Listening to Prestige 692: Bobby Timmons

LISTEN TO ONE: Gettin' it Togetha'

 This is Bobby Timnons's third album for Prestige, with as many rhythm sections, a trend whichy was to continue throughout his tenure with the label -- and beyond, for that matter. This time around, it's Keter Betts and the artist known here as Al Heath, but surely better known by the nickname that followed him through his life -- Tootie.

Betts was, in mid-1964, best known for his work with Charlie Byrd, the Washington, DC-based guitarist who introduced the bossa nova to north-of-the-border audiences in a collaboration with Stan Getz, Jazz Samba, two years before Getz/Gilberto made a major jazz star out of housewife Astrud Gilberto, whose recent passing was much mourned. Betts was the bass player on Jazz Samba, but his work with Byrd would be eclipsed in 1964

by the start of a long association with a major jazz luminary, and I don't mean Bobby Timmons (although he would make one more album with Timmons). He was hired by Ella Fitzgerald, and remained with her, with some side trips for other gigs, until her retirement in 1993.

Albert "Tootie" Heath had done two earlier sessions with Prestige. The first, with John Coltrane in 1957, is a session of historical importance because it marked the beginning of Trane's career as an independent artist. He had been fired by Miles Davis earlier in the year, along with other members of the quintet, for heroin abuse. He had gone back to Philadelphia, pulled his life together, and returned to New York to make this album.

It was Heath's only collaboration with Coltrane, but Mal Waldron, who had played piano on the same date, called him back to Englewood Cliffs for a trio session. And over a long and storied career, he played with pretty much everyone, including his brothers.

Timmons, with the huge success of "Moanin'" and "Dat Dere," had developed a considerable following, as "soul jazz pianist," and even more as "soul jazz composer." It was a mixed blessing, as success often is. 

Certainly the success was real. "Moanin'" is, according to secondhandsongs.com, the 11th-most covered song of 1958, with 199 versions to date. That places it behind such memorable songs as "Desafinado" (number one, with 416 covers), "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," "Volare," and Johnny B. Goode--and ahead of "Summertime Blues," "Peter Gunn" and "The Chipmunk Song." "Dat Dere" has been recorded 109 times. Each of these songs was helped by lyrics written by two of the most talented jazz-inspired lyricists. Jon Hendricks for "Moanin'" and Oscar Brown Jr. for "Dat Dere," but the lyrics would be nothing without the melodies, and in fact both songs have been even more widely covered in their instrumental forms.

It can be tough to be pigeonholed, and some blame it for Timmons's heroin addiction and early death, but addiction has complex causes. In any case, Timmons set out prove he was more than just a writer and performer of simple, catchy tunes, and if he would ultimately be remembered as the guy who wrote "Moanin'," he left a recorded legacy much more varied, and very much worth listening to. This session was made up of two originals, two Brazilian bossa novas, and two standards.

The session begins with a song written by Betts and Charlie Byrd, "Chun King," which Byrd would also record a couple of times. It's an interesting choice. The jazz samba sound of Charlie Byrd, of Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto, is a whispery gossamer, not something you'd associate with the hard-driving block chords and gutbucket blues approach of soul jazz disciple Bobby Timmons. And indeed, Timmons doesn't neglect his funky roots--but at the same time, he respects the delicacy of the composition. And this is even more true with the second bossa nova, one of Antonio Carlos Jobim's best-known compositions, and probably second only to "The Girl from Ipanema" on the Getz/Gilberto album, "O Grande Amor" (culturally transmogrified into "O Grand Amour" for the Prestige album). Timmons does a sensitive take on it, block chords mostly left behind, to a propulsive beat by "Tootie" Heath. When Timmons does let go and make the improvisation his own, it still feels in keeping with the spirit of the piece.

He also does two ballads from the Great American Songbook, "I Could Have Danced All Night" and "Someone to Watch Over Me." These are clearly chosen because Timmons loves the melodies, and you can feel that love from all three musicians. At the same time, they're uniquely Timmons -- you can't imagine Red Garland taking this approach to standards.

And there are two Timmons originals, and why not? He was one of the significant composers of his age, and wanting to branch out did not mean completely rejecting soul jazz. Certainly, if you title a piece "Gettin' it Togetha'," that should be a clue that you're not turning your back on soul jazz. And if "Gettin' it Togetha'" did not become the standard that "Moanin'," "Dis Here" and "Dat Dere" did, it's still a solid effort, right in the Timmons wheelhouse. And if "Walking Death" isn't quite as catchy, it's still a good tune.

Chun King is an excellent showcase of Timmons's range and talent for the album buyer, but Prestige knew where his appeal to the jukebox crowd lay. The first 45 RPM single from the session had "Chun King" on the A side, because bossa nova was still riding high, with Prestige hedging its bet by backing it with a soul number, "A Little Barefoot Soul" on the flip side. The followup single was all soul jazz--  "Gettin' It Togetha' / Walkin', Wadin', Sittin', Ridin'."

Ozzie Cadena produced.