Ray Charles... Peter Brotzmann/William Parker/Hamid Drake... Art Farmer... Toshinori Kondo... 'Big John' Patton...

Opening the cabinet of curios again – this is a Ray Charles date, one that is usually sidelined in favour of the better-known sessions that produced 'Genius plus Soul equals Jazz.' A run through 'Senor Blues', the Horace Silver tune. No vocals – just instrumental. An insistent bass figure builds the spine of the piece before the ensemble comes in. Trumpet solo – Blue Mitchell. Some high stepping and brassy preaching. Clifford Scott, I think, solos next. Juggles some soul blues fragments effectively enough. Then Brother Ray, who could play a mean blues. Spare and funky, just a couple of choruses, slightly battling the background band figures and oddly reminding me of John Lewis... Trying to get the personnel for this date was difficult – robbed it from the BBC Radio 3 in the end... I have fond memories of Ray Charles, one of the musicians I worshipped when I was a kid - saw him live a couple of times with his big band and the Raylettes, just as he was breaking to a larger audience. An interesting combination of raw blues and jazz with country just peeping in at that point.

Brotzmann opens, sounding like an asthmatic vacuum cleaner, hoovering up the notes. 'The heart and the bones,' from a trio date with William Parker and Hamid Drake, taken from their 2001 album 'Never too late but always too early:dedicated to Peter Kowald.' (The late bassist, although recorded before his death as a tribute). The Brotz granularities extend to William Parker's cross-sounding arco solo. Brotz moves to clarinet and takes over, woody and mysterious, distanced, over sporadic colouring percussion and riffing from Parker. Up the register to raise the emotional stakes as Drake starts to hit a few grooves. Return to the lower end, fluid, bubbling. A zig-zagging game of register polarity as he rises again into high squalling spurred by heavy hitting from the drums. Parker exercises his doussin gouni for a section, extending into a quasi-African sound world with hypnotic repetitions. Brotzmann returns on taragato, to cross an eastern timbre with the African as Drake goes berserker, sounding like he's enjoying himself with his rolling thunder. Ebbing nicely away at the end... An interesting journey away from the usual sturm und drang of Brotzmann's fire musics – and especial honours to the drummer.

Toshinori Kondo – solo trumpet, playing a splattering, smearing dazzle of textures fired through his electronic rig to amplify the different shapes of his breath and saliva moving through the instrument. Setting off a looping fragment as background, an insistent whirling that dies to leave slow gurglings that intensify and speed up - to suddenly stop. Kondo also performed with Brotzmann and company in the 'Die like a Dog' band, adding an impressive chunk of technical expertise and colour to that powerhouse unit. Playing the old influences game: if a line extends from Albert Ayler through to that group, Kondo walked in on one leading from Electric Miles (and late Don Ellis?). He'd travelled a long way...

Out of the traps fast – a boppish blues line: 'Farmer's Market.' Kenny Drew, nifty and accurate, takes first solo honours, rolling single notes out in a long arc. A droll quote - 'Buttons and Bows'... de rigeur for the genre... Farmer next, rapid fire elegance – a man who never seemed hurried at whatever tempo. Mobley picks up from his last phrase as he enters. Quite a soft tone compared to many other tenorist of the time, he was capable of much subtlety. Addison Farmer does a fast walk for a chorus or two – straight four. Last chorus and out. The young Elvin Jones keeps it all moving. Bop as she was done in 1956.

'Jakey' by Big John Patton, from 1965. Fast riff theme and Patton goes up first. Funky lines backed by sharp splinters of Granty Green chords. Vibes next, cooling it down a tad, the ice next to the smoky fire, sparked again by Green's guitar comping. Green solos, a keener, bluesy twang to his tone than many other modern jazz guitarists. Patton rides it out to the end. Music to make you feel good... dedicated to my young grandson... Jake...






