View the article here.

by David Liebman

My formative musical years were the 1960s when I heard the great masters both live in New York where I lived and on recordings. The main influences were John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins, followed closely by Wayne Shorter and Joe Henderson, all of whom were important for my jazz studies on the tenor sax. Especially in the case of Shorter and Henderson, it wasn’t only their playing style which was so influential but also their compositions. They were the “modern” guys along with Chick Corea and Herbie Hancock, writing and playing a new language. After all, 1959 had been a seminal year in the harmonic development of jazz with “Kind of Blue,” “Giant Steps,” and the arrival of Ornette Coleman all happening at the same time. It was mandatory for any serious young musician to study the compositions as well as the improvisational styles of these emerging artists of the new decade.

Joe occupies his own territory among the aforementioned players. As a saxophonist, I consider his style as an extension of Sonny Rollins, attributable mostly to his sense of phrasing and note choices and the fact that the principles of the bebop legacy are fundamental to both of their overall styles. However, Joe took the tenor sax elsewhere technically in areas such as his use of a unique set of expressive devices, unending variations of articulations, fast arpeggios, trills and the like, a looseness of rhythm that defied the bar line, his own personal way of using the altissimo (high) register of the horn and a tone that could go from liquid to coarse in a beat. Most of all was Joe’s unending creativity on a night to night basis. He was a real “club” musician, playing around the world with all levels of rhythm sections, always to his fullest capacity. He finally achieved commercial success in his last years. In the final analysis, Joe was one of the great chord change players of jazz history.

Along with his incredible saxophone contributions, as a writer Joe Henderson left a large imprint with several strong tendencies in his composing style. Overall, Joe paid a lot of attention to the blues, writing many tunes in the twelve bar format, most often with some harmonic twists. He also was attracted to latin and afro rhythmic feels often employing these idioms in the bass line and drum accompaniment. Most of all, Joe’s tunes necessitated that the players swing hard. In general, his pieces were uniformly in three or four quarter (odd meter was not a big thing at that time) and evoked the atmosphere of pure jazz, direct, to the point and always with some harmonic challenge that needed to be negotiated. On first glance, one might take a Joe Henderson tune for granted and think that the normal clichés and approach would work, but once you got into the song and noted that the chord cycles were unusual, you knew he was throwing down the gauntlet as far as “making the changes” was concerned. From the first tune he ever wrote, “Recorda-Me” to the classic “Inner Urge,” Joe’s tunes have become jazz standards.

BLUES TUNES

As noted above the blues feeling was never far from Joe’s playing or writing style. Though he penned several orthodox blues compositions, there are a few that evidence a new way of looking at the normal twelve bar chord progression. In “Out of the Night,” Joe offers whole and half step motion for the chord changes of the melody statement, which as is often true in his compositions could either be used during the improvising choruses or one could revert to the normal minor blues changes. “Isotope” which Joe played all often in live performance employed wide intervals for the melody with a series of moving dominant seventh chords that are non-cyclical in nature. The fast blues “The Kicker” has more common V-I harmonic progressions but again with movement into unusual places. Much like Coltrane, Joe was a jazz player steeped in the blues tradition.

LYDIAN MAJOR 7th FLAT 5 CHORDS

Joe was a big fan of the lydian scale (fourth degree of the major mode) and used its accompanying chord, the major 7th flat 5 quite often. (This chord may be more accurately called major 7th sharp 4.) The flat 5 interval was one of the signposts of the be- bop language, but its use for melodic material rather than solely as passing tones had to wait till the 1960s (and George Russell’s tome on the subject) to become part of the common vocabulary. The manner is which Joe used this chord compositionally and in his playing was a music lesson that became required homework for the next generation. (Wayne Shorter was more responsible for the lydian augmented or flat 5/sharp 5 chord.) “Inner Urge” is the classic tune for this chord using it for most of the first part of the tune, while the pure major prevails for the second half. “Shade of Jade” also has a large percentage of major 7 flat 5 chords, in this case once again with a lot of whole and half step root motion. “Afro Centric” is another composition with great use of this lydian harmonic color.

