I finally bought a turntable so I can listen to Evolution by Grachan Moncur III. Moncur and Jackie McLean chase each other on this album and listening to it confirms why McLean has always been one of my favorite sax players. He has a hard edge and honks and squeaks through solos with an off-kilter sense of rhythm that reminds me of the great eccentrics of jazz--namely Monk and Dolphy. Dolphy, Monk, McLean, Mingus, and possibly Tony Williams on drums would be a dream lineup.

Someone made the argument to me the other day that having an interest in, and knowledge of, jazz is similar to having a knowledge of baseball. The analogy works for me because great concerts, like great games, and dream lineups are what the fans talk about. I know the night that made a big impression on me was the night I saw Gary Bartz. At the time I hadn't heard of Bartz, but he blew the roof off the room that night and played a rendition of My Favorite Things on soprano sax that started as a whisper and ended up sounding like a volcano erupting--very Pharoah Sanders. Karma by Sanders is the one album I still haven't really learned to appreciate ... a friend of mine with impeccable musical taste used to listen to The Creator Has a Master Plan continuously, but I never really could perceive its virtues. It just seems like it has so many different sidemen all jamming. The result is a jazz puddle. Unlike Ornette's great Free Jazz that improves with repeated listenings, Karma sounds more mediocre with each listening. Maybe it's me.

Artifacts

The Art Farmer album titled "Early Art" that I own sat in my record collection for about two years before I actually played it. What ended up being one of my favorite albums sat there gathering dust. I had recently discovered Miles Davis and bought Sketches of Spain, Kind of Blue, Bitches Brew, ESP, On the Corner, Cookin', Workin', Miles in the Sky, Miles Ahead, and various other Davis vinyl all at once because I couldn't get enough of listening to Miles singing through that trademark horn. I did see Wallace Roney one night playing it, and that was in itself worth the price of the ticket. But I didn't appreciate Art Farmer until later mainly because Farmer sometimes sounds nearly sentimental when compared with Davis. Nobody, with the exception perhaps of Clifford Brown, plays ballads and sentimental songs so well. Farmer can play intricate solos effortlessly and his sound is so light and airy that it's easy to sit through one of his solos without really concentrating on it very much. When Miles is playing his sound is perfect in its simplicity, but Farmer is creating geometric shapes in the air that are surprisingly complex. Miles's sound is dark to Art Farmer's light, but both are unique in their own ways. Farmer never enjoyed the level of success that Miles did but he deserves it. This is some footage of Gerry Mulligan and Art playing some aerial scrabble.

Ok, separate topic--this page has some of the coolest jazz album covers I've seen. One of my favorites is Jazz Experiments of Charlie Mingus, although I don't know if it's on there. Vintage Vinyl in Evanston had a copy for $100. Mine is slightly damaged though, so I really doubt it's worth that much.

A Love Supreme

It's a relatively well-known tale that the medical examiner who first saw Charlie Parker's body after his death thought he was a 60-year-old man and not a man of 34 years of age. Bird was also known for often showing up to performances without a sax and borrowing someone else's at the last moment. On one particular occasion before a concert in Toronto, Bird and Diz frantically searched the city trying to find a saxophone. After scouring all the pawnshops open at the time, they were only able to find a plastic Grafton sax, which Parker proceeded to use at the concert that night. This concert is documented on the album "The Quintet, Live at Massey Hall". Bird, loaded and playing a plastic toy sax, was still pure magic. The album is now considered the greatest live jazz recording.

In the late 1950s, musicians would travel to Birdland in New York, spending their last dime, hitchhiking, hawking all their worldly possessions to catch a glimpse of Charlie Parker playing the solos that Louis Armstrong, the originator of the modern jazz solo, described as "Chinese music." Legend had it that Bird, Diz, Bud Powell, and Thelonious Monk, played fast and outside so that it would be impossible for white musicians to steal their licks.

Sometime later, a man named John Coltrane added his signature to the jazz pantheon. Later in life, Coltrane strived to accent the spiritual and avoided the pitfalls that claimed the lives of greats like Charlie Parker. There is even a Church of John Coltrane believe it or not. Coltrane took innovation to the edge, although some of his searching left the audience behind. This clip is really watchable. Here's some nice footage of drummer Elvin Jones, who was the driving force behind much of Coltrane's brilliance. You be the judge.