(Read part 2 of this series by clicking here)

by Jonathan Horwich

Introduction:

Any jazz fan, whether a deeply committed fanatic or casual listener, will agree that jazz is a truly indigenous American art form, growing, like the country itself, from a rich racial and cultural polyglot. And like a continent-wide jam session, the genre has echoed down the decades, its rhythms and styles intertwining, joining, dividing, growing.

Within that macrocosm there are pivotal moments of brilliance, moments that send the subject spinning off into a new and exciting direction. We all have our favorites: studio sessions or live sets that stand out in terms of innovation or outstanding execution.

Words often fall short when trying to describe such moments. Words contain, limit, define. Jazz, and particularly jazz improvisation, is about transcending limits and barriers. That said, words can be valuable in calling attention to these stellar moments, so others can find them and experience them directly. That is my intention with this column.

A case in point: Miles Davis’ ever-popular (and deservedly so) recording, Kind of Blue, has achieved stellar success due to an equal measure of high quality sound, ease to the listener’s ear, individual improvisation, group sound, and, last but certainly not least, its unusual (for the time) advanced harmonic concept. But popularity isn’t the only litmus test – or even the main one. More important are the beauty and depth of the art form. And in this and succeeding articles, I hope to bring attention to some of these moments of greatness, moments over the last 60 years that shaped and changed the direction of jazz or carried it along a truly elevated path.

Although I believe good quality sound is vital to the continuing and repeated enjoyment of music – and its ultimate impact – in the case of the jazz performances presented here, recording quality was often a secondary consideration to the musical distinction of the work (a principle consistent with this magazine). However, in all cases I will mention or discuss the recording quality and, where deserving, in depth.

In selecting some of these great moments, the factors I took into account were many. They included:

1. Sound: The tone of the instrument or the cumulative sound of instruments in relationship to one another.

2. Harmony: Choice of notes, voicing, etc.

3. Rhythm: The way the beat, accent or lack thereof is employed.

4. Dexterity or technique: Where technique is part of the musical expression and aligns well with all other factors present, it can be an enhancement. But technique alone ensures nothing musical. Theolonius Monk did not demonstrate “great technique,” but he was a singular genius. His technique fit his musical concept. Clifford Brown on the other hand possessed a prodigious technique, one that was essential to the overall musical effect.

5. Interaction between musicians. How the musicians play in relation to what others are playing.

6. Intangibles: Feel, sensibility, emotion – those things that words can’t adequately express. One could argue that these are nothing more than the sum of all the other ingredients listed above, but for me there’s an added “x” factor - the way a great musician communicates or expresses himself or herself using those other qualities.

The article below, and those to come, will be organized against some aspect or particularity of jazz, including many of the above factors. In this way, I hope to explore not only what makes great jazz, but what distinguishes these performances as true works of art.

 

Comping

In jazz, comping has nothing to do with free hotel rooms in Vegas. It’s short for complementing. The word complement is from the Latin complementum, “that which fills up or completes.” In its most basic definition it means something that completes or brings to perfection. And that is exactly what is meant when the term is applied to jazz. It’s one musician complementing another – playing with them or against them to bring out the best in their performance.

You often see this when a musician is playing behind or beneath an improvising musician, laying down a base of notes or rhythm that enhances the improvisation. A piano player interacting with a lead singer is a good example. This is the type of comping I’ll cover in this article. It is a specific and somewhat rare skill, perhaps because using one’s talents to make another musician sound great is not a glamour job. Regardless, at its highest level, the comping musician’s apparently secondary role has the power to transform a merely good performance into an excellent one or, yes, even a classic – as I’ll describe below.

This is not to minimize the contribution of the main performer. Because I’m focusing on the art of comping doesn’t mean the lead musician didn’t measure up. Quite the contrary­–the performances described below are sublime. But in each case, the comping musicians propel and define the final outcome.

Ella Fitzgerald

A stellar example that makes the point: Ella Fitzgerald (1917-1996) and her quintessential rendition of Rodgers and Hart’s “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.”