II-V PROGRESSION

The II-V-I progression is the cornerstone of bebop as it clearly outlines classic diatonic root movement (subdominant/dominant/tonic relationship) and any subsequent improvised lines created over this harmonic pattern have a high degree of clarity and a satisfying balance of tension. By the 1960s, this well worn bebop progression started to be placed in unusual junctures, sometimes seemingly out of nowhere, coexisting with more modal sections (eight or more bar sections of dorian, mixolydian scales or others). It was a period when the new (mentioned above in the 1959 reference) was liberally mixed with the old. Both Joe and Wayne were well aware of the potency of placing the new and old together and became major exponents of this composing style. Joe liked to use a II-V progression in the middle of songs as in the classic “Serenity” where this progression appears several times along with the major 7th flat 5 chords. “Recorda Me” represents one of the most orthodox uses of the II-V progression and is the most well known of Joe’s tunes, probably for the reasons of ease of playing and familiarity. The composition “Jinriksha” has a few strategically placed progressions, but again at unusual junctures.

VARIED ROOT MOTION

Another musical aspect, somewhat related to the II-V progression which became widely used in the ‘60s by the aforementioned composers was unusual root motion. With “Giant Steps” recorded in 1959 by Coltrane paving the way along with some of Thelonius Monk’s music, it seems that the new generation felt that root movement need not be so predictable or orthodox. “Inner Urge” has a distinct pattern towards the end of the tune descending down a minor third, then ascending up a half step which is actually quite reminiscent of “Giant Steps” in its overall sound though the pattern differs; “Punjab” has once again a lot of whole and half step movement as does “Shade of Jade.” One must remember that when these progressions were first being played, often at fast tempos, it was new to the listener and initiate musician. Joe’s music was very much a part of this 1960s harmonic development.

MELODIES

With all the emphasis on harmony, one shouldn’t forget that Henderson’s melodies were both a logical outcome of the harmony as well as complete statements on their own, a measure of a well constructed melodic thought. The melodies fit the chord changes perfectly but also maintained a sense of lyricism, a hard feat to accomplish. One of his most beautiful themes is “Black Narcissus” which sounds so obvious, it could easily be taken for over simplistic. “Inner Urge” once again shines forth, this time with a “common tone” melody for the first half, followed by an arpeggio type line across the moving changes, all making perfect sense. Even the melody on “Recorda Me” following the normal II-V changes retains a sense of lyricism. Somehow, Joe could make the listener or player remember the melody after you heard the tune, without necessarily ever realizing that the harmony was so sophisticated. A curiosity exists in that a lot of the tunes feature chords in the keys of Db, Gb and Ab major-all flat and rather bright “keys,” rather unusual for a tenor player. This is an interesting anomaly.

FORMS

Though some of the tunes besides the twelve bar blues songs were in eight bar patterns, Joe did have a few odd measure forms. For example the blowing form of “Punjab” is eighteen bars, while “Jinriksha” has a form of sixteen followed by twenty bars. “Serenity” is fourteen bars while “Afro Centric” is twenty six bars in length. But somehow with Joe’s tunes, the forms feel completely natural, a consequence of his melodies.

Finally, one must not forget how Joe played over standards like “Invitation” and Monk’s “Ask Me Now” among others that were invariably part of a Joe Henderson performance. He owned those tunes, playing them like he wrote them. Although for the most part Joe didn’t write much new material after the ‘60s, his legacy during that decade stands as one of the great pillars of modern jazz composition and are required “reading” for all subsequent generations of improvisers worldwide.

by DAVID LIEBMAN

Miles Davis brought something completely new to interpreting standards. In musical circles, we would say that he was the rare musician who could abstract a melody on a classic tune and play some of the “wrongest” notes, yet make them sound right. This was because of his phrasing, particularly his timing, sound(especially with the mute) and most of all, placement of notes and the inevitable logic of the melodic line he pursued. Miles created an atmosphere around a tune, not just a reading of it. The material became in a sense his own tunes and of course when Miles played a standard, it became THE way to play that tune forever-or at least an artist had to deal with Miles’ interpretation.

The way Miles played standards became inextricably associated with the sound and organization of his various groups up until the fusion era. From the early quintet with Coltrane through the ’60s group with Wayne Shorter, his way of leading the band was bound up with interpreting standards. There was a format that each group followed that became once again, the standard bearer for jazz groups everywhere. Particularly with the later pianists, Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea, the very modern harmonies that reframed classic tunes like Green Dolphin, Autumn Leaves, Yesterdays, etc., shed a completely new light on the original structures of the tunes themselves. In a sense they were rewritten by these groups of the ’60s.