Ray Charles (pno) Bobby Bryant, Blue Mitchell (tpt) Glen Childress (tbn) J. Lloyd Miller (oboe) Curtis Peagler (as) Andrew Ennis (ts) Clifford Scott, Albert McQueen (ts) Leroy Cooper (bs) James Martin (gtr) Edgar Willis (bs) unknown (d)
Senor Blues
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Peter Brötzmann (ts, a-cl, tar) William Parker (b, doussin gouni) Hamid Drake (d)
The heart and the bones
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Toshinori Kondo (t, electronics)
Tojin
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Art Farmer
Art Farmer (t) Hank Mobley (ts) Kenny Drew (d) Addison Farmer (b) Elvin Jones (d)
Farmers Market
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Big John Patton
John Patton (org) Grant Green (g) Bobby Hutchinson (vib) Otis 'Candy' Finch (d)
Jakey
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Pee Wee Russell... Peter Brotzmann/William Parker/Hamid Drake

Pee Wee Russell playing 'Minglewood,' a relaxed 12 bar blues. Opens on a hoarse chorus from clarinet – choked right back – spurred by old school skittering brushes from Osie Johnson. Buck delivers some elegant trumpet over a clarinet obligato. Pee Wee returns solo, higher and less granular yet no less angular -a diagonal querulousness that ends on a breathy deep goodbye. Buck back, subtley placed notes, in the next chorus hitting some higher stuff to raise the emotion with the register. Flanagan drops easily into mainstream mode, a spare line of some elegance. Back to the emphysema-tone of Russell for a chorus before Buck rejoins him, now muted for some old time wa wa, as they ride out together. Sublime...

Peter Brotzmann with William Parker and Hamid Drake: 'Never run but go 3.' Opens oddly enough in the same hoarse querulous register that Pee Wee sporadically employs above but with more aggression as Parker riffs and Drake gets almost calypso-ey... High-register squalls over hammered toms alternate with Brotz drops down into deeper chesty vocalised horn. Tough shit lightened and opened out at the bottom by the clattery surging drums. Parker hits a fast four in places to spring things along as the tenor splurts out a dense cloud of notes, all the way through varying his rhythms and lines – pro-active linchpin. Sudden drop out – sorry about that...


In the Videodrome...

Pee Wee and Ruby at Newport...

Brotz on tarogato...

For the sheer fun of it - George Clinton and co...


Pee Wee Russell
Pee Wee Russell (cl) Buck Clayton (t) Tommy Flanagan (p) Wendell Marshall (b) Osie Johnson (d)
Englewood
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Peter Brotzmann/William Parker/Hamid Drake
Peter Brotzmann (ts, tar, cl) William Parker (b, Doussn'gouni) Hamid Drake (d)
Never run but go 3
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William Parker... John Coltrane... Frank Wright... Howling Wolf

'The Damned Don't Cry' was a 1950 film noir vehicle for Joan Crawford – with that title, what else? When John Coltrane recorded the 'Africa/Brass' sessions, he included the song of the same name (ok, ok, eponymous). Introduced by drums and then bass spelling out a swaying 12/8 to underpin the ensemble entrance, led by Booker Little, before Coltrane joins them on soprano. The band produce a sonorous mix with echoes of Gil Evans and a hint of hardboiled movie soundtrack, this tune is the most conventional of the sessions – was the arrangement by Cal Massey, rather than Eric Dolphy? – not originally released on the album. The track does appear a bit disjointed in comparison to the rest of material, despite the crack crew on hand, which is maybe why it was left on the shelf initially. It finally settles into a steady four as Coltrane lets fly – skittering fast tenor offering that unique mix of toughness and yearning, pierced with sporadic ensemble interjections. Tyner takes a couple of steady choruses then Coltrane returns on soprano – running all over the distant looming hills of the brass-heavy backup, before the bass signals a return to 12/8 and they all slow down for the theme and out.

Stepping jauntily in with the theme 'Hawaii' from the album 2005 'Sound Unity,' the William Parker quartet. Hamid Drake prominent, firing off sharp fusillades, as the front line of Rob Brown and Lewis Barnes emerge from the theme in a criss-crossing dance, locked in step below by the huge presence of the leader. Collective improvisation to bring a smile to the face and generate some welcome heat on a freezing cold and foggy morning in God's Little Acre – a calypso feel in places to the theme for further warmth – Trinidad goes west? Brown drops out to let Barnes step up, jumped along by Drake who is unremitting throughout. Brown cuts in for a brief fandango before taking his own solo steps. Drake hits a section of off-beats at one point which give an almost trad swing over the four of the bass. Spins off into a dizzying flurried maelstrom when Barnes returns. They drop out to let the leader take over, backed by rolling swing and needle-sharp rimshots from the drummer. The horns tiptoe back in on an almost old-school riff, briefly, Parker doing a bit more then signalling the theme for a front line brief return. Brown is one of my current favourite players, but Barnes acquits himself with authority. Parker sublime and strong, as ever – Drake supple, imperious and on fire throughout.

