Zola 2026-01-25T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/atom.xml 2026-01-25T00:00:00+00:00 2026-01-25T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-50/ <p>Oh, dear reader: we've arrived at the ultimate entry in our jazzventure—and posted several weeks late, no less. You must think me the sentimental type; too attached to our journey to bear saying goodbye. Fortunately I suffer no such affliction—painters love to paint, writers love having written—rather, this week's album provoked such a fierce outburst of apathy from me that I required some extra time to push through. (That apathy never boiled over into <em>antipathy</em>, mind you; there is fine music on offer here!)</p> <p>Let's begin with the facts: we've heard from Wynton Marsalis <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/">once before</a>, and much like <em>Volume 1</em>, this album features Marsalis' take on a number of tried-and-true jazz standards, with a few originals sprinkled in as well—however, this instalment is distinguished by the appearance of Marsalis' father, Ellis, on piano throughout. (A performance which sadly left little impression on me.) After a year of listening I was hoping to have decent coverage of those standards, but alas, I only recognized a couple.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#marsalis-double-overlap">1</a></sup> Among the covers, I particularly liked "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?"—a simple, touching pop tune that gives Marsalis ample space to show off his beautiful tone. But interestingly, it was Marsalis' originals that outperformed for me; there are only three on the album, but two of them ended up being among my favourite tracks. "In the Court of King Oliver" successfully harks back to some of the earliest days of jazz with its steady, foot-tapping two-beat rhythmic pulse, whereas "The Seductress" shows that in Marsalis' mind, there must be no sound more arousing than a trembling wah-wah, because it arrives clad in nothing but and shakes them in your face the full three minutes. (That's a show I can appreciate, but it left my wife turned off.)</p> <p>So what exactly is my gripe? Well, for all Marsalis' technical abilities (which are considerable), to me this album still lacks a certain <em>joie de vivre</em>. I can't help but contrast it with "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7hoX7golZI">Better Git It In Your Soul</a>," which encapsulates everything I want out of jazz: it's swinging, it's ebullient, it's <em>alive</em> and suffused with something undeniably life-affirming. I'm sure Marsalis Jr. and Sr. can play with the best of them, but on this album it feels like they forgot to have fun—something I find astonishing in a genre as dynamic and playful as jazz.</p> <p>Intentional or not, it feels provocative to end this box set on a Marsalis album. As one of jazz's preeminent statesmen, and artistic director of <a rel="external" href="https://jazz.org/">Jazz at Lincoln Center</a>, Marsalis has considerable influence in shaping the future of jazz. But rather than dare to ask what jazz might be, Marsalis seems content to cherish and preserve what it has been. I'll readily concede that Marsalis' familiarity with jazz is far beyond what mine ever shall be, but I can't help but notice that's not the strategy espoused by any of Marsalis' idols (<a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-28/">Armstrong</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-26/">Ellington</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Parker</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-36/">Monk</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">Mingus</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/">Davis</a>…). I'm very glad to have Marsalis' conservative voice among the modern jazz chorus, but I don't want him writing the songbook by himself. At nearly 65 years old, this <a rel="external" href="https://www.knkx.org/jazz/the-young-lions-brought-bebop-and-swing-roaring-back">Young Lion</a>'s mane is showing streaks of grey—I suppose only time will tell whether his pride triumphs.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> In the Court of King Oliver</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="marsalis-double-overlap"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Funnily enough, the first Marsalis album we heard had tracks that overlapped with both <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-19/">Concert by the Sea</a></em> and <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-08/">Parole E Musica</a></em>, and that's once again the case here: "Where or When" is on the former, and "Everything Happens to Me" the latter. Garner's version sounds totally disconnected from the original to my ear, but also brings a drama and energy that Marsalis can't match; Marsalis and Merrill are much more in tune with other on "Everything Happens to Me." (…come to think of it, those are the same comparisons I made last time…)</p> </div> 2026-01-11T00:00:00+00:00 2026-01-11T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-49/ <p>Thelonious Monk has already had <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-11/">two</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-36/">at-bats</a> during Fifty Weeks of Jazz, neither of which (I'm sorry to say) terribly excited me. Moreover, while we've heard from many of the <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/">greatest</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-04/">female</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-34/">jazz</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-35/">vocalists</a> of all time, I still find myself more often reaching for instrumental albums. So I approached <em>Carmen Sings Monk</em>—which, unsurprisingly, features <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carmen_McRae">Carmen McRae</a> singing vocal covers of Monk tracks—with some trepidation. But after having spent a week with the album, I can only imagine the curt response McRae might've had for my initial hesitation: "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYADfnI-iSs">Well, You Needn't</a>."</p> <p>Yep, this one's a certified banger. But that's a bit perplexing: we've heard some of these tracks directly from Monk before (such as "Monk's Dream" and "Ugly Beauty"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#mcrae-in-walked-bud">1</a></sup>)—they didn't fully enchant me then; what's different this time around? This is one case where the obvious answer happens to be the correct one: I think I just prefer McRae's pipes to Monk's plonking. I had previously assumed that there was something about Monk's <em>compositional</em> style that didn't jibe with me, but McRae quickly disproved that. At the risk of seeming unsophisticated<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#seeming-unsophisticated">2</a></sup>, McRae's greatest success is in making Monk's melodies <em>catchy</em> to me: musical motifs that I would have been hard-pressed to quote before have become phrases hummed while ambling about. While Monk's playing is frequently described as "angular" and "percussive," McRae is lively, witty, and charming. The liner notes describe McRae as a "consummate storyteller," and I'm inclined to agree. For some singers, I get the sense that lyrics are arbitrary phonemes conjured into existence solely to limit the listener's daydreaming—not so with McRae. She has a knack for spinning the words into one-sided conversations, creating performances that are certainly exceptional musically, and even edge towards becoming dramatic works in their own right.</p> <p>This is also an album with some serious depth—I knew I was keen on it overall when I realized that my favourite track had shifted around several times. I came into this thinking "Suddenly" (aka "In Walked Bud") would be the easy winner, but it didn't take long before "It's Over Now" (aka "Well You Needn't") climbed to the top, and "Man, That Was a Dream" (aka "Monk's Dream") still isn't far behind.</p> <p>Oh right; I haven't yet explained those weird duplicate titles and "akas." Even though each track on this album is a cover of a Monk composition, the titles here are totally distinct from the originals (e.g., "In Walked Bud" is called "Suddenly" on this album, even though they're clearly the same song) This confused me, and the explanation from the liner notes—"the reason for these title changes is simply insistence by the music publishers"—failed to sate my curiosity. So here's your mini-lesson on intellectual property law: in general, you can't copyright the <em>title</em> of a creative work; if you want to call your nü jazz album <em>Kind of Blue</em>, so be it. However, adding lyrics to an existing instrumental track (as McRae is doing here) creates a new "derivative work" that must be blessed by the original rights holder. Clearly the rights holders of Monk's compositions approved in this case (otherwise we wouldn't have this album), but presumably only on the condition of changing the titles. Why would they bother to ask for that? Alas, simply to please the bean counters: having distinct titles makes tracking performances/royalties/etc. simpler and heads off any ambiguity. While these revised titles have largely functional origins, they also seem to be thematically cohesive; I found myself sliding them around like those <a rel="external" href="https://magneticpoetry.com/">poetry magnets</a>. So join me in sticking it to the suits with an exercise in <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Found_poetry">found poetry</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p>GET IT STRAIGHT</p> <p>SUDDENLY</p> <p>IT'S OVER NOW</p> <p>LOOKING BACK</p> <p>MAN, THAT WAS A DREAM</p> <p>HOW I WISH…</p> <p>YOU KNOW WHO</p> <p>LISTEN TO MONK</p> <p>DEAR RUBY</p> <p>LITTLE BUTTERFLY</p> <p>MONKERY'S THE BLUES</p> <p>STILL WE DREAM</p> <p>ROUND MIDNIGHT</p> </blockquote> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> It's Over Now</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="mcrae-in-walked-bud"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>We also heard "In Walked Bud" before (present on this album as "Suddenly"), but since that version also had vocals it's a different case. Not to mention "Round Midnight" and "Rhythm-A-Ning," both of which we heard covered on <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-48/">last week's album</a> as well.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="seeming-unsophisticated"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Deservedly so, I'm afraid.</p> </div> 2025-12-31T00:00:00+00:00 2025-12-31T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-48/ <p>The more time I spend with the two <a rel="external" href="https://www.discogs.com/release/2375584-Various-The-Perfect-Jazz-Collection">box</a> <a rel="external" href="https://www.discogs.com/release/2966397-Various-The-Perfect-Jazz-Collection-2">sets</a> guiding our journey, the more structural similarities I notice between them. Each has <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-01/">one</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-28/">Armstrong</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">one</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/">Davis</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">one</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">Mingus</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">a smattering</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-45/">of fusion</a>, and also one movie soundtrack. Last time it was <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Bird</a></em> (Clint Eastwood's elegy to Charlie Parker); this time it's <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Round_Midnight_(film)">Round Midnight</a></em>, which chronicles the final years of Dale Turner, a fictional saxophonist (played by <em>real</em> saxophonist <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dexter_Gordon">Dexter Gordon</a>) based heavily on the lives of Lester Young<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#young-in-sound-of-jazz">1</a></sup> and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bud_Powell">Bud Powell</a>.</p> <p><em>Round Midnight</em> feels like a fitting capstone as we approach the conclusion of Fifty Weeks of Jazz (please, stifle your tears lest you ruin your keyboard): released in 1986 but set in the 1950s, it features a who's who of then-modern jazz musicians, albeit mostly emulating an older style. We've encountered many of those artists before, such as <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">Herbie Hancock</a>—who composed and arranged the score—as well as <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-37/">Freddie Hubbard</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-42/">Ron Carter</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/">Chet Baker</a>, and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-43/">Wayne Shorter</a>; you can decide for yourself whether that makes this a victory lap or a final exam.