TEN IMPORTANT TRANE TRAX-article for Jazz Times

It goes without saying that Trane was for my generation and even beyond that, one of the most admired musicians of all time. He had it all-perfect musicianship, relationships with the greatest jazz musicians; a musical vision of his own and of course the clear spiritual essence of his music which he so clearly enunciated on the recording “A Love Supreme.” Picking ten tracks is tough because he was so prolific, but I will use as my standard, the musical effect these tracks represented.

by David Liebman

When a discussion about Miles Davis comes up, my thoughts vacillate between  subjective and objective points of view. Being a jazz musician who has studied the legacy deeply, my knowledge of Miles’ music is vast as a result of his having been such a towering figure for forty years of jazz history in so many ways. On the other side, my feelings concerning the man are based on being part of his group and our interaction for a period in the 1970’s as well as sporadic contact until he died. It goes without saying that his effect upon me has been enormous. Therefore this overview of Miles Davis is both personal and analytical. I begin by recounting my first gig with the Prince of Darkness.

In the Band

When I found myself on the bandstand with Miles in January, 1973 for the first time I was figuratively speaking being split in half. At the time, I was a member of drummer Elvin Jones’ group for a year and a half. Elvin was very significant in my life years before I played with him in his position as a member of John Coltrane’s “Classic Quartet.” I saw the group live many times during the 1960’s in the clubs of New York as a teenager. It was Trane who directly inspired me to become serious about jazz and to recognize that this music (and art in general) went beyond entertainment and ordinary surface values. When I got the gig with Elvin in 1971 assuming saxophonist Joe Farrell’s chair it was beyond a dream come true. I was playing with one of the master drummers of all time in my idol’s position. Obviously this was a major event for me changing the course of my life.

I had informal contact with Miles through musicians like Chick Corea and Dave Holland, the three of us residing in the same Manhattan loft building during the early 70s (he actually came over for dinner one night); also through musical peers drummer Lenny White, conga player Don Alias and of course my saxophone bud from Elvin’s group, Steve Grossman who had already been with Miles for a brief period. In the summer of 1972 I participated in one of the “On The Corner” recording dates. At the end of the session Miles passed by me in the control room and in that infamous raspy voice said: “Join my band!” I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but in any case I replied to the effect that I was with Elvin and wouldn’t leave him, bringing to an end our brief exchange.

A few months later I was playing with Elvin at the Village Vanguard, our regular gig in New York. Miles came down and hung out a talking to me about his music with great enthusiasm (he had just released “In Concert”) and urging me to join his group. Elvin was muttering something like: “What’s he doing here?” By the end of the second night when he returned again I told him it was up to “Emperor” Jones (as Elvin was known). Around four in the morning Miles called to say that Elvin agreed meaning I was to play with Miles that coming Friday night at the famous Fillmore East Theater early in the evening (which re-opened for that one night and then closed forever), return to the Vanguard to finish the engagement with Elvin and the next week in Boston at the Jazz Workshop. After that I would become the saxophonist in the Miles Davis Group. To finish this incredible tale, the next night when I showed up at the Vanguard, Elvin hugged me and said: “If Miles Davis wants you, you have to go.” End of story!

So on Friday night, Jan 12, 1973 I got on the bandstand with Miles Davis at the Fillmore East, all plugged in (my horns-tenor, soprano and flute were all drilled to accommodate microphone pickups that day for amplification), not knowing anyone in the band except tablaist Badal Roy who was with me was on the “My Goals Beyond” recording with John McLaughlin in 1972 and drummer Al Foster from jam sessions in my loft. That I had no idea what I played or what was happening on the bandstand that night would be an understatement. The energy, volume and sheer textural density was overwhelming. After the gig I returned to the Vanguard in time for the remainder of the first set. It felt like I had gone from the future back in time; from the 21^st to the 20^th century on the most significant night of my professional life. I was to become part of history playing in the same position as Coltrane, Bird, Wayne Shorter and others alongside the most important musician of the past decades whose sidemen by and large became significant forces on their own. That was the “baggage” which was undeniably part and parcel of being in the saxophone chair with Miles Davis.

