His Name Is Alive – Stars on E.S.P. (1996)
His Name Is Alive sort of took a leap and entered Phase Two with the album Stars on E.S.P. Departing significantly from the moody, disquieting, This Mortal Coil-like abstractions of early albums as well as the brash alterna-rock fusion of the previous album Mouth By Mouth, the main influence here seems to be Oldies, Motown, and folk spirituals, albeit sculpted by the uniquely creative guiding hand of HNIA mastermind Warren Defever into something uniquely His Name Is Alive. "This World Is Not My Home/I Can't Live in This World Anymore," what sounds like a black spiritual, is a refrain and a theme on this album, appearing in different forms on three different songs. "Universal Frequencies" is basically a remake/remix of the Beach Boys' "Good Vibrations." Echoes of their previous haunting, atmospheric sound is still easily recognizable in songs like "What Are You Wearing Tomorrow" and "The Sand That Holds The Lakes In Place," however. I didn't understand or particularly care for this new sound at all at first, but it's grown on me quite a lot, and I can now confidently say that I consider this album utterly brilliant—one of my favorites. It all fits into their greater ethos of rootsy, earthy sounds that are emotionally evocative, sometimes chillingly so. The music seems to vibrate in time with the life in one's very bones, a panorama of aching time and humanness. This is the sound of AM Radio, the Great Lakes, summer creeping into fall, a lone guitar plugged into an amp in a wooden room in an old house somewhere in Ypsilanti. The whole thing is incredibly cohesive; so much so, that I regard this as one of my favorite albums even though no individual song herein taken in isolation is anywhere near my list of very favorite songs. It's something to admire as an achievement as well as soak in and just feel its vibe pour through you.
Bill Evans Trio – Sunday at the Village Vanguard and Waltz for Debby (1961)
Bill Evans is the jazz pianist's jazz pianist. His technique and his intuitive, sensitive touch add up to at least a couple of big accomplishments: 1) In his interpretations of jazz "standards," he has the preternatural knack of extracting the essence of a tune and laying down what seems the definitive version of it (I believe it was the great alto saxman Cannonball Adderley who first said that of Bill). 2) His playing is exquisitely sensitive and emotionally resonant, but never maudlin. Bill Evans is the consummate musical musician; there's no technique for technique's sake: he gets right into the feel of a tune and inhabits it totally, his singing piano fleshing out a song in all the glory two hands on a keyboard can conceivably muster. Evans recorded most of his released work with in the piano trio format, a genre he was to become synonymous with on the strength of his work with it.
I join many other aficionados in my belief that the very pinnacle of Evans' jazz trio music was manifested on Sunday, June 25, 1961 at the Village Vanguard in New York City. The live performances that took place on that afternoon and evening were collected and released in the form of two LPs: Sunday at the Village Vanguard and Waltz for Debby (which is why I am re-pooling the material of these two albums and counting them as one item). On display that day for a mostly indifferent audience of New York socialites was undoubtedly the definitive Bill Evans Trio: the pianist, bassist Scott LaFaro, and drummer Paul Motian. As documented on those two live LPs, LaFaro was perhaps the most arresting presence of the triumvirate. The mix has him more or less front and center, even in front of Bill's piano, and Scott's playing is inspired and deserves such treatment. Most people first mention his virtuosic high-speed upper-register runs, but there's also his sonorous double-stops and strummed chords, and just listening to him hold down a single whole note is wonderful. But he never pulls away and overtly "steals the show," because everything he plays is so rooted in interaction and response with Bill's piano. Listening to LaFaro's strength, sensitivity, and total command of his instrument is just a total joy to behold. Very tragically, he was killed in a car accident only ten days after that special Sunday, which gives the performances a particular haunting poignancy, perhaps best encapsulated in the closing number of the evening, LaFaro’s own composition "Jade Visions," an atmospheric, minimalist, mysterious piece that is almost as if Scott wrote his own eulogy without knowing it. I'd almost regard it as something like blasphemy for any other group to play that song. Paul Motian, who continued to play with Evans for some time after LaFaro’s untimely demise, plays an effective supporting role, even as he often kind of slides under the surface and plays almost "invisibly." In the ballads, for instance, he mostly seems to work the cymbals with brushes to create atmosphere. And Evans’ playing, on top of all that, was, I believe, at its absolute finest and most exquisite on that day.