</p> <p>My entry point to <em>Round Midnight</em> was the soundtrack, so let's start there. Much like the cast of musicians behind it, there's variety on offer: we get a couple of Monk covers, tremendous vocal performances from both male and female singers ("Fair Weather" with Chet Baker and "How Long Has This Been Going On?" from <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lonette_McKee">Lonette McKee</a>, respectively), fantastic solos on instruments from soprano sax to vibraphone, and some new compositions from Hancock (including a collaboration with Stevie Wonder). I'm hard-pressed to find a dud among them; each track is strong in its own way—but of course, some highlights distinguish themselves. For instance, we've heard "Round Midnight" (the song) <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-13/">multiple</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/">times</a> by now, but the version of the melody in the first track transfixed me: it's so expressive and ethereal that I initially struggled to place the instrument; turns out it's the inimitable vocal stylings of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobby_McFerrin">Bobby McFerrin</a> (whom you'll certainly know from "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU&amp;list=RDd-diB65scQU">Don't Worry, Be Happy</a>"). I adore Wayne Shorter on soprano sax, so obviously "The Peacocks" resonated with me; it also called to mind "Bird Calls" from <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">Mingus Ah Um</a></em>. "Una Noche con Francis"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#una-noche-con-francis">2</a></sup> provides some much-needed levity after a few opening tracks that skew dark; "Minuit aux Champs-Elysées" features some great vibraphone work. But the sleeper hit for me is "Bérangère’s Nightmare:" pulsating and tense, it immediately evokes that titular terror. It seems sacrilegious to rank this mood-setting piece above the fuller, iconic jazz standards on this album, but it's the one that most consistently gripped me (and interestingly, as <a rel="external" href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/qgw6/">this BBC review notes</a>, it's also totally anachronistic in the context of the movie). So all in all, this is one soundtrack I'm quite glad to own (and perhaps I ought to also check out <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Other_Side_of_Round_Midnight">the companion album</a> as well)—the only miss is that it fails to include a fun rendition of "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqjbVFQyiMs">Put it Right Here</a>" from the movie (though I could do without the racist interlude…).</p> <p>As for the film itself, I'm a bit more ambivalent. Much of the acting is commendable: Dexter Gordon is utterly convincing as Dale Turner<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#gordon-as-turner">3</a></sup>, and of all people Martin Scorsese is suffocatingly smarmy as an American club manager, creating delectable cultural whiplash after we spend most of our screen time hanging around cultured, high-minded Europeans and sympathetic American romantics. But whereas <em>Bird</em> had a clear tragic arc to ground the narrative, <em>Round Midnight</em> is more willing to simply luxuriate in the sights and sounds of faux mid-century Paris. If you're a real jazzhead, that's likely to be a great time—especially given how many prominent real-life musicians are on screen in cameo roles—but for those just looking to dip their toes into the scene, it strikes me as a hard sell.</p> <p>My favourite part of <em>Round Midnight</em> is how it plays with verisimilitude: Gordon, a real-life jazz star, plays a fictional saxophonist based (in part) on another real sax legend. But of course, Lester Young himself is such a big name that he exists in the movie universe as well, right alongside Turner. Add in the panoply of other real-life musicians rounding out the cast and the result is a work of fiction, but one so grounded in a love and respect for the music and culture of jazz that it feels more like a documentary from a parallel timeline. As someone living in a time and place where jazz is not quite in the zeitgeist, there is a certain vicarious joy in beholding even a simulacrum of what it might've felt like to be a part of that moment.</p> <p>So, if I can only recommend one, start with the soundtrack—but if you have a free evening and care to relive some jazz nostalgia, <em>Round Midnight</em> will suit you quite well.</p> <p>I'll turn it over to Dale Turner to close the books on a busy year:</p> <blockquote> <p>Francis: You are tired, Dale?</p> <p>Dale: Oh yes. I'm tired of everything. Except… the music.</p> </blockquote> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Bérangère’s Nightmare</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="young-in-sound-of-jazz"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>We (sadly) haven't heard Young headline an album, but we did catch one of his most iconic performances in <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-30/">The Sound of Jazz</a></em>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="una-noche-con-francis"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Based only on the title, you might assume this was written for the movie (where Francis is Dale Turner's steadfast French friend), but it's actually a Bud Powell original dedicated to his real-life Parisian <em>ami</em> named Francis.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="gordon-as-turner"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Perhaps this is not surprising given that Gordon's own life was in many ways similar to Turner's: substance abuse issues, fleeing to Europe for recovery and respect, and finally an American repatriation before his demise.</p> </div> 2025-12-25T00:00:00+00:00 2025-12-25T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-47/ <p>For hundreds of thousands of years, the human musical experience was quite straightforward: if you wanted to listen to music, you needed someone to perform it for you. Then in 1877, Edison invented the phonograph and forever upended that requirement: music could now be recorded in advance, then replayed whenever. Over time, this recording process grew so elaborate that the final sounds delivered by the audio engineers were often well beyond anything the band ever produced contemporaneously. Of course, humans will always demand in-person concerts, so if you're a group that made it big based on an elaborate studio setup, how can you tour? Well, inevitably you hack something together and hope to pack the seats. And if you're really enterprising, you'll record some of those live shows too,<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#recordings-all-the-way-down">1</a></sup> and in so doing you will have created a dilemma all music lovers today face: live or studio albums?<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#concerts-vs-albums">2</a></sup></p> <p>This week's album, <em>8:30</em>, puts that question to us directly. We first heard Weather Report in the studio<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#heavy-weather-live-track">3</a></sup> on their monumental album, <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">Heavy Weather</a></em>; three of those eight tracks appear as part of <em>8:30</em>'s epic 80-minute live set. So which is the superior experience? As someone helplessly <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glenn_Gould">Gould</a>-pilled, I hew towards the studio. Even though this is a quite faithful live album, studio recordings in general offer a level of polish and detail that simply can't be equalled in a single take—what sends shivers down my spine is not the canned cheers of a faceless crowd, but rather, e.g., the sublime soloing of Zawinul near the end of "A Remark You Made" (a solo that comes through much more cleanly in the studio!). Of course, that's not to say live albums are intrinsically worse: at their best, they can capture intimate, conversational moments between performer and audience that have no studio equivalent; <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-22/">Jaco Pastorius</a> illustrates that perfectly here with "Slang" (and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-43/">Wayne Shorter</a> isn't far behind with "Thanks for the Memory"). They can also serve as pseudo-"Best of" albums, samplers of an artist's wider oeuvre—just as the first half of <em>8:30</em> does, with many inclusions from Weather Report's earlier hits. And finally, the spontaneity of live performance sometimes produces wonderfully weird things that, while unpolished, ought to be preserved all the same (see the second half of <em>8:30</em>, which features alien babble, a children's choir, and a train running through the stage).</p> <p>So all that to say: live albums aren't worse in general; they simply aren't my preference. At first, I turned my nose up at <em>8:30</em>, finding it to be a worse version of <em>Heavy Weather</em> with other miscellaneous goodies thrown in. But with the benefit of repeated listens, I've come to appreciate it as 80 minutes of often euphoric, frequently conversational, and always captivating jazz fusion.</p> <p>Such milquetoast takes make for poor engagement bait, however. So instead of closing there, allow me to present my Universal Theory of Studio Versus Live Albums, which will predict every other part of your personality with 100% accuracy based simply on your album preference:</p> <table><thead><tr><th>Studio albums</th><th>Live albums</th></tr></thead><tbody> <tr><td>Theory</td><td>Practice</td></tr> <tr><td>Mind</td><td>Body</td></tr> <tr><td>Order</td><td>Chaos</td></tr> <tr><td>Introversion</td><td>Extroversion</td></tr> <tr><td><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouba/kiki_effect">Bouba</a></td><td><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bouba/kiki_effect">Kiki</a></td></tr> </tbody></table> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Badia/Boogie Woogie Waltz Medley</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="recordings-all-the-way-down"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Thus creating a recording of a live show, which itself was based on edited recordings of live performances. It's <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutual_recursion">mutual recursion</a> all the way down.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="concerts-vs-albums"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Of course, having the opportunity to actually attend the concert in person is a completely separate matter, and one we shan't consider for our purposes today.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="heavy-weather-live-track"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Well, <em>mostly</em>. "Rumba Mamá," released on <em>Heavy Weather</em>, was recorded "live at a summer 1976 concert in Montreux, Switzerland", per <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heavy_Weather_(album)">Wikipedia</a>. Meanwhile, <em>8:30</em> was intended to be fully live, but "an engineer accidentally erased some of the material, prompting the band to go into the studio to record the fourth side" (<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/8:30">Wikipedia</a> again). Taken together, these form a very pleasing musical <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taijitu#Modern_yin-yang_symbol">taijitu</a>.</p> </div> 2025-12-07T00:00:00+00:00 2025-12-07T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-46/ <p>I'm beginning to think that as <em>composers</em>, jazz bassists may simply be built different. We've heard Jaco Pastorius pen some absolutely nutty tracks (both on his <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-22/">solo debut</a> as well as on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">Heavy Weather</a></em>), and for my money, the work of <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">Charles Mingus</a> is even greater. Stanley Clarke, bassist par excellence, upholds that vaunted tradition with this week's album, <em>School Days</em>—six all-original tracks that achieve a truly sublime synthesis of jazz, funk, rock, and more.</p> <p>We actually had our first taste of Clarke <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-45/">last week</a>:<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#school-days-recording-date">1</a></sup> as a close friend of Corea, Clarke was the only other permanent member of Return to Forever.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#clarke-scientology">2</a></sup> Don't pigeonhole him as "the RtF bassist though"—of the five Grammy Awards he's won, three are for his solo work; along the way he's recorded with members from groups like The Police, The Rolling Stones, and y'know, The Beatles (McCartney called up Clarke for <a rel="external" href="https://www.guitarworld.com/features/when-stanley-clarke-met-paul-mccartney">bass-slappin’ lessons</a>). Even Clarke's first foray into jazz and its many fusions was happenstance: he originally "intended to become the first black musician in the Philadelphia Orchestra until he met jazz pianist Chick Corea" (per <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_Clarke#Return_to_Forever_(band)">Wikipedia</a>).</p> <p>As for the tracks themselves, "School Days" immediately sets the tone for the rest of the album with Clarke's chunky power chords, and it doesn't take long before his soloing begins—if you weren't already a believer, Clarke will make you one in just under eight minutes. "Quiet Afternoon" turns down the temperature for a breather with some subdued electronic-heavy stylings, just so "The Dancer" can liven things up again immediately after. Curmudgeon that I am, I often demand a little pique or intrigue from my jazz—"The Dancer" is unabashedly fun, upbeat, and simply happy throughout, but it's so earnest and successful in its execution that even I can't help but crack a smile. "Desert Song" features beautiful interplay between the guitars (though see <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-38/">Beyond the Blue Horizon</a></em> for a more obviously Eastern-inspired guitar trek). "Hot Fun" is exactly what it says on the tin: the funk is turned up to 11; blast this as you strut down Harlem. Finally, "Life Is Just a Game" is where the whole album comes together for me: the other tracks are fun, interesting, or catchy, but "Life Is Just a Game" is the only truly <em>epic</em> song of the bunch. I'm fascinated by the blink-and-you'll-miss-them vocals that connect a musical theme to the song's lyrical thesis, only to immediately exit stage left; overall I strongly feel a narrative arc being created through this piece in a way that's highly reminiscent of <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/">Birds of Fire</a></em>. Also, the climactic build near the beginning and end sounds exactly like something that would play after you 3-star every cup in a Mario Kart game. Just sayin’.