August 15, 2006

The 200 Greatest Songs of the 1960s# 191-200s

200. The Kinks: "Sunny Afternoon"
(Ray Davies)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#14), UK (#1)
Available on Face to Face

While already rightly revered as bratty garage rockers by the time of this track's release, the Kinks truly excelled when singer Ray Davies took a more observational, wry approach to songwriting-- and "Sunny Afternoon" is one of his wriest on record. As the song's ground-down, sadsack narrator, Davies sounds utterly exhausted by the task of telling his miserable tale, backed by a descending chromatic bassline that nearly flatlines by song's end. --Adam Moerder

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199. Nina Simone: "Black Is the Color of My True Love's Hair"
(Traditional)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Anthology

The famous Celtic ballad begins with a lustful list of physical attributes-- a true love's hair, face, eyes, and hands-- but Nina Simone's voice is less than interested in the material world. She emits a spectral trill, as confident and crestfallen as a death-row inmate. Even the skeletal piano feels too heavy for Simone's vaporous devotion. --Alex Linhardt

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198. Dionne Warwick: "Walk On By"
(Burt Bacharach/Hal David)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (#6), UK (#9)
Available on The Very Best of Dionne Warwick

People talk about "perfect pop" and I generally have no idea what they're talking about. "Walk On By" is perfect pop, though, in the strictest sense: not a hair is out of place, no smudged eyeliner, nothing to taint its inherent loveliness. Any Bacharach/Warwick collaboration is a pick hit to click, but this is the most famous for a reason. Poised to the brink of formality, the song moves with the utterly unhurried grace of a woman in a ball gown. Perfect composure is one way to keep the tears inside, after all. -- Jess Harvell

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197. Charles Mingus: "Solo Dancer"
(Charles Mingus)
1963
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady

The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady is regularly cited as a masterpiece of jazz orchestration, but that hardly accounts for the sheer fury of Mingus' creativity. "Solo Dancer" is like a jazz diagram of the psyche or a chronology of the 20th century: a swarming assembly of neon alto, cracked trumpets, chromatic discord, and prolonged lyricism. --Alex Linhardt

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196. Irma Thomas: "Time Is on My Side"
(Norman Meade/Jerry Ragovoy)
1964
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Sweet Soul Queen of New Orleans: The Irma Thomas Collection

Though Thomas is widely acknowledged as the Soul Queen of Nola, I've always thought she never got a fair shake (e.g. neither "Ruler of My Heart" nor "Don't Mess With My Man" made this list). The Rolling Stones eventually made this song a smash, but all they did was jack Thomas' steez in full, changing nary a note, save one small thing: They could never belt like her. -- Sean Fennessey

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195. James Brown: "Night Train (Live at the Apollo)"
(Jimmy Forrest/Lewis Simpkins/Oscar Washington)
1963
Chart info: U.S. (#35), UK (N/A)
Available on Live at the Apollo

Sure, the official version (released in 1962) moves and grooves just fine, especially with Brown doing double duty on the mic and on the drums. But compared to what's on Live at the Apollo, it's doing the standing still. On the greatest stage in the world, Mr. Star Time goes up and down the eastern seaboard in record time, shouting out the stops the train ain't stopping at, while the band throws more and more coal into the engine. --David Raposa

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194. The Foundations: "Build Me Up Buttercup"
(Michael d'Abo/Tony Macaulay)
1968
Chart info: U.S. (#3), UK (#2)
Available on Baby Now That You've Found Me

This is the stuff mixtapes are made of: an infectiously catchy melody that sugarcoats a protagonist's romantic plight, and lyrics that instantaneously connect with red-blooded love birds. The Foundations' career may have burned short and hot, but their pop chops and puppy-dog pathos remain timeless. --Adam Moerder

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193. Johnny and June Carter Cash: "Jackson"
(Gaby Rogers)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on The Essential Johnny Cash

About a haranguing wife that, in the fourth verse, transforms into a creature far more badass than her "big talkin'" husband, "Jackson" puts to song the time-honored tradition of doing crazy things to fix a crazy relationship. The story is almost as romantic as that of the two lovers who sing it. --Zach Baron

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192. Alton Ellis: "I'm Still in Love With You"
(Alton Ellis)
1967
Chart info: U.S. (N/A), UK (N/A)
Available on Studio One Story

With Alton Ellis crying eternal affection above a gentle, stuttering riddim, this is the perfect starry-eyed Jamaican wedding song, right? Not quite. "You don't know how to love me, not even how to kiss me-- I just don't know why…" he sneaks in, slyly mixing tragedy in with the love-drunk refrain. Unrequited love has rarely seemed so tantalizing. --Ryan Dombal

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191. The Cannonball Adderley Quintet: "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy"
(Joe Zawinul)
1966
Chart info: U.S. (#11), UK (N/A)
Available on Mercy, Mercy, Mercy: Live at "The Club"

It wasn't really recorded at "The Club"-- that was just a trick to get some publicity for a new venue on Chicago's South Side. Instead, Adderley got some friends together in the studio and plied them with drinks while the band cut this bit of surging, euphoric gospel. Every whoop, though, is true and from the heart. --Mark Richardson

June 24, 2006

Jazz Art


SOUND OF MILES
Miles Davis



THELONIOUS MONK


JOHN LEE HOOKER




STEVIE RAY


JIMI HENDRIX -




We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions

Bruce Springsteen: We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions

Bruce Springsteen
We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions

[Sony; 2006]

On paper, The Seeger Sessions seems like a terrible idea: traditional American folksongs paid hyper-reverent homage by one of rock'n'roll's most earnest performers, an attempt to transform campfire songs into sermons and anoint sweet, old, cord-cutting Pete Seeger high priest of Americana. Instead, this collection-- consisting of songs Seeger has sung, but none he's written-- is a boisterous, spirit-raising throwdown, conjured by a 12-man band (guitar, harmonica, tuba, violin, B3 organ, upright bass, banjo, piano, drums, accordion, trombone, saxophone, trumpet, and more) and a pack of grinning backup singers. Perhaps ironically, Bruce Springsteen-- one of America's most-adored songsmiths-- is soaring high on a record full of tracks other people wrote.

On The Seeger Sessions, Springsteen growls, warbles, groans, and gags, sounding often like Tom Waits (check the scratchy, ominous vocals on "Erie Canal") or later Bob Dylan. It's a stark contrast to Seeger's crisp, clear pipes, and it reinvigorates a handful of ancient American tracks. Like any good folk record, The Seeger Sessions tackles the tangle of war, strife, poverty, and unrest, but does so without sacrificing joy or release (really, the very reasons people began singing in the first place). The resulting collection happily drowns out echoes of Springsteen's underwhelming recent efforts, and just might be the very best and most inspiring album Bruce has produced in more than a decade.

Embracing early E Street shuffle and ditching the solemnity of 2005's Devils and Dust, The Seeger Sessions culls from a century of rich, gritty Americana tradition, from bluegrass to country to rhythm and blues to gospel, rock'n'roll, Zydeco, Dixieland, and more. Springsteen is an obvious descendent of folk tradition, but, as he writes in the record's liner notes, this is "street corner music, parlor music, tavern music, wilderness music, circus music, church music, gutter music." Or: The Seeger Sessions is a party record.

Clawing through Seeger's considerable catalogue, Springsteen ultimately selected a smart, varied, and cohesive smattering of songs, proving he retains a deep and nuanced understanding of folk tradition. In a recent New Yorker profile of Seeger, Springsteen talks about folk songs as tools with potential to become "righteous implements when connected to historical consciousness," and claims to have chosen this particular repertoire because, "Everything I wanted, I found there." Appropriately, Spingsteen's voice seems custom-made for tracks like "We Shall Overcome", where his signature gravity spreads shivers, destined to silence even the most jaded listeners with its convincing optimism. Written in 1905, "Erie Canal" (sealed comfortably in the consciousness of any kid born or raised in western New York), is ominous and hypnotizing, with banjo picks punctuated by organs, strings, and an unexpected Dixieland breakdown midway through-- it's not hard to imagine whole arenas shouting, "Low bridge, everybody down!"

The gorgeously explosive "O Mary Don't You Weep" cracks open with teasing fiddles, before horns and drums kick up and Springsteen's throaty shouts are rounded out by a bevy of backing singers, organs sliding in and out, a gloriously sloppy mélange of sound, as indebted to New Orleans as it is to Newport. Springteen's voice is gravelly and real, happily divorced from the overproduction and studio tweaking that plagues his recent work, and perfectly in sync with his band's raucous, gleeful pounding. Everyone here is loose and intoxicated, and nowhere else is the record's quasi-live conceit (the record was made in three day-long sessions, preceded by no rehearsals) as gloriously palpable.