For the first few months before he cut the band down, the instrumentation was tablas, electric sitar, guitar, organ, drums, congas, bass, myself and Miles. Playing mostly concerts and relatively short sets it took me months to truly “hear” what was happening and what my place was in the music. You had to figure out what to do on your own. There were no written charts and Miles said almost nothing to me or anyone else from what I could observe about the music. What we played has been well documented on tape and many live bootleg recordings that are available including on U Tube. It should be noted that with this group live performance was the main event. In fact, in some ways one could say that hearing any of Miles’ groups live was the best way to understand the essence of what was going on musically throughout his entire career, not withstanding some landmark studio recordings. With the level of musicians Miles had in his groups throughout history the live experience was always amazing.

As I point out several times in this article Miles was the quintessence of a true jazz musician in that he trusted, invested in and savored the moment meaning spontaneity was everything. From my standpoint this was the saving grace during this period since the actual content of the music was not something I was impressed with, sounding to me disorganized, chaotic and VERY loud. To be honest and risking sounding a bit pompous, though I was grateful and honored to be standing next to a legend and all that implied, I couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it would’ve been to play some of the challenging and sophisticated music from Miles’ past, particularly the “Miles Smiles” quintet-anything but this cacophony!! However, I must admit that hearing the music over the decades, what we played sounds better than it did at the time. Maybe this kind of retro-appreciation is a natural by-product of the passage of time or just me, but slowly I could hear what Miles was trying to accomplish. Though the artistic and aesthetic merits can be analyzed ad infinitum there was no doubt that he had a concept in his head.

The Music

There are some artists in any field who because of their prolific nature over an extended period of time, any analysis of their work necessitates it be described in terms of various periods. Painters like Monet, Van Gogh and Picasso are examples of this while in jazz there are Coltrane, Wayne Shorter and Miles to name a few who clearly demonstrate this point.

With Miles it begins with the Charlie Parker/Birth of the Cool bebop era in the 1940’s followed by the various quintets during the 50’s and 60’s which includes the Gil Evans collaborations. All of these stages are replete with their own specific musical attributes and stylistic characteristics. Most important for the purposes of this writing there is the seminal dividing line in the Miles Davis legacy occurring in the late 1960’s simultaneously on several musical fronts leading to the “electric” period:

-shift from acoustic to electric setting especially the use of electric bass rather than upright

-concept of jazz-rock based on ostinato bass lines which meant at the time jazz-like soloing played over a rock type rhythmic feel

-choices of sidemen who were not jazz musicians as such coming from other styles such as bassist Michael Henderson, drummer Ndugu Chancellor, etc.

-use of percussion and “world music” instruments (Airto, Badal Roy, Mtume)

-less or no “tune oriented” compositions replaced by ongoing vamps with the consequent effect of more limited harmonic movement

Even in this so-called electric period which remained Miles’ modus operandi for the remainder of his life there are dividing lines. For example between the early recordings “Filles De Kilimanjaro/Miles In The Sky/Silent Way” which retain a jazz sensibility  to the cacophonous “Bitches Brew” and rock-jazz “Live at the Fillmore” with Jack DeJonette, Chick Corea, etc., (incredibly a band that was not too well documented in the studio); as well there are stylistic differences between the “Live-Evil” band with Keith Jarrett, John McLaughlin and the “Dark Magus/ On The Corner/Get Up With It” groups that I was part of; then there are the “Agartha/Pangea” live recordings which delve even further into sound and color; finally the 1980’s decade where the direction was towards a more pop oriented sound.

The period when I was with Miles (1973-74) continuing through 1975 when he took a “sabbatical” can be seen as an expansion of  the musical elements described above  evolving towards more and more abstraction as time went on. ( In my opinion when Miles returned to performing in the 1980’s many of these innovative musical aspects were watered down resulting in a less distinctive and more generic style, albeit more palatable to a new generation of listeners. Interestingly though, Miles’ playing itself still remained brilliant at times. In any case this is in itself a separate and controversial topic on its own.) Some of the musical developments during my period with Miles were further developments of the earlier innovations, emphasizing the incredible speed of change that was occurring during this period.