</p> <p>In <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-45/">recent weeks</a>, I have been, shall we say, <em>skeptical</em> of the jazz bona fides of certain jazz fusion albums. I don't feel that way about <em>School Days</em>: I can't adequately articulate or point to what distinguishes this from previous entries, but here I feel a genuine partnership between jazz and rock (rather than one subsuming the other).</p> <p>I began by comparing Clarke to Pastorius and Mingus, but upon further reflection I've come to see him more as a blending of the two: his virtuosic command of the bass rivals Jaco, and he clearly also shares no small measure of Mingus's compositional genius. What ought one do with such tremendous musical talents? Perhaps Clarke already told us:</p> <blockquote> <p>So life is just a game</p> <p>And there are many ways to play</p> <p>And all you do is choose</p> <p>La la la la la la</p> </blockquote> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Life Is Just a Game</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="school-days-recording-date"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>In fact, <em>School Days</em> was recorded only months after <em>Romantic Warrior</em>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="clarke-scientology"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Yeah, that means Clarke is also a devout Scientologist. Sorry.</p> </div> 2025-11-30T00:00:00+00:00 2025-11-30T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-45/ <p>Ho, brave traveller! Wherefore dost thou haste? Thou seem’st to have covered many miles, but this storm would detain the gods themselves—come; tarry a moment by the fire, and regale us of thy travels…</p> <p>I'm in an unfortunate hurry this week, so let me get straight to the point: <em>Romantic Warrior</em> is a 1976 jazz fusion album by <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Return_to_Forever">Return to Forever</a>, a group founded by <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chick_Corea">Chick Corea</a>. Corea is one of those big names in late 20^th century jazz that I don't think we've encountered so far. My assessment of <em>Romantic Warrior</em> is remarkably similar to <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/">Birds of Fire</a></em>; namely, <em>Romantic Warrior</em> is:</p> <ul> <li>Completely awesome;</li> <li>a singular, cohesive prog masterpiece;</li> <li>…<em>not</em> jazz?</li> </ul> <p>I've listened to a lot more rock than jazz in my time, and let me tell you, this is rockin’:</p> <p><audio controls src="sorceress_guitar_solo.mp3"></audio></p> <p>I'm sure those more musically-discerning than I can give meticulous explanations as to why this should be counted among the jazz canon, but I'm still not able to really feel that for myself yet. Of course, that didn't stop this album from winning me over on first listen—I am obsessed with the deep bass in "The Romantic Warrior," and I am delighted that the band wasn't too self-serious to inject some whimsy with "The Magician". (Come to think of it, the way that track expressly develops a distinct character reminds me of Holst's <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Planets">The Planets</a></em>, which of course has a magician of its own.)</p> <p>But if you only take one thing away from this article, let it be this plea: where are the indie games built around jazz fusion soundtracks? <em>Romantic Warrior</em> is an enthralling listening experience—it evokes such rich imagery that while it doesn't <em>need</em> a visual accompaniment, it would make for an even more immersive adventure. Make me the Man of La Mancha and let me tilt at windmills while the guitar solos wail!</p> <p>One more unusual connection to highlight before we depart: when investigating fellow jazz fusionists <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/">Mahavishnu Orchestra</a>, we learned that they were inspired by Sri Chinmoy, a religious leader somewhat outside mainstream practice. <em>Romantic Warrior</em> has similar "outré" spiritual inspirations: the album is dedicated to L. Ron Hubbard, because Chick Corea was a devout Scientologist. Amazingly, this isn't even his most Scientology-ist jazz work: Corea played on an album literally called <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_Jazz">Space Jazz</a></em> (the "soundtrack" for one of Hubbard's books), and though I have little inclination to support that particular organization, "space jazz" is <em>exactly</em> the kind of music I want to listen to.</p> <p>So, overall: <em>Romantic Warrior</em> is another jazz fusion album earning top marks from me—and one that I will surely be returning to, forever.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> The Romantic Warrior</p> <hr> 2025-11-23T00:00:00+00:00 2025-11-23T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-44/ <p>One thing I've learned this year about jazz is that her inspirations are multifold. Had you asked me in January, I would've guessed that most jazz compositions are wholly original: some meticulously crafted by musical geniuses; others perfectly extemporized by true virtuosos. Turns out, that's not even close to true; the jazz smelters hunger voraciously for musical ore, and they care little of the exact provenance: <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-17/#porgy-and-bess">American opera</a> is as good a source as <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-21/">Brazilian rhythms</a>. In keeping with that vaunted tradition, the centerpiece of this week's album is a jazz cover of <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concierto_de_Aranjuez">Concierto de Aranjuez</a></em>, a 1939 guitar concerto composed by <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joaqu%C3%ADn_Rodrigo">Joaquín Rodrigo</a>.</p> <p>In fact, let's dedicate this week to the Rodrigo piece and its descendants, because there's a fascinating musical evolution here that is easy to trace. We begin, naturally, with the original composition: I started by listening to <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zy8QKwTeMGo">this performance</a>, starring John Williams.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#john-williams-confusion">1</a></sup> It's an interesting piece: when the orchestra is in charge, we're firmly in classical territory (that I would struggle to discern from any other twentieth-century composer), but of course the soloist infuses Spanish guitar that I personally wouldn't typically associate with the symphony. (In fact, "infuse" must be too weak a term; surely this piece helped <em>define</em> that Platonic notion of "Spanish guitar" at which I am lamely grasping.) If you like the more lively first and third movements, enjoy them while you can—as we'll soon see, it's the second movement that proves to be especially influential among later musicians.</p> <p>Now that we're acquainted with the 1939 composition, jump forward twenty years, where we find an established Miles Davis in the unenviable position of needing to follow up his monumental release from earlier in 1959, <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">Kind of Blue</a></em>. Fortunately, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sketches_of_Spain#Background">a friend of Davis passed him a recording of <em>Concierto de Aranjuez</em></a>, and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gil_Evans">Gil Evans</a> was on-hand to rearrange it for him. <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpRXA3lFrqM">The resulting version</a>—released on <em>Sketches of Spain</em>—presents a bold, imposing vision of the second movement. Overall I find it less stiff than the original: presumably facing fewer formal constraints, Davis and Evans amp up the drama with forceful percussion and wide dynamic range. But even with those embellishments, the overall piece still has a strong classical character to my ear; I see it as more at home in the concert hall than in a jazz club—I suppose that's why it's often cited as an example of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_stream">third stream</a>. One thing Davis and Evans did <em>not</em> do was contact Rodrigo in any way before releasing their cover; apparently <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concierto_de_Aranjuez#Interpretations">Rodrigo only learned of it after a friend played the album for him</a>, and was furious (though he later came to begrudgingly accept the massive additional exposure this version brought to his original work, not to mention whatever fat cheques came in from the later legal settlement).</p> <p>With all that, we're now finally ready to place this week's album in context: <em>Concierto</em>, by Jim Hall, released in 1975. I was stoked to see Hall headlining an album: we've heard from him several times before, but only as a <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-33/">sideman</a>—based on what we've learned of Rodgrio's composition, we should all be salivating at the prospect of a guitarist like Hall giving his interpretation. Indeed, Hall brings the goods, assisted by a backing band that includes some names you <em>might</em> have heard before—do <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-27/">Paul Desmond</a> or <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-10/">Chet Baker</a> ring a bell‽ (I hope I'm not the only one <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/">getting déjà vu</a>.) In terms of mood, I find Hall's version to be quite different from either the original or Davis's cover: it's certainly cooler and more relaxed than <em>Sketches of Spain</em>; it's not nearly as in-your-face with its dynamics. I also find it has a fundamentally jazzier character: we've really shed all classical formalities at this point, but without sacrificing that poignant, haunting melody.</p> <p>For all that beauty though, I will confess that this album didn't hook me off the bat. Perhaps that is temperamental: I have made it clear previously that <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">I am not a man of subtleties</a>. As such, I sometimes need time to warm up to cool jazz, as it were—I wouldn't say <em>Concierto</em> astounds or astonishes on the first play (unlike, e.g., <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/">Birds of Fire</a></em>), but subsequent listens begin to reveal the great splendor of this garden.</p> <p>Well, that takes us to 1975, but the story of <em>Concierto de Aranjuez</em> doesn't end with Hall's <em>Concierto</em>: Wikipedia lists <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concierto_de_Aranjuez#Interpretations">dozens of covers and references</a>, many of which are jazz-tinged. Some of my personal favourites include:</p> <ul> <li><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buckethead">Buckethead</a>'s <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qOVJchi_eo">version</a>, which is predictably skull-melting (in the best possible way). Although <em>technically</em> he was covering <em>Sketches of Spain</em>, not Rodrigo directly, so this is a cover of a cover… it's Aranjuez all the way down.</li> <li><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herb_Alpert">Herb Alpert</a> put a spin on it in his 1979 album, <em>Rise</em>, titled "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0B_CVFnAhEI">Aranjuez (mon amour)</a>." This one is way more club-dance-funk-y, at times getting closer to the Middle East than Spain—it also quotes the first movement, not just the second.</li> </ul> <p>I must say, I sure am glad that Rodrigo failed to block the release of Davis's cover of <em>Concierto de Aranjuez</em>. Yes, creators deserve to be paid for their work, but once a piece of music like this is published, it takes on a life of its own: clearly it has inspired, influenced, and <em>moved</em> so many other musicians, who then proffered their own interpretations in an ongoing, worldwide conversation—I have little sympathy for those who would prematurely stifle that discourse for a miserly accounting of royalties. <em>¡Música para todos!</em></p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Concierto de Aranjuez<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#concierto-favourite-track">2</a></sup></p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="john-williams-confusion"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>No, not the John Williams you're thinking of; <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Williams_(guitarist)">the classical guitarist</a>. Though interestingly, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Williams">John-Williams-the-composer</a> cut his teeth on piano—in fact, he played on the first recording of the <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Emg_6ANjWzo">Peter Gunn theme</a>, and released a few jazz albums of his own. But if you go looking for those albums, don't mix him up with <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Williams_(pianist)">John Williams</a>, the jazz pianist.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="concierto-favourite-track"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>I mean, come on—after all that, did you really expect anything else?