Springsteen has a habit of folding current events into his songs without ever being specific enough to limit a verse to a single time and place. Unsurprisingly, that timelessness syncs up perfectly with the centuries-old songs on The Seeger Sessions, and, if nothing else, confirms that Bruce Springsteen was the right (and maybe only) person for this particular gig. Less an exhumation than a celebration, The Seeger Sessions is the best proof we've got that America's folksongs are also our finest artifacts. It's all here: recipes, prayers, promises, fears, hopes, and hollers.

-Amanda Petrusich, April 24, 2006 Pitchfork .com

Charles Lloyd: Confluence

Charles Lloyd: Confluence

”Charles“It’s all part of a continuum,” Charles Lloyd says about the music of his new trio with Zakir Hussain and Eric Harland. “Sangam is a confluence, a meeting—it’s a supercharged atmosphere when we get together. We play in the now, looking for the One. Zakir, Eric and I may come from different backgrounds, but it is a small planet and we are here on the homeward journey together.”

Charles Lloyd’s “journey” is one of the more intriguing stories in jazz. Born in Memphis, Tenn., on March 15th, 1938, he got his first saxophone at the age of ten. “I started out on alto,” he remembers, “and while Bird was my ‘all in all’, I also loved Johnny Hodges and Lee Konitz’s sound.” Lloyd studied informally with the great pianist Phineas Newborn and formally at Manansas High School (where Jimmie Lunceford had once taught). His fellow students included Booker Little (his best friend), Frank Strozier, Harold Mabern and George Coleman (then as now a strict taskmaster, who challenged his peers to develop both technical and musical virtuosity). His first professional gigs were with bluesmen Johnny Ace, Bobby Blue Bland, B.B. King and Howlin’ Wolf.

Even as a teenager Lloyd’s musical tastes were diverse. In addition to his love of jazz and blues he developed a strong interest in classical music. “I had been drawn to the sheer transcendence of J.S. Bach and the late string quartets of Beethoven,” he recalls, “and Bartók, with the way he tapped into his native folk melodies.” His interest in the latter led to his matriculation at USC, where he studied composition. “When I was in college in Los Angeles, there was a rich cauldron of music makers all around me—as there had been in Memphis,” he continues. “There was Gerald Wilson’s big band, which we all played in. At various times, in the reeds were Harold Land, Walter Benton, Clifford Jordan, Eric Dolphy, Ornette and myself. Some of the other musicians were Don Cherry, Lester Robinson, Garnett Brown, Horace Tapscott, Frank Butler, Elmo Hope ... I jammed at night with Master [Billy] Higgins, Scotty LaFaro, Bobby Hutcherson, Cherry and many others.”

When Dolphy left Chico Hamilton’s band in 1960 to join Charles Mingus, Lloyd succeeded his altoist friend in the innovative drummer’s group. After a year of playing alto (and flute) in the Hamilton quintet that featured Nate Gershman on cello, Lloyd switched to tenor and took over as music director.

Under his direction the course of the band, which now included Hungarian guitarist Gabor Szabo, noticeably changed, as evidenced on the album Drumfusion, a date comprised entirely of Lloyd compositions. He says, “At the time, I was listening to recordings of Bismallah Khan and got to hear Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan. When I discovered this music and heard how they could bend the notes—it was so soulful and took me back to my childhood and the blues in Byhalia, Mississippi—I introduced Gabor to Indian music; he had already heard the music of the Roma people in his native Hungary and he began to bend his notes, even more, in that Eastern direction.” The startling effect can be heard on Hamilton’s classic Impulse album, Man from Two Worlds, which features an early recording of Lloyd’s “Forest Flower”.

Soon afterwards, Lloyd joined Cannonball Adderley’s Sextet, replacing Yusef Lateef, who ironically would similarly move on to a pioneering role in the as yet unnamed world music movement. While still touring and/or recording with Cannon and Chico, Lloyd made his first albums as a leader, Discovery and Of Course, Of Course, for Columbia. The latter, newly reissued by Mosaic, is a groundbreaking quartet date with Szabo and the Miles Davis rhythm team of Ron Carter and Tony Williams, but it was Lloyd’s next foursome, featuring the virtually unknown rhythm section of Keith Jarrett, Cecil McBee and Jack DeJohnette that would soon make history.

In 1966, touring after their first studio recording, Dream Weaver, which featured an intellectual looking Lloyd with a full Afro, wearing a three piece pinstriped suit on the cover, the quartet performed at the Monterey Jazz Festival. The group’s set, including an extended version of Lloyd’s “Forest Flower”, was issued with the previously recorded tune as the title track.

“Zakir, Eric and I may come from different backgrounds, but it is a small planet and we are here on the homeward journey together.”

”Charles The album Forest Flower became the first jazz record to sell a million copies, earning the group tours of Europe and Russia and appearances in America in rock venues like the Fillmore West, where they shared bills with the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Cream, the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin. With Ron McClure replacing McBee, the group recorded a series of live albums—Love In, Journey Within, In The Soviet Union and Soundtrack—that reflected Lloyd’s early worldview of jazz.

Lloyd remembers, “When I moved to NY in the early ‘60s the musical horizons kept expanding. I discovered the Ali brothers, Salamat and Nazakat Ali Khan. I lived in the village and I listened to their tapes every morning. Some things in your life are focal—that tape was one of them. The Ali brothers were a big influence on me during the period with Keith and Jack when we recorded Journey Within.” Just as influential, according to Lloyd, was the music of John Coltrane: “When I first heard Coltrane he was with Miles and played in starts and stops—I heard him coming out of Dexter and Bird. This was in the mid ‘50s when I was in LA and he was clearly looking for something.

The next time I heard him, he had made a breakthrough and he was opening up a new path for those of us who followed… Many writers make the comparison between us, I don’t think I come close to his sound—what I think they do hear is that spiritual connection. We both are trying to find something deeper and our music is an expression of that search and journey.”

Lloyd’s journey would take a sharp detour due to what he describes as “life in the fast lane.” “I blew a fuse,” he says. “I wanted to change the world with music and I realized I had failed at that… Despite my life in the fast lane and detours in the ‘60s, my pursuit of the spiritual and teachings from the East also deepened. I was reading Gurdjieff, Ouspensky, Tagore, the Sufi poets Hafez and Rumi, the Upanishads, the Vedas and the teachings of the Buddha, Milareppa and Vivekanada. I also had the songs and teachings of my great grandmother, Sally Sunflower Whitecloud, who was Chickasaw and Choctaw. I always felt that America was a religious country, but not necessarily a spiritual one.” Lloyd retreated to Big Sur to pursue an inner journey.

The ‘70s found Lloyd experimenting with popular music, both as a leader and with groups like the Beach Boys, Canned Heat and the Doors (a date with the Byrds’ Roger McGuinn even paired him with Bob Dylan’s harmonica on one song). His own albums moved from pop-rock (Moon Man and Warm Waters) to Indian influenced fusion (Geeta and Morning Sunrise) to new age (Koto and Big Sur Tapestry).

Finally, in 1981 an 18-year-old Michel Petrucciani sought out the legendary saxophonist and coaxed him into returning to the jazz scene. Lloyd made several tours and recordings with the young pianist, culminating in a recorded appearance at the legendary 1985 One Night With Blue Note concert that reunited him with his original quartet members Cecil McBee and Jack DeJohnette. Then a life threatening medical condition forced him in into yet another hiatus.

Lloyd reemerged in 1990 with renewed fervor and began a prolific relationship with ECM records that remains fruitful to this day. In 1993, he recorded one album, Acoustic Masters, for his old label Atlantic, with Cedar Walton, Buster Williams and most importantly, Billy Higgins. Lloyd rekindled the deep friendship with the drummer that went back to his LA college days and in 1997 they began touring and recording together regularly. In January 2001 Lloyd invited an ailing Higgins to come to his home in Big Sur and the two spent several days improvising music together on a vast array of instruments. The result, Which Way Is East, is a unique, deeply spiritual recording that had Lloyd returning to earlier inner sources of inspiration. Higgins passed away not long afterwards.

”Charles“When Billy left in 2001 he said to me that we would always be together,” Lloyd reminisces, “and now I know what he meant because after he left he introduced me from the other side to Zakir and then he sent Eric Harland to me [Lloyd met the Texas drummer at the Blue Note in New York, where they were playing separately the first night the club opened following the tragedy of 9/11]…so this is a very interesting formation of souls who have a confluence of meeting in a place where there is no space or time.”

The three musicians came together as trio for the first time at a May 2004 concert billed as “Homage To Billy Higgins”. Sangam (ECM), the recorded document, is an auspicious debut of what is now a working band, exploring directions in music Lloyd first began mining nearly a half a century ago.

