The Penguin Jazz Guide (7 page)

Readers puzzled by what might seem eccentricities of chronology in this edition of the
Guide
should be aware that we favour the old-fashioned insistence that decades end on a zero and begin on a one; hence our late celebration of the millennium. Some of the records selected may seem to fall in the wrong position in the
Guide
, especially in the early part of the book, which deals with contemporary reissues of classic material. By definition everything before the early ’50s was originally released as a pair of single ‘sides’ and was only brought together with other material later. Overlapping compilations – 1937–42, 1938–9, 1935–44 – are difficult to organize in strict date order. We have tried to use common sense and to locate these recordings where they seem to make most sense, usually when an artist’s most compelling work was being done, or otherwise to illustrate a cusp in the progress of recorded jazz. Sometimes, though, the positioning is just plain quirky.

For those who have encountered previous editions of our
Guide
, the most obvious and visible difference will be the abandonment of the ‘star system’ for rating CDs. Nothing caused us more agony and irritation in the past, as we finessed the difference between a *** Louis Armstrong record and a ***(*) CD by a rising star of today. Suffice it to say that while many
of the records included here were accorded high marks in previous editions, and some ‘core collection’ status or the ultimate accolade of a crown, some have been upgraded and others (quite a few) have not been previously covered or not for some time. It was striking how often the need to select one record by an artist repositioned judgement and priorities, and how often we simply
changed our minds
, as we always have.

The editorial ‘we’ is not
pro forma
. Though Richard Cook passed away in 2007, his hand is still strongly evident here and very many of the reviews included are initially from his hand, even if they have been repositioned and in some cases revised. It has been Brian Morton’s intention to reflect Richard’s enthusiasms and misgivings as fully and as honestly as his own. The 10th edition remains a work of joint authorship.

Its present format was decided without consultation with Richard, but as a distinguished encyclopaedist of jazz he would have welcomed many new aspects. First and foremost, the abandonment of that invidious grading system. Then, a greater measure of biographical detail, which now includes full dates and place of birth and death. Our motivation here has been to rid the reference record of many lazily reproduced errors. We found that one distinguished contemporary had been consistently presented as a full decade younger than his actual age. We encountered many other inaccuracies and were reminded many times of the fascinating habit among African-American musicians of simply ignoring the year or years they spent in unwilling military service as if those years had never happened. More than one senior birthday celebration (see entry on Mal Waldron) seemed to come too soon for that reason.

Otherwise the main entry for each artist is much as before, with title, most recent release number (though these are subject to change) and full collective personnel for that record with instruments shown in the familiar abbreviations. Each entry aims to offer a brief biographical note and contextual comments as well as a review which might include track-by-track detail or a more general overview, depending on the particular instance. While further records by the same artist are cross-referenced, using the symbol
&
, further referencing has been kept to a minimum; we do not indulge the common practice of suggesting ‘if you like this … you’ll like these’, which almost invariably fails to deliver.

Richard’s passing robs the book not only of a razor-sharp critical mind and a fine writer – and its most poignant aspect is that segment of new recording that has appeared since his death – but also the possibility of an internal dialogue between two authors who shared out the ‘database’ of new and reissued recordings on the basis of who felt more warmly disposed to an artist or record. Previous editions were not divided between the authors stylistically or chronologically. Those who claimed to know who had written what were almost always – and entertainingly – wrong. To mitigate the lack of a second voice in the 10th edition, we have asked musicians to offer some reminiscence, anecdote or comment (up to, but not including, self-review) or in the cases of artists no longer living or otherwise unresponsive, to comment on their work as well. These are not drawn from published sources but from an archive of interview notes and tapes made by Brian Morton for print or broadcast purposes over a period that spans, alarmingly, 1975 to the present, with a peak in the 1980s and 1990s. These comments, which are presented at the head of each review, are intended to offer personal grace notes rather than a privileged view. We have not altered our critical position as a result of any of them, though only a few might be thought to conflict, most charmingly that of saxophonist Odean Pope, who said we had picked his least favourite among his own records!