Frank Wright from 1965. His r and b roots up front here – bleary, smearing sax, that compensates for technical lack (early on his career) with youthful energy:

'Wright had not been playing tenor long when he was asked to make Coltrane’s Ascension date (he had sat in with Trane on several occasions previously), but reportedly he declined it fearing his skills weren’t at the level required by the music. Nevertheless, Wright did make his first session as a leader a few months later, in a trio with bassist Henry Grimes and drummer Tom Price for then-fledgling ESP-Disk...’ (From here...)

...from which this track, 'The Earth,' is taken. Opens on solo tenor, then bass and drums join in, Wright jumps into higher registers and continues to balance squall and squeal with deep throaty honks and blats. Henry Grimes takes a solo, backed by the drummer which shows that they have a bit more idea of what is going down – but Wright has an honest, rough-hewn appeal at this point in his career. A lot of albums/sessions from the beginning of the avant-garde (in the fifties onwards) have a certain air of uncertainty which demonstrates, perhaps, the freshness of the ideas, the sheer novelty of what was occurring, that drop into the unknown. Wright was to develop and further hone his technique and influences (Albert Ayler, in the main) but I like the coltish honesty of this album

The mighty Wolf – delineating the blues: 'Now listen, peoples...' - taking a sly dig at white appropriations, before firmly demonstrating he knows what he is talking about... 'Back Door Man.' Archetypal one chord stomping riff – pure Delta blues – as Chester B unfolds the Willie Dixon song – not his original recording but the one from the 'Dogshit' album he was 'persuaded' to make in 1969 -which I rather like, perversely...

In the Videodrome...

Some Braxton...

Rob Brown with Parker and Grimes...

Howling Wolf tells you all about the blues...

Hubert Sumlin at Buddy Guy's...

Trane in Belgium...

William Parker
William Parker (b) Rob Brown (as) Lewis Barnes (t) Hamid Drake (d)
Hawaii
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John Coltrane
Freddie Hubbard, Booker Little (tp) Jim Buffington, Donald Carrado, Bob Northern, Robert Swisshelm, Julius Watkins (frh) Charles Greenlee, Julian Priester (euph) Bill Barber (tu) John Coltrane (ss, ts) Eric Dolphy (as, bcl, fl, arr, cond) Pat Patrick (bars) Garvin Bushell (reeds) McCoy Tyner (p, arr) Reggie Workman (b) Elvin Jones (d) Cal Massey (arr) Romulus Franceschini (cond)
The Damned Don't Cry
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Frank Wright
Frank Wright (ts) Henry Grimes (b) Tom Price (d)
The Earth
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Howling Wolf
Back door man
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Review: Charles Gayle/William Parker/Mark Sanders at the Everyman Bistro, Liverpool, September 17th 2007...

The gig venue is beneath the Everyman theatre in Liverpool, part of the Bistro complex of three rooms. Passing through the other two, you come to the performance space – oblong, with table seating. People fill the place up, with quite a few latecomers (what's new there?) but a creditable crowd. Frakture obviously know how to get the vote out, as it were... They got their money's worth...