Asked if he hopes to convey any extra-musical message through the music of Sangam, Lloyd replies, “Let Truth and Love be your guide. The message is in the music, which has always been healing medicine for me. The music dances on many shores, but I still have mud on my shoes and even in this configuration with Zakir and Eric, I hear the blues. And when I get up in there, I am found. Music can speak to direct states that can’t be articulated in words, it goes deeper and more directly to the small space within the heart which is vaster than vast universes

From All About Jazz

May 07, 2006

Eddie Vedder: Addicted to Rock



Pearl Jam's leader on the difference between surfing and crowd surfing, and the best advice Bob Dylan gave him


"There's so much information in the songs and the lyrics that it felt like one more title was almost pretentious," says Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder. That's just one explanation for why the band's eighth studio album is simply called Pearl Jam. Another would be that it is the group's most democratic effort since its massive 1991 debut, Ten. On songs like the laid-back acoustic beauty "Parachutes" (music written by Stone Gossard), the eight-minute trip "Inside Job" (lyrics by Mike McCready) and the first single, "World Wide Suicide" (which is killing at radio), PJ brought a live feel to the studio, laying down tracks that showcase tasty guitar interplay and a heavy backbeat. "When you collaborate, you still have this urge to stay in the studio after everybody's left and do things the way you want to," says a chilled-out Vedder on a cold, dark day in Seattle. "But you can't do that."

What was your first musical memory as a kid?
There was a group home of sorts in Chicago, and they had a turntable in the basement. Because it was kids without parents there was a large range of ages, and some of the older kids had more mature tastes. So I was listening to Jackson 5; they were listening to James Brown and Sly Stone. I remember everything on the Motown label seemed to be great. Little basement, that's what I remember. I can still smell it, too.

What did it smell like?
Like a basement in Chicago. Dank. One of those basements that never gets dry. And maybe some Afro-Sheen that some of the kids -- a kid called Maurice -- had in his hair. I think it was called the Lake Home for Boys. It was just on the wrong side of the tracks. The tracks were right there, we were just on the wrong side.
Speaking of smells and stuff like that, what does Pearl Jam taste like?
I don't . . . uhhh . . . I have no idea. That's like saying, "What does Pink Floyd taste like?"

No, no, no, dude. I mean your grandma Pearl's jam.
I never had it. It was apparently a recipe that was handed down. It's mythological now. I never saw the recipe, I just kind of heard about it.
What was it?
I imagine it was regular preserves with a bit of mushrooms in it . . . a peyote kind of deal. It's the whole Mary Poppins theory of tripping out -- a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down. It's so typical that an American woman in love with an Indian has to add sugar to something to keep herself totally culturally intact.
So did you have a piano growing up in your house in San Diego?
Well, my brother got the guitar and we got a stand-up piano, and then I got a Les Paul copy guitar. He excelled immediately. He was playing blindfolded, and I still couldn't get my fingers to push down a chord. I was very disturbed by that. It took about a year, and then one day, all of a sudden, it felt like a friend. I'll never forget it.
Was there a moment?
Yeah. It was "Cat Scratch Fever." All of a sudden, the guitar felt right underneath my hands. My hands had finally gotten strong enough.
What were the circumstances of you getting the guitar?
My birthday was on December 23rd, and the one time I used it to my advantage was to beg and plead to put the two presents together to afford the $100 guitar. And it worked.

Was it from a Sears catalog?
No, I remember it was a Memphis Les Paul copy. It kind of looked like the guitar that Ace [Frehley] really played.
That's what you were going for, I'm sure.
It's interesting, because I had only had a few lessons. The guy was great, his name was Bud Whitcomb, and I'd do weeding in his backyard to get a few free lessons here and there. At the time he was teaching me bar chords, he wouldn't let me do anything but bar chords, and I hated him for it. It was a lot to ask twelve-year-old hands to do at that point, it was very frustrating. He went on vacation, and I went to church and they had this little booklet of songs that had little charts with open chords in it. And I stole it!

Oh man!
They had a lot of them. They were hymnals, there were a lot. It had songs like "Black and White." So he left, he went on vacation and I learned these open chords and all of a sudden these open chords made me feel like writing. Early on, I didn't see becoming a lead player. I just wanted to write, I just wanted to have patterns that I could write on top of. So once I got those open chords, I started writing pretty quick.
Since I've always had so much respect for your songwriting, I want to know what is the deal with the instrumentation in the band. Only recently, you've added B3 keyboard stuff. Why have you never used horns, or strings, or girls?
I think we're always trying to find new ways to play within the group. I know that Stone Gossard just picks up the guitar and refuses to play something he's played before. It can be frustrating to collaborate with him, because he wants to do something different at all times. I think that the band is made up of a certain number of colors, and we need to see how many variations we can come up with. The keyboards come up in some of the records. "Black" might even have some piano on it, but it felt like that was the next shade to add. Horns and strings and background singers are things I might reserve the right to do in the future. But we're still plugging away with the ingredients we have and trying to be as progressive with our thinking within those boundaries.
Do you hear room for horns?Perhaps.
I was just wondering if you had ruled it out?
I think you go into a record thinking that you can try anything, and that you will. That's before the sessions over; by the end, even when you take a long time, it's time to finish and you're working with what you got. Just like making film clips or arrangements, working with horns and stuff is just time consuming stuff. And I think we've used up all our time on the clock working within our own groove. The communication in our own group is fairly exhaustive, at least with songs.

Jeff [Ament] had mentioned that you guys were thinking of doing a video for this record?
I think it's a great art form if it's approached the right way. But it's time consuming...just like interviews! [laughs] It seems like the time spent playing live and organizing shows and putting the record and the artwork together seems to take up all the time we have. Until we can do it right...we'll see. I found a guy I'd like to do it with, but we'll see.

Is it a secret who that is?
A young guy called Fernando Apodaca who's an artist. He's all-around, refuses to be pigeonholed, works with every medium there is. Line drawings with hair to stitching up leather bodices . . . everything is very organic. I think the only reason he hasn't made a name for himself in the art world is that he holds the art world in contention. I've talked to him, and I think the fact he has a high respect for us is a high complement.

Do you have a favorite obscure Dylan song?
He did a record of covers.

Good As I Been to You!
Yeah. They're not his songs, but I was listening to that record on a tape recorder that had only one speaker working. A tiny little thing . . . and it worked so well with the music -- it sounded like a Bessie Smith or Robert Johnson record. I just can't think of the names.

"Frankie and Albert" . . . "Jim Jones" . . .. "Sittin' on Top of the World" . . .
That's it. "Sittin' on Top of the World."

Also, at that Nader benefit in 2000, you came out and you did "The Times, They Are A-Changin'" and you said you had permission from the author. How did that channel open up to you? Was it at his thirtieth anniversary at Madison Square Garden?
After that show at the Garden, everyone congregated in a corner of this Irish Bar in New York that's no longer there. I tried to find it, and it's gone. Some real history took place that night at the table. The oldest Clancy brother was reciting these long Irish poems about war, and they were eight minutes long, and he knew every word. Then a guitar came out, and it was getting passed around. Ronnie Wood was there with George Harrison. It was a great night. When I went up to introduce Chrissie Hynde, which I was there to do, for some reason this really large guy who looked like he walked out of a Spiderman cartoon -concrete-bald head and shoulders like a shipping crate -- he lifted me off my feet by this ski jacket I had. He said, "You don't belong here." That was still at the beginning of our recording career, so I couldn't really argue that fact with him! I was like, "Alright, my friend!" I was standing next to Willie Nelson's guitar. Someone saw him dragging me off the stage, and they stopped him just before I had to go on. Later on that night, he turned out to be a great English guy. We were good friends by four in the morning -- he was Bob's security guy.We were about to record our second record, and Bob passed on a few lessons to me in the corner, one of which was, "Don't read anything in the paper. Don't watch TV. Get away." I felt that same thing at the time, overly inundated and somewhat like a commodity -- you'd watch TV or open the paper and our band was there as some kind of commodity. Our band had become part of the pollution.

You bootlegged concerts growing up. Still have the tapes?
I've still got them. I listened to them a lot. In a way, music for me was fucking heroin. It was something I needed. And to see a live show was something I needed, it gave me strength through adolescence and through this young adult life -- to feel like there was a purpose to get through this whole thing. After a live show, the high could wear off in a day or two. The bootleg recordings and listening back at them with your eyes closed and headphones seemed to make a crappy recording actually sound pretty good. It was like getting high again. I was a user.

Was there one you played a lot?
An earlier X show I listened to an infinite number of times. The early Who shows, at Golden Hall. The Pretenders. Bands like the Tubes. I'd record everybody but there are certainly ones that lasted forever.

