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Dynamic Musical Duos

In the tribute to McCoy Tyner (post of 3/9/20), I referred to him and Bobby Hutcherson as a “dynamic duo”. This got me thinking about other such musical pairings. There are many, and what makes the best collaborations special varies tremendously.

Perhaps they push one another, or enhance each other’s strengths by contrast. It might be a case of talents that mesh so perfectly that they seem to have been born to play together. Maybe it’s just inexplicable. Whatever it is in any given case, the listener knows that when these two artists got together, live or in studio, magic happened.  

Here, then, are five dynamic duos to savor: two Blues, two Jazz, and one where Jazz and Blues meet.

Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell

Already familiar with Leroy Carr? If so, you are (or are on your way to becoming) a Blues aficionado. Yet, he should be better known, as one of the greatest and most important early stars of the Blues. His songs have been covered, in whole or in part, by countless artists. Legendary singer/pianists, from Nat King Cole to Memphis Slim to Charles Brown to Mose Allison to Ray Charles and beyond, are in his debt.

Francis “Scrapper” Blackwell’s single-line runs on the guitar perfectly complemented Carr’s piano and vocals – making them the first duo who simply had to be included here. And what piano and vocals they were! Carr’s voice was a remarkably rich yet supple instrument. It might have been the envy of the smoothest crooners, if not being used to sing unflinching blues. Similarly, his piano playing, while firmly rooted in barrelhouse blues piano (the gut-bucket precursor to boogie-woogie), was somehow suavely sophisticated without giving an inch on grit.

Some call Carr the first urban blues musician. He and Blackwell both moved to Indianapolis as children, Leroy having been born in Nashville and Scrapper in Syracuse, South Carolina. Together, they created a sound less raw than early rural blues of the deep South, and paved the way for the plugged-in city blues that later evolved in Chicago and elsewhere. If not urban, they were certainly urbane.

Carr’s very first record, 1928’s “How Long, How Long Blues”, was a big hit for the time. There followed many songs that would take their place among classics of the Blues canon, and Carr wrote most of what he sang. Among them are “Hurry Down Sunshine”, “Midnight Hour Blues”, “Barrelhouse Woman”, “Southbound Blues”, the dance tune “Bobo Stomp” and “I Believe I’ll Make A Change”.

That last one, recorded 8/14/34, may well have inspired Robert Johnson’s “Dust My Broom” in 1936 (which later evolved into Elmore James’ signature song). It features superb lead guitar by Scrapper Blackwell. In truth, he was always more than an accompanist; every one of Carr’s greatest recordings was enhanced greatly by Blackwell’s telepathic interplay. There is some scholarly support for the notion that Scrapper had significant input in the composing as well.

To my ears, the masterpiece is “Blues Before Sunrise”.  It follows the Blues’ standard AAB format (opening line, repeated, then resolved by a closing line), but the lyricism, set to a majestic melody, is striking:

I have the blues before sunrise, with tears standing in my eyes    (X2)
It’s such a miserable feeling, a feeling I do despise…
Today has been such a long, old lonesome day (X2)
I’ve been sitting here thinking, with my mind a million miles away.

While there is grace, majesty, and poetry to his blues, Carr (like most songwriters) wrote about what he knew. His entire, brief life was spent in the Jim Crow era and his recording career (1928-35) straddled the Great Depression. The menace of violence is often present, sometimes front-and-center, and Carr’s lyrics celebrate his alcoholism. The juxtaposition of such content with his pleasing, skillful delivery can be as jarring as it is understandable.

When Carr sang he’d “rather be sloppy drunk than anything I know”, he apparently meant it. In “Hustler’s Blues” he sang, ”Whiskey is my habit; good women is all I crave” before matter-of-factly predicting “I do believe the two will carry me to my grave”. He was right about the whiskey; it shut his organs down in April of 1935, a month past his 30th birthday.

Buddy Guy and Junior Wells

Although they individually established themselves on the Blues scene, Buddy Guy and Junior Wells spent more time touring and recording together than any other dynamic duo mentioned here – despite periodic breaks. An album cover once referred to them as The Original Blues Brothers – an apt description, considering the dues they paid together through the years. I’ve seen Buddy Guy more often than any other musician or group. Nearly half of those shows were with Junior, even though he died 22 years ago, .

Each was a master of his instrument, and each sang more than well enough to be the lead star in a band. Any group they co-led was automatically an all-star band. On harmonica, most players in the generation following Little Walter Jacobs and Sonny Boy Williamson II (Rice Miller, as opposed to Sonny Boy I, John Lee Williamson) clearly followed one master or the other. Wells was the most intriguing blend of the two, combining Walter’s powerful, saxophone-like attack with Sonny Boy’s plaintive lyricism. Among guitarists, Buddy has no peer. Calling anyone “the greatest guitarist” is looking for trouble, of course. So, let’s just say he’s my favorite, because I’ve seen him play things no one else could conceive of, much less attempt.

Junior always struck me as a real character, and top billing seemed more important to him than to Buddy when they were together. Live, they handled it as Muddy Waters might have suggested: A set would begin with the band playing an instrumental or two. Then: “Are you ready for Star Time? Ladies and gentlemen, BUDDY GUY!” Buddy would make his entrance, sing a couple, and then say something like this: “It’s Star Time again. Put your hands together for JUNIOR WELLS!” Junior would sing three or four and then they’d alternate the rest of the set.

Here’s the thing: they did not sulk or go through the motions when not singing. Indeed, they each played their best behind the other. This might help explain why some of the best Buddy Guy records are Junior Wells albums. There are plenty; I’ll mention two.

