The Penguin Jazz Guide (83 page)

& See also
Search For The New Land
(1964; p. 302)

RONNIE SCOTT

Born Ronald Schatt, 28 January 1927, London; died 23 December 1996, London

Tenor and soprano saxophones

When I Want Your Opinion, I’ll Give It To You

Ronnie Scott’s Jazz House JHAS 610

Scott; Stan Tracey (p); Ernest Ranglin (g); Malcolm Cecil, Rick Laird (b); Jackie Dougan, Chris Karan, Ronnie Stephenson (d). December 1963–April 1965.

Ronnie Scott said (more than once):
‘Did you know that Erwin Rommel was a great jazz fan? Yes, he used to run round the Western Desert asking: “Wes Montgomery? Wes Montgomery?” ’
Footnote available for American readers.

Ronnie Scott’s was a virtual brand name (and later literally so), but a substantial proportion of the Japanese and American tourists who filed into the Frith Street club never heard him play. Few musician-run jazz clubs have had quite the charisma of Ronnie Scott’s in London’s Soho. Ronnie’s career as proprietor and MC eclipsed his playing, which is a shame because he was a fine tenor-player and, in the opinion of Charles Mingus, quite the best of the ‘white boys’. Some touring musicians turn out the same licks, phrases, whole solos night after night. Ronnie Scott turned out the same jokes, and even got requests for special ones. His suggestion that inert audiences ‘join hands and contact the living … first time I ever saw dead people smoke’ has gone down in jazz club legend. A past master of the chewish chive, he was also soaked in the blues and capable of compelling emotion in a solo, but disliked recording and did it only sparingly. There are a few bop-flavoured things from early on, and of course he was a member of the legendary Jazz Couriers with Tubby Hayes, but it peters out after that apart from a few in-house things with names like
Never Pat A Burning Dog
and this one.

When I Want Your Opinion
(a typical Scott line) brings together material from the early to mid-’60s when the club really was the crucible of modern jazz in Britain. The various groups, with either Malcolm Cecil or Rick Laird (later to join the Mahavishnu Orchestra and then to give up music for photography) were boppish in idiom, but closer in feel to the swing era. If there is a saxophonist Scott resembles on these tracks, then it must be the Janus-faced Don Byas, who also recorded at the club towards the end of his life. The
presence of Ernest Ranglin brings a bouncy playfulness to ‘Ronnie’s Blues’ from December 1963. A couple of months later, he’s missing, and Chris Karan has been replaced by Jackie Dougan. Stan Tracey is the piano-player on all the tracks with keyboard (there are two trios, with just Laird and Dougan or Stephenson) and he brings his usual abrupt lyricism to ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’ (recorded in 1965) and a touch of deadpan humour to ‘I’m Sick And Tired Of Waking Up Tired And Sick’. That last title rang hollowly when just before Christmas 1996 Ronnie Scott chose to end his own life rather than face worsening ill-health; as did his joke when he heard that that other old kvetcher Stan Getz had died: ‘All the great jazzmen are leaving us … I don’t feel so good myself.’

Scott left behind an immense personal legacy, but it shouldn’t be allowed to eclipse entirely Ronnie’s own music.

ERIC DOLPHY
^&

Born 20 June 1928, Los Angeles, California; died 29 June 1964, Berlin, Germany

Alto saxophone, bass clarinet, flute, clarinet

Out To Lunch!

Blue Note 98793

Dolphy; Freddie Hubbard (t); Bobby Hutcherson (vib); Richard Davis (b); Tony Williams (d). February 1964.

Saxophonist and bass clarinettist Chris Biscoe has re-recorded many of the compositions on
Out To Lunch!
:
‘The tunes are not like jazz themes, but get their power and vitality from the jazz instrumentation and interpretation.
Out To Lunch!
has come to define Eric Dolphy, but isn’t typical of his output. I think what makes it outstanding and memorable isn’t the individual performances, but the sense of integration and group playing.’

By the turn of 1964, Dolphy was a seasoned presence on the new jazz scene, with experience in Charles Mingus’s and John Coltrane’s groups, and important recording sessions with Ornette Coleman, George Russell, Oliver Nelson and others. It seems certain, from anecdotal evidence, that he was already suffering from the undiagnosed diabetic condition that killed him in Germany later in the year, but his productivity was undimmed for the moment and in February of his final year he cut what many would argue was his greatest record, though there are dissenters.