Where'd you position the recorder?
It depends what kind of machine. A lot of them were early Walkmans. I had a CostClub-ten-percent deal. This was when they first came out, the first stereo recorders, so they were rather cumbersome compared to a whatchamacallit -- an iPod. You'd have to hold the whole cassette player up, but 4 or 5 years later you could plug a mic in and sneak it on your lapel. For every good bootleg I got, I probably got caught half the other times, because I was usually close to the stage. That's why I just wanted people to record a show and not be hassled by The Man.

So you got kicked out?
They'd take my recorder and rough me up. A lot of times, they'd take the tapes, which is a little nicer. Some guys were overly aggressive. I never once sold a tape. On very few occasions, if someone was very into it, I'd make them a copy.

Is there any comparison between surfing and crowd surfing?
The crowds are much more dangerous, because of the germs and bacteria in a sweaty mosh pit circa 1992. Now that the ocean has become fairly polluted, they might be about even.

As far as the feeling?
It's hard to get momentum standing up in a crowd, because people grab your shoes. That's one of the exciting things about a wave -- you're standing up and you have real good peripheral vision. There's something about surfing...these waves come from 2,000 miles away sometimes. These swells, they crack in a kind of firework, and you ride the firework and give it meaning, and you're connected to nature. It's like no other thing I've felt except for maybe music. And holding your newborn.

How much fun did you have getting onstage with the Kings of Leon?
It's a great record, and the song "Slow Night, So Long" -- I had disappeared onto some little island to write and surf and the only record I had besides the Pearl Jam stuff I was working on was that [Aha Shake Heartbreak]. I played it for some of the locals, who didn't know anything outside of their local traditional music, and they had such strong positive reactions to the record. It was a clean slate to bounce it off of. I was excited, and when they opened up for U2, I hadn't met them, but I wanted to tell them that story -- that their record transmits really well to unbiased ears. We started hanging out, and the second night we bashed some tambourines and it felt exciting.

Are they the cream of the crop as far as younger bands?
They certainly hit a reflex in me, and the new Strokes record is just a great piece of work. The sounds, and his vocal delivery is really great. Both those guys...

Caleb and Julian.
Yea, Caleb's vocal delivery is so unique and his phrasing; it's like what they used to say about Sinatra -- his phrasing is what really made it. I'm not into Sinatra, but I get that. George Jones is another thing, and even McCartney and Lennon. You listen to these songs, but it's unconscious the way they phrase things. Joey Ramone as well.

What kind of wine do you like onstage? As long as it's red?
As long as it's red and there's a spare in the back. There's this homemade stuff some friends have been making for me for the past few years, and I can't do without it now.
What kind of grapes?
I can't tell you; there's a bit of variation there. On the first leg of our last tour, I had been drinking regular wine, but I got the good stuff for our last show, and I don't know what kind of grapes they are but it's twice as potent. I realized this about halfway through the show. It was a political fundraiser, so I was like, "Damn I really gotta sober up!"

Why do you think the musical community has been so quiet recently about the war, about the president? Or maybe you don't think that?
I'm not sure what's out there. People like Steve Earle are a great example. He goes on Bill O'Reilly. It's beyond commendable. It's gutsy and I think a lot of it, it doesn't get heard. Or maybe people don't like to mess up a good time. I mean, we could talk about it in this interview, and it might not be the part that gets in. We could talk about Democrats and why they aren't leading an anti-war movement. Are they waiting for a shift in the polls? We could talk about our country in ways outside the war, like why they refused to sign the Kyoto Protocol, in regard to environment. Why aren't we agreeing to strengthen the conventions on biological weapons? Why haven't we signed the ban on landmines? Why haven't we banned the use of napalm? They refuse to be subject to the jurisdictions of the International Criminal Court. They can get away with anything. If you highlighted the classic aspects of this war, find out who's fighting and who's dying, and why are there billions of dollars being spent on this war and schools are crumbling and 45 million people in the US don't have health insurance? This is all stuff I've been reading in a book on Iraq called The Logic of Withdrawal by Anthony Arnove. It seems like it's a class issue, because there are things going on underneath this spectacle of war, and the Bush administration is using it as a distraction for the ills of this country that are being not only ignored but exacerbated. But, is anybody else saying that in interviews, and are they being edited? I'm not sure. Right now, we are in a situation where the "Worldwide Suicide" song is getting airplay, and three years ago that might not have happened. After 9/11, they took "Imagine" off the air! It's interesting...I'm not sure why.

Do you have a favorite self-titled record out there?
Ha ha. The first three Zeppelin records were untitled. Those are great.

Cool. But, your self-titling was the biggest group effort as a record.
It was meant to be. It was similar to how the first ones were: absolute democracy. When you collaborate, you still have this urge to stay in the studio after everyone's left and do it the way you want to. But you can't do that. Going back to what we were talking about, the Bush administration, they think they're making a solo record, leading our government and representing us to the rest of the world. And they're not allowed to do that, it's actually criminal.

They're the new Presidents of the United States of America.
Yeah! Where no one else is allowed to contribute. You had 15 million people in February 2003 come out to the largest global protest that the world has ever seen, and they were treated as a special interest group. That's the lack of respect we have to fight against. Going back to the record, in a way it feels like our first record, and also there's so much information in the songs and the lyrics, and it felt like one more title to sum it up was almost pretentious.

Do you feel better listening back at this album more than the others?
There's a grace period after you make a record, and you know what went into all the songs. And I don't think we've ever made a record where it didn't feel like our first record. Looking back, you can say, "that record is a little mid tempo" or "why was that the single?" I can't necessarily answer objectively, but I think, melodically speaking, the songs are pretty strong. I think the drumming on it is impeccable. Some of the players in the band like Mike and Matt, we figured out a way to create space for them to get to that level of energy that they have when we play live. I'm not sure how that happened -- it could have been released even more, but I think it's a step in the right direction.

Were you ever secretly pissed about Billy Ray Cyrus' Achy Breaky Heart keeping Ten out of the Number One spot?
No. I never even realized that. I'm sure there were other things to worry about at the time. I might even have been thankful that it wasn't Number One. I might reject the idea now. I'm mature enough to handle it, but at the time I couldn't handle it.

What do you remember about your first gig, as Mookie Blaylock?
The very first show we played was after my first trip to Seattle. On the 6th day we played a show, and on the 7th day we recorded. I know we were supposed to rest, but we recorded. What I remember is the sound check, because we were opening for two other bands on the bill, and they opened the doors during sound check, and I had my eyes closed and it was an empty club -- called the Off Ramp -- and I opened my eyes for the last chorus and the place was full. I had played for a number of bands, but I never played for a full house before. It's a good analogy, it happened kind of quick for us.

Do you remember who headlined?
No. No idea.

What's the most amazing thing you've seen from the stage?
I probably have an answer for each tour, if not each show. I remember a gig in Florida, it was a big baseball stadium, maybe towards the end of our second album tour. You always saw people get passed around the pit, it was the Norelco Razor with three pits going in the middle of one mass. That was the beginning of my lifeguard career -- I never felt like I looked up past the front, I was memorizing the faces and making sure you didn't lose anybody. I remember this wheelchair was being carried to the front. We got him up onstage...
There was somebody in it?!Yeah. We got him up onstage during "Rockin' in the Free World." And I heard last year that that was one of the guys in the movie Murderball.

No way!
I feel like I have a Polaroid of him in my archives somewhere.

What was the first record you bought?
I remember how much it cost -- $5. It was probably a Jackson 5 record. It might have been Got To Be There -- the Michael Jackson solo record...at like a liquor store.

In Illinois?
Yeah, in Chicago.

What about the last?
The Joe Strummer and the 101ers -- his early stuff. I got a batch though. I got the new Crosby record, which is genius. I bought another copy of the Evens record for my friend. When I finally get down to the store, I buy a lot. They know me down there. It's called Easy Street, which we played recently.

You played a benefit there, right?
All the independent record store owners were in town in Seattle, of which the owner of Easy Street is part of that organization. So we thought it would make him look good and he'd be proud if we played his shop.
Do you get ten percent off now?
He sent me a gift certificate, which I still haven't used. I feel like I need to be paying for music.

What about the record you've spun the most times or listened to the most?
It would've been a Who record until I discovered Fugazi, and now they've caught up. All the time through my adolescence I spun Who records, but Fugazi caught up.

Which one? 13 Songs, Steady Diet...?
13 Songs. But I think of their whole body of work as one record.

You've seen the documentary?
Instrument. Yeah.