– increased use of electronics resulting in a thicker and varied textural density; wa-wa pedal on the trumpet; use of the Yamaha organ; chorus and delay on my saxophone; Mtume’s drum machine, Pete Cosey’s percussion instruments

– more “accidental” harmonic dissonance; two and for a period three guitarists playing together (Reggie Lucas, Pete Cosey, Dominique Gaumont); non- tonal organ chords played by Miles

– even less use of formal compositional devices, forms and melodic statements with instead an almost total reliance on simple and extended vamps (in terms of duration during a typical set) as well as a continuation of Miles’ penchant for ongoing segues between tunes

– increased rock/ funk underpinning in which rhythms overlapped and were spread out  between various rhythm section instruments (Sly Stone concept)

– solos that were not so much developed as they were episodic or short vignettes

Miles’ playing, though fundamentally retaining the main ingredients of his basic style changed in some dramatic ways. The use of the wa-wa pedal and pickup on the trumpet meant that the very unique and incredibly individual trademark sound that Miles Davis had on his horn since time immemorial was transformed, arguably gaining something unique in the process. Whether it was the effect of how he heard himself through the pedal or other contributing factors his playing became even more rhythmically pronounced as well as very focused in the middle of the beat. (The best jazz musicians treat the pulse with a loose and flexible attitude pushing and pulling the beat at will. I have always thought that Miles’ sense of pulse was among the most accurate of any jazz musician in history.) His “jabbing” rhythmic style (not unlike boxing, something Miles was very into both as a participant and observer) was interspersed with flurries of notes consisting of indistinguishable pitch runs and occasional long tones thrown in. All of these stylistic mannerisms were played in a dry sonic context without reverb or delay heightening the stark nature of Miles’ rhythmical approach even more. His note choices ranged from very diatonic/in the key lyrical phrases combined with blues scale motifs to completely out of tonality asides. Of course whatever came out of his horn still retained a melodic contour with on occasion nursery-rhyme type melodies thrown into the mix. All of this as always in Miles Davis’ case was executed with élan, bravura and a unique sense of space and timing which remain historically the most distinct aspects of his overall style. There is no doubt in my mind that Miles was thinking within a certain set of parameters concerning his trumpet playing during this period.

Finally there is the way he framed all of this as a bandleader of the various groups during this electric period. Prior years had seen Miles play a solo, leave the stage, returning often in the middle of someone else’s statement to start up again (usually the piano solo).  During my time he was an ever present force on stage, something which had its effect on the sidemen. Not only did he not leave the stage but he would stand with his back to the audience, staring at all of us through gigantic dark sunglasses nonetheless!! Marking the beat physically with his body, nodding in the direction of someone to solo, he might unexpectedly cue the band to execute uneven “stop” time episodes in the midst of a phrase, a traditional device from older jazz styles. And there was the Yamaha organ which was a kind of precursor to the whole keyboard technology about to be unleashed in the next few years. Miles would splash down clusters and triads at will thereby orchestrating the live performance even further. As mentioned above, vamps and ostinato bass figures melded together and overlapped. Though there was a loose format to our live performances there was little predictability meaning the music could change drastically from night to night. To sum it up, Miles was a real and looming force on the bandstand whether he was actually playing or not.

The Unspoken – Beyond the Music

It is commonly accepted that among the arts music is the hardest to describe in real and measurable terms. We cannot hold music in our hands, not withstanding a manuscript which is meaningless until it is heard. The effect of music can barely be quantified in universal terms because of its subjective nature. Among musicians themselves generalizations about music are usually suspect and as the saying goes one cannot account for taste. We try to assess and describe music verbally in our various roles as interested listeners, musicians, teachers and journalists, but in the final analysis what sounds like something to one person may or may not have any bearing on another listener’s opinions. (Just go to any web site where people comment on a U Tube performance for example.)Yet we know and feel in our hearts and souls that there is something spiritual, universal and meaningful in great music which is valuable to recognize. The same can be said when you stand next to greatness, especially in a live performing situation where everything is focused on vibration, nuance and present time. These fleeting moments and the subtle lessons incurred constitute the unspoken and implied elements of any art, but even more so for those mediums in which performance IS the form itself (theater and dance as well as music). I had a golden opportunity to observe greatness in action and learn from it, only a few feet away from me on a nightly basis.

When Miles went on stage there was no past or future. As mentioned, it was all about present time, the essence of true improvisation and what most of us as jazz musicians strive for daily when playing. I have recounted to students and interviewers how concentrated Miles became in the moments before we hit the bandstand. Quiet, subdued and seemingly deep in thought, the whole band could sense his vibe before we walked out. It wasn’t so much dramatic as it was penetrating and you could feel that serious business was about to commence. (I felt the same with Elvin Jones, but in his case it would begin when the stick hit the cymbal.)  For me, it was a lesson in owning and trusting the moment, two intangible aspects of playing that I have tried to absorb into my own musical personality.

