Monday, February 24, 2014

Clifford Brown, "Jazz Immortal"

For my first post, I figured I'll kick things off by talking about an overlooked entry in the discography of one of my all-time favorite musicians, the late, great trumpeter Clifford Brown.

I was inspired to write this post at least in part due to a book I recently finished reading, Ted Gioia's "West Coast Jazz." If you've got the chance, I highly recommend it; it's an excellent read that sheds a ton of light on just about every key figure in California jazz in the 1940s and 50s. One of my favorite sections of the book is his discussion of the decidedly under-acknowledged hard bop movement in LA during the 1950s. Gioia does a terrific job of demolishing the myth that all jazz on the Coast was a mere reflection of the breeze-easy, surf and sand California lifestyle that all us cold climate dwellers are all too aware of.

As surprising as it may seem to some, the quintessentially East Coast Clifford Brown was a fairly important figure in this early movement. Brown actually spent a moderate amount of time out in California during the year 1954, when this album (as well as its much better known counterpart, "Clifford Brown and Max Roach") was recorded. In fact, this album (and not the Brown/Roach Quintet debut) marks the initial recorded appearances of Brown's seminal compositions "Daahoud" and "Joy Spring," predating the quintet versions by several weeks. Why the latter versions are much better known is up for all of us to speculate; my humble opinion is that the quintet's greater viability back east, as well as the inherently less intricate nature of those versions were much easier to be broken down and codified by the jazz community (musician and critic alike).

It should come as no surprise that Brown's playing was just as appealing to his musical peers out west as it was to their eastern counterparts. Despite all the technical fireworks and harmonic sophistication, Brown's playing is just as renowned for his incredible melodic gifts. No matter the tempo, intensity, or context of his playing, Brown was always a master at crafting long, flowing lines that could very easily be reworked into compositions of their own. This side of Brown's playing was immediately picked up by several trumpeters out west, including (but not limited to) such great stylists as Carmell Jones, Jack Sheldon and Freddie Hill.

If the overall context of this recording is any indication of what Brown's playing was like during his LA sojourn, it's not hard to figure out how those gentlemen were exposed to Brown's greatness. His playing throughout the album is nothing short of magisterial. The high-powered fireworks characteristic of some of his later work are toned down a bit in favor of ramping up the lyricism even more, and the results are among the highest of lights in Brown's brief career. One of things I'm trying to work on in my own playing right now is getting better at "playing the song" (a point I hope to expand upon in a future post). If one is interested in getting a more hands-on (ears-on?) demonstration of what I mean, one can check out Brown's performance of the standard chestnut "Gone With The Wind." His statement of both the melody, as well as his one chorus, is nothing short of pure magic, as far as I'm concerned. Not a note is out of place, his phrasing is clear and consistent, and he has no problems allowing his brilliant, warm sound speak for itself. Similar comments can be applied to his version of "Blueberry Hill," which is the beneficiary of a rhythmically inventive arrangement at the hands of Jack Montrose (more on him later).

Of course, we still hear all of the things we've come to expect in Brown's playing throughout: the clean articulation, intricate lines, effortless mastery of harmony, and occasional bursts of sparkling technique. His two choruses on his deceptively tricky original "Bones For Jones" display several of those all in one go. I find myself really liking this tune and its unexpected harmonic shifts quite a bit. It's both a blessing and a curse this piece was never revisited by the Brown/Roach Quintet; a blessing because this expertly executed version would have inevitably been overlooked had the quintet covered it, but a curse because it may have joined "Daahoud" and "Joy Spring" in the halls of jazz standards.

I feel I would be remiss if I did not briefly discuss these two performances in comparison to their more famous quintet counterparts. In the opinion of this writer, Brown's solo on this version of "Daahoud" is superior to the (also brilliant) quintet version. I'm not sure whether it has to do with the slightly slower tempo or the overall more relaxed feel, but Brown sounds particularly comfortable and collected during his two choruses. As for "Joy Spring," I'm going to have to side with the quintet version. This is at least partly due to the arrangement itself (more on that later), but I also feel the tune works much better in the quintet key of F as opposed to this version's Eb. In addition, Brown's solo on the quintet version is, as far as I'm concerned, one of the greatest jazz trumpet solos of all time, and although his work on this track is still of high quality, it doesn't quite reach the heights of the later recording.

Although Brown is, appropriately enough, the star of this show, the other key cog in the proceedings was the tenor saxophonist and arranger Jack Montrose. Born in Detroit in 1928, Montrose moved west in 1947 to join bassist John Kirby's sextet and study composition at Los Angeles State College. In addition to this collaboration with Brown, he also worked with Art Pepper and Dave Pell, among others. Like too many musicians of the day, however, his heroin addiction began to take over his life. By the time he was finally able to kick his habit in the early 1960s, his style of playing and writing had fallen out of favor; he ended up working in obscurity until his death in 2006 (a brief attempt at a resurgence in the 1970s and 80s the only departure).