</p> </div> 2025-11-16T00:00:00+00:00 2025-11-16T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-43/ <p>Indulge me in a little experiment: conjure up some "world music" in your mind's ear. What do you hear? If you're anything like me, the phrase evokes something anodyne and bloodless: vaguely African drumming, mellifluous but unintelligible vocals, and likely little complexity on offer.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#world-music-apology">1</a></sup></p> <p><em>Native Dancer</em> has many of the accoutrements I associate with world music. But pejorative "world music," this is not: it's a rich, nuanced tapestry that captivated me from the first listen. It's also another example of the frustratingly squishy label "jazz fusion" that we've seen <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">several</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-37/">times</a> by now. However, on that front, <em>Native Dancer</em> has a much more legitimate claim to be "fusion" than its peers: it heavily features the enthralling vocals and compositions of the Brazilian musician <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milton_Nascimento">Milton Nascimento</a>—this truly is a blend of jazz <em>and</em> Brazilian traditions.</p> <p>But though Nascimento's contributions here are laudable, he only gets second billing—this is Wayne Shorter's album. It is with no small measure of self-satisfaction that I share I was able to deduce this independently: after my first listen, I knew that I had heard that focused, piercing saxophone tone<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#shorter-saxophone-tone">2</a></sup> before; with much straining of neurons I was finally able to discern the source as <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">Heavy Weather</a></em>.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#shorter-on-jaco-pastorius">3</a></sup> Shorter is one of those musicians who seems to have been at the centre of every big jazz group: he cut his teeth with the <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">Jazz Messengers</a>, played with <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">Miles Davis</a>, then left that gig to co-found Weather Report. Oh, and if that wasn't enough, he won <em>Downbeat</em> magazine's critics' choice award for soprano sax—for ten years straight.</p> <p>One of the great successes of <em>Native Dancer</em> is that it lets both Shorter <em>and</em> Nascimento shine. In "Ponta de Areia," "Miracle of the Fishes," and "From the Lonely Afternoons," Nascimento's vocals are the main attraction—layered like rushing waters that create an inexorable current that drags you in and along. Shorter is largely a co-conspirator in these efforts, but he takes command on tracks like "Beauty and the Beast," where he injects a healthy dose of funk, and "Ana Maria." I'm also impressed by the pacing of the album: tracks like "Diana" offer a softer, quieter reprieve between the big vocal numbers. And not to put <em>too</em> fine a point on it, but the <em>jazz</em> element of "jazz fusion" comes through clearly here, unlike <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/">a certain other</a> album we've heard.</p> <p>It bears reminding that this is not the first Brazilian album we've heard: on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-21/">The Best of Two Worlds</a></em>, the standout track was "Aguas de Março," which was inspired by the long, torrential March rains of Rio de Janeiro. <em>Native Dancer</em> is also a distinctly Brazilian album, but in this case… the Wayne's Shorter.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Ponta de Areia</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="world-music-apology"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Before you sharpen your pitchforks: I'm sorry, okay? I'm sure there are many examples of <em>great</em> world music, and yes, slapping this singular label on everything outside the Western canon is farcical. But in my limited experience, anything described as "world music" is more likely to be heard in a waiting room than a concert hall.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="shorter-saxophone-tone"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Don't take that the wrong way; I love how Shorter plays.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="shorter-on-jaco-pastorius"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Technically we also heard Shorter on one track from Jaco Pastorius's <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-22/">self-titled album</a>. And yes, I'm sure that merely recognizing Shorter's playing is no great feat to you, but we're all on our own journeys here; let me have this.</p> </div> 2025-11-09T00:00:00+00:00 2025-11-09T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-42/ <p><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/">Last week</a>, we heard a 1974 Chet Baker album that featured a prominent saxophonist (namely, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-32/">Paul Desmond</a>). I wasn't so keen on it myself, but clearly the jazz gods are rooting for that specific niche, because this week they insisted upon a mulligan—a <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-14/">Gerry Mulligan</a>, in fact. Yes, less than a month after the final recording date for <em>She Was Too Good to Me</em>, Baker performed at Carnegie Hall alongside Mulligan, giving us this album.</p> <p>I'll not bury the lede: I much prefer <em>Carnegie Hall Concert</em> to <em>She Was Too Good to Me</em>. I wouldn't describe the former as particularly flashy or revolutionary, but it is a cornucopia of fine jazz: eight tracks, most over eight minutes long and each overflowing with fantastic musicianship. Obviously the focus is on Baker and Mulligan—given the smooth, lyrical phrasing they share, it's no wonder their serendipitous partnership from the ’50s entranced both then and now.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#mulligan-baker-partnership">1</a></sup> I've already remarked on Baker's beautiful, pure tone elsewhere, but I'm even more partial to Mulligan: he's equally delicate in his approach, but the force of the baritone sax gives him the ability to conjure drama and tension out of thin air—which he does repeatedly and effectively on this album (e.g., in "It's Sandy At The Beach", or the final couple minutes of "K-4 Pacific"). It's not just a matter of volume: as he gets loud, he also eases up on the self-control, unleashing a throatier, primal, more insistent sound (though nowhere near what Sonny and Hawk <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-12/">get up to</a>).</p> <p>But to focus exclusively on our headliners would be to overlook some equally impressive performances from the ensemble. In particular, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_James_(musician)">Bob James</a> (on piano) frequently steals the show for me: he begins "For An Unfinished Woman" with a simple theme, but one that sets up the intrigue that fuels the rest of the piece; his solo in "My Funny Valentine" is heart-wrenching; and he brings just as much excitement as anyone else to "It's Sandy at the Beach". Our bassist, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Carter">Ron Carter</a>, keeps things humming throughout and takes centre stage with solos on "K-4 Pacific" and "There Will Never Be Another You".<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#james-carter-redux">2</a></sup> And we haven't even gotten into <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Scofield">John Scofield</a>'s racing guitar solos, nor the fantastic vibraphone and drum work… suffice it to say there's a fairly large group on display here (eight musicians total) and none of them disappoint.</p> <p><em>She Was Too Good to Me</em> was clearly a Baker album with a side of Desmond; by contrast, Mulligan is in the driver's seat this time, having composed most of the tunes. That being said, though, Baker still gets his moments: he sings on "There Will Never Be Another You" (lovely, as always), and of course they take up "My Funny Valentine," which was Baker's signature song. (In fact, it was Baker's recording with Mulligan's quartet in 1953 that was later selected for inclusion in the [American] <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Recording_Registry">National Recording Registry</a>.) We first heard "My Funny Valentine" on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-32/">Desmond Blue</a></em>, and I once again prefer this version; just like "Autumn Leaves" from <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/">last week</a>, the soaring formality of Desmond's take ends up detracting from the overall emotion—it should be no surprise that Baker is hard to top on home turf.</p> <p>Let us conclude this week with a tripartite connection. One of my high-level takeaways from this project is that the jazz scene is smaller and more tightly-linked than I had expected; in our 42 weeks so far we've discovered connection after connection between many of the big names. In that vein, I find it very aesthetically satisfying that with this album, we have now completed the Baker–Desmond–Mulligan triangle:</p> <!-- Note: this isn't general-purpose at all; I just wanted to include this diagram without embedding the full SVG in the blog post itself (because that's a bit unwieldy). --> <div style="text-align: center;"> <svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" style="max-width:100%;max-height:182px;" xmlns:xlink="http://www.w3.org/1999/xlink" version="1.1" width="300px" viewBox="-0.5 -0.5 300 182"><defs/><g><g data-cell-id="0"><g data-cell-id="1"><g data-cell-id="S9Geb9E47wun0Sb_1fKk-1"><g><rect x="100" y="0" width="90" height="50" fill="none" stroke="none" pointer-events="all"/></g><g><g><switch><foreignObject style="overflow: visible; text-align: left;" pointer-events="none" width="100%" height="100%" requiredFeatures="http://www.w3.org/TR/SVG11/feature#Extensibility"><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" style="display: flex; align-items: unsafe center; 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align-items: unsafe center; justify-content: unsafe center; width: 1px; height: 1px; padding-top: 90px; margin-left: 222px;"><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0; text-align: center; color: #000000; background-color: #ffffff; "><div style="display: inline-block; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Lucida Console'; color: light-dark(#000000, #ffffff); line-height: 1.2; pointer-events: all; background-color: light-dark(#ffffff, var(--ge-dark-color, #121212)); white-space: nowrap; "><a href="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-14/"><font><i>Two of a Mind</i></font></a></div></div></div></foreignObject><text x="222" y="94" fill="light-dark(#000000, #ffffff)" font-family="'Lucida Console'" font-size="13px" text-anchor="middle">Two of a Mind</text></switch></g></g></g></g><g data-cell-id="S9Geb9E47wun0Sb_1fKk-2"><g><rect x="210" y="135" width="90" height="45" fill="none" stroke="none" pointer-events="all"/></g><g><g><switch><foreignObject style="overflow: visible; text-align: left;" pointer-events="none" width="100%" height="100%" requiredFeatures="http://www.w3.org/TR/SVG11/feature#Extensibility"><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" style="display: flex; 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align-items: unsafe center; justify-content: unsafe center; width: 1px; height: 1px; padding-top: 89px; margin-left: 68px;"><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0; text-align: center; color: #000000; background-color: #ffffff; "><div style="display: inline-block; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Lucida Console'; color: light-dark(#000000, #ffffff); line-height: 1.2; pointer-events: all; background-color: light-dark(#ffffff, var(--ge-dark-color, #121212)); white-space: nowrap; "><a href="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-42/"><font><i>Carnegie Hall<br />Concert</i></font></a></div></div></div></foreignObject><text x="68" y="93" fill="light-dark(#000000, #ffffff)" font-family="'Lucida Console'" font-size="13px" text-anchor="middle">Carnegie Hall...</text></switch></g></g></g></g><g data-cell-id="S9Geb9E47wun0Sb_1fKk-6"><g><path d="M 70 157.5 L 210 157.5" fill="none" stroke="#000000" style="stroke: light-dark(rgb(0, 0, 0), rgb(255, 255, 255));" stroke-miterlimit="10" pointer-events="stroke"/></g><g data-cell-id="S9Geb9E47wun0Sb_1fKk-9"><g><g><switch><foreignObject style="overflow: visible; text-align: left;" pointer-events="none" width="100%" height="100%" requiredFeatures="http://www.w3.org/TR/SVG11/feature#Extensibility"><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" style="display: flex; align-items: unsafe center; justify-content: unsafe center; width: 1px; height: 1px; padding-top: 157px; margin-left: 138px;"><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0; text-align: center; color: #000000; background-color: #ffffff; "><div style="display: inline-block; font-size: 13px; font-family: 'Lucida Console'; color: light-dark(#000000, #ffffff); line-height: 1.2; pointer-events: all; background-color: light-dark(#ffffff, var(--ge-dark-color, #121212)); white-space: nowrap; "><a href="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/"><font><i>She Was Too<br />Good to Me</i></font></a></div></div></div></foreignObject><text x="138" y="161" fill="light-dark(#000000, #ffffff)" font-family="'Lucida Console'" font-size="13px" text-anchor="middle">She Was Too...