Isn't it great?
If you go see the Evens play, it's one of the highest examples I can think of. Of course, Neil Young does it, and Pete Townsend does it, but the level of communication that takes place and the amount of respect Ian has for his audience -- even the guaranteed four knuckleheads in the audience. He really cares for their opinion. And at this point, he's mixing himself from the stage -- there's no house mixing guy. He and this woman, Amy, do it from the stage as a two-piece and it sounds full. And he asks, "Should the vocals be louder?" and he turns it up! The amount of communication that takes place...it's certainly not fucking Storytellers or something, but it's a reminder of how powerful the stage is and what responsibility comes with the mic. And this is from a guy who is a punk rock legend. It's evolved into a different form of communication, which is as deep as anything I've ever seen.

Cool. You mentioned Neil Young, have you played with his model trains?
Yes.

Is that exciting?
That's Neil's private thing, I'm not going to say anything about it.

What's the best song you've ever written?
Matt Cameron thought that "Thumbing My Way" was the nicest chord progression I had ever devised.

What about you personally, and lyrically?
I have a few on ukulele that I like. For me, I judge it by melodic substance these days. It's something Johnny Ramone drilled in my head. I think it's where we came from with the first few records, you took a piece of music and added your throat to be part of the noise -- if there was any melody there, it was unconscious.

A song like "Black", for instance?
I imagine that has some melody to it. I think being conscious about it, really focusing to make something beautiful...there's a difference between a song and music. I think it's the melodic structure. I think the songs that connect are the melodic ones, they are the really musical ones. I haven't figured the theory out yet, but there's a difference and music is the goal.

Was there something unique about the "elderlywomanbehindacounter" song?
I remember it only because it was so quick. We were recording the second record, and we stayed in this house in San Francisco, and I was outside the house in my own world and the little outhouse had a small room. I'm talking the size of a bathroom. I was able to fit a Shure Vocal Master, which is a 1960's PA, and two big towers of PA and a little amp and a 4 track. I slept in there too. I remember waking up one morning and playing pretty normal chords that sounded good, and I put on the vocal master to hear myself and it came out right quick. I don't even think I scribbled the lyrics down. It took 20 minutes. Stone was sitting outside reading the paper, and he was like "I really like that." So we recorded it that day.

Did it spring from a dream?
It's funny you say that, because in my head I was going back to where I lived in San Diego but picturing myself older. Exactly right. It was bizarre...I forgot that.

For some reason, right now, I'm thinking it's the greatest Pearl Jam song ever.
The thing is, the dream was still alive...sorry. I had just woken up and started playing it, so the content was still in my brain.

Jack Johnson's dad told me some story of you almost dying on some outrigger adventure?
At no point did I think we were going to die while it was happening. About 2 weeks later I took a boat out to the scene of the crime, quite a ways off shore with some pretty heavy current, and the swells were pretty big and we got knocked off a sailing canoe, and it was only then, seeing where we were and the conditions, that I felt the need to vomit. Survival instincts kicked in, though, and I knew we might be out in the water for maybe 8 hours, but I knew for sure we'd get in. I might have been wrong, because the currents were going one way and the wind another. I didn't know that at the time, so instead of hitting the spot in the island where it juts out with a little port there, we were probably headed to Tahiti. After what seemed like a pretty long spell, the sole fishing boat in the water that day -- a guy and his 8-year-old daughter were out, and she saw us waving paddles. She couldn't have seen our heads, they were like coconuts. It was a good night on land that night.

You tied one on?
It was interesting hearing everyone's experience. We went around the campfire and talked about what everyone was thinking. And the two girls I was with in the water, they said they actually saw the headline in their minds...

Right? On MTV. "Eddie Vedder and two others die in canoe!"
What's-his-name dies with...Yeah! Eddie Vedder -- what's-his-name -- dies along with two others.

So I'm glad for everyone's sake that that didn't happen.

Posted Apr 21, 2006 4:39 PM

April 19, 2006

Jazz Quotes #1

...it bugs me when people try to analyze jazz as an intellectual theorem. It's not. It's feeling.
~ Bill Evans


Making the simple complicated is commonplace; making the complicated simple, awesomely simple, that's creativity.
~ Charles Mingus


Jazz is a feeling, more than anything else. It isn't music, it's language...
~ Enos Payne

Jazz isn't dead, it just smells funny.
~ Frank Zappa

Only play what you hear. If you don't hear anything, don't play anything.
~ Chick Corea

Boxing is like jazz, the better it is, the less people appreciate it.
~ George Foreman

Life is a lot like jazz... it's best when you improvise...
~ George Gershwin

Men have died for this music. You can't get more serious than that.
~ Dizzy Gillespie

I'm not here to raise hippie consciousness, I'm here to wet some panties.
~ Jaco Pastorius

Music is born out of the inner sounds within a soul; all the music that was ever heard came from the inner silence in every musician.
~ John McLaughlin

[Jazz singing] is like pornography. You can't say what it is, but you know it when you see it.
~ Kurt Elling

Man, if you have to ask what it (jazz) is, you'll never know.
~ Louis Armstrong

When you're creating your own shit, even the sky ain't the limit.
~ Miles Davis

Jazz is freedom. You think about that.
~ Thelonius Monk

I'll play it first and tell you what it is later.
~ Miles Davis

Biography # Orishas

It's been quite a journey since Orishas released their first album 'A Lo Cubano' in Spain in May 1999. Lauded by the press throughout Europe ever since it came out, the group launched into a marathon tour that started in summer 1999. From clubs to festivals, the European tour stretched out to just over two years with evening performances of their music catalogue at the Olympia, the Ancienne Belgique and the Royal Festival Hall in England. They were to play at the most prestigious festivals in Europe like the Lowlands (Holland), where they topped the bill along with groups like Deftones and Cypress Hill, and the Rosckilde (Denmark), where they brewed up a storm alongside groups as disparate as Tool and Wyclef Jean. Orishas also performed in the year 2000 at festivals like the Paleo Nyon Festival, the La Rochelle Francofolies and Pop Kom.

The group gradually acquired international standing, and after conquering Europe they went on to win over the United States in November 2000, with the American press unanimous in its acclaim: articles and reviews in Time, Rolling Stone, The Source, Vibe ,... Little by little they became an essential live band, capable of sharing the stage with artists as diverse as Compay Segundo, Orquestra Aragon, Iggy Pop, Cypress Hill, Macy Gray and Marcus Miller. Orishas paid their dues on the road and left Europe to take part in various jazz festivals in Canada and South Africa, dropping in on Brazil and Mexico. Orishas left no doubt that their musical fusion, unique in its genre, enables them to break the frontiers of style and to be equally at home in front of a latino, hip hop, pop or rock audience.

December saw their triumphal return to Cuba, where they had occupied the top slots of the radio charts for months and where they gave two concerts that brought together tens of thousands of young Cubans. They had come full circle, because after touring the world Orishas' dream finally came true: playing in front of their families and the people of Cuba.

Collaborations came thick and fast, with Roldan Gonzalez appearing on various French rap albums (Kerry James) or international rap albums (,Dari, Weasel / Portugal).

After more than 200 concerts worldwide, the group decided to get back to song writing in August 2001. It was only to be expected that they would start working together again with the French producer and composer Niko Noki, (Passi, Bisso Na Bisso), who along with Roldan Gonzalez had been responsible for the tracks on the first album. He in turn engaged the services of a young composer of the future, DJ Mig-One, who had two albums with his group Starflam under his belt. They strung several studio sessions together between Belgium and Paris to knock up no fewer than twenty tracks. In November 2001 the group was ready at last to go back into the studio proper to record the successor to A Lo Cubano. They opted for the EMI studio in Paris, where the cream of Cuban musicians gathered at the group's behest to immortalise the songs of the Emigrante album. The group had matured and learned a great deal from touring the world, the subjects are more profound and given a more international treatment. Having had their eyes opened by the big world has had a visible impact on their writing. As on the first album, Miko Niko is in charge of musical production and most of the tracks, DJ Mig One has penned 3 compositions that underpin the plurality of their influences. The album was mixed at the Polygone studio in Toulouse under the auspices of Mario Rodriguez (Notorious Big, Public Enemy, Mobb Deep, Fonky Family, 113,...). Once again the alchemy is perfect. The new album sees the return of two very talented artists and long-standing friends of the group: Passi on La Vida Passa and Yuri Buenaventura on 300 Kg de Rap.

The new album has a pan-European release on April 22, 2002 and is being promoted in a tour that takes in more than ten countries before being presented on the stages of the major European festivals this summer

February 16, 2006

Jazz Fusion

JAZZ FUSION : A HISTORICAL TIMELINE

Since the early 1970s, fusion music has served as an appreciable back door for people seeking an entry into the complexities of jazz. The term “fusion” refers to the blending together of jazz, rock, world music, classical, or other influences into a concrete whole. Most often it's applied to a form of music also known as “jazz-rock”, which first gained wide popularity with Miles Davis' electric-jazz experiments in the late 60s. Today there is an earnest resurgence in fusion across America and the world, with a vast number of technically brilliant musicians creating exciting sounds, and classic recordings being reissued in droves. Before dealing with the current scene, however, it's best to begin building a fusion library by heading back to its roots.