Montrose kept the tenor in the case for this session, but he was responsible for all seven arrangements. If one wants to get a more in-depth look at Montrose the writer, it may be worth hunting down his hard-to-find (and appropriately titled) 1955 album "The Jack Montrose Sextet." For those not interested in shelling out the big bucks, however, this easier-to-find entry in his discography is a solid second option. The thing that stands out most to me about Montrose's writing is his extensive use of counterpoint. From both a theoretical and musical standpoint, counterpoint is a tense balancing act. It can be and has been an incredibly useful device for adding depth and complexity to a piece, but it can also run the risk of making the proceedings too busy for their own good. Montrose falls on both ends of this spectrum in his writing over the course of this recording. His arrangement of "Daahoud" is very subtle in its execution; during the A sections, the most notable counter line is actually in the bass line. This is really for the best, as the melody of that tune is busy enough as is. His send-off into Brown's solo is actually one of my favorite parts of the record; all the lines work together nicely, and the feeling of "winding down" from the melody sets up Brown's break very nicely.

On the other hand, I feel Montrose gets a little too ambitious at times. One can almost sense Montrose's unease with just leaving an empty space in the music. The most egregious offender in this regard is his arrangement of Brown's "Tiny Capers." I find his 3-part (and even 4-part) writing to be a bit too busy for its own good; there's so much going on that it becomes difficult for the listener to key in on the melody. On a similar note, his arrangement of "Joy Spring" has some issues with deciding where the melody wants to reside. I have no problem with switching the melody back and forth between instruments, but in this instance these shifts occur far too quickly. We hear the melody switching back and forth between all four horns, sometimes as quickly as a bar or two. It gives this otherwise great piece a bit of a nervous, uneasy feeling to it that doesn't work as well as I'm sure Montrose was intending. I'm also not a huge fan of Montrose's composition "Finders Keepers." The melody is just a little too cutesy for my tastes, although the bridge and solo send off have some nice harmonic shifts.

I'd like to take a minute to address the rest of the band as well. The best-known members of the rest of the ensemble are tenorist Zoot Sims, pianist Russ Freeman and drummer Shelly Manne. Of these three artists, Sims' contributions are my favorites. He displays his characteristic Lester Young-inspired phrasing and melodic inventiveness, and he provides a surprisingly nice compliment to Brown. Manne was one of the most important drummers on the West Coast during the 1950s, and although his performances here are mostly limited to those of an accompanist, his always tasteful time keeping neither gets in the way too much nor puts the listener to sleep. His brief but creatively fragmented brushes "solo" underneath the melody at the beginning of "Gone With The Wind" works much better than one might initially anticipate. Freeman has always been a bit of a paradox to me. His work as an accompanist is decidedly tasty, with never a note or rhythm out of place. In contrast, his soloing has always come across to me as unnecessarily aggressive and even clumsy at times. Both of these qualities appear in spades on this recording (specifics include his comping on "Blueberry Hill" for the former and his solo on "Daahoud" for the latter).

This album also features two of the more obscure contributors to the LA jazz scene: baritone saxophonist Bob Gordon and valve trombonist Stu Williamson. Gordon's fleet solo on "Gone With The Wind" is probably his best moment here, but this is otherwise not his finest work in my opinion. His playing on Montrose' aforementioned sextet album, as well as his sole date as a leader ("Meet Mr. Gordon," included on the CD version of the Montrose album) is stronger, more creative, and generally more indicative of what he could have become had he not left us prematurely in a car accident. Williamson was better known as a trumpeter (his work on that instrument shows at least a hint of a Brown influence), but his contributions on this album are solid on their own. His solo on "Daahoud" well reflects his easy-going, melodic approach to improvising.

As I said earlier, "Jazz Immortal" is easily one of the most overlooked moments of Clifford Brown's all-too-brief career. As much as we'd like to speculate on why this is the case, I think it's better to spend all that time and energy on appreciating the music at hand. Between Brown's predictably brilliant self and the various contributions of sidemen both well known and not, this recording is definitely worth checking out if you're not already familiar with it. And if you are? Give it another spin. You won't regret it.

Track listing:
1) Daahoud (Brown)
2) Finders Keepers (Montrose)
3) Joy Spring (Brown)
4) Gone With The Wind (Magidson/Wrubel)
5) Bones For Jones (Brown)
6) Blueberry Hill (Lewis/Rose/Stock)
7) Tiny Capers (Brown)

Personnel:
Clifford Brown, trumpet
Zoot Sims, tenor saxophone
Bob Gordon, baritone saxophone
Stu Williamson, valve trombone
Russ Freeman, piano
Joe Mondragon, bass
Shelly Manne, drums
Jack Montrose, arranger

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