Hoodoo Man Blues on Delmark (1965) is a landmark as the first urban blues album: (a) for Delmark records; (b) for Junior and Buddy; and (c) to capture a working Chicago blues band in studio as they would sound in a club. It’s Delmark’s #1 seller and appears regularly on “best ever” and “dessert island album” lists. Recommended tracks? Yes, all of them. (Amusing sidenote: early pressings list Buddy Guy as “Friendly Chap”, mistakenly thinking Chess would object.)

Some tracks on It’s My Life, Baby! on Vanguard were recorded live at Pepper’s Lounge in Chicago; others in studio. All capture Junior and Buddy at the top of their game. Even the rather silly “Stomach Ache” features phenomenal guitar by Buddy. The title track is Chicago blues as rip roaring jazz. The top highlight, though, is “Look How Baby” with Junior’s impassioned vocal and a remarkable duet between Buddy’s guitar and Fred Below’s drums. It’s avant-garde blues. (BTW, most of the same tracks, with a few others, also appear on Best of the Vanguard Years.)

The first time I saw Buddy after Junior died in 1998, he spoke of him, then said “Damn, I miss him.”

Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong

On first blush, this might seem an odd pairing. Yes, they were two icons of American music, but…

Ella was the First Lady of Song, a virtuosic singer’s singer. With perfect pitch and an encyclopedic memory for songs, Ella brought a beautiful and personal tone across a huge range.

Louis had brought unprecedented virtuosity to Jazz on cornet and trumpet, but his voice was gruff and gravelly through a limited range. His approach to singing seemed playful, sly, almost casual. Many know Louis as the cute older fella who had a hit with “Hello Dolly”. That misses not only his earlier Hot 5 and Hot 7 masterpieces that were arguably the most important popular recordings of the 20th Century, but also the astounding gifts he brought going forward.

Jazz impresario Norman Granz brought them together on his Verve record label, and provided them with stellar support. Three albums issued: Ella and Louis, Ella and Louis Again, and Porgy and Bess. Each was met with deserved critical acclaim and commercial success. If you love the great American songbook, you’ll want them all. If you don’t, you still might want them all. Other options include compilation and “Best of” albums.

Riches abound; you can’t go wrong as a listener. “Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off” has never been a favorite of mine, but I couldn’t help but smile at their rendition. Virtually everything else is sublime. What Louis creates as counterpoint to Ella’s lead in the first chorus of “Stars Fell On Alabama” must be heard to be believed. Then they switch and Ella returns the favor. There is “Summertime” as you’ve never heard it, and the best version of “Stompin’ At The Savoy” since Chick Webb’s original.

Any notion that this is a questionable pairing fades quickly into other impressions: (1) While it is true that Louis’s vocal instrument lacked the beauty and range of Ella’s, in his own way he was no less the virtuoso vocalist. And, of course, Louis’s trumpet gave him a second voice. (2) Ella could be as sly and playful as Louis. (3) The cliché that “Timing is everything” is true. (4) In the end, these are kindred spirits as well as other-worldly talents. Their contrasting mastery accentuates each other’s genius.

As in sports, the truly great make it look, or sound, easy.

Art Blakey and Thelonious Monk

Again we have two icons. Pianist Thelonious Monk is often and justly called one of the high priests of Bebop. Actually, he is a genre unto himself, a game-changer who re-imagined space and time in music. Art Blakey served as the talent scout, bandleader, and poly-rhythmic drummer extraordinaire of Hard Bop.

Blue Note co-founder Alfred Lion was one of the few who “got” Monk right away. He acted on his convictions by recording him from 1947 to 1952 even though sales were lackluster. By the time fans, critics and even musicians finally caught on, Monk was elsewhere. But the originals of some of Monk’s greatest compositions (e.g. ”Straight, No Chaser”, “Epistrophy”, “Misterioso”, “Evidence”, “I Mean You”, “’Round Midnight” “In Walked Bud” and “Criss Cross”) are on these early Blue Note records. On every one of them, the drummer is Art Blakey.

So, the uncanny chemistry between Monk and Blakey had early origins. It helped that Monk was a particularly percussive pianist and Blakey was (along with Max Roach) the most melodic of drummers. They went their separate, legendary ways, but any recording on which they both appear is a must-have. The early Blue Notes are highly recommended, of course. My favorite, though, and indeed one of my all-time go-to records, is a reunion on Atlantic records (#1278) aptly called Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers With Thelonious Monk.

Any of the six tracks is a marvel. I use “I Mean You” in presentations to demonstrate all that is possible in Jazz when great players, who are also great listeners, improvise. Never coasting when comping (accompanying a soloist), Blakey and Monk are constant sources of ideas, perfectly fitting whatever the soloist is creating. At one point behind Bill Hardman’s trumpet solo, Monk’s piano and Blakey’s drums have such a call-and-response blizzard going, I can’t imagine how Hardman kept his bearings. Such instantaneous and spontaneous invention leaves one in delighted awe. So does Blakey’s drum solo, a poly-rhythmic tour-de-force.

Big Joe Turner and Pete Johnson

Shortly after Jay McShann passed away on December 7, 2006, a radio station (probably NPR) aired an archived interview with the pianist/bandleader that contained a notable story. The story (paraphrasing it from memory) was of an impressionable young McShann on his first night in Kansas City.