</text></switch></g></g></g></g><g data-cell-id="S9Geb9E47wun0Sb_1fKk-3"><g><rect x="0" y="135" width="70" height="45" fill="none" stroke="none" pointer-events="all"/></g><g><g><switch><foreignObject style="overflow: visible; text-align: left;" pointer-events="none" width="100%" height="100%" requiredFeatures="http://www.w3.org/TR/SVG11/feature#Extensibility"><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" style="display: flex; align-items: unsafe center; justify-content: unsafe center; width: 68px; height: 1px; padding-top: 158px; margin-left: 1px;"><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0; text-align: center; color: #000000; "><div style="display: inline-block; font-size: 20px; font-family: 'Lucida Console'; color: light-dark(#000000, #ffffff); line-height: 1.2; pointer-events: all; white-space: normal; word-wrap: normal; "><font>Chet<br />Baker</font></div></div></div></foreignObject><text x="35" y="164" fill="light-dark(#000000, #ffffff)" font-family="'Lucida Console'" font-size="20px" text-anchor="middle">Chet...</text></switch></g></g></g></g></g></g><switch><g requiredFeatures="http://www.w3.org/TR/SVG11/feature#Extensibility"/><a transform="translate(0,-5)" xlink:href="https://www.drawio.com/doc/faq/svg-export-text-problems" target="_blank"><text text-anchor="middle" font-size="10px" x="50%" y="100%">Text is not SVG - cannot display</text></a></switch></svg> </div> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> K-4 Pacific</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="mulligan-baker-partnership"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Unfortunately their original partnership lasted less than two years—like Baker, Mulligan was addicted to heroin at this point, and his arrest in 1953 abruptly ended the collaboration; <em>Carnegie Hall Concert</em> is one of two "reunion" recordings they made much later. Unlike Baker though, Mulligan's story has a happy ending: he was eventually able to kick the habit. You can read Mulligan's own recollection of those times in his <a rel="external" href="https://www.loc.gov/collections/gerry-mulligan/articles-and-essays/jeru-in-the-words-of-gerry-mulligan/addictions/">oral biography</a>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="james-carter-redux"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>I didn't point them out in particular last week, but both James and Carter also played on <em>She Was Too Good to Me</em>. Carter happens to hold the Guinness World Record for <a rel="external" href="https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/news/2016/1/ron-carter-earns-world-record-as-the-most-recorded-jazz-bassist-in-history-411828">most recorded jazz bassist</a> <em>ever</em>, so it should never be too surprising when he turns up—I wonder how many times I've heard him already without even noticing.</p> </div> 2025-11-02T00:00:00+00:00 2025-11-02T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/ <p>They say that no man ever steps in the same river twice. Well, it's been nearly eight months since <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-10/">we last heard</a> from certified super-crooner Chet Baker—have the waters changed in the interim, or have we? As is so often the case, I think the answer is both.</p> <p><em>She Was Too Good to Me</em>, released in 1974, is often described as a comeback album. That's… surprising, given that our last Baker album was titled <em>Chet is Back!</em> and released some 12 years earlier, but there's no real contradiction here: Baker faced many setbacks in his life—almost entirely owing to his all-consuming heroin addiction—and, to his credit, he staged comeback after comeback in response. In fact, conceiving of <em>Chet is Back!</em> as a comeback seems quaint in retrospect; that release celebrated the end of roughly a year of jail time related to his drug use. The comeback behind <em>She Was Too Good to Me</em> was far more dramatic: a drug deal gone wrong in 1966 led to Baker losing his teeth, ruining his embouchure and temporarily estranging him from his beloved instruments;<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#chet-baker-instruments">1</a></sup> <em>She Was Too Good to Me</em> was his major release after that extended hiatus.</p> <p><em>She Was Too Good to Me</em> is beautiful, sweeping, and at times a touch haunting—Baker's life was never easy, and the weight of that dull heartache comes through clearly on the album, particularly in the vocals. I generally prefer my jazz wordless, but Baker's singing is commendable: I find his phrasing compelling, and the lyrics, while simple, generally manage to steer clear of the overt kitsch that puts me off some other (particularly older) works.</p> <p>Yet despite all that, I still prefer the instrumentals—particularly "Autumn Leaves," which pairs Baker with the ever-smooth <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-27/">Paul Desmond</a> for a can't-miss combination. Interestingly, we've already heard Desmond himself cover "Autumn Leaves" on <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-32/">his solo album</a>.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#desmond-autumn-leaves">2</a></sup> I prefer the partnership with Baker: Desmond's solo take is a bit dramatic and formal (in keeping with the overall style of that album—listen to the flute and woodwind play catch with a very classical theme around the 2:30 mark). The version with Baker is more <em>fun</em>: it has more strut and swing, not to mention a sweet keyboard solo—and of course it features the incredible tones of both Desmond and Baker, both of whom give great performances here.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#autumn-leaves-showdown-part-2">3</a></sup></p> <p>On the whole, I'd pick <em>Chet is Back!</em> over <em>She Was Too Good to Me</em>. The former is more muscular and energetic; there's still raw emotion on offer (just listen to Baker solo on "Over the Rainbow"), but it's not as much plaintive heartbreak. Plus, "Ballata in forma di blues" still hooks me in a way that no other track across those two albums can. Fundamentally, I suppose I prefer Chet's blowing to his crooning.</p> <p>One final note for this week: we've seen <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">many</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-36/">albums</a> with great cover art, but this one mystified me; I could make neither heads nor tails of this blurry, abstract pointillism. Give it a go yourself, then click below for the real answer:</p> <figure> <img src="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/./she_was_too_good_to_me_front_cover.jpg" alt="The album art for _She Was Too Good to Me_; the background is an indistinct, grainy purple-orange-pink blur." class="centre"> </figure> <details> <summary>What the cover <em>really</em> shows</summary> I said I couldn't make heads or tails of this, but as it happens, the correct answer <em>is</em> heads (well, just one head), which I learned from Doug Payne's <a href="https://dougpayne.com/chet-baker-she-was-too-good-to-me-at-50/">wonderful article</a> on the album. It becomes far more obvious when you abut the rear image against the front: <figure> <img src="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-41/./she_was_too_good_to_me_front_and_back_covers.jpg" alt="The front and back album art for _She Was Too Good to Me_, abutting and clearly showing a photo of a woman's face." class="centre"> </figure> </details> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Autumn Leaves</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="chet-baker-instruments"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Not just his trumpet, he played the flugelhorn too.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="desmond-autumn-leaves"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Note that "Autumn Leaves" isn't on the original release of <em>Desmond Blue</em>; it must've been added as an extra to the re-release I have.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="autumn-leaves-showdown-part-2"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>You can tell "Autumn Leaves" is a much-covered piece, because we already pitted two <em>other</em> recordings of it against each other in our <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/">Standards Showdown</a> a while back. I still think Garner delivers the most emotional force, but he's also taking some greater liberties with the tune; for my money, the Baker/Desmond version goes toe-to-toe with Wynton's.</p> </div> 2025-10-26T00:00:00+00:00 2025-10-26T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-40/ <p>The title of this week's album—<em>The Beginning and the End</em>—suggests some division into two pieces, and after a first listen it isn't difficult to spot the seam joining the two. The album is roughly 35 minutes long, and in the first five minutes we've already knocked out the first two tracks ("I Come From Jamaica" and "Ida Red"): both are fun and catchy enough, but they're immediately old-fashioned to my ear, and not in a flattering way. Part of it is the lyrics ("I come from Jamaica / Jamaica she my home / Fish and rice / VEEERY NICE!"), but there's also something unmistakeably <em>cheesy</em> about them that's a dead giveaway—though to dissect these two Chris Powell songs start-to-end would rather miss the point; they're only included here as vehicles for the hot Clifford Brown trumpet solos they feature.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#chris-powell-context">1</a></sup> The remaining 30 minutes, by contrast, consists of three extended bebop performances (including a rendition of "Donna Lee," which we first heard on Jaco Pastorius's <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-22/">eponymous album</a>) that truly allow Brown to shine. These tracks most remind me of <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">the Parker "album"</a> we previously heard—at that time I wasn't particularly entranced by bebop overall, but for some reason this week it grabbed my attention. Maybe it's the casual club setting of the later session, but these three tracks really come <em>alive</em>; I keenly feel I'm sitting at a crowded table in a smoke-filled room, surrounded by patrons equally excited and dazzled by the dynamic, unpredictable solos Brown is belting out on his horn.</p> <p>Now that we've distinguished the "beginning" from the "end," what do they represent, exactly? Sadly, there is no clever metaphor here: these are Clifford Brown's earliest and latest known studio recordings. In 1952, Brown recorded some tracks with Chris Powell &amp; The Five Blue Flames; less than four years later he recorded a live set at Music City Club in Philadelphia;<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#brown-final-set">2</a></sup> and on a dark night in June 1956, Brown was killed in a car crash. He was just 25 years old.</p> <p>Though Brown's career was short, it undoubtedly left an outsized impact on jazz—even within his own lifetime he was seen as a pioneering figure of bebop and a distinctively talented trumpet player. Brown was best known for his quintet with <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Roach">Max Roach</a>, but he also played with <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">Art Blakey</a>, before Blakey's group even <em>was</em> the Jazz Messengers. As one example of Brown's legacy, consider <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-37/">Freddie Hubbard</a>: Hubbard (a fellow trumpet player) joined the Messengers in 1961, and one has to imagine the works of his instrumental forebear were on his mind. In fact, should you wish to better understand how Brown influenced Hubbard, allow me to refer you to either <a rel="external" href="https://jamesmoorejazz.com/">James Moore</a>'s 366-page <a rel="external" href="https://d-scholarship.pitt.edu/11673/">doctoral thesis</a> on the subject, or this <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fs0EJuJWdQQ">2-minute AI slop video</a><sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#ai-slop-b-roll">3</a></sup> with two views (one of which is me); two sources that I presume are of roughly equal scholarly value.</p> <br> <p>To study the history of jazz is to become acquainted with a litany of individual calamities: all too often, drink and drugs made quick work of the most promising jazzmen. But among those many tragedies, the loss of Brown makes us bristle with particular indignation—a rising genius who lived clean in an era when few did, his time upon this stage cut short without rhyme or reason. We can only be grateful that on his way out he left us these few treasures to remember him by.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Walkin’</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="chris-powell-context"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>If you do care to learn more about these tracks in general, <a rel="external" href="https://www.spontaneouslunacy.net/">Spontaneous Lunacy</a> has full articles contextualizing the importance of both "<a rel="external" href="https://www.spontaneouslunacy.net/chris-powell-the-five-blue-flames-i-come-from-jamaica-okeh-6900/">I Come From Jamaica</a>" and "<a rel="external" href="https://www.spontaneouslunacy.net/chris-powell-the-five-blue-flames-ida-red-okeh-6875/">Ida Red</a>" in the world of rock (not jazz!).</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="brown-final-set"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Several sources (including the album notes) claim that this final performance was mere hours before the crash, which strikes me as a shade too perfect to be true; others (including <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Beginning_and_the_End_%28Clifford_Brown_album%29#cite_note-Catalano_2000_9-40">a biographer of Brown</a>) have suggested the club recording might date back to 1955.