This was the third time Dolphy had used the word ‘out’ in an album title.
Out To Lunch!
now seems both more outside and more mainstream than his earlier work, which pushed bop language to the limits without breaking out into something new. It also stands in a slightly curious relation to the rest of the Dolphy discography, its reputation to some extent sentimental and to a great extent encouraged by Reid Miles’s witty cover design. Dolphy’s only other release for Blue Note was the posthumous
Other Aspects
, though a month later he was to have a major role in Andrew Hill’s
Point Of Departure
. How high does
Out To Lunch!
stand? If it is a masterpiece, then it is not so much a flawed as a slightly tentative masterpiece.

For all his brilliant contributions to records by other leaders, Dolphy still hadn’t created an entirely individual sound of his own. Since the spring 1963 sessions for Alan Douglas, Dolphy had been working towards a new compositional sophistication. The session of 25 February 1964 was engineered by Rudy Van Gelder. The sound is strong and very centred, and the new band (with Williams in for J. C. Moses and the incendiary Hubbard in for Woody Shaw) was well suited to Dolphy’s increasingly dissonant and fractured conception. Hutcherson’s vibraphone – again, no piano – is mixed in such a way that the most intense attacks have a very distinct, almost physical presence. Every track, as Chris Biscoe has noted, begins with a surprise device, though the initial drama isn’t always sustained. The solitary flute track is inspired by the great modernist Severiano Gazelloni. It’s a relatively
conventional bop theme, but one distinguished by Dolphy’s virtuosic articulation and biting attack. In the same way, ‘Straight Up And Down’ and ‘Out To Lunch’ itself, the two alto pieces, are bordering on complete harmonic freedom, but again anchored in a strong rhythmic groove. CD transfer highlighted Davis’s key harmonic role. Hutcherson’s percussive and often polytonal lines allow Dolphy maximum freedom of invention. The radical core of
Out To Lunch!
lies in the two opening numbers. ‘Hat And Beard’, a tribute to Monk, and ‘Something Sweet, Something Tender’ are both taken on bass clarinet, and the sheer physicality and dynamism of Dolphy’s entry on the first tune impart an excitement that runs through the record. It is ‘angular’, as the cliché runs, but also lyrical and unmistakably thoughtful. Throughout the record, one can hear the group messing with the metre, adding beats, then subtracting them. The later tracks are by no means a falling away, but they certainly represent a consolidation rather than an advance on what Dolphy does in those opening moments. There was to be no sequel and
Out To Lunch!
’s cachet lies as much in promise as in delivery. Its real interest lies in what a later generation has done with this beautiful, flawed template.

& See also
Far Cry
(1960; p. 264)

JOHNNY HODGES
^&

Known as ‘Rabbit’; born John Cornelius Hodge, 25 July 1907, Cambridge, Massachusetts; died 11 May 1970, New York City

Alto and soprano saxophones

Everybody Knows Johnny Hodges

Impulse! A(S) 61 116

Hodges; Cat Anderson, Rolf Ericson, Herbie Jones, Ray Nance (t); Lawrence Brown, Buster Cooper, Britt Woodman (tb); Harold Ashby, Harry Carney, Paul Gonsalves, Jimmy Hamilton, Russell Procope (reeds); Jimmy Jones (p); Ernie Shepard (b); Grady Tate (d). February 1964–March 1965.

Saxophonist John Dankworth said (1993):
‘After a solo, Duke would give Hodges a big ovation: “Johnny Hodges! Johnny Hodges!! Johnny Hodges!!!” Johnny would stand up, but instead of taking a bow, he’d look over at Duke and rub his fingertips together to say: “If I’m that good, pay me more money.” ’

Hodges’ relationship with Duke Ellington was too complex even to be described as love–hate. It went on for a very long time, for much of which Hodges was eager to be off doing his own thing. For some reason, temperamental or circumstantial, his solo projects never quite took off, and the later recordings have a slight air of the gala occasion, an indulgence rather than a definitive statement.

Impulse! was where the new thing in jazz was gathering force, but Bob Thiele and the label were also responsive to some of the older stars (Benny Carter made an admired record) and blended musicians of different generations (Duke and Trane), so Hodges seemed an obvious choice. Billy Strayhorn composed ‘310 Blues’ specially for the occasion and takes another credit with ‘A Flower Is A Lovesome Thing’. From time to time, Hodges seems upstaged by both Paul Gonsalves (then in his pomp) and Lawrence Brown. The trombonist is actually the leader on the remaining tracks on the CD –
Inspired Abandon
, included in this reissue, was his album for Impulse!, with Rabbit as featured soloist. The material here isn’t as good, certainly not a patch on the small-group cuts from the February 1964 dates; the big-band tracks – ‘Main Stem’, ‘I Let A Song Go Out Of My Heart’/‘Don’t Get Around Much Anymore’ – are equally good, but Hodges seems slightly overpowered by the arrangements. Essential all the same.