Prior to Davis' innovations, a small scattering of jazzmen attempted to fuse jazz and rock. British guitarist Alexis Korner cut his first album of electric jazz-blues as early as 1962, and other British electric-bluesmen (Graham Bond, John Mayall) flirted with jazz inflections throughout the 60s. In about 1966 the Free Spirits (guitarists Chip Baker and Larry Coryell, saxophonist Jim Pepper, drummer Bob Moses, bassist Chris Hills) began toying with a union of jazz and the pop sounds that had set American youth on fire: Bob Dylan, the Beatles, the Stones. Unfortunately, the Free Spirits' sole album, Out of Sight and Sound (1966, ABC-Paramount), has been unavailable for decades despite being the true herald of jazz-rock fusion's arrival. The concept was still shaky and Coryell's vocals did little to help matters, but for its landmark status alone it is a valuable record.

Coryell moved on to work with trumpeter Randy Brecker, then with vibraphonist Gary Burton's quartet. In '66 Burton had semi-successfully fused jazz and country on the album Tennessee Firebird (RCA), produced by Chet Atkins. Moving towards rock seemed the next logical step. Albums like Duster (RCA, 1967) followed, utilizing rock rhythms and Coryell's acidic tone to good advantage. Decked out in beaded buckskins, Burton subsequently became a favorite feature of American rock festivals.

Gary Burton: Duster (1967, RCA; reissued 1997, Koch)
Burton's first successful entry into jazz-rock fusion, still more jazz than rock but pointing the way ahead. Compositions by bassist Steve Swallow, Carla Bley and Mike Gibbs are savvily interpreted by Burton, Swallow, Larry Coryell and drummer Roy Haynes. Coryell's sharp tone, deeply inflected by the blues, offers the main rock flavoring on tunes like “Ballet”, “Liturgy”, and Swallow's hippie-esque “General Mojo's Well-Laid Plan”. The album received an astonishing 5-star review from Down Beat upon its initial release.

Following his service with Burton, Coryell joined with saxophonist Steve “The Count” Marcus to form Count's Rock Band. The group was rounded out by Chris Hills and Bob Moses from the Free Spirits, New Zealand-born keyboardist Mike Nock, and percussionist Chris Swanson. Their assimilation of rock elements was more overt than in Burton's quartet. Pop song covers and Nock's kitschy harpsichord assured a young following for Count's Rock Band for a time. The group's self-titled debut album was released in '69 on the Vortex label (an Atlantic subsidiary), concurrently with Marcus' own effort, The Lord's Prayer.


Count's Rock Band/Steve Marcus: Count's Rock Band/The Lord's Prayer (reissued 1999, Collectables Jazz Classics)
This Collectables two-fer combines a pair of Marcus-centered albums from '69 that cross over between jazz and rock with varying degrees of success. There's “hippie” written all over much of this, but in a fairly pleasing way. “Theresa's Blues”, “Scarborough Fair”, Chris Hills' “Ooh Baby”, Bob Moses' lovely ballad “Amy”, Miroslav Vitous' “Hope”, and the lushly orchestrated “T. with Strings” are the high points and well worth the price. The Count's material suffers a bit from questionable accordion sections and puny solo interludes. But despite the featherweight melody, the Stones' “Back Street Girl” is priceless for its headlong leap into free-jazz fury. The Lord's Prayer material is even sketchier: the eight-minute “Hey Jude” plods along like a zombie, drummer Larry Clark thinks far too much of himself, “The Lord's Prayer” doesn't make for good free jazz, and the godawful kid-with-her-recorder rendition of “America” is a national insult. But the myriad faults aside, this two-fer still has some excellent, innovative music to recommend it. For historical purposes, pick it up and then program your player selectively.

From his development of cool jazz in the late 40s on, Miles Davis was one of the most consistently innovative musicians in jazz. His relaxed, Harmon-muted style of bop in the mid-50s gave way to modal scale experiments, ambiguous forms sans chords, tense ostinato pieces, and finally the blending of acoustic and electronic instruments. It's said that Miles' confluence of jazz and rock stemmed as much from Columbia Records' threats to drop him if he didn't produce more hits as from his personal pursuit of innovation. Whatever the cause, Davis brought in a succession of keyboard players who concentrated on electric piano and organ: Joe Zawinul, Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett. These fresh sounds added vitality and rich textures to Davis' band, and the music created around the new instruments was like little heard before. His first full-body leap into jazz-rock fusion came with In A Silent Way (1969, Columbia) in close collaboration with Zawinul, who had previously dealt out masterful soul-jazz with Cannonball Adderley's groups. The album was a clarion call to forward-minded players and fans, a firm indication that the new music could indeed be successfully combined with the old.


Miles Davis: The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions (tracks originally issued 1969; reissued 2001, Columbia/Legacy)
On the ground-breaking In A Silent Way , the acoustic instruments of Davis, Wayne Shorter, Dave Holland and Tony Williams were combined with John McLaughlin's electric guitar, Joe Zawinul's organ, and the twin electric pianos of Chick Corea and Herbie Hancock. Each side of the original LP held a medley of two themes. Miles' 18-minute-plus “Shhh/Peaceful”, dramatically tense, followed by Zawinul's lovely title tune, buoyed by a bass drone and sporadic keyboard pulses. Partway through its proceedings, the more ominous minor theme of Miles' “It's About That Time” emerges, a subtle but telling change of mood. Both sides featured virtuosic playing by all the musicians, particularly the then-unfamiliar McLaughlin. The album has been reissued under the Columbia/Legacy imprint. The three discs in this set contain sessions from a six-month period (September '68 to February '69) when Miles was experimenting heavily with electronic instrumentation in a jazz context. Several of these tracks were originally issued on later albums: Filles de Kilimanjaro ('68); Water Babies ('76); Circle in the Round ('79); and Directions ('81). Other tracks are heard here for the first time. In finally hearing this continuum of music in the order in which the pieces were recorded, the progression from the forbidding modality of the Shorter/Williams acoustic band to the eventual funk-rock mayhem of Bitches Brew is made especially clear. Jack DeJohnette and Joe Chambers each hold the drum chair on certain tracks. This set sheds new light on the directions that Miles was considering in the period, smooths out some rough jumps in his discography, and offers a glimpse at the evolution of these timeless sessions. Essential and simply astonishing.


Miles Davis: The Complete Bitches Brew Sessions (tracks originally issued 1969, Columbia; reissued 1998, Columbia/Legacy)
Davis followed In A Silent Way with a double-disc release that both broke new ground in studio technology and set his course for the next few years. Few albums can claim the controversy of Bitches Brew , recorded in August 1969 and engineered in an unusual cut-and-paste fashion by Teo Macero. Davis and his cadre recorded a huge volume of music over those three days, which Macero then assembled into a shocking collage of funky bass ostinatos, crushingly powerful solo snippets, echo effects, and some of the loudest ensemble work ever recorded up to that time. Wayne Shorter's soprano and John McLaughlin's fiery electric guitar slice furiously through the dance-beat jungle conjured by Chick Corea, Jack DeJohnette, acoustic bassist Dave Holland, bass guitarist Harvey Brooks, and the rest of the entourage. The “Complete” reissue includes alternates and outtakes culled from the mountain of tape Macero initially wove into a frightening masterpiece, some of which were later issued on Big Fun and Circle in the Round. Even if you end up hating it, Bitches Brew is one of those albums that one must hear in order to understand what followed it. Subsequent efforts like On The Corner and Get Up With It (all remastered and reissued by Columbia/Legacy in the past few years) drew from the Bitches Brew formula, until Davis' groove finally seemed to get stuck in a morass of sameness.

The late 60s saw a new vogue in rock bands sporting horn sections, with a few successes and many clones. Blood, Sweat and Tears and Chicago ruled the roost, with Tower of Power stirring in the funk later on. The Ides of March and vibist Mike Mainieri's White Elephant were less prosperous, while Chicago's The Flock have been all but forgotten. More's the pity, since their self-titled album is one of the best of the bunch. Led by guitarist Fred Glickstein, The Flock's ace in the hole was violinist Jerry Goodman, a long-haired wildman whose ferocious improvisations could levitate the bandstand.