Another point concerning Miles’ playing and bandstand persona was his complete confidence in whatever gesture he made whether in his own playing or something having to do with directing the band. One never felt a second of doubt. This meant that anyone within playing range could by osmosis, transfer Miles’ strong sense of conviction and self in their own playing. I certainly doubted myself to some degree at this stage of my life, but with his energy going on in such close proximity there was no chance to think about it, something that is particularly true in the recording situation which has its own and unique set of variables differing from the live arena. You realize that when the light is green anything you play may be heard anywhere, anytime and forever-the ultimate judgment day! This posterity aspect of recording can easily develop into a nerve racking experience depending upon one’s personality. But once again with Miles Davis you just had to concentrate and be on his case-watching, listening and ready to jump into the fray when called upon.

Learning is a long term process. One doesn’t just cognize an idea or concept and expect the light to go on the next day. This is especially true for music where it takes a certain amount of time for the instincts and mind, body and ear to get it all together in some consistent, well balanced package. We learn something new using all of these techniques at hand from the technical to the emotional to the intellectual, employing different and appropriate aspects of these learning tools in varying proportions and sequences depending upon one’s learning methodology combined with the scope of the material in question. The goal remains the same: to unify the mind, body and spirit in order to make a meaningful artistic statement. The lessons I learned from being around Miles Davis took a decade or more to firmly take root. This pertains to everything from instrumental grafts that I have incorporated on the soprano saxophone gathered from observing Miles’ trumpet style, especially in the rhythmic realm; the being in the moment aspects I have alluded to; focusing the other musician’s energy as a function of leading a band; and gaining the confidence necessary to enable musical events to occur with spontaneity and regularity. In the 1980’s I would find myself thinking of Miles in the middle of a solo which might alter or inspire a fresh direction as needed. It still happens on occasion, but obviously less so as that period of my life recedes with the passage of time.

Personal Reflections

Without going into too much detail, suffice to say that Miles’ public and personal demeanor were in some ways similar but in other aspects vastly different. To my mind, it appeared that Miles’ basic shyness led to a desire to be left alone. Miles was more than a jazz trumpet player; he was a symbol of many things to different people and unless he limited access he would’ve never been left alone to think about music. This apparently contributed to the popular image of Miles as aloof or at times mean spirited. Though he had various addictions, illnesses, distractions, etc., there was no doubt in my mind that music always came first.

Miles was a macho type of person and respected that kind of persona. Speaking for myself there is naturally, as a product of upbringing and environment, a “New York aspect” to my personality which he seemed to empathize with. As well, because of childhood polio and its subsequent effects on my leg, I think Miles respected my energy and persistence in spite of any handicap. This was highlighted during my time with him because of increasing problems he was having with his own legs as a result of a car accident. I am not implying that we were buddies in the typical sense but there was some good and positive rapport for sure. (Apparently, he trusted me to recommend saxophonist Bill Evans when he began to play again in the early 80’s.) Personally, we got along quite well and spent time hanging out on the road since for the most part he didn’t like to be alone. He was well aware that I (and drummer Al Foster) were “jazzers” who knew in detail about his musical past which seemed to contribute towards a particular bond. In any case, there were numerous examples of his generosity and personable behavior, for example when he called me offering financial help during some hard times I was going through nearly ten years after I left his employ. Of course there were rough episodes to be sure, especially when his natural penchant for drama (an aspect of his playing which was undeniable), combined with the need to relieve a feeling of “ennui” or general boredom with life during this period, could at times lead to some “problems” to say the least. Also his health was fragile and he was at times heavily medicated during this time.

In the final analysis, having performed and traveled with Miles Davis was a major contributing factor not only for my career, but towards molding who I am both musically and as a human being. Though I didn’t know Coltrane personally it appears that the two of them had in common their love and respect for the serious work of creating highly sophisticated and eternal music.

As Miles once reminded me in dramatic fashion, being with him made me in some ways part of the jazz blood line back to Louis Armstrong. Consequently, I have tried to maintain the integrity and honesty which I observed and felt through my experiences with Miles and Elvin Jones. I had the best possible training a person could ask for-a real time apprenticeship with masters of the art-the Prince and the Emperor-a privilege and honor that I have gladly accepted with a concomitant sense of responsibility during my allotted time on this planet. For that opportunity I am eternally grateful.

Stroudsburg, PA USA

Fall/Winter 2008-09

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!!

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