Reading the Tea Leaves

Bill Frisell - East/West

Keith Jarrett - Somewhere Before

Why would anyone want to cover a Dylan song without the lyrics? I suppose there's the pop notoriety - it's what led Wes Montgomery and George Benson to cover the Beatles. What led Miles Davis to record version after version of Cyndi Lauper's "Time after Time." The audience "knows what to expect" when presented with pop material. But it can also be alienated if the presentation varies too greatly from these expectations.
So even without the lyrics, any artist covering Dylan has to shoulder the cultural baggage of the material. Or else let it carry them away.
Other than that they are both renditions of Dylan songs performed live by trios, today's selections could not be any more different. Bill Frisell, guitarist, tends to exert a lead role in his expansive take on "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall," while Keith Jarrett, pianist, alternates with the bass player Charlie Haden between leading and comping in his take on "My Back Pages."

My Back Pages

A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall

Mingus at Antibes

Phenomenal players, phenomenal compositions, and a phenomenal leader -
the three pillars of an unforgettable jazz record.

Yesterday, I wrote on a record that derived its brilliance almost solely from the exceptional improvisational abilities of its musicians. In doing so, I also alluded to jazz that derives its brilliance from structure rather than instrumental virtuosity. This is not to suggest that it's a perpetual either/or situation with jazz, though. Today's offering, Charles Mingus' Mingus at Antibes (released 1976, recorded 1960), in fact features both varieties of brilliance.

From the perspective of talent, it's difficult to compete with Mingus' early-60s band. First of all, there was Mingus himself hopping between bass (his natural instrument) and piano. As a bass player, Mingus may not have been as subtle or versatile as Paul Chambers or Ron Carter, but he could swing like no other - perfect for propelling his groups into states of harmonically-induced ecstasy. Completing Mingus' rhythm section was Dannie Richmond, his "personal drummer." The two worked together almost exclusively, developing a close musical relationship that would last over two decades. Ted Curson (trumpet) and Booker Ervin (tenor saxophone) - both excellent soloists in their own right - rounded off the horn section. Finally, Eric Dolphy (woodwinds) provided the melodic and improvisational backbone, using his masterful abilities to bring Mingus' compositions to new heights. This was a solid group to say the least, bolstered not only by exceptional talent, but constant touring and recording as well.

From the perspective of structure and leadership, Mingus had no peer. Jazz is a quintessentially American form, and Mingus treated it as such, lacing his compositions with hints of blues, gospel, and folk. Additionally, he had an uncanny ability to get the most from his musicians. Such an ability came at the expense of his reputation, however. Mingus was known in some circles as an uncompromising taskmaster. Nonetheless, it's hard to argue with results - many of the musicians who worked with him over the years had their finest moments under his tutelage.

Today's upload is "Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting." The studio version of the song comes from Mingus' legendary Blues & Roots (1960), but this live version is superior to my ears. Note the structural prowess on this one - the song is firmly rooted in jazz, though it is based around a blues progression and utilizes elements of gospel spirituals. Listen to the break around 6:20 when the band drops out, adds handclaps, and Mingus starts playing the role of preacher, shouting "Rain down fire!" Also listen to Dolphy's solo at the 3:06 mark, which is significant for two reasons: 1) it's Eric freaking Dolphy doing his thing, which always shines brightly. 2) You can hear Mingus prodding Dolphy as he plays. This is most apparent around the 3:30 mark as Dolphy completes a phrase, Mingus calls "Think about it, Eric," and Dolphy responds with an even more ridiculous phrase. One can only imagine how electrifying this was in person...

Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting

Organ Grinder Swing

I've listened to this album so much over the years
that I can practically sing every one of the solos.

One of the beautiful aspects of jazz is the varying source (or, in many cases, sources) of its brilliance. Sometimes, the source of the brilliance comes from the compositions themselves - for example, a complex Duke Ellington piece. Other times, the source of the brilliance is the combined instrumental prowess of those playing - if you put several virtuosos in a room together and ask them to play, the result will naturally scintillate. Jimmy Smith's Organ Grinder Swing (1965) is a fine example of the latter variety of brilliance.

I first discovered the album on one of my father's old cassette tapes when I was around 13 years old. Immediately struck by the obscenely talented players on the record, I listened to the tape incessantly. It was no surprise to me that Jimmy Smith was regarded by some as the 8th wonder of the world. His playing, a fusion of blues, gospel, and jazz, was unlike anything I had ever heard. The story goes that before he started playing professionally, Smith spent nearly a year locked in a warehouse honing his sound:

“I got my organ from a loan shark had it shipped to the warehouse. I stayed in that warehouse, I would say, six months to a year. I would do just like the guys do—take my lunch, then I'd go and set down at this beast. Nobody showed me anything, man, so I had to fiddle around with my stops." (Jazz Organ Stories: Jimmy Smith, Pete Fallico)

All of that time alone in the warehouse must have worked wonders - he emerged from his time in seclusion playing the Hammond like nobody before him.