The Flock: The Flock (1969, Columbia; reissued 1996, Sony Music Special Products)
A phenomenal release by an underappreciated force in jazz-rock fusion. The opening guitar/violin duo tips us off that this isn't your average album. Guitarist Fred Glickstein's singing and songwriting is reminiscent of the Jefferson Airplane's Marty Balin. Jerry Goodman's violin usually steals the show; his psychotic intro to the ultra-groovy cover of The Kinks' “Tired of Waiting” is a kick in the head. The funky horn line and “yeah, yeah” backing vocals stack up the good, clean fun.

Meanwhile, back in the UK, the members of the so-called “Canterbury school” were fashioning their own fusion hybrid. In 1968 drummer/singer Robert Wyatt, guitarist Kevin Ayres and organist Michael Ratledge formed the Soft Machine, which originally played an extension of the electric blues of Graham Bond and the Cream. Bassist Hugh Hopper joined in time for the band's second album, followed by saxophonist Elton Dean. After a few years the Soft Machine morphed from a blues-rock band into a jazz ensemble with rock undertones. They were one of Europe's most influential crossover bands during their decade of life, inspiring the eventual birth of Gong, Matching Mole, and other units. On the more soulful side of the tracks was keyboardist/singer Brian Auger, whose bands Trinity and Oblivion Express got down and funky for much of the 60s and 70s.


Soft Machine: Volumes I and II (1968-69, MCA; reissued on one CD 1995, Big Beat)
The first two Soft Machine albums, combined on one gloriously strange CD. Robert Wyatt's effeminate falsetto vocals are a stark contrast to Michael Ratledge's abrasive organ tone and Kevin Ayres' shimmering guitar. The music is schizophrenic at times, scooting quickly from tender ballad to rhythmic free-for-all. Psychedelic anthems share space with gentle interludes, white-boy R&B, and “The Concise British Alphabet” (forwards and backwards, yet). Horns are added for the avant-leaning “Out of Tunes” and Mingus-flavored “Orange Skin Food”, increasing the jazz profile. Essential if a tad bizarre.


Brian Auger's Oblivion Express: The Best of Brian Auger's Oblivion Express (1996, Polygram)
Two discs of prime Auger, highlighting two dozen tracks including covers of Eddie Harris' “Freedom Jazz Dance”, Wes Montgomery's “Bumpin' on Sunset”, and Marvin Gaye's “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)”, and originals like “Dragon Song” and “Second Wind”. Auger and friends at their soulful best.

Stateside, John McLaughlin joined ex-Davis drummer Tony Williams and organist Larry Young to form the trio Lifetime. Williams' aggressiveness complemented McLaughlin's acid attack and Young's angular technique in a mind-boggling union of technical expertise. Lifetime debuted on record in 1969 with Emergency! (Polydor), a brilliant showcase for the three men's exceptional talents. McLaughlin in particular barged brashly through the doors that Coryell had kicked open a few years prior, his scathing tone powerful enough to chip paint off the walls. Williams continued his climb into fusion prominence with his next band, Spectrum, while Young moved into free jazz until his untimely death in 1978. And, as he later revealed, McLaughlin had his own tricks up his sleeve.


Tony Williams Lifetime: Emergency! (1969, Polydor; reissued 1997, Polygram)
The incendiary debut of a sensational fusion trio. From the first tense alarum of the opening track, Williams, John McLaughlin and Larry Young stage an unmerciful assault on the status quo of jazz. Young's anxious organ tone is especially disquieting all through the session. The double-tracked blues guitars of “Via the Spectrum Road” are marvelous. The sole downer here is Williams' unconvincing vocals, but they do little to tame the intensity of this unparalleled set.

In the summer of '71 McLaughlin formed his own multicultural group with ex-Flock violinist Jerry Goodman, Czech pianist Jan Hammer, Irish bassist Rick Laird and Panamanian drummer Billy Cobham. The Mahavishnu Orchestra was inspired by McLaughlin's interest in Indian musics and cultures, particularly the teachings of Sri Chinmoy, and the group's almost impenetrably complex music marked a new horizon in fusion's development. Loud volume, lightning speed and exotic time signatures and scales were among the hallmarks of Mahavishnu. For a few years McLaughlin's ensemble represented the pinnacle of fusion, but by 1974 the concept had grown thin and a mid-80s reunion simply fizzled.


Mahavishnu Orchestra: The Inner Mounting Flame (1971, Columbia; reissued 1998, Columbia/Legacy)
The debut of one of fusion's most technically phenomenal bands. McLaughlin and company navigate harrowing original compositions with breakneck speed and unmatched articulation, resulting in music of fresh excitement and constant surprises. The leader's electric guitar is unbearably intense at times, while his acoustic work is gentle as a lamb. This is a band in the best sense of the word, each member contributing complementary parts to the greater whole.


Mahavishnu Orchestra: Birds of Fire (1972, Columbia; reissued 2001, Columbia/Legacy)
Mahavishnu's second effort went gold and rode the Billboard charts for 11 weeks. Some of McLaughlin's exotic spirituality and Hammer's synthesizers seem a bit cloying in hindsight (in what other decade could the tiny noise clusters of “Sapphire Bullets of Pure Love” have been put to wax?) but the unbridled virtuosity and creativity here remain undiminished. The stunning sonic embroidery can still knock listeners flat on their backs, Cobham's insane pace gives veteran drummers pause, and McLaughlin's controlled burblings carry even more propulsive weight in this digital repackaging.


Billy Cobham: Rudiments: The Billy Cobham Anthology (2001, Rhino)
In 1973 Billy Cobham broke from the Mahavishnu ranks and became a bandleader in his own right, crafting some of the most exciting (and occasionally generic) fusion of the 70s and 80s. He started the ball rolling that year with Spectrum , an Atlantic issue which included Mahavishnu keyboardist Jan Hammer, session bassist Lee Sklar, and young guitar wizard Tommy Bolin. Later gatherings under the titanic drummer's leadership featured keyboardist George Duke, bassists John Williams, Alphonso Johnson and Alex Blake, the Brecker Brothers (trumpeter Randy and reedman Michael), guitarists John Scofield and John Abercrombie, and many others. Rudiments collects some of Cobham's best tracks recorded for the Atlantic label, focusing largely upon his amazing drum skills and respectable compositions.

Despite the work of Jerry Goodman and other pioneers, it was Jean-Luc Ponty who almost single-handedly carved a niche for the violin within fusion. From his earliest efforts with Frank Zappa (the wonderful King Kong ) through his mega-hit 1970s albums like Imaginary Voyage , Ponty was the voice of fusion violin for a couple of decades. In the 90s his star faded a bit as he returned to France and took part in specialty projects like The Rite of Strings, with guitarist Al DiMeola and bassist Stanley Clarke, but he quickly returned to prominence in the new century.


Jean-Luc Ponty: The Very Best of Jean-Luc Ponty (2000, Rhino)
A “best-of” that's truly worthy of its title, this release collects sixteen of Ponty's best tracks from his 1970s heyday. He performs on both acoustic and electric violins on favorites such as “Infinite Pursuit”, “Bowing-Bowing” (with guest Patrice Rushen on keys), “Cosmic Messenger”, “New Country”, and “Enigmatic Ocean, Part 3”.

Keyboardist Chick Corea also built a platinum career after his tenure with Miles Davis. After some excellent acoustic albums and a brief dabbling in free jazz with the quartet Circle, Corea went in a completely new direction in 1971 with his band Return To Forever. Originally a mostly acoustic ensemble featuring Brazilian singer Flora Purim and her husband, percussionist Airto Moreira, RTF blossomed into a powerful fusion group with guitarist Al DiMeola, electric bassist Stanley Clarke and drummer Lenny White among its heavies.


Return To Forever: Romantic Warrior (1976, Columbia)
Given the absence of a really good overview of RTF's output (both the Columbia Best Of and Sony's This Is Jazz, Vol. 12 , devoted to the band, are insufficient), this 1976 release is probably the best starting place to appreciate the band in their prime. (Its Grammy-winning predecessor, No Mystery , is ironically unavailable now.) Corea, DiMeola, Clarke and White were at the peak of their group intuitiveness here, and the themes were among the band's most entertaining. The tunes by DiMeola were especially exciting, demonstrating the rock-tinged chops that he later let slide in favor of more introspective forms. RTF subsequently became a “horn band” with Joe Farrell and four other wind-blowers, and the music lost a great deal of its edge. Romantic Warrior was sort of the last hurrah of a truly great concept. Clarke went on to become one of the most inspirational bassists in contemporary music, though a string of poorly executed albums bogged him down in sorry funk and soul gunk.