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="ai-slop-b-roll"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Allow me to stress once more that the putative subject of this video is a nuanced comparison of Clifford Brown and Freddie Hubbard, two widely-acclaimed trumpeters. What features in the video's B-roll? One person on keys, another on saxophone, and two separate drummers—nice. (Yes, I know the video is all made up anyways.)</p> </div> 2025-10-20T00:00:00+00:00 2025-10-20T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/ <p>Mahavishnu Orchestra? More like "Make-Mah-Wish-True" Orchestra, because this psychedelic goodness is opening my third eye—am I right??</p> <p>…ahem. You'll have to forgive me—<a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-37/">two weeks ago</a> we were debating whether we'd had our first sampling of proper prog; in this case there's zero ambiguity and I summarily overdosed.</p> <p><em>Birds of Fire</em> is, to my ears, a space epic:<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#birds-of-fire-movie">1</a></sup> the opening track opens up a wormhole that distorts time and space itself; the dissonant guitar of this other dimension wrestles with the steady strings of our homeworld. That conflict between guitar and violin—manifest in one solo showdown after another—is a feature throughout the album. At other points I hear spaceships charging up for hyperdrive ("Sapphire Bullets of Pure Love"), seemingly Latin-inspired riffs ("Thousand Island Park"), a chaotic chase sequence ("One Word"), eavesdropping on a bizarre alien ceremonial rite ("Sanctuary"), then finally a safe return home ("Open Country Joy")—JUST KIDDING, WE'RE BLASTING OFF ONE MORE TIME!—aaand coming back down again, finally concluding with a foreboding imperial theme that teases the conflict we'll explore in the second <del>movie</del> album.</p> <p>So yes, <em>Birds of Fire</em> is excellent. But an elephant abounds: is it <em>jazz</em>? No, obviously not. This time I have the credentials to prove it.</p> <p>You see, recently I've had the pleasure of joining Jazz at Lincoln Center's fantastic <a rel="external" href="https://jazz.org/education/public-programs/swing-u/">Jazz 101</a> class, and in the first lecture Seton Hawkins is sure to impress the following conservative, three-element definition of jazz upon you (remember, this is <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/">Wynton's turf</a>; he's the artistic director).<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#jacl-jazz-definition">2</a></sup> To truly be jazz, the music must include:</p> <ol> <li>Blues expression<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#blues-expression">3</a></sup></li> <li>Swing rhythm</li> <li>An emphasis on improvisation</li> </ol> <p>Apparently live performances of <em>Birds of Fire</em> knocked 3) out of the park, but I have a hard time locating 1) and 2) myself, and simply referencing <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">Davis</a> in a track title ("Miles Beyond") does not jazz make. I must be wrong—every reference I've seen to this album describes it as "jazz fusion" first and foremost—and yet I find myself unable to square that circle. We've heard a wide range of jazz so far, but though <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-28/">Louis Armstrong</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-26/">big band</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">bebop</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-27/">cool jazz</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">post-bop</a>, and another example of <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">jazz fusion</a> all sound quite different, I can <em>feel</em> the common through line connecting them; though I can't formally define it, I can somehow hear that all of those are clearly and distinctly jazz. I don't get that feeling with <em>Birds of Fire</em>. That doesn't diminish my enjoyment of it in any way, but it makes it quite separate from our other entries.</p> <br> <p>But indulge me for a moment, if you will, in a non-musical coda: I learned (<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahavishnu_Orchestra#1971%E2%80%931974:_First_incarnation">from Wikipedia</a>) that Mahavishnu Orchestra got their name from the spiritual leader <a rel="external" href="https://www.srichinmoy.org/">Sri Chinmoy</a>. This confused me, because Sri Chinmoy is a quirky but lovable meditation teacher who lives in my hometown; he has a new poster offering meditation classes every few weeks at the community centre with his name and face front-and-centre.</p> <p>…or so I thought; as it happens, the real Sri Chinmoy passed away in 2007. The posters I've seen are legit, but they're the handiwork of devotees of the late Chinmoy, trying to further evangelize his teachings. In hindsight, perhaps I ought to have puzzled that out myself—if one saw a poster emblazoned with Jesus giving a thumbs-up and the text "Come learn Jesus’ teachings!," one would not expect the <em>actual</em> Mr. H. Christ to be presiding—but in my defense, JC has better name recognition.</p> <p>I can understand why one might become a follower of Sri Chinmoy; indeed after learning of his many accomplishments, it's hard to doubt there must've been a charge of divinity about him. I won't get into his meditation practices, his writings (<a rel="external" href="https://www.srichinmoylibrary.com/allbooks">1804 books</a>), his songs ("<a rel="external" href="https://www.srichinmoysongs.com/">[he] composed over 23,000 songs</a>"), nor his art (<a rel="external" href="https://www.srichinmoy.org/sri_chinmoy/art/">hundreds of thousands of paintings, including "16,031 paintings in one 24-hour period" and over 15 million "Soul-Birds" in his life</a>)—rather, I want to highlight one of his many feats of <em>athleticism</em>. You see, Sri Chinmoy was a lifelong proponent of exercise; he considered it to be a devotional act towards God. Just how devoted was he? Well, "<a rel="external" href="https://srichinmoy-reflections.com/miracle-lift">on January 30, 1987, Sri Chinmoy lifted a weight of 7,063¾ pounds using only his right arm.</a>"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#chinmoy-vs-deadlift">4</a></sup> One of his 23,000 songs was <a rel="external" href="https://srichinmoy-reflections.com/sites/default/files/contents/timeline/february/feb_14_1987_sri_chinmoy_seven-thousand-pounds_revised_song_score.jpg">a tune</a> to commemorate the occasion.</p> <p>But while Sri Chinmoy may have possibly slightly exaggerated some of his own feats, he inspired a group for whom no exaggeration is required: participants in the annual <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-Transcendence_3100_Mile_Race">Self-Transcendence 3100 Mile Race</a> (founded by Sri Chinmoy, naturally—though he never participated in it himself) run <em>5,649</em> laps of one particular city block in Queens—a feat that took the record holder over 40 days to complete while running 18 hours a day. Self-Transcendence isn't the only thing on the line though: according to Wikipedia, "the prize is typically a T-shirt, a DVD, or a small trophy."<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#3100-mile-race-tshirt">5</a></sup> This whole endeavour is far better-documented than Sri Chinmoy's individual challenges: this piece goes to press just after the conclusion of the 2025 race, but I can attest to watching the event live via <a rel="external" href="https://3100.srichinmoyraces.org/">their webcams</a> earlier this week.</p> <br> <p>I suppose what I'm really getting at is: humans are funny creatures; there's really no telling what will get us going. I'm not especially religious myself, but credit where credit is due: the faithful have put out some <em>choice</em> works of art over the ages. Love for Christ begat <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sistine_Chapel#Frescoes">the frescoes of the Sistine Chapel</a>; love for Allah begat the <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaaba">Kaaba</a>; and love for Sri Chinmoy's infinite, all-encompassing God begat <em>Birds of Fire</em>—a most worthy offering indeed.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Open Country Joy</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="birds-of-fire-movie"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>And as such, it desperately deserves a movie treatment like <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstella_5555:_The_5tory_of_the_5ecret_5tar_5ystem">Interstella 5555: The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem</a></em>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="jacl-jazz-definition"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>I think Seton would be hurt if I didn't also mention that he's equally quick to stress that this is only one <em>possible</em> definition of jazz—one that he thinks is useful, but far from the only valid definition.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="blues-expression"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Roughly: a willingness to "bend" notes beyond conventional major/minor scales.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="chinmoy-vs-deadlift"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">4</sup> <p>At time of publication, that's over 6 times the <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Progression_of_the_deadlift_world_record">deadlift world record</a>. Despite these lofty heights, Sri Chinmoy came from humble beginnings: 18 months before his miracle lift, he started with a 40-pound weight, as captured in this <a rel="external" href="https://srichinmoy-reflections.com/weightlifting-anniversary">epic montage</a>. O that my gains were similar.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="3100-mile-race-tshirt"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">5</sup> <p>My humble suggestion: "I RAN 3,100 MILES IN 40 DAYS AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT."</p> </div> 2025-10-13T00:00:00+00:00 2025-10-13T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-38/ <p>We first heard George Benson as a fresh-faced youth; he was barely 23 years old when recording his second album, <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-16/">It's Uptown</a></em>. It would be another ten years before he hit pop-styled paydirt with <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breezin%27">Breezin’</a></em>, and this week's album—<em>Beyond the Blue Horizon</em>—was recorded smack-dab in the middle of that period. In the five years since <em>It's Uptown</em>, Benson kept himself busy: as if releasing six more albums of his own wasn't enough (including a cover of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Other_Side_of_Abbey_Road">Abbey Road</a>), he was also invited to record <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miles_in_the_Sky">a track</a> alongside members of Miles Davis's <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miles_Davis_Quintet#Second_Great_Quintet_(1964%E2%80%9368)">Second Great Quintet</a>. To my ear, that added experience translates to a greater confidence and more refined musical identity on <em>Beyond the Blue Horizon</em>. <em>It's Uptown</em> has some great stuff, but I think it's also fair to call it musical potpourri: Benson singing Gershwin and Benson laying down some slick riffs are both entertaining, but I've never felt either was complemented by the presence of the other. By contrast, <em>Beyond the Blue Horizon</em> is a much tighter package all-around: though the styles range widely from one track to another, the whole thing feels like one artistic vision in a way that <em>It's Uptown</em> never did to me.</p> <p>In fact, I see <em>Beyond the Blue Horizon</em> as building on my favourite parts of <em>It's Uptown</em>—the energetic, guitar-forward Benson compositions like "Clockwise" and "Bullfight:" in this album, Benson spins those impulses into longer, more nuanced tracks. <em>Beyond the Blue Horizon</em> opens with a cover of "So What" (my favourite track from <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">Kind of Blue</a></em>) that injects some zest and funk while staying true to the original.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#so-what-benson-cover">1</a></sup> "The Gentle Rain" is a bossa nova cover with a misleading title: some of the runs Benson hits here are more "torrential downpour" than "gentle rain;" in contrast, while "Ode to a Kudu" features equally virtuosic riffs, the overall treatment is gentler and slower; it's delicate and beautiful. "All Clear" is bright and cheery, but with an unusual texture in the left channel to add a little contrast. I can't quite place what it is exactly; perhaps that's the "electric cello" I see listed <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beyond_the_Blue_Horizon#Personnel">on Wikipedia</a>? Finally, "Somewhere in the East" is a far-ranging trek towards a vaguely Middle Eastern destination—don't miss the extended alternate take on this CD re-release where the band has the room to make it a proper epic.</p> <p>So: a fine album on the whole. However, to love this album is an exercise in heartbreak: if you fall for Benson's jazz guitar stylings here, you'll be sorely disappointed by the later pop and R&amp;B that made him a household name. I can't say it any better than <a rel="external" href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/3qvr/">this BBC review</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p>A reminder that though George's career switch may have made him considerably richer, it left the jazz world a bit poorer.