Finally, playing standards for so many years is what put Miles in front of the public eye, for it is inevitably true that for the most part familiar material, when handled artistically is a necessary component for communicating with the mass audience. being as smart and perceptive as he was, Miles knew that very well. But what is also interesting is that once he turned his back on standards in the late ’60s, he never went back, not even for a “reunion” tour o rrecording (not counting his final Montreux appearance with Quincy Jones.) All musicians everywhere have to know about MIles Davis and his way of playing standards. It is basic to modern jazz history.

Here are some thoughts about passing of the greatest of all-Freddie Hubbard by David Liebman
We all know that in the past decade or so Freddie Hubbard was not really playing much, but the truth is that if had stopped playing after the late 60s, I would still say the same thing about him, which is that he was the best of all time for me. His sound and ideas, his fire, his tunes and most of all his time were all incredible. He had the widest beat of anyone and made you really feel the pulse. He did it all-in and out harmonies-soft and loud-abstract with the blues, etc. He influenced everyone who is serious about jazz.

LESSONS FROM HUB TONES
I received two lessons inadvertently from Hub for which he would be surprised. On a recording session under Jimmy Cobb’s leadership in the early 80’s, I arranged one of my tunes for three horns: Freddie on flugel, Pee Wee Ellis on tenor and myself on soprano witH a great rhyThm section iNcluding Larry Willis and Walter Booker. Of course I was quite nervous about the tune, the arrangement, Freddie Hubbard, my shadow, etc-you get the point!! We did a take and of course there is that silence which occurs after the ringing of the cymbals subsides-who will talk first? The arranger, the leader or the “heavy” (Hub) in the room because truthfully everyone was in awe of Hub in and out of the band that day. Finally, in what seemed a lifetime Hub says let’s listen and of course I get the middle seat in the booth since it is my tune. Now, not that the tune was very hard, but there were some tricky things you had to stay alert about in the bridge (tune is “Picadilly Lilly”). Hub fluffed a note or two and of course though I was aware of it during the take, I was not about to say anything. To my mind at that point in my development as a jazz musician, guys like Freddie Hubbard ALWAYS got it perfect. After a few seconds, Hub yells from the back: “Liebman-that wasn’t right-was it?” I answer the obvious and he says something like “I guess we have to do it again.” Of course, by the third take he owned the tune!! Though it was never released, I learned an important and what might appear simplistic truth thanks to Hubtones which is that the best are that way BECAUSE they want to get it right. To what extent it is a matter of ego and/or artistic determination, the point is don’t let anything go by that can be improved, no matter who you are.
About ten years later in the early 90’s, Hub was a guest with the local college band where I live in Stroudsburg, PA. The school is East Stroudsburg University and the great director who invited heavies like Hub in to play with a basically non-professional student band (no jazz major, etc) was my good friend Pat Dorian. As part of the gig, Freddie was asked to give a q and a in the afternoon for the general public. Knowing about Freddie and his legendary temperament, I was really wondering how his attitude would be for the afternoon session. Well, he was gracious, informative, modest and great all around. I went back stage to see him and commented on his “performance.” He said that he had never done anything like that and he was actually nervous. I assured Hub that he was stellar. This was the very beginning of a period we are still in where no matter who you are, you will probably be giving a clinic somewhere, sometime. I mean if Miles or Duke were around, they would be required to do it. In the early 90s’s this was not common and it made me realize that a change has come when someone like Freddie Hubbard has to talk about his art to the public and like a playing gig, they will be judged on that “performance” as well.

Thanks for the lessons Hubtones!