Al DiMeola: Anthology (2001, Columbia/Legacy)
After departing Return To Forever, DiMeola became yet another of Columbia's shining fusion stars with a series of impressive albums between 1975 and 1983. This collection showcases the best of those discs, centered upon his mind-boggling chops and equal appreciation of Latin and classical forms. His sidemen here include guitarist Anthony Jackson, drummers Steve Gadd, Alphonse Mouzon and Lenny White, bassist Jaco Pastorius, keyboardist Jan Hammer, and even Genesis drummer Phil Collins on one track. Unlike Corea, Clarke, and many of his other contemporaries, DiMeola's recordings from this period tend to sound fresh and exciting even a quarter-century along. “Land of the Midnight Sun”, “Race With Devil on Spanish Highway” Corea's “Senor Mouse”, “Bianca's Midnight Lullaby”, and “Egyptian Danza” are among the high points of this two-disc compendium.

Like RTF, Weather Report began its life as an almost acoustic ensemble. Keyboardist Joe Zawinul and saxophonist Wayne Shorter, two more Davis alumni, formed the band's core for its whole life. The original incarnation of Weather Report, a quintet with bassist Miroslav Vitous, drummer Alphonse Mouzon and percussionist Airto Moreira, released their self-titled debut on Columbia in 1971. A large number of personnel changes then ensued, particularly in the drum and percussion chairs (only Spinal Tap was harder on drummers!) In 1973 Vitous was replaced by the more funk-minded Alphonso Johnson, an highly impressive bassist who was unfortunately overshadowed by his own replacement: Jaco Pastorius. The double-jointed, maniacally animated Jaco soon became the be-all and end-all of electric bass, his stupendous technique and imagination inspiring the next full generation of bassists and almost obscuring his bandmates' contributions to Weather Report's awesome presence. Heavy Weather , from 1977, gave the band its biggest hit (”Birdland”) and a #1 spot on the Billboard jazz chart. After Jaco's departure, Victor Bailey held the bass chair for a few more years until Weather Report folded in 1985, Shorter deciding to move on to new adventures. Zawinul briefly attempted to keep the ship afloat as Weather Update, with guitarist Steve Khan up front, but to little avail.


Weather Report: The Best of Weather Report (2002, Columbia/Legacy)
An excellent collection of mid-period WR tracks, skipping the earliest days with Miroslav Vitous and a few later misses like the band's swansong, This Is This. Produced by Bob Belden, the anthology includes major hits like “Birdland” and “A Remark You Made” along with less-remembered gems like “The Elders” and the Zawinul-Shorter duet “Blackthorn Rose”. About as good as a single-disc collection could be; thankfully, almost all of WR's albums have been reissued on CD so one can fill in the gaps. The double-disc Live and Unreleased (2002, Columbia/Legacy) presents many superior concert performances with few disappointments evident.


Jaco Pastorius: Jaco Pastorius (1976, Columbia)
John Francis Pastorius, the self-proclaimed “World's Greatest Bass Player”, took the jazz market by storm with his 1976 debut album. Filled to the brim with his signature bravado (how many other people would attempt a solo bass version of Charlie Parker's “Donna Lee”?) Jaco set the standard for bassists worldwide with his use of true and false harmonics (”Portrait of Tracy”, “Continuum”), fleet fingerstyle, and wholly original conceptions. Guests include Herbie Hancock and soul singers Sam and Dave.

In the 1980s fusion faced a quick descent from marketplace popularity, as audiences started seeking more personally relative musical and emotional content without all the showy chops that typified what fusion had come to represent. Guitarist Allan Holdsworth was one of the few artists to continue expanding the fusion umbrella without descending into either rock or smooth jazz. The rise of grunge and thrash-metal on the rock side, and glossy-slick contemporary jazz on the other end, meant more nails in the coffins of fusion and its homely cousin, hair-band heavy metal.

Allan Holdsworth: Metal Fatigue (1985, Enigma)
In the period before Holdsworth fell in love with the Synthaxe and completely changed the face of fusion once again, he was one of the most gifted electric guitarists in the business. His fleet, legato phrasing and pinpoint-accurate use of the tremolo bar were but two signatures of his unique and influential style. This head-spinning album features vocalist Paul Williams, bassist Jimmy Johnson, ex-Zappa drummer Chad Wackerman, and some of Holdsworth's most sizzling guitar work. The title track and “Devil Take The Hindmost” are highlights.

In the mid-1990s, however, a gradual resurgence of interest began creeping back into the industry. Some musicians who had previously let technical skill take the place of musical quality realized their error and began to temper their performances with moderation and more appreciable tunes. Meanwhile, some listeners who had grown tired of what 1990s radio had to offer — increasingly bare-bones music made by people with little or no formal training but plenty of personality flaws — started craving the sort of visceral excitement they had gotten from fusion in times past. With the establishment of Tone Center, a label associated with the Shrapnel rock/metal umbrella, fusion reclaimed a firm hold on the marketplace. Drummer Steve Smith, formerly of Journey and presently of fusion powerhouse Vital Information, plays a key role in Tone Center's A&R and production. Other imprints like Intuition and Favored Nations (founded by shred-metal star Steve Vai) began turning out excellent fusion-oriented albums by Vital Information, bassist Stu Hamm, guitarists Steve Lukather and Larry Carlton, and other artists. The past few years have seen a consistent number of outstanding fusion releases hit the market running.


Tribal Tech: Rocket Science (2000, Tone Center)
Tribal Tech is one of the most prominent ensembles to come out of the new wave of fusion. Guitarist Scott Henderson, bassist Gary Willis, keyboardist Scott Kinsey, and drummer Kirk Covington skillfully navigate the factors that made fusion great: complex but gripping tunes, the highest level of musicianship and technical prowess, and a good dose of fun. Rocket Science is one of their best offerings yet, giving a good-spirited nod to the cheesy sci-fi soundtracks of yore while ever pushing their music towards new frontiers. Danceable, full of laughs, and awe-inspiring by turns.


Vital Tech Tones: VTT2 (2001, Tone Center)
Another successful team: Tribal Tech guitarist Scott Henderson, drummer Steve Smith, and bassist Victor Wooten of bluegrass-jazz mavens Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. This trio really hit their stride on their sophomore release, blending effortlessly with one another as they pushed their instruments and creativity to the limits. Henderson is simply in a class by himself, a walking textbook of guitar technique and classy note selectivity. .


Gambale/Hamm/Smith: The Light Beyond (2001, Tone Center)
Not to sound like a cheerleader for Tone Center or Steve Smith, but this listing should give you some idea of the high quality of modern fusion under their guidance. This time Smith is teamed with Aussie guitarist Frank Gambale and former Joe Satriani bassist Stuart Hamm on a session marked by startling empathy and exquisite songcraft. Smith's drum layers and Hamm's slaps and pops are sweet complements to Gambale's blissful melodicism.


Vital Information: Live Around The World: Where We Come From Tour 1998-1999 (2001, Intuition)
A two-disc set of hot highlights from VI's successful world tour. Smith, Gambale, keyboardist Tom Coster, and new bassist Baron Browne play an interesting variety of material including John Coltrane's “Mr. P.C.”, Led Zeppelin's “Moby Dick” (which kicks off with a finger-busting solo by Browne), Ornette Coleman's “Happy House”, and Carlos Santana's “Europa” (with co-writer Coster on accordion). Always enjoyable, rarely predictable.

In the long interim after Count's Rock Band and the Free Spirits, Larry Coryell played freely with the Jazz Composers Orchestra, got funky with Herbie Mann, and sailed back into fusion with his own Eleventh House. Later on, after kicking his alcohol habit, Coryell established a reputation as a reliable mainstream jazz guitarist of considerable talent. Saxman Steve Marcus, his erstwhile cohort, spent over a decade in Buddy Rich's band with various other projects on the side. In 2001 Tone Center managed to reunite the two old buddies under the appropriate moniker Count's Jam Band, giving them a chance to revisit older material and craft bright new creations as well.


Count's Jam Band: Reunion (2001, Tone Center)
The long-awaited reunion of Steve Marcus and Larry Coryell, now in the company of Steve Smith and bassist Kai Eckhardt. Excellent alterations of older favorites like “Foreplay”, “Scotland”, and “Tomorrow Never Knows”, a pensive “Ballad for Soprano and Guitar”, and more. Jam-band veteran Jeff Chimenti sits in on piano for a couple of tracks. Marcus has been sorely underappreciated as a soprano saxophonist, and Coryell proves that he has lost little of his grand old fire. An essential document of contemporary fusion.


Jean-Luc Ponty: Life Enigma (2001, JLP Productions)
After a rather quiet period of reflection and experimentation, Ponty re-emerged in 2001 with his own label and this marvelous offering. Life Enigma reconfigures the pop consciousness of his past into a sound more appropriate for the new century, with Ponty's violin sometimes run through a Synclavier for beautiful washes of color and texture