</p> </blockquote> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> So What</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="so-what-benson-cover"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>The Davis cover should come as no surprise: yes, Benson had his own crossover with Miles, but more importantly this album also features <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_DeJohnette">Jack DeJohnette</a> and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Carter">Ron Carter</a>, each of whom recorded extensively with Davis.</p> </div> 2025-10-06T00:00:00+00:00 2025-10-06T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-37/ <p>Confession time: much as I try to maintain an air of aloof sophistication in all things I do, I have a particular fondness for anything that can be remotely described as "prog." Prog rock is my particular go-to, but I'm not picky—I take to any sprawling, overwrought, quasi-intellectual composition like a feline to catnip. So when I saw this week's album was 36 minutes spread across only three tracks (the longest being over 17 minutes!) I was immediately intrigued. Could this be… progressive <em>jazz</em>?</p> <p>Listen to the first minute of the album and judge for yourself:</p> <p><audio controls src="straight_life_intro.mp3"></audio></p> <p>I <em>love</em> this intro. The first 45 seconds say "we're not afraid to get a bit weird with this one," but then the main theme kicks in to assure you this won't be self-indulgent experimentation for the sake of it; we're here to <em>groove</em>. Perhaps that's a fair description of Freddie Hubbard overall: though he played on some of the albums that defined free jazz,<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#free-jazz-definition">1</a></sup> he was never a true convert himself. He was a member of <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">The Jazz Messengers</a> (not <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/">the first</a> we've seen), and after the heyday of hard bop, he experimented with a variety of styles—the fusion/funk stylings of <em>Straight Life</em> come from the most critically successful period of his career. Embarrassingly, I had never even heard of Hubbard before—a notable oversight if you trust the <em>Los Angeles Times</em>, which described him as "widely regarded as the most gifted jazz trumpeter of the post-bebop ‘60s and ‘70s" in <a rel="external" href="https://www.latimes.com/local/obituaries/la-me-hubbard30-2008dec30-story.html">their obituary of him</a>.</p> <p>But as usual, I've gotten so caught up in the artist that I've neglected the music. As you already sampled above, "Straight Life" strides along with a self-assured energy throughout. The bulk of the aforementioned 17-minute exposition is a revolving door of solos: tenor saxophone, trumpet, electric piano, guitar, and drums each get their… well, not quite 15 minutes in the spotlight, but pretty close. It’s an embarrassment of riches—one which comes as no surprise once you check the lineup. The immediate standouts to me are <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">Hancock</a> on the keys and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-16/">Benson</a> on the six-string, both in top form here. (The internet tells me the rest of the ensemble are just as highly regarded; we simply hadn't had the pleasure of encountering them before this album.) "Mr. Clean" keeps roughly the same solo structure, but adds a double-helping of funk—this is something to which you could <em>strut</em> down the street. By contrast, "Here's That Rainy Day" is much slower and more contemplative; Hubbard takes centre stage on the melody, backed by a subdued accompaniment.</p> <p>So after all's said and done, is this truly <em>prog</em> jazz? Ivory-tower academics will blather on about atonality and dissonance; they'll gladly waste an evening contrasting <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_stream">third stream</a> and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jazz_fusion">jazz fusion</a>; but in doing so, they obscure the simple truth. Dispense with these frivolities and join me in embracing the dharma of prog:</p> <p>I like it, therefore it is prog.</p> <p>It is prog, therefore I like it.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Mr. Clean<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#mr-clean-marketing">2</a></sup></p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="free-jazz-definition"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_jazz">Free jazz</a> is (roughly speaking) a subgenre of jazz focused on tearing down the strictures of typical jazz conventions and instead emphasizing "free improvisation." Sadly, I don't think we'll see any representative examples in these box sets.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="mr-clean-marketing"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>The marketing material here just writes itself: a fully-animated <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr._Clean">Mr. Clean</a> saunters around real-world Brooklyn for 13 minutes to this song, casually assisting community members in their tidying. Procter &amp; Gamble, I await your call; Don Draper's got nothing on me.</p> </div> 2025-09-29T00:00:00+00:00 2025-09-29T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-36/ <p>When it comes to how I listen to music, I'm decidedly unsentimental: keep your <a rel="external" href="https://www.whathifi.com/features/10-worlds-most-expensive-turntables">art piece turntable</a> and <a rel="external" href="https://nordost.com/odin-supreme-reference/odin2.php">$50,000 cables</a>, thanks—a pile of FLACs on my home media server is more than enough for me; have fun flipping your records every 20 minutes. But every so often an album comes along that makes me feel foolish for not owning it in full 12" glory. Monk's <em>Underground</em> is one such album. I mean, just look at it:<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#underground-album-cover">1</a></sup></p> <figure> <img src="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-36/./underground_monk_cover_art.jpg" alt="The cover art for Monk's album _Underground_: Monk is seated at a piano, surrounded by Nazi items taken as war trophies, as well as general war paraphernalia. Behind him is a cow and a woman holding a gun." class="centre"> </figure> <p>The album notes helpfully clarify that naturally these war trophies were captured by Monk in WWII, as part of his service with the French Resistance, and add: "Oh yes, about the girl with the firearm in the background. No explanation was asked, nor was one forthcoming."<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#underground-album-notes">2</a></sup></p> <p>That's all bollocks of course; Monk never fought for the French. The girl, however, <em>did</em>: that's none other than <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pannonica_de_Koenigswarter">Baroness Pannonica de Koenigswarter</a>. Born a Rothschild (yes, those ones), she fought with the Free French Army during WWII. After the war, she ended up moving to New York, where she developed an infatuation with jazz. She was extremely close with all the leading musicians and always ready to offer a ride, quash a vexing bill, or—in at least one extreme case—take the rap for a drug bust and serve a few nights in jail. In fact, you might recognize her if you watched <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Clint Eastwood's Charlie Parker movie</a> with me a while back—she was the one to offer Parker succor (at her apartment) in his final hours. So it went with Monk as well: after he stopped performing in the mid-seventies, he spent the last six years of his life living in her New Jersey home.</p> <p>But I suppose I ought to be judging the album itself, not its cover. We first heard Monk on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-11/">Monk's Dream</a></em>—interestingly, that was the first album his quartet released with Columbia; <em>Underground</em> was the last. I ended that earlier review with a hope: "maybe by the end of this project I'll be able to better appreciate Monk's genius in its own right." Well, 25 weeks later I still have yet to crack that puzzle. Fundamentally, Monk leaves me a bit cold: it's pleasant enough to listen to, and I like the back and forth between Monk on piano and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Rouse">Charlie Rouse</a> on tenor sax, but I never feel swept up in emotion the way I do with, say, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-19/">Erroll Garner</a>. Surprisingly, the real standout for me on this album was the bass (played by <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_Gales">Larry Gales</a>): in both "Raise Four" and "Easy Street," it produces a low, grinding groan quite unlike most other albums—evoking not a particular instrument so much as the shifting of a massive sailing ship amidst the churning sea.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#gales-bass-technique">3</a></sup> But the overall winner for me is "In Walked Bud," hands-down. I happened to hear a completely different version of it featuring a female vocalist a few weeks ago on <a rel="external" href="https://jazz.fm/">JAZZ.FM</a>; I had no idea then that it was a Monk composition, but there was something about the off-kilter, self-referential chorus that was immediately beguiling. This particular recording—one of many Monk made throughout his career—creates that same magic, and is (mercifully) the full 6:48 version on this CD release (rather than the reduced 4:17 version on the original LP).</p> <p>So: I leave this week with more questions than I started with. Who was this man—both flamboyant stage dancer and taciturn eccentric—and what does his music mean for us? I still don't have answers, but I have perhaps a touch more perspective: call it cope, but these jazz mysteries are just like the rest of life—the journey is more important than the destination. I'm happy to keep exploring; if fifty weeks becomes fifty years, so be it.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> In Walked Bud</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="underground-album-cover"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>For a quick behind-the-scenes perspective on the cover's photo shoot, see <a rel="external" href="https://www.tumblr.com/mosaicrecords/145447122464/thelonious-monks-underground-the-story-behind">this article</a>. Citing an otherwise unverified Tumblr post is sloppy even by my standards, but it's signed "Michael Cuscuna," whose <a rel="external" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/25/arts/music/michael-cuscuna-dead.html">NYT obituary</a> leads me to believe he cared about getting these details right. And it's not like someone would just go on the internet and <em>lie</em>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="underground-album-notes"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>The full album notes are comedic gold, by the way; they get a full endorsement from the Simpsonian. I don't know where Gil McKean is these days, but I suspect we'd get along quite nicely.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="gales-bass-technique"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>…it's only now after writing that description that I'm realizing Gales is presumably just playing with a bow (arco) during those sections, not plucking (pizzicato). Fully deserving of a facepalm on my part, but it also goes to show just how much more prevalent pizzicato is in jazz.</p> </div> 2025-09-26T00:00:00+00:00 2025-09-26T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-35/ <p><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-34/">Last week</a>, I declared that in terms of pure vocal prowess, Aretha Franklin surpasses any other female singer we've heard thus far. I stand by that statement, but this week allow me to add an equally important rejoinder: Nina Simone's work is still more important.</p> <p>Fundamentally, it feels to me like Franklin is trying to produce <em>hits</em>, whereas Simone is trying to make <em>art</em>.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#simone-franklin-disclaimer">1</a></sup> Sure, <em>Silk &amp; Soul</em> features covers of some popular songs, like "Cherish" and "The Look of Love",<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#casino-royale">2</a></sup> but it also includes tracks like "Turning Point", and "Consummation". I can't imagine the latter two were ever conceived as commercial successes, but I find them moving in a way that the pop tunes aren't: "Turning Point" is an emotional gut-punch, and "Consummation" is a slow burn that weaves its threads into a fantastic climax. I'm more than willing to concede that Franklin could outperform on straight bops like "It Be's That Way Sometime", but I'd sooner listen to a niche work of Simone's than a radio hit from Franklin.</p> <p>Those differences are also reflected in the two artists’ approaches to activism. As discussed <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-34/">last week</a>, some of Franklin's megahits (most notably "Respect" and "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman") dovetailed nicely with rising social movements—but if they were inspiring, they were also inoffensive; nobody was up in arms over "taking care of TCB".<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#taking-care-of-tcb">3</a></sup> In contrast, Simone intentionally torched her career in the southern states with her release of the rather unsubtle "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJ25-U3jNWM">Mississippi Goddam</a>"—an unrestrained protest song written in response to a spate of racially-motivated murders in Mississippi. Whether one ought to pursue incremental change or total revolution is a fraught debate, but with the benefit of hindsight in this particular example, I can't imagine favouring Franklin over Simone.