This is not to say that the beauty of Organ Grinder Swing originates solely from Smith, however. While his masterful organ playing is at the center of the record (he is, of course, the leader), equal credit must also be given to the session sidemen for their contributions. For one, Grady Tate (drums) lays the perfect foundation for the album - his playing is at once innovative and steady, keeping things interesting while setting an unwavering pace. Furthermore, Kenny Burrell (guitar) puts forth a stunning effort as well, comping admirably and putting forth a few solos that give Wes Montgomery (himself one of Smith's major collaborators) a run for his money.

Today's selection is "Greensleeves," the fourth track on the record. In my mind, it's the most impressive cut on Organ Grinder Swing - a jazz waltz with phenomenal solos from both Smith and Burrell, as well as some propulsive drumming from Tate. Listen to the way that Kenny Burrell comes into his first solo (1:13) with a brilliant ascending line. Also listen to his impeccable phrasing later in the solo (1:40), particularly his lovely incorporation of some very tasteful arpeggios around the 1:46 mark. This is textbook jazz guitar playing, boys and girls. Also listen for Smith's ridiculous organ pyrotechnics, which are impossible to miss. Love his ability to go absolutely batshit crazy, then rein it in on a dime - you'll find a good example of this around 4:54 when he switches from some very quick and chaotic phrasing to a more melodic style and then back again. Lovers of the Hammond organ: this album is for you.

Greensleeves

"Pablo"

A few words of (self) introduction. Much like Kid Gloves, I live for music, though I must confess with me it's (only slightly) more a hobby. For the past few years, that music has, by-and-large, been jazz.

"I like to think of myself as a muse-ician, somebody who makes magic with the muses." - Joe McPhee, 2003 interview with Fred Jung

Joe McPhee, saxophonist, trumpeter, and composer of my first musical offering for this blog, operates out of Poughkeepsie, New York. He records for a Swiss record label, Hathut Records, which was seemingly founded to ensure the distribution of his earliest live recordings. It is safe to say he is, and will remain, an outsider to "popular music."

This is not to say that McPhee refrains from recording music grounded in popular forms. One of his earliest releases, Nation Time, recorded at Vassar College in the late sixties, in honor of future New Jersey poet laureate Amiri Baraka, sounds quite like the missing link between the methods of Nuggets and (though I for one am sick of this album being trotted out for comparisons) the practice of Bitches Brew. Recently, he could be found adding his squeaks and squalls to that erstwhile bathroom classic "Louie Louie," on last year's modestly titled Two Bands and a Legend, which found him sandwiched between two Norwegian groups, one "jazz" (The Thing) the other "garage rock" (Cato Salsa Experience).

In 1982, McPhee, with a trio of French collaborators (bassist François Méchali, reedist André Jaume, and electric guitarist Raymond Boni) recorded the album Oleo, for Hat Hut. The title track, their take on Sonny Rollins' composition, stands the original version's hard bop on its face - without a drummer, each member of the quartet is invited to participate equally, to keep time or avoid it altogether. Equal participation is also the name of the game on the track offered, McPhee's composition "Pablo." Jaume's clarinet and Mechali's bass dance about each other, as Boni's guitar jangles reappear at key junctures, and and McPhee's sax states and then improvises upon the theme, finding the bridge between chamber music and the blues.

Pablo

Blues' Blues

Recommended for jazz fans and pimps everywhere.

I thought it appropriate to begin Jazz Week with the record that started me on jazz in the first place. Back in the day, my father used to keep his vinyl collection stashed away in the darkest recesses of the basement. Finding new records for me was like mining - I'd crouch through confined spaces with a flashlight, retrieve whichever albums would strike my fancy at the moment, and eventually emerge dusty and victorious with a handful of wax. Unfortunately, the mining ventures were something of a hit or miss affair - I had never heard of most of the artists in the collection, so my selections were essentially at random. Now and then, my old man would submit to my nagging and peruse the collection himself for a few gems. Blue Mitchell's Blues' Blues (1972) was one of these records.

In retrospect. the album is nothing all that special - just a standard above-average soul/jazz session - but is nonetheless very listenable. Hard bop veteran Mitchell (trumpet, flugelhorn) leads the session featuring such tried and true session veterans as John Mayall (harmonica) and Joe Sample (keys), producing some very solid grooves. Extensive use of the wah pedal makes this a rather funky session, with the tone falling somewhere in the realm of what I refer to as "porn jazz." This is the kind of music that makes you want to don a pair of multi-colored short shorts, tease your hair into an afro, and play some three on three with an ABA ball. Or perhaps strut around with a cane, fur coat, and feathered fedora.