UNKNOWN TREASURES-LEE KONITZ’ MOTION by DAVID LIEBMAN

As is usually the case, musicians, at least of my era, are by and large familiar with this recording, since it is one of the best representations of one of the masters of jazz. Lee Konitz’s contribution to the bebop language is extraordinary on several levels. First of all, along with his mentor Lennie Tristano and peer Warne Marsh, they were able to forge a unique approach that was markedly different from the prevailing style of the day emanating from Charlie Parker, Dizzy and Bud Powell. And they did this at the same time in the late 1940s as the standard bebop language was being forged. The interesting fact is that Lennie loved Bird and Bud and in fact felt to the day he died that there was little else of worth in jazz besides them, LesterYoung and a few others. I know this since I studied with Lennie in the mid 1960s and his feelings were always stated very clearly to his students. Also there is the famous “Intuition” track from 1949 with these musicians playing what appeared to be completely “free”- certainly free of chord changes for sure. So in spite of the mostly negative criticism that the music didn’t “swing” and was too “white” the challenge to Bird’s concept was in place from the very beginning of bebop. Lee took part in the “Birth of the Cool” sessions under Miles during this period, but for the rest of his career and even now (presently 75 years old) he has basically pursued the same path. That is playing standards or heads based on standard progressions, often with pickup musicians. When you hear Lee live, it is classic jazz and always clever and stimulating as well as amazing that he can get so much out of the same material over and over.

I have to believe that what makes “Motion” so special is the presence of Elvin Jones. The incredible thing is that this was recorded in 1961 when Elvin was at the beginning of his sojourn in the John Coltrane group, which went on to make history. Any listener familiar with the Coltrane recordings, both live and studio from that period know that Elvin played really strong and often quite loud with Trane. I saw the group many times in clubs in New York and often you could only hear the drums!! Yet on this recording with Lee he is dynamically subdued and incredibly subtle. Besides the incredibly swinging ride beat on the cymbal you can really discern what Elvin does with his left hand and bass drum. Also his trademark triplet feel usually heard being played across the snare and toms is not too evident on this recording. He plays in what I call a more up and down style which is another reason that the bass drum and snare are so outstandingly clear. For a long time the rumor was that Elvin recorded far from the microphone on this date but Lee told me personally that wasn’t true. It is a real testament to Elvin’s musicianship to be so intense, yet so soft on this recording at exactly the same time he was bashing out with Coltrane, probably the same night as this recording!!

Lee’s way of phrasing over the bar line and behind the beat is very evident on this recording. In fact on the first track, “I Remember You”, you really have to listen to Sonny Dallas’ very clear bass lines to hold on to the form. Elvin and Lee are so subtle with their phrasing that it can really be tough to find the periods and commas of the normal eight bar cycles we are used to. On “Foolin Myself”, Lee plays perfect bass lines behind Sonny’s solos, a clear indication of the depth of knowledge he has on chord changes. And of course there is his deep, yet airy alto tone with some glimpses of Paul Desmond at times. The articulation is almost uniformly legato and one never hears standard clichés from Lee, but at times some great quotes from other tunes.

Some of Elvin’s highlights include a solo on “So Nice to Come Home To’ over Dallas’ walking bass line. Also there are some brief forays of metric modulation on the brushes during “Out of Nowhere”. Finally, the heads when they are stated at all are for the most part fragmentary and more alluded to than stated. This is a blowing date, clear and simple as Lee states in the original liner notes. No tricks, gimmicks, arrangements or anything to deter from the heart of the matter at hand—spontaneous improvisation over classic chord progressions. Overall, this is one of the most artistic and deep recordings of standard material that I know and a testament to the greatness of two jazz giants, Lee Konitz and Elvin Jones.

ON JOE ALLARD by DAVID LIEBMAN

I don’t remember the exact details of how I began lessons with Joe, but it was somewhere around the age of 17 which would be about 1963. I had studied with a local teacher in Brooklyn but needed to go further and after speaking with several teachers in Manhattan, somehow I got to Joe. First of all it was quite a thrill to go to Carnegie Hall Studios on the subway-it felt heavy! My first six months of lessons were mostly on clarinet since I at that time I thought I would major on it to get a music degree at Queens College where I had decided to go by then, since majoring in saxophone was not a possibility on those days

I was completely baffled by Joe’s lessons. Here was supposedly the heaviest guy in New York and all he did was tell stories about Toscanini, Mule, Duffaye, etc., etc., and take out Gray’s studies of anatomy to show how the respiratory system and vocal cords worked. I would play one line out of the Rose clarinet studies and that would be it. Of course there would be fixing reeds for the last part of each lesson. Taking the subway home and writing notes down of what I remembered (no cassette machines then), I just didn’t get it.

But I persevered and realized that Joe was ecumenical in that it didn’t matter whether you were going for jazz or classical, or played flute or sax or clarinet. I remember seeing the Giant Steps transcription around the studio, but realized also he was teaching the highest classical majors at Julliard and other conservatories. Joe was about principles and concepts-content would follow. Like all great masters, he taught by metaphor. The stories and his amazing demonstrations were meant to lodge in your brain till it really seeped in. The overtone exercise is the best example of that.