The repertoire on that day included a judicious choice of great standards, all non-repeats from the two studio albums the trio had previously recorded. "My Romance" is one that Evans returned to repeatedly in his career, and is one in which his knack for the soaring melodic line especially shines. His chordal magic turns the standard-of-standards "All of You" into a kaleidoscope of tonal and harmonic color. Other Evans signature tunes represented here include his own "Waltz for Debby," with its distinctively light, airy melody, and "Alice in Wonderland," a Disney theme that Dave Brubeck, a decade earlier, had been the first to treat as a "standard." My personal favorite moments of all, however, are the contemplative, haunting masterworks that are the trilogy of ballads "My Foolish Heart" (surely one of the most perfect five minutes of music ever recorded—sends me into shivers of rapture every time), "I Loves You, Porgy" and "My Man's Gone Now." And the "simultaneous improvisation" this group achieves is really special, perhaps most evidently on the Miles Davis woodshed tune "Solar," where for most of the time (except for the bass solo), it's hard to tell who's soloing and who's "comping." Obviously, the spirit was just right on June 26, 1961 at the Vanguard, and these three wonderful musicians play brilliantly as an inspired unit.
Many of the tunes played on that day were recorded twice, and the CD reissues of these albums include the unused takes of the songs as bonus tracks. For most jazz albums, the "alternate takes" you get on the CD releases seem kinda "pesky" to me; in most cases I could easily stick with just the master takes without any distractions. But in this case, inclusion of the extra takes just means even more unique moments of special music by this wonderful trio. I dislike cliches as much as anyone, but these records define the expression "desert island discs" for me as much as any do.
Wayne Shorter – Speak No Evil (1964)
Wayne Shorter is my favorite tenor sax player. His sound is a sensuous yet meaty one, chewy with a cherry center, that treads a perfect line between the tight muscularity of John Coltrane and lighter, unadventurous "happy-blues" of Hank Mobley. He is also a supremely gifted composer, and penned several of what I consider the best jazz tunes ever written. Shorter started off his professional career as a jazz musician with several years in Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, then struck off on his own to record a number of Blue Note LPs as a leader starting in 1964, as well as simultaneously filling the tenor chair in Miles Davis' quintet from '65–'69 (although I don't really understand how he managed to do both during the same time period).
His Blue Note debut was Night Dreamer—a wonderfully assured and satisfying effort that showed off his writing and playing excellently, as well as using the talents of his sidemen to superb effect. The follow-up, Juju, a quartet date, suffered from far inferior recording quality to its predecessor, as well as being too overtly "Coltranesque" than I feel Wayne needs to try to be. But most people disagree with me and put Juju on a high pedestal along with Shorter's third LP, Speak No Evil, which on the other hand, I join with a large contingent in acclaiming as a complete masterpiece.
The tunes are uniformly fantastic, the charts always interesting, and the playing is wonderfully subtle and dynamic all around; perfect moments of musical interaction abound. Highlights include the irresistibly swinging "Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum," the intriguingly geometric and mysterious "Dance Cadaverous," and the breathtakingly gorgeous ballad "Infant Eyes." Wayne Shorter mixed-and-matched a lot with his ensembles as a leader, never recording an album with the same band twice, leading bands anywhere from a quartet to a sextet (and the odd octet). But on Speak No Evil he seems to have hit on the perfect band for his music. All props and praise to McCoy Tyner, who also recorded a lot with Wayne, but Herbie Hancock, with his inimitable subtleties and tonal shadings, is the perfect pianist to accompany Wayne. Elvin Jones on drums is a welcome addition to any lineup, needless to say. He really accentuates and underlines the swing inherent in the tunes here. The bright tone and spry exuberance of Freddie Hubbard on trumpet is a perfect counterpoint to Shorter's somewhat melancholy lyricism. Ron Carter anchors the bass quite admirably with a lot of nice touches of syncopation, but he's not as noticeable as he would later be with the Miles Davis Quintet.
I just can't say enough about this CD. It is gorgeous, it is stunning, it is perfect jazz.