He was a pianist from Oklahoma looking to make a name for himself in the Big City. His first stop was at the largest musical venue in town. When he stepped inside the cavernous space, he saw a piano player on stage banging out furious boogie-woogie. There was also a very large man making his way up to the stage.

McShann wondered what the man clambering up the steps was going to do. He wasn’t carrying an instrument, and there was nothing awaiting him on the stage – not even a microphone. He reached center stage just as the pianist completed one chorus and began the next. Opening his mouth as he turned toward the audience, Big Joe Turner filled the room with sound. Big Joe Turner didn’t need a microphone, no matter how large the room – especially when singing with Pete Johnson.

Jay McShann was transfixed as chorus after chorus washed over him, singer and pianist pushing each other to ever greater heights. He quickly realized two things: (1) He was in the right place; and (2) he had work to do if he was to make his mark in this town.

Any list of the greatest boogie-woogie pianists includes Johnson, along with Albert Ammons, Meade Lux Lewis, and Jimmy Yancey. The form is either bluesy Jazz or jazzy Blues, or both, combining the feel of the Blues with the swing of Jazz. Propelled by insistent bass patterns played with the left hand, boogie-woogie freed pianists to improvise blues-drenched melody endlessly with the right hand. Recordings featuring Johnson, Ammons, and Lewis in various combinations (occasionally all three) in rollicking face-offs make for exhilarating listening, but there’s no better way to hear Pete Johnson than backing Big Joe.

It takes nothing away from the great Jimmy Rushing (“Mr. Five-by-Five”) to call Turner the best of the Kansas City Blues shouters. Those thinking they’re unfamiliar have probably heard him belt out the original “Shake, Rattle and Roll” among other essential precursors to Rock‘n’Roll. These rhythm and blues staples are as entertaining as they are important, but earlier work with Pete Johnson had already long established Big Joe as the Boss of the Blues.

Friends and collaborators since teen years in Kansas City, Turner and Johnson paved the way for a boogie-woogie craze ignited by their appearance at John Hammond’s legendary Carnegie Hall concert From Spirituals To Swing on December 23, 1938. Their seminal work isn’t always easy to come by, but the Atlantic label got them together again in 1956 for Turner’s The Boss of the Blues Sings Kansas City Jazz. Highlights include versions of classics like “Roll ‘Em Pete” (probably the song that first inspired Jay McShann), “Cherry Red”, and one of the greatest covers of Leroy Carr’s “How Long Blues” ever recorded.

Conclusion

There are dynamic duos, presumably, in all musical genres, but those settings in which improvisation is central provide extra room for dynamism to flourish. Thus, we focus here on Jazz and Blues. (That, and the fact that I don’t have anything to say about Simon and Garfunkel you haven’t heard before, or thought yourself.) A long list of pairings to consider immediately came to mind; narrowing down which duos to include was the hard part.

If you’re thinking “How could he not do ________ and ________?” , well, maybe I should have. If this post is well received, it won’t take much persuading to do it again. I also feel the urge to write about unsung heroes: that is, great but relatively unknown or perpetually underappreciated musicians who have made a difference.

Happy listening!

Ken Bossong

© 2020 Kenneth J. Bossong

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Missing the Trane

John William Coltrane died 52 years ago, on July 17, 1967. Thus, he is gone about 30% longer than the 40 years he lived. Yet, his stature and impact actually have grown in the half century since his passing. There has never been anyone like him.

It would take a college level course to explain fully why that is; for now, we’ll content ourselves with this post.

The biographical details are available elsewhere, so I’ll just mention the basics. Born on September 23, 1926 in Hamlet, NC, John was raised in High Point, NC. Both of his grandfathers were ministers of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church. The year 1940 was traumatic for a thirteen year old John, as he lost his father, maternal grandparents and an uncle within a few months of each other. Immediately upon graduating high school at 16, John followed his mother, who had moved to Philadelphia for better paying work. Happily, it was also a hotbed of music.

Unlike some Jazz stars, Coltrane was not a musical child prodigy. He was a quiet kid, a good student, and very enthused to take on a beaten-up clarinet in school. At 14, he tried an alto sax. Eventually, he was good enough to play in a Navy band, and later to attain gigs on tenor sax with Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson and Dizzy Gillespie (among others). He was no household name, though, when Miles Davis hired him for his quintet. The year was 1955; Coltrane had just turned 29.

Miles

If Miles heard something special in Coltrane, it probably had something to do with the musical journey Miles had experienced. He emerged as Charlie Parker’s second horn at the age of 19, after Dizzy Gillespie went his separate way. Where Bird and Diz had each been soaring, incendiary virtuosos, Bird and Miles created a classic fire and ice dynamic. Davis presumably saw in young Coltrane another perfect foil for his own understated passion. It certainly worked out that way.

Prestige and then Columbia

The new quintet with an unleashed Coltrane was a sensation based on a series of appearances and albums for the Prestige record label, including Cookin’, Relaxin’, Steamin’, and Workin’. These albums combined compelling versions of ballads, blues, standards, show tunes, and originals. A stellar rhythm section (Red Garland, piano, Paul Chambers, bass, Philly Joe Jones, drums) supported and pushed the horns to expressive heights. It wasn’t long before Coltrane was being mentioned with the first rank of tenors, like Dexter Gordon and the amazing Sonny Rollins.

If asked to name one recording to hear from the years with Miles, almost everyone would say Kind of Blue, understandably. It is probably the biggest selling true Jazz album ever, and with good reason. So, if you’ve never heard it, by all means do yourself the favor. There is an earlier gem not to miss.