One of the 20th century’s greatest female singers, her work transcends accurate description. Unlike Billie Holiday’s inimitable, melancholy darkness, Ella managed an almost childlike joy at times, and an outrageous technical ability. At other times, she practiced an almost “detached” or unaffected approach to a song – an approach that, in the hands of another with less command of the art, would render the communication void and emotionless. Not so with Ella Fitzgerald.

In “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered,” no theatrics are employed. The singing is effortless, her diction immaculate and she uses the precise quantity of appropriate emotion to convey her message. Backed by the stunning work of Paul Smith on piano, the result is exalted.

Some specifics: At the beginning of the song, Smith comps with perfectly placed chords and an uncanny touch, creating a light, unresolved tension until Ella first transitions to the words, “I’m wild again, beguiled again…” He then lays out delicate, right-hand notes that perfectly reinforce Ella’s message. His touch and choice of single notes and chords, here and throughout the song, weave an unobtrusive but brilliant fabric. But Smith can use time–yes he can. When Ella sings “couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t sleep.” Smith drags behind, exquisitely filling the openings, perfectly complementing Ella’s words. And so it goes until the ending.

Here is a quintessential collaboration between two musicians in an effortless and consummate performance, one that’s well worth listening to many times.

As for the sound quality, it is quite acceptable. Unless you have extremely fine midrange transducers (such as Quads) you won’t notice the voice coloration. It is slightly closed down, and electronic sounding. This fault is very common in voice recordings–most recording engineers don’t have the playback equipment to discern unnatural voice deviations. But despite this quibble, the recording serves the music and Ella’s effortless message is communicated and even enhanced by the sound.

 

Recommendation: Get the CD compilation by Verve entitled, Ella Fitzgerald: The First Lady of Song. Not only does it contain “Bewitched, Bothered and bewildered” but many other great performances. However, with that said, my favorite collection of her performances, many of which are on the level of the above description, are contained on the CD, Ella Fitzgerald, The Cole Porter Songbook. Here, backed by the orchestra of Buddy Bregman, Ella spins out one stunning performance after another at a level that is truly mind-boggling. (Her rendition of “Miss Otis Regrets” by Cole Porter will break your heart.) There are many other great CDs by Ella but the above are enough to experience her singular qualities and at their height.

Miles Davis

By 1963 the rhythm section of Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb, that had served Miles so well since recording Kind of Blue, had left the band. Miles sifted through various personnel until he settled on Herbie Hancock, piano; Ron Carter, bass; Tony Williams, drums; and George Coleman, tenor saxophone. Later, Wayne Shorter would replace Coleman and help lead the quintet into spectacular new territory (listen to the brilliantly original Miles Smiles). In my opinion the above personnel comprise one of the, if not the, greatest rhythm sections in modern jazz. And they consummately demonstrated this in a 1964 live concert at the Philharmonic Hall (now Avery Fisher) in New York City. The event was in support of the civil rights movement and was important both politically and culturally. The band didn’t disappoint, turning out some of the greatest music of the 20^th century.

There are many superb examples of comping in this performance. In fact, this concert could be said to be the bible of modern comping in both the sense discussed above and in the broader sense of musicians interfacing with each other. Here is a group of musicians that seem to read each others’ minds, meshing seamlessly and pushing each other to new heights. George Coleman plays as well as he has ever played and Miles is simply superb.

To illustrate the point, let’s take an example from the concert that most of us are familiar with, “All Blues” (heard on Kind of Blue). Miles comes out of the gate propelled by the incessant drive of Tony Williams on drums and the stunning chordal voicings of Herbie Hancock. Hancock hits his notes at just the right spots, under and between the notes of Miles who himself is truly inspired. Tony Williams continues his steam-engine rhythm while adding a mélange of accents and hits to punctuate this and that, creating modulations in tone and color. Carter on bass lays down a firm foundation for all of this without the monotony so common to bass players welded to a repetitive groove. Indeed, this rhythm section is in fact a dynamo, generating color, tone, message and time for the performance; an organic machine totally in sync.