Miles Davis Quintet – E.S.P.,Miles Smiles,Sorcerer, and Nefertiti (1965–1967)
Miles Davis’ last hurrah with the traditional acoustic jazz lineup, before going full-on "fusion" in the early '70s, was his 1965–1969 quintet with Wayne Shorter on tenor saxophone, Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass, and Tony Williams on drums. This band represented an incredible convergence of singular musical personalities, from the horns on down to the rhythm section. Miles had had the rhythm section of Hancock, Carter, and Williams in place for some time before finally adopting Shorter as tenor player; Miles having played with a number of previous tenors, from George Coleman to Sam Rivers, none of whom seemed to quite fit the bill. But, as one member of this band put it, I can’t quite remember who, "Shorter was the catalyst." Shorter’s many original compositions he brought to this group quickly came to define this quintet’s music. When other band members brought in tunes, Miles would normally tinker with the charts a little to give it that twist. But Shorter’s songs were nearly always, so it goes, played as is, with no modifications by the leader. His playing, no less, seemed to be just what Miles wanted—the harmonic suspensions, the creative but unshowy soloing, the willingness to play a little "free," all made it work.
From Shorter’s contribution we must naturally pass to a discussion of that of keyboardist Herbie Hancock; for any band that included these two would, seemingly, automatically achieve greatness. Hancock was always the perfect pianist to accompany Wayne, as he did in most of Wayne’s Blue Note albums as a leader during that same period. The creative span of his sound, from atmospheric subtleties to outright funkiness and everything in-between, was, again, perfect for the setting of this band. Ron Carter’s deep tone, remarkable sprightliness of touch, and tendency to play slightly ahead of the beat was also solidly unique and served to further the consistent "forward-moving directionality" of the music. And Tony Williams… look out. Williams was barely 20 while playing in Miles Davis’ 60’s quintet, and already had a career of several years of jazz drumming behind him, including significant time with Sam Rivers. His astonishing polyrhythmic facility and aggressiveness was the linchpin in this band’s colloquy of diverse talents, and far from simply keeping time at the back, Tony’s virtuosic unpredictability always immediately demanded attention and perpetuated constant interaction between all the musicians.
It is the first four LPs recorded by this quintet that I hold up equally as documents of their remarkable power; there were a couple of more after them, Filles De Kilimanjaro and Miles in the Sky, that tended more towards spacey/funky vamp-based experimentation which, while interesting, made for a less-fully realized product than those of E.S.P., Miles Smiles, Sorcerer, and Nefertiti. What made me rediscover, and newly discover the brilliance of, this particular band was picking up Sorcerer after having owned the other three for many years and not having taken special notice of them out of the rest of my Miles collection. It is Tony Williams’ drumming that is first and most striking upon a fresh listen of this music; the rhythmically-interested will sit in wide-eyed wonder listening to Williams’ incomparable jazz drumming, then notice how good the tunes are, and how well everything holds together.
Part of the signature sound of this quintet (at least, from Miles Smiles onwards) is that of Hancock’s tendency to lay out during solos. Where almost all jazz pianists will standardly accompany soloists with chordal punctuations, functioning as a harmonic as well as just place-keeping role, with this band space tends to be left in the middle during solos for organic interaction amongst the non-chordal instruments—horn, bass, and drums—to listen to each other and stretch things a little in each direction. The tensile flexibility of the players as a whole, and the topographical complexity of the music and the players’ interaction with it, is thereby allowed to show up at a maximum; nakedly, even.
Of the more unforgettable tunes on these albums are Shorter’s "Nefertiti," "Fall," (both from Nefertiti) and "Iris," (from E.S.P.) as well as Tony Williams’ fragile "Pee Wee," (from Sorcerer) in which the drummer attempts to out-Wayne Wayne in composition, and quite nearly succeeds. The material represented on these four LPs is so consistently strong throughout that I feel compelled to represent the whole as a four-way tie for a single spot as some of my very, very favorite jazz music of all time.
Pat Metheny – Trio Live (2000)
Pat Metheny is one of the world's most versatile and technically awe-inspiring guitarists. Best known for the accessible and distinctive "folk-jazz" of his Pat Metheny Group, Pat can also tear it up with panache in the "straight-ahead jazz" format. Only, the results never seem to be simply "straight-ahead," but incorporate the same creativity, uniqueness, and singular musical voice he puts into all his projects. Here in this double-CD is a collection of performances from a tour of Japan and the U.S. with his "99-00" trio with bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Bill Stewart. All the potential that this trio could possibly embody in sonic and melodic exploration of the tunes is here fully realized, in stunningly exciting and dramatic fashion, comprising some of my favorite music ever.