When Prestige ran out of gerunds to use as titles for his albums, Miles left for Columbia, where his first record was the storied ‘Round About Midnight. The jewel of the set is Monk’s “‘Round Midnight”. While it is an outstanding quintet’s take on one of Monk’s great compositions, the show-stopper is Coltrane’s solo. His re-imagining of the tune is so strikingly original that people sometimes think of it as being the composition. At this point, it would be surprising to hear a version that does not reference the solo. To listen is to experience the thrilling convergence of virtuosity and creativity that Jazz improvisation can provide.

Monk

The year 1957 was momentous for Coltrane, for at least two reasons. First, he left Miles and the music to kick the heroin habit that afflicted so many musicians of the era. This he did cold turkey. While he was at it, Coltrane also left behind the alcohol he had tried to use as a substitute. Second, when he came back on the scene, John joined Thelonious Monk. Although Trane never stopped learning, the months with Monk seem especially important to his development.

All possibilities regarding space and time in music opened up to him. (The specifics, such as the use of large intervals, would take up another whole post.) The experience could be unsettling. Trane once remarked that there were moments on stage with Monk when he felt like he had “walked into an empty elevator shaft”. For a man with an insatiable appetite for new ideas, sounds and perspectives, though, this was the ultimate graduate school. Recordings of this band had been severely limited, but newly discovered material issued in the last few years, like At Carnegie Hall and Live at the Five Spot, has been superb.

Coltrane rejoined Miles in time to record classics like Milestones and Kind of Blue and to tour. However, a restless Coltrane was ready to lead and to take on a whole new level of innovation.

Taking the Lead: Giant Steps and Favorite Things

Prestige

Prestige got Coltrane into the studio as a session leader with Miles’ rhythm section when the impact he was having on musicians, critics and fans became apparent. The albums that ensued are great examples of what made “hard bop” hard. If you want to hear blues as only master Jazz musicians can do it, I particularly recommended a twelve-minute collaboration of Trane’s tenor with Red Garland’s piano called “By the Numbers” on the album The Last Trane .

Blue Note

Coltrane cut his only album as a leader for Blue Note in September of ‘57, but what an album Blue Train is! In control of the material (four out of the five tracks being his originals) and the musicians, John served notice that something special was unfolding. Then came John Coltrane’s extraordinary stint with Atlantic Records.

Atlantic

First up was the aptly named Giant Steps. Of the seven compositions, all Coltrane’s, six are absolute classics, likely to be covered to this day by top artists. The other, “Countdown”, is in some ways the most indicative of innovations to come. “Naima” is John’s most beloved ballad. The title track remains a piece used by young saxophonists to determine for themselves whether they have what it takes. You get the picture.

My first Coltrane album, and one of my first Jazz records, was My Favorite Things. This was dumb luck in a way; I bought it because I had heard Elvin Jones was a great drummer and drummers were my entre to Jazz. Mesmerized on first hearing, I quickly realized I was hearing something that would change my life. I listened to the title track after school every day for a year, and never failed to hear something new. My education as a listener accelerated. I didn’t yet understand that this piece would take the soprano sax from relative obscurity to prominence in one shot. I just knew that if music could be this intense and this beautiful at the same time, it was for me.

Another Atlantic disc, Ole, would probably not make many lists of Coltrane’s greatest. Yet, all he did on it was to (1) give another tour-de-force on the soprano; (2) first record with Eric Dolphy; (3) portray a culture, as he would later with “Africa”, “India”, “Brazilia”, and so forth; and (4) free the bass.

Wait, what was that last one? How did a saxophonist free the bass? Well, Coltrane hired two great bassists, adding Arthur Davis to Reggie Workman, and turned them loose on the title track. Neither is “walking” his bass, or even keeping time as such, for most of the 18 minute piece. Rather, they serve as horn-like voices; their improvised arco duet just before Trane’s second solo is astounding.

There’s more, of course, from the Atlantic years. Had this output been his last and had he never moved on to Impulse! Records, John Coltrane’s spot in any Jazz Hall of Fame would have been secured.

The Quartet

Impulse! Records’ Bob Thiele gave Coltrane unprecedented leeway in every aspect of producing his albums. Thank God. The result was a long string of astonishing triumphs.

At the core of the artistic and commercial success – at least until the last year and a half or so – was The Quartet. If Jazz fans speak simply of “The Quartet”, they are referring to Coltrane’s group with McCoy Tyner on piano, Jimmy Garrison on bass and Elvin Jones on drums. Each is among the greatest ever on his instrument, but it was as a group that they attained mythic status. Music of such intensity and difficulty required improvisation, musicianship and communication at the highest levels. Both Tyner and Jones have described their interaction as “telepathic”.

By now, the release of every Coltrane album was a major event, eagerly awaited not just by his fans, but by musicians. All wanted to know what would be next, and he never failed to deliver something new and exciting. In fact, following Trane could be bewildering. If asked now which Coltrane record first blew your mind, 50 fans would mention at least 20 different titles. Back when the records were coming out, people could barely absorb what they were hearing before the next one appeared. Then, to see him live was to experience something else entirely. In the time it took to get records in the stores, Coltrane had moved on yet again, even from a brand new album.

One other point about seeing Trane live: the intensity of the performances was legendary. Once the group took off on a piece, they pushed each other to ever greater levels without regard to performance length. Fans hoping to hear My Favorite Things may have gotten their wish, but it bore little resemblance to the Atlantic record. Trane was known to play it for 90 minutes or more, which would drive club owners expecting 60-minute sets crazy. Elvin Jones said there were nights when playing with John was a “near-death experience”. Those lucky enough to have been present and open to such levels of energy and inventiveness heard music they’ll never forget.