The musicians take their places at the end of the room – no stage. No P.A. - which wouldn't be needed in this space anyway, a small amp for the bass the only added electricity. These three will generate plenty of their own over the next two sets... Mark Sanders, almost boyish in comparison to his two cohorts tonight on this tour – Charles Gayle and William Parker, stalwarts of the vibrant New York 'free jazz' scene -and beyond. Both striking figures yet contrasted – Parker, a large bear of a man as befits a bass player, maybe, of his power, smiling, almost avuncular. Gayle, a ramrod thin tall man, with a serious face that has a clouded, mysteriously inward look to it (although I saw him in the interval in conversation and he smiled frequently, displaying a completely different facet to his character). They start up, Gayle floating lines across a quickly busy backdrop from bass and drums – although this is no sax plus rhythm show – each part of the trio is integral to the sound. Gayle is playing a white plastic alto rather than his usual tenor – an iconic instrument. And you can trace the lineage from Bird – blindingly fast playing - to Ornette – a strong melodic freedom and a way of floating across a busy rhythm before locking back in with a vengeance – via Eric Dolphy (to my ears) in some of the skittering intervallic jumps. Yet Gayle is manifestly his own man, a veteran whose mysterious roots go back to the free jazz days of the sixties – he is older than Parker and the younger Sanders - a superior technique fine-honed down the years that may pay homage where applicable but flows free with his own strong voice. Gayle is renowned for his squalling, screaming intensity yet held back some of this tonight to concentrate on spirals of fast-moving melody – laced with a fair share of vocal inflection and high-register playing yet these all seemed integrated into his overall style – moving effortlessly and at a dizzying speed between what effect he feels necessary to enhance the proceeding line. Parker takes a bass solo which is muddied a little by the room's acoustic but still displays his warm virtuosity. Sanders takes his moment, a hard-hitting solo, rhythmic density and movement effortlessly slapped out - he more than holds his own in this company throughout. Towards the end of the set Parker hits a walk a couple of times to balance and colour the intensity – because this is high-octane stuff – answered by the others as they move into more conventional swinging patterns. At the end, the place is rapturous – you are aware that you have witnessed something special – yoo hoo! Wild music that hits the head, heart and feet...

Second set. After all that preceding fire, one wonders, can they hold that level throughout? To which the answer is: YES! A similar easy-going start before Gayle hits his declamatory phrases – Parker using arco bass a couple of times to saw out jagged lines at a higher volume, at one point chasing a motif he dropped in and out of throughout across the registers, coming off with an amazing slithering glissando up and down the neck executed with virtuosic control, essaying swooning vocalised figures that seemed to be telling a joke of some kind. Gayle blows wild and free, then drops back to play a frail melody that opens up the space and lets the drums through, emphasizing the equality of this band. The music becomes more pointillistic to contrast with the overall multi-noted density, Gayle fragmenting his line. Deep into the set Parker is swaying at his bass with a joy that comes across vividly. Towards the end they just lift off to stunning levels of wild intoxication – Sanders takes another solo, smacking high harmonics off his cymbals, stick between teeth as he used a hand to hammer his drums – truly music of the body as well as the mind. Coming in to the end you realise that these guys just do not FALTER. Gayle lets rip, fast and hard in a ferocious interlocking dance with bass and drums to produce music that reaches deep down into my soul and rips it AWAKE.

AWESOME...

William Parker:

"...it is the role of the artist to incite political, social, and spiritual revolution, to awaken us from our sleep and never let us forget our obligations as human beings, to light the fire of human compassion. Sounds that enlighten are infinite. We can put no limit to joy, or on our capacity for love."

(From here... ).

Finally: thanks to Frakture for providing such a great gig – I know only too well what a hassle and sometimes thankless task organising these occasions can be. Applause all round... And I had a great time in Liverpool – looking forward to the next visit...

William Parker... Mal Waldron/Marion Brown... Joe Albany/Warne Marsh... The Number: Keith Tippett/Gary Curson/John Edwards/Mark Sanders

With that Charles Gayle gig pending (I'm off to Liverpool tomorrow) – here's something from the mighty William Parker who will be appearing with the saxophonist (plus our own Marc Sanders). From the 2005 album, 'Sound Unity,' this is 'Wood flute song.' A booting track – Hamid Drake flashes throughout and Parker anchors down deep – to let the two horns flow. Rob Brown is becoming a favourite of mine, a fluent and exciting alto player. I don't know the trumpeter Lewis Barnes but he's damn good. Drake takes a busy solo, yet has plenty of space to explore – a clear recording, live from the Vancouver International jazz festival in 2004. There is something delightfully infectious and warming about Parker's music, as is his contribution to the myriad of bands he leads/plays in. 'This album is of the God-Head; enough said.'