Finally, years later I realized the importance of Joe’s exercises and explanations: the “fat” bottom lip, the abdominal breath, the “e” position for the back of the tongue, anchor tonguing for the tip and more. These were guiding principles and once understood it meant that you were playing the saxophone as intended-as an extension of your voice, not as some separate piece of brass that you fingered.

And Joe was a nice guy. He had a cot in the studio for cat naps because he taught for hours on end. Sometimes you would go and get a soup or coffee for him. Weekly, he traveled up to Boston staying in the dormitory at the New England Conservatory and taking a late plane back to New Jersey. He also taught at home-the guy must have seen 70 students a week between all the schools and privates. Several times he came to see me play at the Village Vanguard meeting Elvin Jones, at the Willow in Boston which was a student hang out and Carnegie Hall when I played with Miles Davis there. In fact, Miles was unusually respectful when I introduced him. He said: “You taught Steve(Grossman) and Dave-nice to meet you”.

I stayed in touch with him and visited the home in New Jersey meeting his wonderful wife, Anne. I also spent days up in his summer home in New Hampshire putting together the concepts and thoughts for my eventual book and video on saxophone tone. When I saw that Alzheimer’s was happening, I told Anne to get it checked because I knew the disease from watching my father die that way. This was the saddest of all things-to see Joe near the end or to watch the video, “the Master Speaks” because you can tell he was losing the clarity that he always exemplified.

But my memories of him are vivid today with that impish smile, easy laughter and a wonderfully pleasant personality. He was very hip and knew the score, and was always a gentleman whi displayed true kindness to his students.

The definition of a master!!

Download PDF

David Liebman, John Coltrane’s Meditations Suite: A Study in Symmetry, in Annual Review of Jazz, nº 8, 1996, pp. 167–180.

If I had to sum up Miles Davis in one word, it was timing. For example in the musical sense playing eighth notes directly in the middle of the beat. Or knowing when to hire someone new, just having a feel for change. Even in the dramatic pacing of his life, like those retrospective concerts he performed two months before he died, he knew when to do things—when and who and what to use in his life—and when to bow out….the ultimate producer/director. Everything he did, he did with an incredible sense of timing.

Miles had always been at the edge of the music, staying current, always searching. In the 1980s, when he was in his 50s and 60s, at times his health may have prohibited him from doing too much, but he took the time to do other things than music. He became more outgoing, more willing to share his knowledge and wisdom. He gave many interviews in those last few years and talked openly. He co-authored his biography and got heavily into painting, at a pretty high level by the way. I felt that in his last ten years Miles was acting more like a grand master of the art than he ever had before.

My mother noticed an article in the New York Times in August saying Miles Davis was ill in California with the nature of the illness not disclosed.  For me, he was always in the hospital so that wasn’t alarming. What was scary was to read that his ailment was not reported and that his family would not talk about it.

Miles had been touring all summer right through the end of August. In July he performed two serious events: one produced by Quincy Jones at the Montreux Jazz Festival that celebrated the music that Gil Evans and Miles did together. The other in Paris was even more special: a small group situation that focused on Miles and his former sidemen, from Jackie McLean to Joe Zawinul, Wayne Shorter, John McLaughlin, Jon Scofield and Kenny Garrett, playing things like “All Blues” and “In A Silent Way.” He received the Legion of Honor award from the French….their top award—it was a big summer.

These concerts were truly remarkable. Both would have to be considered retrospective, something Miles had refused to do in the past. When he returned from his hiatus in the ‘80s, he was offered a million dollars from the Japanese to reunite with Herbie, Tony, Ron, and Wayne…..the great second quintet. He wouldn’t do it. Instead it became the group VSOP, with Freddie Hubbard playing trumpet. Miles refused because it wasn’t in his nature to look backward. He looked upon these retrospective events with skepticism.

The day after Miles died there was a concert close to where I live in Pennsylvania  with Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette, and Gary Peacock. It was a really great performance. After the show I went backstage and we were all sitting there shocked. Jack said, “The thing that we all got from him is to: “Stay on course, and don’t let anybody throw you.”  I asked if anyone had heard anything about the funeral. He said, “No.  But they would have to have it in Madison Square Garden.”

