Un Poco Loco

If there ever was a soundtrack to the creative impulse it is Un Poco Loco by Bud Powell. Moreso than any Monk tune I can think of Un Poco Loco is a question that Powell is asking of the audience. He is on the precipice of something and looking down and then back at those who aren't quite as far out on the ledge. In fact, my Blue Note pressing of The Amazing Bud Powell Vol. 1 (a stellar lineup that includes Fats Navarro, Sonny Rollins, Roy Haynes, and Max Roach) includes three takes of Un Poco Loco as if this track could never really be finished. It is eternally open, as if Powell has recorded evidence of the process of composition itself. The chorus almost sounds to me like the hum and buzz of a city street or thoroughfare possibly New York and the refrain seems like punctuation that defines some normal state of affairs, i.e., business as usual, but each solo is more than just a counterpoint to that. It's almost as if Powell has slipped between the cracks and has penned a plaintive S.O.S. He sets up each solo with a fairly pedestrian run up and down the ivories and then proceeds to dissect that normalcy into oblivion. It is a lesson in abstraction that is nearly insane in its mathematical precision.

This tune is an island and Powell's right hand is the only cat on it. His left hand is relentless as it sets up the rhythm that serves as the backbone of the composition. Max Roach's manic cowbell is the perfect counterpoint to Powell's blues experiment and the entire assemblage has a life of its own that is hypnotizing. Powell's solo trails off as Roach takes over and then the final chorus reminds us how far from the everyday Powell's solo really was.


Bud Powell had a well known rivalry with none other than Charlie Parker. His sometimes public anger at Parker's talent probably fueled his creative verve. Powell was so driven to succeed that his creative frustrations landed him in the psych ward where he endured electroconvulsive therapy, which ultimately did nothing to free him from the wrath of his creative demons. Powell was a master composer who was integral to the development of what would eventually be called bebop. His tune, Bouncing with Bud, is a standard and beyond that Un Poco Loco, Dance of the Infidels, and Tempus Fugit serve as a reminder of his genius. Unlike many jazz artists of the time, Powell was not known to have been addicted to drugs and he shied away from hard alcohol because it had a bizzarre effect on him. So on many levels the man was a true natural. Perhaps the only other pianist who could match his virtuosity on the ivory ledge was Art Tatum.