Mal Waldron covered a lot of ground... here he is in a duo with Marion Brown on the old ballad 'I can't get started' run together with 'Now's the Time.' Brown leads in on solo alto – a heartfelt purity here, one of those performances where you feel as if you are listening over someone's shoulder. Then a bounce into the old riff blues, joined by Waldron in a dance across time – in several senses.

Another duo, sax and piano, from some time back. Joe Albany and Warne Marsh recorded together in 1957, an informal session at the home of recording engineer Ralf Garretson. I upped a track from this album a few months ago and mentioned Albany's daughter, Amy - who has written a fascinating book about her father. This is the Clifford Brown line 'Daahoud,' given an elegant and sprightly reading that has plenty of sinew underneath... Masterful...

Mark Sanders is the third member of the trio, with Charles Gayle and William Parker, who are imminently touring in the U.K. Here he is with The Number – Keith Tippett, Gary Curson and John Edwards. 'Collective 2' is the first,long track from their album 'The making of quiet things.' Curson blows some wide-ranging alto as the group wrap round each other - Tippett is a fiery battering pianist with a large sonic range but he leaves plenty of space here when the flow demands. Edwards is an amazing player -I've seen him several times over the last couple of years in varying situations and he is always breathtaking. Sanders displays his range throughout - I'm looking forward to seeing him up close with the two guv'nors from New York tomorrow night...


Note: there is a replay of selections from this year's Vision Festival on BBC Radio 3/Jazz on Three here... Available for a week - and a great program - cured my hangover yesterday morning...

And a brief mention of the passing of Joe Zawinul and the English writer/critic Richard Cook. Darcy has a very good post here....
Etnobofin has some further thoughts and good links here...

Richard Cook was one of our best music journalists – here's the Independent obit - as well as co-editor of the jazz recordings bible with Brian Morton - always at my side when writing this blog...

In the Videodrome...


Warne Marsh with Tristano et al New York 1964

Joe Morris in Toronto

Roy Campbell does the Fire Waltz

Keith and Julie Tippett a couple of months ago...

Fascinating video of Keith Rowe...

Mark Wastell et al at the Termite...

William Parker
William Parker (b) Rob Brown (as) Lewis Barnes (t) Hamid Drake (d)
Wood flute song
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Mal Waldron (p) Marion Brown (as)
I can't get started
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Joe Albany/Warne Marsh
Joe Albany (p) Warne Marsh (ts) Bob Whitlock (b)
Daahoud
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The Number
Keith Tippett (p) Gary Curson (as) John Edwards (b) Mark Sanders (d)
Collective 2
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Royal Festival Hall, 8th July, 2007... Cecil Taylor... Anthony Braxton, William Parker... Tony Oxley...

The first half opening act were a bit of a surprise – Polar Bear. Uncharitably, after a few minutes I thought they were a pub group, better suited to one of those once-smoky back rooms beloved of the scene. An interesting line-up – two tenors, bass drums and Leafcutter John on electronics, looking absurdly young – much of his created loops spurred the action and he had the best of it, I thought. But reliance on overstated back beat – ok in other contexts – strapped it all in, for me. Tonight of all nights, one would have expected a local band somewhere nearer to the stature – and sound world/conceptions? - of the main act. We have some, after all... There were a few times when they let go – especially on the last number which gave a strong hint of further potential– but I wondered whether they have worked out the integration of electronics properly yet – as I know myself, it's sometimes difficult for a laptop to respond in live performance at the speed of the other instruments – so they are to a certain extent reliant on the laptop to point the way – here Leafcutter started with bowed cymbal which he bent into intriguing looping sonorities and towards the end of the set a balloon! You had to be there... But the tunes didn't seem to go anywhere much, the soloing constrained apart from a couple of skronk-outs – Lockjaw Davis and Johnny Griffin this wasn't. Maybe that was the point I missed – that they weren't just a blowing jazz group out of the bebop family or the free improv lineage but were trying something new. In which case the rhythm was too rigid for me. A consequence of the loops? – that they forced that backbeat – although when they got away from the straight four, it loosened up and pointed towards further interesting areas... Or just an attempt to reach a wider audience... nothing wrong with that - I'd go see them live again, to be fair... But somehow... time and place?