Spirituality

In the middle of the great Impulse! albums, between the beautiful Crescent and the compelling Quartet Plays, was A Love Supreme. As a record about which an entire book is written (Ashley Kahn, 2002) and about which I have given 90-minute presentations, this is not the sort of work that lends itself to a quick paragraph. For now, suffice it to say that overstating its impact is very difficult.

Imagine it’s early February of 1965. Like many, you are awaiting the next work of the most exciting, cutting-edge artist around. It turns out to be a nearly perfect four-movement suite, presenting (a) his concept of God and what matters in life and (b) a prayer. No belief system is required to find the music enthralling, but the album has changed many lives. For John, it was the manifestation of a spiritual reawakening that began with his detox in 1957 and would inform the rest of his life.

Beyond

The inexorable trend as Coltrane pushed through every limit to his music was toward the avant-garde (or Energy Music, Free Jazz, the New Thing, etc.). This ultimately led to the gradual demise of the Quartet. Shortly after Rashied Ali joined the group as a second drummer, Elvin left, and McCoy was replaced on piano by John’s wife, Alice Coltrane. Pharaoh Sanders joined the group, bringing his fiery intensity and use of the tenor sax’s upper register to complement the leader’s.

Coltrane may be the only artist who was an essential innovator in two different movements in Jazz. Early on, he took hard bop to its outermost limits with his so-called “sheets of sound”. Many would have been satisfied being the “baddest” tenor in the land, but Trane was just warming up. He took one step at a time freeing his music from unnecessary constraints. 

Trane was not the first avant-garde figure in Jazz (see Sun Ra, Cecil Taylor and Ornette Coleman) but ended up arguably its most significant player and proponent. While he did lose some fans and critics at this portion of his career, his meticulous, incremental approach and unmatched musicianship lent credence to Free Jazz as not only a legitimate artistic movement but actually the inevitable next step after bebop.

The second Coltrane record I bought (soon after MFT) was from this last period. Meditations was recorded on November 23, 1965 and released in 1966. It was the last album with The Quartet intact, but with Sanders and Ali added. The album starts at a level of intensity reached by very few recordings in any genre, and builds from there. I listened to it once, and set it aside for two years. That’s how long it took to listen to what had come before so as to be ready for Meditations. It was time well spent.

A Force for Good

Obviously, there is much to admire in the life of John Coltrane as a musician and as a man. Summarizing from this scratching of the surface:

  • Openness to people, their beliefs, and their ideas
  • Interest in nearly everything – religion, philosophy, mathematics, world culture, and all music – inevitably enriching his music
  • Refusal to settle or be satisfied, where there was more to achieve – including a legendary work ethic (e.g. practicing between sets) resulting in mind-boggling virtuosity
  • Artistic integrity and fearlessness, whether facing withering criticism or praise
  • Confidence with humility and not a hint of arrogance
  • Relentless exploration of sound
  • Creation of entirely new sounds and vocabularies on both the tenor and soprano saxophones, to the point where master saxophonists built their own iconic careers inspired by specific slivers of Coltrane’s canon
  • Innovations in music that we’re still in the process of fully grasping

Consider that Coltrane achieved all this and more in a public career lasting a mere 12 years. It is difficult to conceive what he might have accomplished but for the liver cancer that took him. His last studio album, Expression, especially the piece called “Offering”, portends a next giant step forward as profound as anything before. As it is, he remains a figure of towering impact and significance – and not just in Jazz. As a result, there is a wealth of material to read and music to hear, including an excellent documentary, Chasing Trane (John Scheinfeld, 2017), loaded with commentary of remarkable insight.

In one of his last interviews, with Frank Kofsky in November of 1966, Coltrane said, “I want to be a force for real good…in other words, I know that there are bad forces. I know that there are forces out here that bring suffering to others, and misery to the world…But I want to be the opposite force, I want to be the force which is truly for good.”

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong

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Post Scripts 1

Other Aspects posts are generating interesting comments. Thank you to all who have written. Thinking it a shame to keep them to myself, I will periodically gather and share items of general interest in a post called “Post Scripts”.

The sub-headings give the name and date of the post being addressed (recognizing that some posts build upon previous ones). The comments are in italics; my replies are not. I will edit only in the interest of space and contextual consistency. Enjoy, and please keep sending your thoughts to KenBossong@gmail.com. Finally, if anyone does not wish to be quoted, even anonymously as I’ll be doing it, please just say so when you email me.

Otis Rush: An Appreciation (1/18/19)

There was considerable response to the Otis Rush tribute. While some were already fans, many said how rewarding a revelation listening to him had been:

I very much enjoyed the Otis Rush remembrance.  Nicely written and complete.  I viewed him as a minor figure until you talked to me about him a few years back and I started listening.

Great tribute to Otis Rush. I look forward to following your blog.

I am not much into jazz and blues–preferring classical, 60s rock and country–but your Otis Rush ode prompted me go to YouTube to watch and listen to what I could find regarding him. I chose the Live at Montreux concert from 1986. You may get me yet.

Good choice for something to watch, with Otis being joined on stage by admirers Eric Clapton and Luther Allison. This concert marked something of a comeback for Otis from some lean years. Make sure you get to hear the best of his Cobra recordings.

Thanks for sharing this. [We] enjoyed your tribute to Otis Rush; we were both struck by how well your voice comes across in your writing.

