and black keys), and she'd played trumpet in school, so she could think like a horn player, in… more »
Miles Davis’s final Columbia recording (other than Aura which was released several years later) includes his straightforward ballad interpretations of Cyndy Lauper’s “Time After Time” and the Michael Jackson-associated “Human Nature,” two songs he would play in most of his concerts for the remainder of his life. Other tunes (including “You’re Under Arrest,” “One Phone Call” and “Ms. Morrisine”) were quickly discarded. In addition to Davis (who had regained his earlier chops) tenor-saxophonist Bob Berg, guitarist John Scofield and guest John McLaughlin get in a few decent solos on this competent but not overly memorable effort. – Scott Yanow