Maybe it was all about contrast. Which there by God certainly was... The second half opened theatrically with the lights down and Tony Oxley striding onstage to position himself eventually behind his kit – like a character out of a Beckett play almost. Then Cecil – live miked offstage or recorded - recited something relating to African myth, eventually to dance lightly onstage with bells rattling (ridiculously lithe for his age – I couldn't do it!)– some kind of invocation, opening the ritual. He took his place at the piano – and they proceeded to play a set separated into sections by Cecil stopping occasionally and peering at his sheet music to select another page. Was this stuff written down? It seems unlikely... guidelines, maybe, because how the hell could you notate it? To compare his playing with an element, water, would perhaps give something of the delicate tinkling touches, like a fresh stream say, that emptied into a river where the rhythmic current gets stronger, the melodies fluidly stretched – until you were being swept out onto the ocean, through storms and wild sunrises. He moved through all of those areas, analogically, closely followed by the incomparable Oxley, an old playing chum who knows the pianist's mercurial moves well. He has a distinct drum/percussion sound, crashy cymbals with a rough timbre that seem far from the light and crisp hiss of conventional jazz drumming. Sharp fast-decaying sounds, snare flatter in resonance than one would expect, higher pitched from other small instruments and a bongo-y timbre, only using the bass drum sparingly – possibly in deference to the sheer crashing power of Taylor when he forays into the lower registers – you feared for the piano at times... This way, perhaps, his insistent pattering and snapping collaboration cut through cleanly. A thought: anyone who figured that Taylor has strayed far from 'jazz' piano would surely have been confounded tonight, if they had the ears to hear... his harmonic language can be dense, much of it coming from the 'european' twentieth century tradition - but is is embedded in a fierce rhythmic/melodic sense that flows from jazz (and beyond in his cultural heritage) - call and response building up simple patterns into wild complexities, many shards of almost bluesy figures jumping out at you. An exhilarating ride – but this was just the foreplay... They ended to wild applause – the town was waiting for them with great anticipation it seems.

Next up, the rather wonderful William Parker who took a bass solo as his cohorts departed the stage. Arco in the main, with chorded stopping playing a mournful elegaic lament, with east-european overtones at times. A masterclass – he let loose dazzling runs and swooning, swooping glissandos fired by both arco and pizzicato technique.

The band re-formed – with the addition of Anthony Braxton – who got a great cheer. Rightly so – I was at the last gig he played here on the same bill as Cecil T – and he stole the show... What followed pretty much defies my powers of description. I felt I was privileged to be present at a rare meeting of truly GREAT musical minds. Opening on a sound exploration worthy of the AACM (where Braxton originally sprang from), a four way conversation with Taylor inside the piano, Oxley dragging out his chains to rub against various parts of his kit and William Parker using two bows at times to extract as much as he could from his bass – was anyone expecting this? Braxton on contrabass(?) clarinet, an abstracted exercise in squawked sonorities. He swapped horns throughout, going from the deep murk of the large clarinet to the high piping freedoms of the sopranino sax, via soprano and his alto – this last at first having problems cutting through – the sound was dense and complex, covering the registers. Oxley dropped out a couple of times, sitting with hands folded in obvious enjoyment as Braxton and Taylor took the music further and higher, tracked by the solid bass of Parker. Braxton went from sparse, repeated notes, honked and bent frequently, to chitteringly hoarse runs to long fluid reels of notes. Eyes were on Cecil and him, I suppose, for this unique meeting – yet what combat there was occurred under good-natured rivalry – better to see it as a high-powered collaboration. Cecil can be overwhelming, after all – but Braxton was equal to the game, pausing occasionally to wipe his sweating face and his fogged-up glasses before changing horns, having a quick listen before plunging back in, towards the end rocking on his feet, almost dancing in an odd sort of skipping hop. And throughout the concert Cecil used light and shade and a large and subtle dynamic range, not just blasting out for the sake of it. At times, I felt that they had truly gone beyond the beyond , to echo Albert Ayler's famous phrase about his music, that it was about feelings not notes. A mighty, mighty performance from all four constituents. Like I said, I felt privileged to be there – a transcendental experience. But, hey, I'm a fan...

And Ornette tonight...

Written on the run - wifi at the Travelodge in Farringdon - with someone playing some nifty jazz guitar on acoustic a couple of tables from me... a nice start to the day...