Your piece on Otis Rush was spot on, as I also think he was truly one of the greats. We all know where Mike Bloomfield got his inspiration from.

Doing the Limbo Inside the Beltway (1/25/19)

I enjoyed reading this and certainly agree with you on a need for no more “How Low can we go!”

Unfortunately, there is no end in sight for “How low can you go?” January, when the post was written, already seems a long time ago.

What Makes Jazz So Endearing and Enduring (3/4/19)

The one on what makes jazz was a nicely done, succinct statement that I printed out and saved for reference.

I really enjoyed the article about Jazz. I have always had a love for it, but had no idea about the depth of Jazz.

Life as a Zero Sum Game: It Ain’t Necessarily So (4/2/19)

I read your blog post and found it very interesting especially your view of the political landscape. One thing that you didn’t mention is that Hillary Clinton won the popular vote but not the electoral college which is, I believe, one of the reasons there is so much discontent in the political scene. I have heard people say, so my vote really doesn’t count. I’m not a fan of labeling left vs right. I can identify with both because I have voted for both Republican and Democratic presidents in my lifetime. However, as you stated there is a vitriol and a need to categorize people as either all good or all bad politically lately which equals to your point, 0 Sum.

Another reader used bold to supplement my portrayal of how environmentalists see the other side of the debate:

These huge corporations are legally required to care only about maximizing profit and nothing about the environment beyond regulation. Since environmental damage is not monetarily accounted for in a company bottom line, the choice to befoul our common property is nearly always the one that shareholders require the company to make. There’s nothing they won’t befoul to make a buck, per design. If we leave them to their own devices, the planet will be unlivable before we know it. Therefore, absent correct financial accounting of the environmental damage done, strong environmental regulations are required to ensure that the needs of everyone are balanced with the greed of the shareholders.

Add “civil liability” to “regulation” here. When something goes wrong, environmental clean-up can be hugely expensive, greatly affecting a company’s bottom line. Companies that reflexively choose to befoul are probably making bad business decisions. Ensuring that such decisions are regretted is sound public policy; that one should clean up the mess one creates is axiomatic. The “us vs. them” chasm and the zero-sum game remain unnecessary and counterproductive.

[In response to my open letter to scientists:]

Is this a response to a perceived problem? My take is that the scientists are not the problem and are not the ones who make it political. The consensus on climate change, which has been overwhelmingly consistent on the topic of AGW, does not seem to be enough. Not all of us can “take it” when presented with scientific consensus, apparently.

I don’t demand complete consensus, but the propensity of some “scientific studies” to produce results their sponsors prefer is no coincidence.

It’s Not Too Late To Learn From 2016 (4/18/19)

One reader paired a line in this post with something by Vonnegut years ago, as follows:

“There is a tragic flaw in our precious Constitution, and I don’t know what can be done to fix it. This is it: Only nut cases want to be president.” -Kurt Vonnegut

“Perhaps we have made the job of President, or the process of attaining it, so distasteful that no one who would be ideal to serve is willing to seek it.”

I don’t remember reading Vonnegut’s piece “Cold Turkey” in the May 10, 2004 edition of In These Times, but I can’t swear I didn’t, either.

Referring to the portions of the post where I (a) say what voters like me seek in a president is “someone who is smart, sane, honorable, effective, and sensible” and (b) indicate that it should not be a given that the incumbent be the Republican nominee, a reader had this:

I’ll bet you $20 (or whatever alternate wager) that if he’s still in office come primary time, he’s the candidate. He demonstrated clear unfitness for office before 2016. The “enough is enough” moment should have happened a LONG time ago for any smart, sane, honorable, effective, and sensible republican. I have ZERO expectations that anything should change before 2020.

From another reader:

In 1968, Richard Nixon watched the crowds flock to George Wallace rallies and devised the brilliant if inherently evil “Southern Strategy,” an appeal to racism that was hugely successful. The Republican Party has been running on that and its evolutionary progeny ever since. Trump is the apotheosis of that reprehensible scheme. Liberals and what some call “socialists” (they have no idea what real socialism is) a la Bernie Sanders are way out there and thus unacceptable. However, they do not merit the same condemnation as today’s Republicans, who have abandoned the principles of rational conservatism for the crass electoral flavor of the moment. They deserve to be called out for their craven hypocrisy.

I expected plenty of feedback on this post. I was a bit surprised, however, not to hear from people with other reasons to believe the incumbent president should automatically be the nominee. Hopefully it’s clear that the point was not to predict an outcome, but to argue for a much-needed real discussion within the Republican Party.

Immigration – Governing With Nods and Winks (5/10/19)

The seasonal guest worker programs under which what we used to call “migrants” come here to help the harvest was something I grew up around. I visited several migrant camps out of curiosity and observed appalling living conditions. I also observed how hard they worked. Few native-born Americans could match them. [A relative] works in that county and has special responsibility for migrants. She says nothing has changed except a visceral fear among her clients about what Trump’s nativist, faux-hostility will do to their livelihoods.

Recalling a Great Little Sports Story (5/22)

Thanks Ken for making us aware of this story. It goes well beyond sports and sportsmanship, and many happenings in the pro sports world pale in comparison to it.

