Thursday morning I spent two hours talking with Duane Grant, Luther Henderson’s step-son and right hand man for many years. It was time well spent, though I was sorry to miss out on hearing A.B. Spellman’s one-on-one with Billy Taylor. At least I got to spend some time with Dr T over coffee the next day, and to hear him play several days later in the studio, recording with Nancy. (He played a very beautiful solo on “I’ll Be Seeing You.â€)
At 2 o’clock, John and I both went to the Jazz Lives In Print panel, moderated by Paul de Barros. We had lots of friends in the audience, including attorney Noel Silverman, producer George Avakian, Mr. Jazz Times a/k/a Ira Sabin with his wife, Irma, and photographer Stephanie Myers, who was kind enough to bring me a contact sheet with pix from an event involving Luther Henderson.
The blurb for the panel sounded interesting (as I mentioned in my January 4th post about biographies, here), but it’s hard to reach any real depth when you cram five panelists into one short hour and spend far too many precious minutes reciting their credentials. Their credits are impressive, but if I had been moderating I would have printed up a sheet of mini bios instead and let the attendees take it with them…hopefully to the bookstore.
Gary Giddins, who could easily conduct an invaluable biography workshop all on his own (is anybody listening – this would be great!), had some sound advice – “Never trust anybody. Everybody lies.†Perhaps stated in the extreme, but true. Not only do biases abound, but credence is often given undeservedly to those perceived to be experts or gurus. In the world of jazz, Leonard Feather comes to mind; I have seen a number of examples documented by researchers that show his pronouncements were inconsistent and often motivated by matters other than the music itself. Then there is the simple mistake that today is magnified thanks to the Internet. For example, the AP Wire ran a story about the Jazz Masters and one of the accompanying photos identified “Pianist John Levy…” [FYI, I wrote to the AP Entertainment Editor, saying in part, “I realize that this is not a huge error, perhaps even inconsequential, but given the wide reach of the AP Wire, and the permanence of digital information in these times, I would hope that the mis-information could be corrected so as to not proliferate inaccuracies in perpetuity.” I am happy to report that I received an immediate response: “Thanks for calling this to our attention. We actually ran a correction on Monday, Jan. 16.” I’m glad they did, but I’d be even happier if I were to see the correction run in the papers that actually ran the photo.]
Most jazz biographies are about performers — singers and instrumentalists. Not only are they usually more famous than, say, arrangers or recording engineers, but their work is something that the public understands. Some composers become famous enough to merit a biography (even a movie) – think Cole Porter, George & Ira Gershwin… — but not often does an arranger get the spotlight. Maybe that is changing, and when a comment was made about the relatively recent spate of biographies about arrangers and composers (including panelist Peter Levinson’s “September in the Rain : The Life of Nelson Riddle” and Stephanie Stein Crease’s “Gil Evans: Out of the Cool“), Mr. Rifftides kindly made mention of my work in progress – Seeking Harmony: The Life & Music of Luther Henderson. I have to admit that I have not yet read the Gil Evans bio, but I plan to do so very soon. There are apparently some similarities between the Evans and Henderson approach, including their penchant for borrowing from other musical genres, especially classical.
After the panel, we left quickly hoping to get in to see the DownBeat First-Person Interview with Sonny Rollins, moderated by Ira Gitler. Whatever were we thinking?! Sheraton’s New York Ballroom East was filled to overflowing long before it was time to start. We were but two among the hundreds of people who were turned away – no exaggeration.
Thursday evening we ventured off site and headed for Dizzy’s Club Coca Cola. It was our first time seeing the new Jazz at Lincoln Center digs in the new building on Columbus Circle. For those of us to whom “malls†are nothing new, this cornucopia of shops and offices and whatnot is not all that unusual, still it has that New York je ne sais quoi with a savvy, sophisticated, up-scale air about it. The club has the feel of a cosmopolitan movie set and it will not surprise me when I see it on the big screen (Woody Allen has probably made such plans already). The Lewis Nash Quartet, featuring Peter Washington on bass (one of John’s favorites), Renee Rosnes on piano, and Steve Nelson on vibes, was paying tribute to two jazz legends from Detroit – Tommy Flanagan and Milt Jackson. I had forgotten that Lewis and Peter played for ten years as members of Tommy’s Trio, which explained why they seemed to breathe as one, even though the ensemble as a whole was not as tight. The bass was consistently solid and steady, the drums always tasty, but the group, falling in and out of the pocket, was unable to sustain a groove.
That’s not to say they were bad – these are four musicians of the highest caliber – but there’s always room to be even better. There were beautiful moments, unusual unison riffs, and arrangements crafted with much forethought and love. Selections included a Bag’s favorite FSR (For Sonny Rollins), Arioso (a James Williams original), that drummer’s showcase of a tune, Caravan, and the set-closer, Bag’s Groove. Today’s Rifftides post says “Nash’s unaccompanied introduction to Flanagan’s “Eclypso,†using only his fingers and the palms of his hands across the drums, was electrifying.” I agree wholeheartedly, having heard Nash apply the same technique to the intro of Caravan. Lewis Nash is my favorite drummer, and “way high” on my list of all-around favorite people, period. Still I can’t help but wonder what the jazz scene would be like today if, instead of makeshift groups assembled from persons set on their own individual career paths, we had ensembles that played together for a long time to develop a group identity. And what if, like the good old days, gigs were to last for weeks, or even months? You remember — the kind of gigs that fostered a repeat audience who came in night after night and never heard the same thing twice.