Tad Richards' odyssey through the catalog of Prestige Records:an unofficial and idiosyncratic history of jazz in the 50s and 60s. With occasional digressions.
This is an odd little session -- odd in so many ways. First, each cut seems to have slightly different personnel, although that may not be the case. it may been the same group of musicians, billed differently for each cut. Second, with all the painstaking care taken to separately identify the musicians for each cut in the session log, no one seems to have jotted down the date of the session -- it's just "some time in early 1965." Third, they don't seem to have had any strong reason for calling this session, unless it was just that Benny Golson had paid the big band for one more day. Each of the three cuts from the sometime in early May session ended up on a different McDuff potpourri album, one released in 1967, the other two in 1969.
Since Prestige doesn't seem to have given a lot of time and attention to the session, I won't either. Lew Futterman, McDuff's manager/producer, was at the controls. McDuff's core group is solid, and Benny Golson was doing some very interesting work with this studio band of unidentified musicians, which is another oddity of the session. Golson, at least according to Lew Futterman, jumped at the chance to record with McDuff, and a second go-round, now that McDuff has faded into history and Golson receives the honors of esteemed elder, is good to have. I've discussed their previous collaboration here.
"Rockabye" was released on the 1967 album The Midnight Sun. Two years later, "English Country Gardens" came out on I Got a Woman and "Shortnin' Bread" on Steppin' Out.
It's more than true. There are two of them. Bobby Timmons, and then Don Patterson, leading their respective trios through a more or less conventional mix of traditional carols and Christmas pop songs. Fortunately, it was 1964, so most of the really awful Christmas pop songs hadn't been written yet, and Bobby and producer Ozzie Cadena know enough to stay away from "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer," "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Rockin' around the Christmas Tree," at least with Timmons. By the time Ozzie got to Patterson, on the next day, he did let "Rudolph" slip in. Both Timmons and Patterson do, however, essay "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."
There are two reasons for buying an album of Christmas songs. One, there's a choir singing the songs so you can sing along with them, a beat behind if you don't remember
the words. Two, they're all or mostly instrumental, so you can have them as background music while you're trimming the tree, wrapping presents, or trying to seduce the receptionist from the accounting department, If you're Mantovani or the Melachrino Strings, you're playing the melody pretty straight through, so that people can sing along. If you're a jazz group, you're going to be improvising, but staying close enough to the melody that people remember what it is that you're playing.
There's probably a third. You hate Christmas music, and would rather just be listening to some good jazz, but your spouse, or your boss, or somebody, insists that you pick up a Christmas album to play at the office party or the tree trimming gathering, so you get something that says "Holiday Soul" on the cover, put it on, dig it quietly until the boss says "What is this shit?" and then you show him the album cover -- "See? It says 'Holiday Soul'!" and then, if you're lucky, Bobby Timmons comes in with the melody to "Deck the Halls," and plays it pretty close to recognizably straight for the last thirty seconds of the cut. This is, of course, if you're at an office party in 1964. Today's young whippersnapper boss probably won't recognize the melody to "Deck the Halls," and will want to know why Timmons isn't playing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer." Or "White Christmas." Oh, that was "White Christmas"? Where was the melody?
It's not quite that extreme. Well, it is for "White Christmas." For the most part, both Timmons and Patterson do at least allude to the melodies of their Christmas standards, but each allows himself plenty of room to just stretch out and play jazz, and that is something each of them does very satisfactorily.
Well, probably "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer" was a mistake if you're looking for holiday soul.
Timmons finds considerably more soul in the 16th century Welsh melody of "Deck the Halls" than Patterson does in Johnny Marks's ditty, composed during the bebop era, recorded around the time that Bob Weinstock was lining up Lennie Tristano for Prestige Records' inaugural recording session. Gene Autry didn't want to record "Rudolph," and there's a good chance Don Patterson wasn't a lot more thrilled.
Still...hey, it's Christmas. And with some good jazz, you can make it through the season. Ozzie Cadena produced both sessions.
This would seem to be some indication of how well Prestige was doing with Willis Jackson in the mid-1960s. A night at a New York club, four sets captured live, released on four different albums over the next three years. Jackson's popularity didn't endure--you won't find his name on any contemporary list of best jazz saxophone players, perhaps because he's too closely identified with rhythm and blues, and jazz snobbery still exists. This is wrong, of course. Rhythm and blues is jazz. for one thing, and for another, Jackson's many Prestige albums were squarely in the mainstream hard bop tradition. A quick glance at the set lists
for this live date makes the point: He plays a couple of his rhythm and blues favorites, like "Gator Tail" and "Blue Gator," but a lot more jazz standards: "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," "Jumpin' with Symphony Sid," "Perdido."
And of these four albums, only a handful of tracks have been posted by jazz aficionados on YouTube. So Jackson is still collected, but assiduously.
And probably, Jackson's recordings from this era are mostly remembered for the presence of a very young Pat Martino, at the beginning of his career, still calling himself Pat Azzara, on guitar. The CD reissues of these and other recordings are all billed as Willis Jackson with Pat Martino. That's understandable -- Martino was already a standout guitarist, at the threshold of a great career. But the fervent Martino collector who finds these albums will be treated to a fine band, led by a very fine sax man.
Even at the time, Jackson's defenders faced something of an uphill battle. In the liner notes for Live! Action, Kansas City radio personality Tom Reed quoted Michael Gold's liner notes to an earlier Jackson album:
This music from a jazz critic's standpoint has been unjustly rated on many occasions. Many critics have confused the initial intent and purpose of the music which they evaluate with their own ideals and standards of merit. It is often startling to read that a record which is obviously aimed at the amusement and entertainment of the listener is mistaken and evaluated by the standards which should be used for work which projects itself with a different and contradictory intent.