Today's post is the fourth track on the record, "Granite and Concrete." Its straightforward structure and soulful tone are fairly representative of the album as a whole. Note the ever-present wah guitar propelling the track, as well as some nice solos by both Mitchell and Joe Sample on Rhodes (around 6:33). Apologies for the somewhat spotty quality - the mp3 is a vinyl transfer.

Granite and Concrete

Changes

My friends,

The time has come to expand MP3some.

I have taken quite a shine to this blog thing. Still, I have found myself frustrated with the site's current format. There's only so much ground I can cover by writing five small essays a week, both in terms of breadth and depth.

I am fortunate to have some very talented friends whose tastes, writing abilities, and musical knowledge I respect immensely. It is from these friends of mine, in fact, that I have discovered many of my favorite records. Fairly recently, I began thinking about inviting some of them to contribute to the site. After a few weeks of contemplation, I decided to go through with it. My hope is to transform MP3some from the chronicle of one man's relationship with music into a broader center of good taste and incisive criticism. Of course, I will still be writing my own pieces much in the same way I always have. However, my writing will now be joined by the work of others as well.

On that note, I'd like to introduce Sam Baden, MP3some's jazz columnist and first major addition. I've known Sam for a while now, and every time we get together turns into a listening party (or an extended conversation about records). His knowledge of the genre is wide (spanning from the conventional to the avant garde), and his writing is fantastic. Monday will mark the beginning of the expanded edition of MP3some, and it will kick off with the beginning of Jazz Week. Both Sam and I will be writing on a different album every day and providing tracks for your appreciation.

Be on the lookout for new writers and features, and thanks for reading.

Until Monday.

- Kid Gloves

Ogden's Nut Gone Flake

I first discovered the Small Faces on a British Invasion compilation when I was around eight years old. Even then, my tastes were skewed towards the psychedelic end of things - my favorite tracks on the record were "Pictures of Matchstick Men" by the Status Quo and "Itchycoo Park" by the Small Faces. I found the latter of the two songs to be particularly well crafted. Not only was it a well-written song, but it was impeccably produced (fantastic tones all around, particularly on the organ and bass) and arranged. Embellished with the tasteful use of such studio trickery as phased drums, "Itchycoo Park" epitomized to me the essence of "psychedelic." Despite my appreciation for the track, I didn't hear a full Small Faces record until I got my hands on Ogden's Nut Gone Flake (1968) over a decade later.

The Small Faces mime "Itchycoo Park." Is it just me, or does
the drummer look like he's playing in his underwear?

Fronted by vocalist Steve Marriott and bassist Ronnie Lane, The Small Faces were quite popular in the UK, charting such hits as "Itchycoo Park" and "Sha La La La Lee." For some reason or another (I blame poor promotion), the band never caught on in the States, charting only as high #16 with "Itchycoo Park." A quintessential mod act, the Small Faces were primarily an R&B outfit until recording Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, which is considered a masterpiece of the psychedelic era.

From the beginning of the album, one gets the sense that the band was trying to do something entirely different from its single-based work. Indeed, Ogden's Nut Gone Flake is something of a concept album. The title (and opening) track is an overture of sorts - it is a 2.5 minute instrumental featuring a piano (with a wah on it) and string section. "Long Agos and Worlds Apart" is a lovely slice of psychedelia, complete with ethereal organ and stereo-panned backing vocals. "Lazy Sunday" is an infectious (if a little bizarre) pop song featuring a Wurlitzer piano and Steve Marriott in the guise of an English youth. The entire second side of the record is devoted to a musical narrative of "Happiness Stan," complete with utterly nonsensical spoken-word portions - one would assume that some potent hallucinogens were involved in its making. The most curious aspect of the record, however, is its cover, a circular replica of an old chewing tobacco tin. Of course, having found a digital copy before a vinyl copy, I had no idea how unique the artwork was when I initially heard the album. Just one of the downsides of the digital era, I suppose...

You just can't package an mp3 in a replica tobacco tin...

Today's upload is "Afterglow of Your Love," the second track on Ogden's Nut Gone Flake. On top of it being my favorite song on the record, it is also the track best suited to stand on its own outside of the album. It is most notable for its soaring chorus, which features both a fantastic Hammond organ line and some tasteful two-part harmonies. Listen as well to the lazy psychedelic intro - one would not expect whistling and slurred crooning to lead into such a powerhouse track, but it does nonetheless.

Afterglow of Your Love