As before, we regard ‘opinionated’ as a description, not a criticism, and defend our choices and our rationales for them with a certain detachment. We by definition do regard these records as the ‘best’ jazz has to offer, which does not mean that there may not be better ones lurking out there, perhaps in plain sight; nor does it mean that we mightn’t change our minds on a small proportion of them tomorrow, and then again the day after. Are they the most ‘important’? We have no particular urge to stipulate a canon, but it would be less than honest to say that without Armstrong, Morton, Ellington, Parker
et al
., you would have
only a truncated and impoverished understanding of jazz. Last of all, to sneer at a word that often pops up in these contexts, are they ‘essential’? Nobody died from not listening to jazz and in a world of urgent imperatives, it doesn’t seem the most vital, and yet our lives would be substantially less worth living without the music contained herein. So, ‘necessary’, maybe not, but ‘essential’, in some unwilling way, yes. Our aim here, more than ever, has been to steer listeners towards a remarkable body of music, still small in comparison to the vast sweep of ‘classical’ music, quiet in comparison to the hectic pump-priming that is part of pop culture, still subject to all manner of prejudice and ‘I don’t like it because I’ve never tried it’ resistance. If you find that your opinion of a record bought on recommendation here fails to square with ours, don’t sue and don’t give up on us. We include these records because we love and admire them, not to appear arcanely knowledgeable; so keep experimenting.

This edition comes with a longer than usual list of acknowledgements. Thanks are due first and foremost to the many, many musicians who sent in personal statements for publication. To those who wrote: ‘We had a great time, the boys played well’, we say thanks, but not quite what we were after. To those who shared a studio moment that otherwise would have been closed to us: you can scarcely know how much these have humanized and illuminated the music and the book.

As ever, we owe a great debt to those in the business who work without much reward to get the word out on jazz. They are too many to name individually, but for assistance above and beyond the call, big thanks to Ann Braithwaite of Braithwaite & Katz, to Scott Menhinick of Improvised Communications, Kerstan Mackness of Riot Squad, Mark Gilbert of
Jazz Journal
(incorporating
Jazz Review,
founder Richard Cook) and to all the management companies, distributors and labels who passed on information, sent out new CDs and ‘maybe you missed this one’ copies of previously overlooked records. We were and are grateful to and for them all.

Very special thanks to Richard’s widow Lee Ellen Newman for graciously allowing this edition to proceed, like the last, in Richard’s absence. It must be bittersweet for her to see it published over Richard’s name and we hope that pride in the continuation of his work outweighs any misgivings about the content.

More personally, this edition would not have been possible without the patience, tolerance and love of Sarah Morton, who is married to the job but can find no mention of jazz on the marriage licence, and the cheerful good nature of Fiona, Alice and John Morton, the youngest of whom found it hard to credit that while he could knock off an Oxford Reading Tree book in a morning it took his father so many months and so much stress to finish his.

This edition is respectfully dedicated to the memory of Sir John Dankworth, who passed away as the final pages were being written, sparking memories of some happy hours spent learning about bebop, and to that of two on-off jazz lovers I was proud to call friends, Michael Dibdin and Norman Mailer.

Brian Morton

ABBREVIATIONS

BEGINNINGS

Igor Stravinsky said that the Recording Angel he cared about wasn’t CBS but the one with the Big Book. In the same way, many early jazz artists were either indifferent to or plain suspicious of recording. It was a view initially shared by the otherwise expanding recording companies. Music had not been originally thought an important use of the new sound technology, whose chief applications were believed to be in business – particularly stenography – and factual communications. However, the expiry of several important patents in 1914 sent a pulse of innovation through the young industry, and along with the effort to develop new recording and reproduction equipment (which was far from standardized at this era) came a fresh consideration of what other consumer functions recording might serve.