The Coarse in Our Discourse (6/28/19)

I just read your most recent blog post and your conjuring of [Richard Neustadt’s] Presidential Power struck a chord and brought up a memory that had been buried for decades…I disagree, however, that federalizing the Arkansas National Guard and sending them to Central High School in Little Rock was a sign of weakness. Rather, it was the measured and effective use of a powerful weapon that the Federalists included in their plan for the new country. I commend Eisenhower for doing it. Faubus needed to stand in the schoolhouse door for his own political survival. Words would never have persuaded him otherwise. When we visited the Central High School visitor center and museum that the National Park Service maintains across the street, we were surprised to learn that Faubus was somewhat sympathetic to integration. Sending in the Guard was a “win-win” for all sides, Faubus included.

This one motivated me to read more on Faubus. Sure enough, Orval was a more complex character than first appears. Every account seems to cast him in a different light. While his presentation as the outraged school-segregationist governor was beyond convincing, he had already desegregated public transportation in Arkansas. Was it simply that Orval could abide integration on buses but not for kids in schools, or was the whole thing with Ike and the 101st Airborne just a cleverly choreographed strategy for integrating schools without casualties?

The truth was probably somewhere in between. After all, Orval himself had upped the ante by predicting “blood will run in the streets” if Brown v. Board were enforced, and later closed the integrated school for the ’58-’59 school year.

I, too, commend Eisenhower for doing what he had to do. Neustadt’s central point remains that the most important and impressive power is the power to persuade – even, perhaps especially, for the President of the United States.

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong

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What Makes Jazz So Endearing And Enduring

America’s Special Music

I have loved Jazz (and Blues) music for as long as I can remember, virtually from first exposure. It has enriched my life more than I can say. Therefore, I take particular pleasure in explaining why and how this music is so special. I have done that for years in personal presentations and I’ll do so now in occasional posts. Since I’m covering a vast topic in manageable portions, this is the first in a periodic series.

In a well written piece for the Smithsonian (https://music.si.edu/story/jazz), Dr. John Edward Hasse says, “Often acclaimed as America’s greatest art form, jazz has become accepted as a living expression of the nation’s history and culture, still youthful, difficult to define and impossible to contain, a music of beauty, sensitivity, and brilliance that has produced (and been produced by) an extraordinary progression of talented artists.”

Agreeing that it is futile to attempt a formal definition of Jazz, I think of it as America’s ultimate melting-pot art form, with something for everyone. Rather than defining Jazz, I find it more useful to explore characteristics that enhance the music’s impact and the listener’s pleasure. Let’s consider seven of them.

1. Call and Response Patterns

A leader calls out a theme and a chorus responds. The response might reflect or amplify the call, or it might diminish or contradict. The pattern may repeat or change. The tone of the exchange can be worshipful or profane, affectionate or adversarial, calm or feisty.

There is something especially satisfying about call and response. It can occur in any setting – between a preacher and the congregation; the lead singer and the backups; the reeds and the brass; or a singer and his or her guitar – or someone else’s. The back-and-forth works so well because it reflects our human need to communicate, whether the content is intellectual (thoughts/ideas) or emotional (feelings/passions).

Even amid the glories of Louis Armstrong’s Hot 5 and Hot 7 recordings, “West End Blues” is above and beyond. One of several reasons I think of it as the most important three minutes of popular music ever recorded is an extraordinary call and response passage between Armstrong’s voice and a clarinet.

Jazz is not the first music form to benefit from call and response. Indeed, Jazz inherited the technique from field hollers, work songs, spirituals, and the Blues. The trail does not stop with Jazz, either.

I remember realizing one day why “Sincerely” by the Moonglows is one of my two or three favorite Doo Wop songs: the lead guitarist sets up an exquisite call and response with the vocal. It makes a good record truly great. It’s amazing what I learn when I really listen.

2. Tension and Release

Nearly equal to call and response in impact and pervasiveness within Jazz is tension and release. There are dozens of ways to create tension in the music and equal numbers of ways to satisfactorily resolve it. This is another remarkably effective way to engage the listener emotionally.

Devices utilized to achieve tension and release include: gradual increases or decreases in tempo, volume, or intensity; repetition; contrast; sudden changes in rhythm, key, or harmonic approach; dissonance; and almost anything unexpected that nevertheless works.

I love to play Duke Ellington’s masterpiece “Ko-Ko” in presentations not only for how many of the above techniques are used, but how well. The effectiveness of the dissonance is mind boggling, and it was recorded on May 6, 1940. Yes, 1940.

3. Rhythmically Compelling

It is generally difficult to listen to great Jazz without moving some part of your body. During the big band era of Jazz, so-called Swing was the most popular dance music in the world. Duke Ellington probably said it best with a song title: “It Don’t Mean a Thing If it Ain’t Got That Swing”.

So, why not just say “It’s got to swing” rather than “Jazz tends to be rhythmically compelling”? Because the pulse of the music can be thrilling even when it’s not the sort that lends itself to finger-snapping on that swinging 4/4 beat. (Though, that is exactly what happens when the music swings that way.)

An example is poly-rhythmic drumming. The great drummers who emerged during bebop and hard bop were masters in sustaining multiple rhythms simultaneously. It’s great fun trying to count how many different rhythms Art Blakey plays at once in his classic drum solos (as in “Free For All” on Blue Note or “I Mean You” with Thelonious Monk on Atlantic).

There are examples even post-bop, when the lines delineating measures were fading. Few sounds are more compelling than drummer Elvin Jones’s “circular rhythms”. He accents at the perfect moment given what the soloist is doing, rather than at predetermined intervals. So the listener does not tap every four beats, but sways with the music’s energy as one might with the ocean’s waves.