All of this is repeated and, yes, taken to a higher level on “My Funny Valentine.” Miles is brilliant (and erudite) from the onset, using dynamic contrast, space and varying length of note and phrase to bring out the essence of the song’s melody and its intimacy. While Ron Carter lays a brilliant musical foundation, Herbie Hancock impeccably anticipates and responds to Miles’ every thought and concept. In the complex gathering of melodic lines and underlying harmonies there is a perfect whole created. This is jazz dialogue elevated to the level of ESP.

The recording here is very good. The natural sound resulting from recording a live event enhances the enjoyment of hearing the group’s wizardry. Yes, it is close, multi-micing. But is a good job and it never gets in the way of the experience.

In short, this revelatory version of “My Funny Valentine” is one of the greatest artistic performances of the 20^th century.

Recommendation: Get the two-CD set entitled, Miles Davis—The Complete Concert: 1964. It contains the full concert originally issued on vinyl as two separate records, dividing the slow songs from the up-tempo ones. For the serious jazz lover, get the seven-CD set put out by Columbia entitled, Seven Steps: The Complete Miles Davis Columbia Recordings of 1963-1964. It includes not only the full 1964 concert but chronicles the band and its personnel changes before and after. As for vinyl, Mosaic issued this later Columbia compilation on ten records entitled Miles Davis: The Complete 1963-1964 Columbia Recordings. It may be available used as the Mosaic set is now sold out.

Chick Corea

In 1971, after working on several historic albums for Miles Davis, Corea formed a group consisting of Stanley Clarke on acoustic bass, Joe Farrell on soprano sax and flute, Airto Moreira on drums and percussion, his wife Flora Purim on vocals, and Chick on the Fender Rhodes electric piano.

In 1972, the group recorded their first album with ECM entitled Return to Forever. The album, unlike anything before it, consisted of melodic, Brazilian-flavored jazz tunes played by masters of modern jazz.

Chick is outstanding as both an accompanist and as a soloist in this wild and electric performance. In fact, a whole new language is synthesized here and clearly displayed on Chick’s cross-cultural masterpiece, “Sometime Ago –La Fiesta.” With a slow and majestic introductory section, a tension is set that soon explodes in the restless intensity that follows. Anchored by Clarke’s driving bass and Airto’s relentless percussion, Chick weaves an electric, buoyant tapestry while shifting the ban into high gear. When Joe Farrell improvises on flute, Chick is right there prodding, accenting and filling the spaces. In the second section, even more intensity is created with Farrell now on soprano sax and Chick displaying uncanny timing while percussively attacking the Fender Rhodes. In the final section, Chick confidently jumps into the breach laying down a monster solo, and in my opinion, setting the standard for electric piano improvisation. If this performance isn’t enough to convert those who have disparaged the electric piano as a legitimate jazz instrument, I don’t know what would. Chick brings magic to the electric piano that few others have approached.

The sound quality is standard multi-mic ECM, but not icy, as can be the case on many of this label’s recordings. Perhaps the sound can be faulted for being “unnatural,” but I think the musical expression, and in particular the musical energy, comes through loud and clear. (If you want to hear natural sound listen to the masterful work of recording engineer Ray DuNann on Analogue Production’s Way Out West, featuring the outrageous playing of Sonny Rollins.)

Recommendation: Get the ECM recording Return to Forever. For more of the same, also buy the ECM recording that followed chronologically, Light as a Feather.

JLH

(Read part 2 of this series by clicking here)

About the Author

Jonathan Horwich first became interested in jazz in the early 1960s.  After being apprenticed and mentored for years by one of the finest listeners in jazz, John William Hardy, who at the time was a writer for Downbeat magazine, Jonathan began recording and producing jazz for the next 40 years.  While doing so, he studied piano under Clare Fischer and alto saxophone with Gary Foster.  He has owned two jazz record companies and has recorded and worked with such artists as Stan Getz, Benny Goodman, Ravi Shankar, Chick Corea, Lee Konitz, Warne Marsh, Gary Peacock, Clare Fischer, Carmell Jones, Tony Williams, Richie Beirach, and many others.  He currently has two jazz radio programs that feature classic performances from the 1950s onward.