Today many musicians have only contempt for critics. It is very difficult for an artist to have respect for a man who makes such obvious errors out of a profound ignorance or through a mistaken belief in the purpose of the music."
It's the old artists vs. critics battle. NBA star George "Iceman" Gervin said it well, and I'm paraphrasing from memory, when he explained why he didn't have much use for sportswriters: He said that he goes out every night and tests himself against some of the greatest athletes who ever lived, and who are these writers testing themselves against? Shakespeare? Hemingway? Not likely,
And there's something to be said for critics being in the vanguard, calling attention to new artists like Ornette Coleman and Eric Dolphy before the listening public at large is ready to give something so new a chance. And something to be said for pointing out that sometimes mass taste is just wrong, wrong, wrong, and saxophone players with one initial for a last name aren't really offering anything musically rewarding.
But there's very often something to be said for music that people like to listen to. Especially when it's being played by a pro's pro who knows how to give the people what they want in a hard-driving, sweet sounding, musically fulfilling way. Especially when the old pro has taken under his wing a 19-year-old guitarist who's already making people prick their ears up and take notice. The two hot young guitarists who were starting to play around town and make people sit up and take notice were Martino and George Benson, and Benson has talked about going to hear Martino and being turned on by him.
A live album, or series of albums, covering four sets on the same night, is a good place to put this theory to the test, as the band is going to be playing a lot of familiar material, the tunes that a live club audience is going to want to hear. Jackson, Martino and company pass that test with flying colors.
The four Prestige albums to issue from this night of live music (with "Blue Gator" on two of them) are Jackson's Action! Recorded Live, Live! Action (with Pat Martino pinning a new tail on the Gator with his solo on Jackson's signature song), Soul Night/Live!, and Tell It... Ozzie Cadena produced, and Prestige got good value out of an evening at the Allegro.
This is more of the same from Willis Jackson -- the same group he's been working with, which includes a young Pat Martino on guitar (interesting that he had his old bandmate Jack McDuff were both bringing along young guitarists who would become giants over the next couple of decades), the same rhythm and blues derived jazz funk sound, the same mix of funky originals and standard ballads. And why not? Good for listening, good for dancing. A lot of parties in the mid-sixties rolled back a lot of rugs and dropped a lot of needles within the grooves of a Willis Jackson record. The man was a pro, and he delivered.
Most unusual track on the oblm, and the source for half the album's title -- "Boss St. Louis Blues," which sets down a bossa nova and then blows some solid funk over it, with Jackson in top form. Once they get the beat down, they can get wild...and they do. Best for my money, the other half of the title. "Shoutin'" is what you want to hear from this band -- the good old rhythm and blues, the hot new funk, some fleetfooted guitar styling by Martino.
Boss Shoutin' is the name of the album. No 45 RPM single releases from this one, maybe because they tended to go long on the individual cuts. Or maybe they knew Prestige wasn't planning a single, so they figured they could stretch out. Either way, it works, as the playing heats up, the deeper they get into a tune. Ozzie Cadena produced.
Willis Jackson worked a series of recording sessions for Prestige in 1963 and 1964 with his working band at the time: Carl Wilson on organ, Frank Robinson on trumpet, Bill Jones on guitar, Joe Hadrick on drums. They weren't musicians who had recording careers outside of these sessions with Jackson, and I could find no biographical material on any of them, but they knew how to play Jackson's kind of music, or they wouldn't have stayed with him, because Jackson's was an ensemble that always found work.
Jackson's best-known ensemble, the one he brought to Prestige in 1959, featured Jack McDuff as organist, and he was a tough act to follow, but Jackson didn't put his side men into a cookie cutter. Wilson is his own man on organ, and his own man is a wild man.
For the second of these Prestige sessions--and thereafter--Bill Jones was replaced by a guitar player named Pat Azzara, who would go on to make a name for himself, only the name wasn't Azzara. He was to change it to Pat Martino.
The ensemble, with different bass players, would record five studio sessions and one live, a date that makes Miles Davis's contractual marathon look like the Minute Waltz. This was four sets at the club Allegro in New York City, and Prestige recorded them all, and released them all on four albums. And why not? This was a working band, that toured hard and played hard, and audiences loved them. They could play all night, and it could have been, and should have been, and was saved for posterity.
The LP from the March session was entitled Loose. It followed Jackson's template, and set the pattern for all the sessions to follow--some standards, some recent hits ("When My Dreamboat Comes Home" was both--an old song refurbished for the young crowd by Fats Domino), some riff-based rhythm and blues, or as we now called it, soul jazz. Jazz with a beat. "Secret Love" became a two-sided 45 RPM single, and "Y'All" was the flip side of "Arrivederci Roma" from an earlier session.
The two May sessions were parceled out to two LPs, Grease 'n' Gravy and The Good Life. The 45s were "Gra-a-avy" / "Brother Elijah" and "Troubled Times" / "As Long as He Needs Me." The October session became More Gravy, with the title tune and "Pool Shark" broken out on 45. January of 1964 became Boss Shoutin'. The teenaged Mr. Azzara, making his recording debut, is described in H. G. MacGill's liner notes as "a combination of early Kenny Burrell, Tiny Grimes, a little Jimmy Raney and the beginnings of a highly original style of his own."
Each of the Allegro sets went onto its own album--Jackson's Action! Recorded Live; Live!Action; Soul Night Live!; and Tell It.... "Jive Samba" from the first set, two-sided, was the only 45 RPM release. All of the live sessions, when re-released on CD, were credited to Willis Jackson with Pat Martino.
Ozzie Cadena produced all, including the live sessions.
