Recorded May 4 and December 2, 1959

 

John Coltrane, tenor saxophone; Tommy Flanagan, piano; Wynton Kelly, piano on Naima; Paul Chambers, bass; Art Taylor, drums; Jimmy Cobb, drums on Naima

 

     Giant Steps is aptly named, for it came at a point in John Coltrane's career when he was beginning to free himself from the song structures and harmonic limitations of jazz of that time.  His saxophone had always had a probing, searching quality, and a freer style of playing allowed him here to explore jazz with a new urgency.

     The title track opens with a medium tempo and a simple, bluesy theme, but Coltrane soon launches into an intense, fast-paced solo with bursts of notes falling all over each other to fly out of his saxophone.  Tommy Flanagan maintains the intensity with a staccato piano run, followed by a hard-charging bass solo from Paul Chambers, the first of several excellent bass solos on the album.  Giant Steps then closes with a re-statement of the theme and a saxophone cadenza.

     Cousin Mary slows the pace a bit for some low down hip shakin'.  The simple, three note sax theme sounds to me for all the world like a man's "mmm, mmm, mmm" while watching a sexy, uninhibited woman on the dance floor.  (The liner notes suggest the adjective "earthy" to describe the song.)  Similarly sensual is the ballad Naima, named for Coltrane's wife, with slow, suggestive solos by Coltane and pianist Wynton Kelly.

     Another song named for a woman in John Coltrane's life is in an entirely different vein, however.  Syeeda's Song Flute, named for his then 10-year old daughter, is a playful song that makes for a nice break from the intensity of the rest of the album.  Tommy Flanagan's frolicking piano solo here is especially delightful.

     The title of the song Spiral is accurate, for its theme is a repeated, descending pattern of notes that indeed sounds like a musical spiral.  The theme alternates throughout the song with solos by Coltrane, Flanagan, and Chambers.  Countdown opens with a drum solo, then Coltrane's saxophone enters with an urgent solo played at breakneck speed.  The piano enters at 1:15 into the song, and the bass at 1:54.  Then, after all the instruments have entered, the countdown is complete, and we hear the theme of the song played at the very end.  The final song is Mr. P.C. (a salute to bass player Paul Chambers), a fast-paced song with a heavy, note-dense bass line.  It has fine solos by Coltrane and Flanagan, although strangely not one by Paul Chambers himself.

     John Coltrane tends to generate either adulation or revulsion among jazz listeners, with seemingly not much room for middle ground.  I admit that I fall into the former camp, and Giant Steps is my favorite Coltrane album.  If not quite as intensely spiritual as some of his later albums, neither does it suffer from their self-indulgences.  There is not a weak song, or even a weak moment, on it, and Coltrane's muscular solos are supported by expert playing by his sidemen throughout.  I highly recommend Giant Steps for novice listeners who already have a few jazz albums under their belts and are willing to try something a little more challenging.

(Reviewed 4/18/04)

 

 

Recorded September 13, 1953

 

Miles Davis, trumpet; Rolf Ericson, trumpet; Chet Baker, trumpet on At Last; Bud Shank, alto and baritone saxophone; Bob Cooper, tenor saxophone; Lorraine Geller, piano; Russ Freeman, piano on At Last; Howard Rumsey, bass; Max Roach, drums

 

     Up until now, my reviews have been limited to some of jazz history's absolute classics.  But it's possible to learn as much from a bad album as a good one, so in that spirit I turn to Miles Davis and the Lighthouse All-Stars At Last.

     The Lighthouse All-Stars were the house band at the Lighthouse Club in Hermosa Beach, California, a mostly-white group that, if these songs are typical, played fairly mediocre versions of jazz standards.  However, famous jazz musicians, black and white, would sometimes drop in when they were in California.  This particular week, Max Roach began a short run in the drummer's slot at the Lighthouse, and he brought along his friend Miles Davis for a set.

     The result is underwhelming.  The first song, Infinity Promenade, illustrates the album's problems.  The horn solos are mostly aimless, consisting of strung-together clichés, while Miles's solo in particular sounds wan.  (The liner notes mention that he was playing a borrowed trumpet!)  Geller's piano is a sort of heavy-handed boogie-woogie that threatens to deluge the other musicians.  While Roach's drumming is generally competent, there are still parts when his unfamiliarity with the band shows.  Aside from a certain lack of anticipating the others' moves, he also tries too hard to make every moment colorful when the song might have benefited from holding back a little.

     Round Midnight and Night in Tunisia are similar debacles, although I will admit that Bud Shank has a nice solo on Tunisia.  Showing the others how it should be done, he builds clear statements on his saxophone into a cohesive structure that complements the song.  Drum Conversation consists entirely of a drum solo by Roach, and is nothing more than a vehicle to show off his technique, with no real musical interest.  The final song is apparently from another set, with Chet Baker replacing Miles on trumpet.  Baker, at that time a rising star on the West Coast scene, leads the band in At Last, a modest but nicely-done little ballad.

     In a way, reviewing At Last is a little unfair, as the ad hoc nature of the date is obvious.  But it is something that one might come across in the CD racks, and be tempted to buy thanks to Miles's name.  While not horrible, I can't recommend it, except perhaps as a historical curiosity for those interested in this early period of Miles Davis's career, after he had broken his heroin addiction in the early 1950s but before his comeback in the middle of the decade.  Otherwise, At Last is forgettable.