4. Instrument as Voice and Voice as Instrument

Great Jazz players consider the instruments they play extensions of their voices. There are many examples, of course. Eric Dolphy seemed particularly intent on “speaking” through his instruments, especially the bass clarinet. One of John Coltrane’s countless contributions to the music was to extend the “vocabulary” and the “syntax” available on the tenor and soprano saxophones.

Similarly, great Jazz singers consider their voices musical instruments. Horn players loved Sarah Vaughan, considering her one of their own. It’s not just the scat singing, by the way, although scatting (in which one sings wordless notes where words would be expected) has made the point most directly ever since Louis Armstrong’s “Heebie Jeebies”.

Then there is scat’s mirror image, vocalese, in which the vocalist inserts words while singing famous instrumental solos. Leading proponents include Eddie Jefferson, King Pleasure, and Lambert Hendricks and Ross.

Thus, the lines between the vocal and the instrumental blur in Jazz. Categorization is less important than effectiveness when it comes to communicating through music.

Whether singing or playing, though, having your own “voice” is critical to attaining greatness. One does not confuse other singers with Sarah, Ella Fitzgerald, Joe Williams, or Betty Carter. Charlie Parker and John Coltrane have innumerable followers and imitators; yet, it is almost impossible to mistake anyone for them after a few notes.

5. Improvisation

Composition and arrangement are vital to Jazz, and the genre has been blessed with many who are truly great at both. To this day, if one were to ask leading music critics from all fields to name America’s greatest composer, I believe Duke Ellington would win that poll.

Nevertheless, rare is the major work of Jazz in which improvisation is not an essential element. Improvisation is the lifeblood of Jazz; it is also the most misunderstood feature of the music. A friend, explaining why he does not like Jazz, did me the favor of articulating the perception: “Why would I want to listen to a group playing around with songs? Practice on your time, get it down pat, and let me know when you’re ready for me to listen.”

Improvisation is not a bunch of musicians with no familiarity with the material or each other just playing and hoping something good emerges, however. It is an approach that places the onus for developing all the best ideas inherent in a piece on the musicians as well as the composer. The performer has an opportunity, in fact a responsibility, to enhance the material provided. The player is creating, composing, on the spot. This requires tremendous technical skill (see Virtuosity, below), a nimble and fertile mind, and vast knowledge of the resources available for reference while improvising.

Astounding listening skills are also needed for artists improvising in a setting other than solo performance.

Legit Jazz musicians are almost always good at this, and often great. The potential for something special, profound even, always exists. When such magic happens, it’s unforgettable. Anyone who’s followed the music for a while has such stories to tell.

If the idea of composing on the spot seems puzzling, so (to a Jazz fan) does the notion of going to a concert hoping that an artist recreates a recent album without making “mistakes”. If that’s the goal, the best that can happen, why not listen to the beloved album in the comfort of one’s home and save the fortune it costs to attend a pop star’s concert?

6. Virtuosity

It is hard not to notice how good Jazz musicians generally are, technically, on their instruments. This is another area that is not as well understood as it could be, however. It is certainly true that all the greats have spent countless hours “wood shedding” (practicing) to attain their “chops” (skills/facility on their instruments). John Coltrane was famous among his peers for practicing incessantly, even between sets at gigs, and for falling asleep late at night with a sax on his chest.

It must be tempting after working so hard to get that good to simply show off with a blizzard of notes at every opportunity. While something like that can appear to be happening at times in a jam session, especially when it has turned into a can-you-top-this cutting session, virtuosity alone is never enough.

Virtuosity or near virtuosity, then, is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition of succeeding in Jazz. When we say someone “can play“, skill is a part of that, to be sure, but there is more.

Virtuosity is a means, not an end. The end sought is the creation of great music. (See Improvisation, above.) I have seen no better explanation of this than a quote from bassist/composer/arranger Charles Mingus: “Once you achieve technical facility, you’re either a musician or you’re not. You’re either a creative person or a stenographer.” He wasn’t kidding, by the way. Nicely playing cliches in the solos allotted was the surest way to get oneself fired by Mingus. This could occur not only in mid-concert, but in mid-solo.

One last thought: Virtuosity comes in many shapes, sizes, and flavors. When a true innovator comes along, critics and musicians alike can look foolish if they pounce before understanding. When Thelonious Monk first appeared on the scene, more than a few proclaimed that he couldn’t play. All Monk did was change our concepts of space and time in music. His oeuvre places him in the first rank of American composers, and the leading competition promoting excellence in playing for young musicians is named after him.

7. The Cry of the Blues

The last characteristic is hard to describe or even name. I know it when I hear it. Further, I miss it when it’s not there. I have wrestled with what to call it. Whether I read it some where, had it suggested to me in conversation, or simply came up with it, I have settled on the Cry of the Blues. (If appropriate, I’ll attribute in a future post.)

It’s a sound and a feeling, more than the song form known as the Blues with its typical characteristics (12 bar, AAB, etc.). Most of the material sung by Billie Holliday over the years was not, technically, the Blues, but our ears do not deceive us. Every note, every syllable, she ever sang was the essence of the Blues.

When the material being played or sung is felt and meant by the artists, a part of who and what they are, the music is more likely to be felt by, and mean something to, the listener. Hopes and dreams, frustrations and loss, triumphs and setbacks: it’s all in there. It’s the stuff of life.

Coda

These essential characteristics of Jazz came mostly or entirely from the cultures of Africa, especially West Africa. We know how they got here. Out of the suffering of a people emerged this magnificent art form. Its riches are always available for the taking – not just in April (Jazz Appreciation Month). And they deserve to be recognized and celebrated all the time – not just in February (Black History Month).

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong