Paco

Some of my favorite guitarists are John McLaughlin, Gabor Szabo, Django Rheinhardt, and Paco de Lucia. Paco holds particular sway over my interests because somehow, even more than Django, his playing strikes such a chord (I know) with my aesthetic sensibilities. Paco's playing represents the best combination of intellect and emotion.

Paco's blinding speed on the classical guitar is unparalleled and he is a master of rasgueados and picados.

The pictorial history of jazz is nearly as interesting as the music itself. Photographers such as William Gottlieb captured enduring, iconic images. One of my favorite jazz photos is the series he shot of Monk in front of Minton’s Playhouse with his band. Photographers such as Gjon Mili, William Claxton, Dennis Stock, Frank Wolff, Herman Leonard, Carole Reiff, Val Wilmer, and Jim Marshall document/ed the phenomenon of jazz music with images like none other.


Gordon Parks in the photo above captured this once-in-a-lifetime visual metaphor that shows the Duke swimming in the lens of Billy Strayhorn's shades.

I think you need to listen to more Albert Ayler.

RIP Joe Zawinul

"'He lives on,' Erich Zawinul was quoted as saying. Zawinul played with Maynard Ferguson and Dinah Washington before joining alto saxophonist great Cannonball Adderley in 1961 for nine years, according to a biography on his Web site. With Adderley, Zawinul wrote several important songs, among them the slow and funky hit 'Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.' Zawinul then moved on to a brief collaboration with Miles Davis, at the time Davis was moving into the electric arena."
―AP News

RIP Max Roach

Max Roach's snare drum was just the right punctuation for greats like Thelonious Monk and Dizzy Gillespie. No percussionist could sing through their drums quite like Max Roach. Roach, along with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Bud Powell, and Charlie Mingus played on Jazz At Massey Hall, a live recording from 1953 which is considered the greatest live jazz recording ever.

He has always been one of my favorite drummers as well as Elvin Jones. Roach was instrumental to the formation of bebop. He was the dean of jazz drummers.

Roach also provided the beats for the groundbreaking Birth of the Cool sessions.

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.

Bitches Brew

One of the most famous, if not notorious, jazz releases, Bitches Brew still captivates and resonates despite the muddy moments that serve as the mortar between the solid bricks of brilliance. Recorded in 1969 immediately following the Woodstock Music Festival, Bitches Brew was, at the time, a line that many jazz fans refused to cross. In the years between then and now so many brilliant free compositions have been recorded that by comparison the case could be somehow made that Brew is nearly a hippy anachronism. But there's still nothing like throwing it on the turntable when one hasn't heard it in a few years. It doesn't erupt like some recordings, but builds in intensity like a spell taking effect. The whole album has a liquid consistency that ebbs and flows--the impulse to fast forward at times to another Miles solo should be resisted. Trust me. Repeated listenings are rewarded when the album is listened to as intended. That's its charm and Brew isn't really appreciated unless the listener fully submits to its onslaught. It's maximalism at its finest. Davis, as you must remember, had by the year 1969 already invented two other styles--cool and modal jazz. It would be ridiculous to fault him for the nebulous qualities of this seminal classic. All the sidemen on these classic sides would go on to cement their reputations after this shining moment. Wayne Shorter and Joe Zawinul would later form Weather Report, Chick Corea would later form Return to Forever with a lineup that would later include drummer Lenny White and guitarist John McLaughlin and Billy Cobham would later form Mahavishnu Orchestra. All told Bitches Brew still stands the test of time. It's still a monster, even if it's not quite as scary as it once seemed. Listen to it in one sitting and tell me it doesn't rock.

Nu Yorica!

Soul Jazz Records London released an album ten or so years ago called Nu Yorica! that still percolates like a Cuban street festival and a Seventies movie soundtrack (in a good way) on a perfect summer night. Pick it up or order it if you can find it. It's funky goodness that doesn't let up. Mostly synth and vibe grooves with sax and an incredible conga section. Every so often an electric guitar or two take things in an entirely different direction with some light, nearly psychedelic flavors. Along with Sao Paulo Underground, these are some of my favorite grooves lately.

The Girl from Impanema

I've never been a cheerleader for the idea of unity or simplicity in art. Most of the art I appreciate is inchoate, incomplete, complex, and unfinished. Sometimes, simplicity in music, however, gives a song an ethereal and haunting quality that is unforgettable. Written in 1962, with music by Antonio Carlos Jobim and Portuguese lyrics by Vinicius de Moraes, The Girl from Impanema has the haunting and lyrical quality that is the hallmark of the enduring jazz standard. When this song was performed by Astrud Gilberto, along with João Gilberto and Stan Getz, in 1963 on the Gilberto/Getz album of that name it became an international phenomenon that has been rerecorded and covered by countless artists since. I was talking to my friend Steve Halle last night about the Sao Paulo Underground album Sauna, Um, Dois, Tres and how Brazil has made such an impact on the jazz music scene over the years most notably in the hands of artists like Dizzy Gillespie and Getz. Gillespie's brand of bossa nova and samba always felt more genuine to this listener than Getz's version, although this classic cut is unforgettable. Legend has that the seemingly sanguine and docile Getz was furious at the idea that Gilberto brought his lady into the studio to sing this cut and threw a huge tantrum. Getz notoriously had a temper that didn't fit his saccharine appearance, but when he heard Astrud Gilberto lay down a few takes he was bewitched by her voice and slowly began to realize that he and his buddy Gilberto had a huge coup on their hands. They were right. Like all great jazz songs there's even an interesting backstory. The songwriters had a specific beauty named Heloísa Eneida Menezes Paes Pinto in mind when they wrote this love bomb. As a 15-year-old girl Pinto would saunter pass the cafe where the songwriters would have their morning coffee. At nearly six feet tall, with long dark hair and green eyes, she obviously made some sort of impression on them. This video is pretty silly. It makes me think of White Christmas or something, but the melody is indelible.