& See also
Classic Solos 1928–1942
(1928–1941; p. 32)

LEE MORGAN
^&

Born 10 July 1938, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; died 19 February 1972, New York City

Trumpet

Search For The New Land

Blue Note 84169

Morgan; Wayne Shorter (ts); Herbie Hancock (p); Grant Green (g); Reggie Workman (b); Billy Higgins (d). February 1964.

Trumpeter Jeremy Pelt says:
‘Back when I was getting my playing together, Lee Morgan was the player you checked out. The way he related to the audience is something that I still strive for, every day.’

There’s a conventional wisdom that after
The Sidewinder
Morgan’s albums became increasingly formulaic. While there is some truth in it, it’s not a generalization that stands up to extended listening. There are strong cuts on almost all the Blue Note records and Morgan’s ability to engage his listeners, directly and almost viscerally, guarantees their success. However, even if one accepts that there is a generic cast to the discography,
Search For The New Land
represents something of an exception.

Search
was a musical exploration as much as a programmatic one. The presence of Shorter and Hancock guaranteed a measure of lyrical unpredictability, which is immediately registered on the title-piece. ‘The Joker’ might be thought to be the ‘Sidewinder’ piece this time around, except that it’s a darkly playful, rather treacherous idea built on altered chords, and certainly not a theme that encourages a relaxed or lazy approach. Workman fits into this context particularly well, and the hyperactive Higgins drills away without a pause. ‘Mr Kenyatta’ may point towards one possible new inspiration for Morgan’s music, though the two remaining numbers, albeit more than makeweights, are more off-the-peg: ‘Melancholee’ is a tight, bluesy ballad and ‘Morgan The Pirate’ another fairly orthodox improvising tune. A fine, questing record, and a pity that –
The Gigolo
apart – there weren’t to be more like it. The latest release contains some bonus tracks, though nothing that prompts a wholesale reassessment of an already surprising set.

& See also
The Sidewinder
(1963; p. 298)

DENNY ZEITLIN
^&

Born 10 April 1938, Chicago, Illinois

Piano

Cathexis

Columbia CS 8982/Mosaic Select 34

Zeitlin; Cecil McBee (b); Frederick Waits (d). February 1964.

Denny Zeitlin says:
‘It was a great thrill, in my final year of medical school, to find myself in Columbia’s hallowed 30th Street studio in New York recording my first trio album. With no rehearsal, I got together with Freddie Waits and Cecil McBee, and the chemistry was terrific.’

A unique figure in modern jazz, Zeitlin trained as a psychiatrist and has practised medicine in addition to his musical career. His family background included both vocations and the youngster studied with both Alexander Tcherepnin and George Russell, giving him an understanding of both classical forms and jazz harmony which came together (with some rock music superadded) in his experimental albums of the ’70s. While still a student, Zeitlin was heard by John Hammond, who signed him for Columbia.

Cathexis
is one of the great modern piano trio records. The title shouldn’t be confused with ‘catharsis’. Cathexis is a term used for what is essentially emotional charge, the amount of psychic energy in a given situation. Its appropriateness here is obvious. The title-piece is a tense, almost incendiary theme, which seems to discharge in a series of abrupt climaxes. It’s equally startling to find the work of Jewish philosopher Martin Buber cited on a jazz album, but ‘I-Thou’ derives its notions of personal confrontation and mutuality from Buber’s once fashionable ideas. ‘Little Children, Don’t Go Near That House’ anticipates some of the atmospheric work of later years. It has astonishing drama, fuelled by an off-kilter metre, and its folkloric element, balancing innocence and experience, is palpable and powerful. ‘Stonehenge’ is reminiscent of some of McCoy Tyner’s modal experiments of the period, but also something of an apocalyptic strain in ’60s culture. There are a couple of repertory pieces, Gigi Gryce’s ‘Nica’s Tempo’ and the staple ‘Round Midnight’, which is dealt with almost skeletally, reducing the pace to its basic armature. McBee and Waits are both in exceptional form.