to Melody Maker in 1993, Donald Fagen explained why this record had exerted an influential fascination upon him. ‘[It’s] a very popular jazz record, kind of mainstream big band. Nelson had a West Coast sound, and the contrast between Eric Dolphy’s solos and that slick, swinging rhythm section was very interesting to me.’
It often seemed that the music of master arranger Oliver Nelson was in search of a seamless blend of Ellington’s thought and Coltrane’s emotion. Blues And The Abstract Truth, rightly regarded by Nelson as his high water-mark, was where he made that blend sound like nobody but himself.
He loved to mix’n’match styles – as one of the great jazz synthesisers, there was little he couldn’t envelop in his warm embrace. ‘Classical music of the 19th century, and contemporary music of our own 20th century,’ Nelson wrote in the album notes, ‘brought about the need for adopting a different perspective in order to create music that was meaningful and vital. One device which has always been successful and vital in both classical music and in present-day jazz is to let the musical ideas determine the form and shape of a musical composition. In effect, that is what I have tried to do here.’
The musical ideas encompassed jazz (traditional and modern), blues, spirituals, Broadway scoring and even country music and classical flourishes. The all-star band included stellar soloists Freddie Hubbard, Bill Evans, Eric Dolphy and Nelson himself. You’ll find the more fiery Dolphy elsewhere; here his playing is relatively restrained. But Nelson, whose renown was mostly for his arranging chops, shows himself to be a gifted, deceptively relaxed soloist.
He’d been prepared for this eclectic work by early stints with Louis Jordan, Erskine Hawkins and Wild Bill Davis, a college education in music theory and composition, and a trial-by-fire as the house arranger at the Apollo Theatre. Following the success of this album, he eventually settled in LA, working primarily in film and TV scoring until a heart attack claimed him prematurely in 1975. Though his Hollywood work was of extremely high calibre, it tended to diminish the jazz profile he’d established in New York. But as long as we have Blues And The Abstract Truth, his stature as a jazz giant will be indisputable.
Jimmy Smith
Back At The Chicken Shack
Hammond-led groove that spawned soul-jazz and became one of Blue Note’s biggest sellers.
Record label: Blue Note
Produced: Alfred Lion
Recorded: Van Gelder’s Recording Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey; April 25, 1960
Released: summer 1961
Chart peaks: None (UK) None (US)
Personnel: Jimmy Smith (o); Stanley Turrentine (ts); Kenny Burrell (g); Donald Bailey (d)
Track listing: Back At The Chicken Shack; When I Grow Too Old To Dream; Minor Chant; Messy Bessie
Running time: 38.04
Current CD: Blue Note CDP7464022 adds: On The Sunny Side Of The Street
Further listening: The Cat (1964) – more swinging organ tunes but this time arranged and conducted by Lalo Schifrin; Monster (1965) – Oliver Nelson big band arrangements and organ-led takes on classic theme tunes
Further reading: www.bluenote.com; www.vervemusicgroup.com/artist.aspx?aid=2740
Download: HMV Digital; iTunes
By 1960, Jimmy Smith had already recorded a phenomenal 19 albums for Blue Note. That same year he recorded four more – two of them (Midnight Special and Back At The Chicken Shack) from the same session at Van Gelder’s Recording Studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. Produced by Alfred Lion, the latter set the precedent for every Hammond organ-led record since with its instantly infectious, gutsy groove featuring Smith’s trademark walking basslines and right hand solos. (Mention should also be made of the striking sleeve by Francis Wolff: ‘Let’s get some pictures with “grease”,’ said Smith – hence the shot of him on a friend’s farm, in natty attire, with dog Elsie and a rooster.)
A pianist from the age of nine, Smith gigged in jazz and R&B groups around his home in western Pennsylvania. Then came the switch to organ. ‘I saw Wild Bill [Davis] in 1953 and took up the Hammond on the spot. I taught myself. I kept it in a shed so no one knew I couldn’t play it. I battled with that beast every single day.’ Two years later Smith played his first gig with the Hammond at Jimmy’s Jazz Club in The Village, New York. ‘It was a challenge. Nobody had thought about taking the Hammond into jazz and those jazz fans didn’t like it, no way. But I went nuts. I went crazy.’
As for Back At The Chicken Shack: ‘I just went in there and played my guts out. There was a lot of respect going down between those guys in the studio. Stanley [Turrentine] and Kenny [Burrell] were downright funky. Donald [Bailey] kept the rhythm ticking over.’ Recorded on 2-track analogue tape, Smith composed two of the four tracks – Messy Bessie, a funky blues inspired by Charlie Parker’s Confirmation, and the title track, an effortlessly cool and sassy down-home number. The Romberg/Hammerstein standard When I Grow Too Old To Dream spotlights Turrentine’s almost vocal sax style. Turrentine’s own Minor Chant, written for his Look Out! album, is 32 bars and seven-and-a-half minutes of minor key sauntering with Stanley wailing centre stage.
The following year Smith recorded another two records for Blue Note. Then in 1962 he signed to Verve, successfully experimenting with a full big band sound and earning his nickname, The Cat.
Bill Evans Trio
Sunday At The Village Vanguard
An innovative pianist finds his niche and makes jazz history.
Record label: Riverside
Produced: Orrin Keepnews
Recorded: Live at The Village Vanguard, New York; June 25, 1961
Released: September 1961
Chart peaks: None (UK) None (US)
Personnel: Bill Evans (p); Scott LaFaro (b); Paul Motian (d); Dave Jones (e)
Track listing: Gloria’s Step; My Man’s Gone Now; Solar; Alice In Wonderland; All Of You; Jade Visions
Running time: 40.11
Current CD: OJC201402
Further listening: Waltz For Debbie (1961); More From The Vanguard (1961)
Further reading: Bill Evans: How My Heart Sings (Peter Pettinger, 1998); www.billevanswebpages.com
Download: emusic
The choice of pianist Bill Evans to replace Red Garland in the Miles Davis group in 1958 was not a universally popular one. For one thing, he didn’t appear to swing as hard as Red, for another he was white. But Miles responded to Evans’s sound – detailed touch, limpid harmonies, emotional scalar lines – which Miles described as ‘like crystal notes of sparkling water cascading down from some clear waterfall.’ As for his time playing, ‘Bill underplayed it,’ said Miles, ‘which for what I was doing now with the modal thing, I liked what Bill was doing better.’
Bill, though thrilled to be in a band with John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Miles Davis and Philly Joe Jones, was stung by the audience’s indifference-bordering-hostility to his contributions – which, in a live setting, were the antithesis of his hard-blowing colleagues – and quit after seven months. He was recalled for the seminal Davis album Kind Of Blue – which Davis admitted was ‘planned’ around Bill’s playing – but was keen