Metheny has a characteristically mellow, uneffected timbre on guitar that forms the basis of his sound. But surprisingly given that fact, he has a penchant for very colorful sound explorations when he does deviate from his standard sound. "Question and Answer" starts out straightforwardly enough, but just builds and jams and soon becomes a full-out woodshed. Bill Stewart, surely one of the best jazz drummers out there today, lays down a simply riveting extended drum solo. Pat's "synth-guitar" sound comes into play during his second solo, and the number reaches a frenetic climax that leads into a delicate and deathly quiet outro. After the song finishes its 19-and-a-half minutes, the audience howls with approval, and one just has to nod one's head in agreement.
For "Into the Dream" Pat gets out his "42-string guitar," which has a harp-like clarity and deep resonance that is incredibly lovely. The piece is actually one of the most beautiful things I've heard. Then there's "Giant Steps," that blistering signature Coltrane tune, which this group plays laconically at about a quarter-speed, but it sounds so natural that way, one could easily get used to it and then go back to the original and think of it as a sped-up version of this one. Then their up-tempo version of "All the Things You Are" (I think Scofield was the first to do that standard this way) shows off this band's chops with impressive alacrity.
The second disc starts off with some songs which (I'm told; I haven't heard the originals) are trio reworkings of tunes Pat originally played solo on record. All are of excellent quality; but just when you think Pat has settled back again into traditional-jazz-trio format, he wheels out the 19-minute noise-collage "Faith Healer." Pat could always be as avant and challenging as any jazz musician, and he does like to pull out that card every so often. The result here is impressively meticulously-composed, and demands one's full attention to appreciate. It's not easy-listening, and was a bit much even for me at first, but it satisfies. Finally, Metheny throws out another curveball with his "fretless guitar" (!) on the loopy, careening "Counting Texas." With this number, he once again gets to show off yet another side of his musical virtuosity, and it is just plain fun to listen to him go to town on it.
I haven't mentioned bassist Larry Grenadier yet, but he seems to know Metheny's tunes so well that he and Pat seem to musically interact telepathically. Overall the trio coheres as a group exceptionally well, bringing to mind the "unified improvisation" of Bill Evans' trio with Scott La Faro and Paul Motian, although certainly in a way all their own. I'd label this essential listening for any jazz fan and/or serious musician.
Medeski, Martin & Wood – The Dropper (2000)
I guess you could say I was introduced to MMW through John Scofield's A Go Go album, where they are his "backing" band (but are very prominent in the mix), and just the little taste of Medeski's organ (understandably a little subdued on A Go Go) got me sold on trying out some full-on Medeski, Martin & Wood. The Dropper was my first MMW album, and boy, did I jump in with both feet.
I will just have to quote someone else's Amazon customer review of this CD, because it is such a dead-on representation of the sound of The Dropper: "Imagine a window with four panes of glass in it. Let's say one pane is Duke Ellington, one pane is John Zorn, one pane is Jimmy Smith and the last pane is Sonic Youth. Now drop this muti-faceted window on a cement floor and then jump on it while wearing your mama's combat boots. All the little shards of glass from the four panes get all mixed up and intermingled with each other. This is basically a description of what Medeski, Martin and Wood's...CD, The Dropper sounds like."
When I bought this I guess I wasn't quite expecting too challenging of a listen, so it took me a couple of times through to get used to the avant-gardeness of this record. This CD is not something you'd want to spin in the background during a dinner party, for instance. But to the adventuresome ear, there is a whole lot of breadth and depth to be plumbed in all the sonic creativity going on here, in all its dissonance and unpredictability. The sonic palette of this album is endlessly colorful, with uses of various guest musicians such as guitar and saxophone, and every note is in just the right place. It is an amazingly well-put-together musical product, this record, and most artful.
Then there's the force of the base trio itself, which is in full effect. The attack of that mean-ass organ and just the way it burns like nothing else is the aural equivalent of mouth-watering. I once actively disliked organ, but Yo La Tengo's use of it turned me on to its sound, and Medeski shows how compellingly its sonic and tonal possibilities can work their way into musical arrangements. As great as all that is, and how terrifically tight Chris Wood's bass is, you know what really makes this stuff go? Illy-B (drummer Billy Martin)! That man can pound some skins, with an urgency and driving groove that never fails to set my foot a-tap and my head a-bob.
As the total album goes, all this sprawling mess bleeding into each other makes for quite an exciting listen. It's a rich sonic and textural brew that stays interesting every second.