That Wednesday, I got a call from Jim Rose in George Wein’s office. He had been Miles’ road manager while I was in the band and for many years after. “It’s an invitation-only memorial service. Can you come?” The service was at St. Peter’s Church on 54^th Street and Lexington Avenues where Reverend John Gensel had presided over jazz memorial services for so many jazz players—Coltrane, Monk, etc.  It’s a well-known church, very modern, almost non-denominational. The service was on that Saturday, a week after Miles died.

When I arrived, it felt like Hollywood. The press was lined up outside, lots of limousines. everywhere and so on. Inside, it was like Miles was there. They had gigantic pictures of him playing, receiving the medal from the Knights of Malta, all looking great and smiling.  It was so dramatic. It was also eerie in a way because it’s a large church and they had the speakers on low, playing  “All Blues” and other tunes, while the whole place was hushed.  Everyone was quiet. I was sitting next to Monty Alexander. We just looked at each other and I said, “Oh God, this is so weird.”

I looked around in the room. I’d say there were four or five hundred people—quite a few I didn’t know, and a lot of the musicians from my period with Miles whom I hadn’t seen in twenty years, as well as familiar faces like Jack DeJonette, Wayne Shorter, Dave Holland, and Herbie Hancock. I realized the common bond between all of us was we had been with Miles when we were young and impressionable, not fully formed. For each of us, he had been our first big break. That bonded the fifty or so musicians attending who were lucky to have played with him over the past forty-five years.

David Dinkins, New York’s mayor at the time, was the first of many speakers. He called Miles the quintessential New Yorker, saying that he had had come from East St. Louis to attend Juilliard and lived here all his life. Quincy Jones talked about how Miles was his great idol way back in the ‘40s and 50s. Max Roach spoke about how they’d been together for years and how he helped Miles kick dope. Others talked about his influence, about his personality….how he was good looking, a great dresser, the cars, women, and boxing.  They talked about how charismatic he was.

Bill Cosby, being Mr. Entertainer, was the best. He lightened the atmosphere immediately: “It’s OK to applaud,” he said. “Miles is fine, everything is OK.” Then he told some great stories. He said that news of what Miles did at 3:00 in the morning in a club in New York would get to Philadelphia by 3:30. The cats would all be running around talking about what he wore, what he played, who he hired, who he fired. Bill: “That’s how important he was.”

At one point, Cosby was saying that some people said Miles had AIDS. Then he said, “But in what order? It took fifteen things to knock this guy off.”  It was true. It was an incredible testament to Miles’ strength. He was a frail person in some ways but in more ways he was very strong.  There were always those two sides to him—he was a boxer who he had a hip replacement, sickle cell anemia, diabetes. I heard that seven strokes in a 24-hour period was the final bell.

I would say Jesse Jackson was the best speaker, I had never heard him speak live but immediately you could tell this guy was a trained speaker—loud, a real preacher with a voice like the Force. He gave a written eulogy, finishing with a beautiful poetic analogy for Miles. “He was our music man…blowing out of his horn, out of his soul” and so on. It was extremely uplifting.

Finally, Quincy got back up and said, “I’m going to show a little bit of this Gil Evans film from Montreux.” At first it was so strange.  Miles got up to play, he’s smiling and waving, but there was no sound.  Then the actual performance of “Summertime” came on. He played the melody and one chorus—and that was how the service ended after about one and one-half hours. I am sure everyone feared that it would be disorganized but in the end it was dignified and inspiring. It had not been a circus.

Afterward, everybody hung out, and it kind of cemented the bond between those of us who had actually worked with him. James Williams came by and said, “I guess school is out.” Wayne Shorter had a great smile on his face: “I saw Miles…he visited me… everything is OK.  Don’t worry, everything’s ok.”  I felt that summed up what we all were feeling—which was that Miles left when he wanted to leave. Although he had only been 65, he had lived a good, full life and he checked out at a good time. Look what the man left behind.

I agree with Wayne and Cos. It was not a tragedy—it was really OK. That was how I felt, and that’s how I will feel forever I’m sure.

Miles requested that he be buried next to Duke Ellington in Woodmere Cemetery in the Bronx. I think it’s fitting that they are together because if anyone affected 20^th century music through the voice of jazz, it’s definitely those two artists. With a few other cats (Bird, Pops), they are still head and shoulders above everybody for what they accomplished by bringing jazz into the world.