(Reviewed 2/29/04)

 

 

Recorded March 2 and April 22, 1959

 

Miles Davis, trumpet; Julian "Cannonball" Adderley, alto saxophone; John Coltrane, tenor saxophone; Wynton Kelly, piano on Freddie Freeloader; Bill Evans, piano on all other songs; Paul Chambers, bass; Jimmy Cobb, drums

 

     I'll come right and say it: I don't think Kind of Blue is the greatest jazz record of all time.  It's not even in my top five.  Now, that puts me at odds with a great many critics, not to mention the public, which has conspired in its masses to make this the best-selling jazz album ever.  But, having said that, I do think this is an excellent album, and it is one that I revisit often.

     One thing that makes Kind of Blue great, as well as an ideal record for a new jazz listener, is that it includes the late Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Cannonball Adderley.  Each of these three musicians combined strong, distinctive personalities with an ability to distill those personalities into their music.  The first song, So What, demonstrates what I mean nicely, with Miles opening with a cool, subdued, almost aloof solo; Coltrane following with his typical intense, searching bursts of notes; and finally Cannonball, with a solo as gregarious, warm, and good-natured as the man.

     The bluesy Freddie Freeloader and All Blues showcase the three horn-players' complementary playing to similar effect.  But there is a fourth personality who I have not yet mentioned: pianist Bill Evans.  His spare playing provides crucial color behind the horns throughout the album, while his little interludes between the horn solos on the ballad Blue in Green and his solo on Flamenco Sketches are so delicate and exquisite that a careless listener might overlook them--but that would be a shame.

     It's worth pointing out that Flamenco Sketches prefigures Miles's great album of the following year, Sketches of Spain.  I don't know how true to authentic flamenco this song is, but its chord progression gives it a definite Spanish feel.  My particular CD version of Kind of Blue is a 1997 remastering that includes an alternate take of Flamenco Sketches which I think is actually a little superior to the official take, with Cannonball's and Evans's soloes in particular being more expressive on the alternate take.

     I've spent some time agonizing over how to grade this album, for it is flawless in a technical sense and features some extraordinary playing.  And yet, there is no song on the album that I really find deeply meaningful.  Miles wrote all five songs only hours before the musicians met for the two recording sessions, and all but Flamenco Sketches were done in one take.  I detect a little tentativeness in the album's deliberate pacing and in some of the solo work.  I wonder if a little more familiarity with the material might not have helped?  In any case, Kind of Blue is a fine album, and most listeners will enjoy it immensely.

(Reviewed 2/22/04)

 

 

Recorded October 11, 1957

 

Yusef Lateef, tenor saxophone, flute, argol, tambourine; Wilbur Harden, flugelhorn and balloon; Hugh Lawson, piano, bells, 7-Up bottle, Turkish finger cymbals, balloon; Ernie Farrow, bass and rabat; Oliver Jackson, drums and percussion

 

     I decided to dig a little deeper in my collection for this week's review, and came out with The Sounds of Yusef, an interesting album on which Yusef Lateef and his band employ some unusual instruments, including both exotic instruments from India and China, as well as everyday objects not normally thought of for their musical properties. 

     The best song is Meditation, a smoky ballad which after a dramatic opening with a Chinese gong and some sort of reed instrument (perhaps the mysterious argol listed as one of Lateef's instruments?), wisely proceeds with more standard jazz instruments.  Lateef turns in a solo on the tenor saxophone that really reflects the song title, putting an image in my mind of a man walking abandoned streets at night with only his thoughts to keep him company.

     The opening song, Duke Ellington's classic Take the A Train, is also done well.  (Listen to this site's theme music for a MIDI version of the song.)  Lateef and Wilbur Harden play the famous piano intro on flute and flugelhorn, respectively, while the flute then carries the song's main theme.  Everybody takes a solo, with Lateef's being especially memorable.  He displays his technique of playing the flute by humming rather than blowing, giving the flute a growl that he uses here to good effect.

     Another enjoyable number is Buckingham, which is simply straightforward jazz with Lateef on saxophone and brief, effective soloes by all.

     Playful Flute features Lateef's flute, this time over Turkish finger cymbals and a rabat, which is not described in the liner notes but sounds something like a conga.  There is no chord structure, just an unfocused but happy little flute solo that ends before it can wear out its welcome.  The same cannot be said for Love and Humor, which starts off intriguingly with Hugh Lawson providing a sort of bass line by blowing over an empty 7-Up Bottle like he was in an old-time jug band, and Yusef repeating an "Eastern" theme on his flute.  However, Harden and Lawson enter with soloes played on balloons, produced both by squeezing the air out and by rubbing their surfaces.  While I must admit that they get more melody out of the balloons than one would think possible, they still exhaust the balloons' expressive range pretty quickly, and the song reaches the truly annoying point long before it ends.

     I admire Yusef Lateef for his willingness to try out new instruments and sounds in his music.  Unfortunately, I don't think the band is able to fully integrate their exotic instruments into a jazz setting.  Even so, except for one song, The Sounds of Yusef is a fun and quite listenable album.

(Reviewed 3/28/04)