</p> <p>Alas, all too often visionary artists must content themselves with much more modest commercial success than their peers. So it went with this "rivalry":<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#simone-franklin-rivalry">4</a></sup> for "Go to Hell" (from this album), Simone was nominated for the first-ever Grammy award for "Best Female R&amp;B Performance". She lost to none other than Franklin, who won with… "Respect". Franklin subsequently went on to win the award for the next six years in a row. Sorry, Simone—if it's any consolation, you've got my vote.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Turning Point</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="simone-franklin-disclaimer"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>I recognize that to make such a sweeping judgement based on a total of three albums (we first heard Simone on <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-17/">her blues album</a>) requires a hasty arrogance and disdain for sufficiently large sample sizes, but one makes do with what one has available, and in this particular instance, it is my job to make takes. If an intrepid reader is prepared to cite controverting discography entries, I am very willing to eat crow.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="casino-royale"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>"The Look of Love" is from the Bond movie <em>Casino Royale</em>. No, no, not <em>that</em> <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casino_Royale_(2006_film)">Casino Royale</a></em>; the <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casino_Royale_(1967_film)">1967 version</a> that was first intended as an earnest entry into the 007 canon, but had to rebrand as a parody after failing to secure the rights. The resulting film was described by Roger Ebert as "possibly the most indulgent film ever made." I will watch it as soon as humanly possible.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="taking-care-of-tcb"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>"TCB" stands for "taking care of business", and yes, those are the actual lyrics to "Respect".</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="simone-franklin-rivalry"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">4</sup> <p>My hypothetical framing; I haven't seen anything that suggests the two viewed each other in an especially competitive manner.</p> </div> 2025-09-01T00:00:00+00:00 2025-09-01T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-34/ <p>I won't fault you for forgetting, but the early weeks of this project were graced with many a diva strutting by—namely <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/">Sarah Vaughan</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-04/">Billie Holiday</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-08/">Helen Merrill</a>, and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-17/">Nina Simone</a>. All incredibly talented musicians in their own right, but that particular assemblage of artists made for a musical <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illusory_contour">Kanizsa triangle</a>: amongst all those mid-century, jazz-adjacent vocalists, where's Aretha? Have no fear—the Queen of Soul herself is (finally) here.</p> <p><em>The Electrifying Aretha Franklin</em> comes from early in her career; it's only her sophomore album. Aretha's talent was recognized early—she inked this record deal with Columbia at age 18—but she didn't achieve breakout success until she left Columbia for Atlantic (roughly five years after this album). So: no chart-toppers to be found here ("Respect" was a few years out yet), but rather a smorgasbord of jazz standards, Tin Pan Alley hits, and gospel/R&amp;B compositions. (If that leads you to question Franklin's place as a <em>jazz</em> singer, see <a rel="external" href="https://www.wbgo.org/music/2018-08-17/all-the-things-you-are-arethas-life-in-jazz">this piece</a> from <a rel="external" href="https://www.wbgo.org/">WBGO</a> that investigates those bona fides and reaches an approving conclusion.)</p> <p>Despite this not being Franklin's most popular work, I find this album to be consistently very good, and occasionally great. Of course, the main appeal is Franklin's vocals, and those don't disappoint: I must confess that in isolation, I'd pick her over any of the other female singers we've heard. I love the range we hear from her on this album; on the upbeat side, I'm partial to both "I Surrender, Dear" (a fun take on the "playful love song" trope), as well as "Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive" (which syncopates <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate_the_Positive#Background">a preacher's sermon</a> to great effect, and features perhaps the jazziest solo of the album on trumpet). By contrast, "That Lucky Old Sun" is on the other end of the emotional spectrum, and it's my favourite of the lot: Franklin starts with a simple, beautiful phrase, but in three-and-a-half minutes she moves through pain, defiance, and anger before arriving at a kind of cathartic acceptance—nearly the full <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_stages_of_grief">stages of grief</a> in a single track.</p> <p>All together, a solid album—and yet, I have one bone to pick with Franklin. Today, Franklin seems to be venerated as a minor saint of feminism, mostly on the basis of "Respect" (so far as I can discern). <a rel="external" href="https://www.cnn.com/2018/08/16/entertainment/aretha-franklin-respect-feminism-civil-rights-trnd">This CNN piece</a> is a good example: the title (indirectly) links her to both the civil rights movement and feminism, only to walk back those associations in the first couple of lines. Mind you, I don't mean to deny or minimize the tremendous impact that "Respect" had on millions of listeners, but it did throw me for a loop to have that mental image of Franklin, then hear her sing this on "Rough Lover":</p> <blockquote> <p>He’s gotta be sweet and gentle</p> <p>Day and night</p> <p><b>But mean enough to make me</b></p> <p><b>Want to treat him right</b></p> <p>I want a man, oh, yeah</p> </blockquote> <p>Yes, cherry-picking one track from a largely-forgotten album is unlikely to give a representative view of Franklin's true views on the emancipation of women writ large. But still, it suggests a pretty funny parallel universe:</p> <blockquote> <p>R-E-S-P-E-C-T</p> <p>But also sometimes please <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Negging">neg</a> me!</p> <p>R-E-S-P-E-C-T</p> <p>Gimme toxic masculinity!</p> </blockquote> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> That Lucky Old Sun</p> <hr> 2025-08-24T00:00:00+00:00 2025-08-24T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-33/ <p>Always read the album notes, kids. The cover of <em>The Bridge</em> features a rather impassive Sonny Rollins waging a silent war against a gravitational force that seems to affect only human hair. But the <em>back</em> of the album elucidates the literal and metaphorical allusions the title intends to evoke—and that is a jazz heritage minute worth expounding upon.</p> <p>Background: Rollins graduates high school in 1948, and within about five years he had spent ten months in Rikers while still managing to record with <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/">Miles Davis</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Charlie Parker</a>, and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-11/">Thelonious Monk</a>. In 1957, he releases <em>Saxophone Colossus</em>—which is immediately hailed as a massive critical success—popularizes a new, piano-less instrumentation for jazz, and makes his Carnegie Hall debut.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#rollins-biography">1</a></sup></p> <p>So what does 1959 hold for the ever-ambitious Rollins? Naught but those two bitter mints: disillusionment and disappointment. In his own words from <a rel="external" href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1961/11/18/sabbatical-2">a later <em>New Yorker</em> interview</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p>People are not doing things as well as they can do them any more. The par of products is not high enough, and in 1959 I felt that way about my playing. The extraneous things had gotten in the way of it. I didn’t have time to practice, and I wanted to study more. I was playing before more and more people, and not being able to do my best. There was no doubt that I had to leave the scene, and it was just a matter of when I could bring it about. I’d lost the ability to play what I wanted to play every night without the interference of emotionalism. I was filled with question marks.</p> </blockquote> <p>A heady self-assessment indeed from one of the most influential saxophonists in jazz at the time; and one not yet 30 years old, at that. At first, Rollins honed his craft in the solitude of his apartment, but after recognizing that neighbours have only limited patience for experimental saxophone (even of the world-class variety) Rollins decamped. In what one presumes was a moment of electric clarity, Rollins realized that the <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Williamsburg_Bridge">Williamsburg Bridge</a> (which connects Manhattan and Brooklyn) was all the studio he needed. There he spent the better part of two years hiding in plain sight while practicing up to 16 hours a day.</p> <blockquote> <p>I started walking over the bridge, and I found it’s a superb place to practice. Night or day. You’re up over the whole world. You can look down on the whole scene. There is the skyline, the water, the harbor. It’s a beautiful scene, a panoramic scene. The bridge offers certain advantages that can’t be duplicated indoors. You can blow as loud as you want. It makes you think. The grandeur gives you perspective. And people never bother you. I saw the same people almost every day. Sometimes they stopped and listened, sometimes they just went by.</p> </blockquote> <p>There's the story of <em>The Bridge</em>, but what of the music itself? Well, it's interesting: remember, the whole point of this two-year hiatus—at the height of Rollins's rising popularity!—was for him to catch up to peers like Miles Davis and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ornette_Coleman">Ornette Coleman</a>, who were laying the groundwork of what jazz could look like beyond hard bop. Under those circumstances, one might expect Rollins's return to mark a stark departure from his earlier work, but that's not really the case: <em>The Bridge</em> plays it straight, keeping a tight focus on a small ensemble. Rollins's signature rhythmic experimentations are very much present, but the end result is far from avant-garde. I found that surprising; we first heard Rollins on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-12/">Sonny Meets Hawk!</a></em> (released a year after <em>The Bridge</em>), and <em>that</em> album pushes the boundaries of what one can tunefully do with a saxophone—I was expecting to hear some of that on <em>The Bridge</em> as well. When it comes to specific tracks, my favourite ones this week were the fastest (as any semi-frequent reader might have guessed): "John S." and "The Bridge." The end of the former features stellar interplay between sax, guitar, and drums, while in the latter the bass always grabs my attention with non-stop runs up and down throughout.</p> <p>Of course, Rollins isn't the only musician playing on <em>The Bridge</em>. Just like <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-32/">last week</a>, one of the most striking features of the album is the supremely sublime electric guitar. And also just like last week, the particular guitarist responsible is <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Hall_(musician)">Jim Hall</a>—and wait a minute, he was <em>also</em> the guitarist on "<a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-30/">The Train and the River</a>‽" Alright, Jim: you are well on your way towards earning the illustrious "Fifty Weeks of Jazz – Most Influential Sideman" award.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#jim-hall-award">2</a></sup></p> <p>So: <em>The Bridge</em> represents not only the literal setting of Rollins's first dramatic self-isolation<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#rollins-second-sabbatical">3</a></sup>, it is also the metaphorical bridge between two formative periods of this pioneering saxophonist's career.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#the-bridge-metaphor">4</a></sup> Given Rollins's close association with the Williamsburg bridge and his ensuing cultural influence, some people have called for making that near-metonym official by renaming the bridge after Sonny (who is still alive today—he'll be 95 in two weeks' time!). You can find out more about that initiative on <a rel="external" href="https://sonnyrollinsbridge.net/">their website</a>.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> The Bridge</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="rollins-biography"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>My exclusive source throughout this paragraph is <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonny_Rollins#Later_life_and_career">good ol‘ Wikipedia</a>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="jim-hall-award"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Posthumously, I'm afraid; Hall passed away in 2013. Of course he had a full and highly-awarded career as a leading musician as well.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="rollins-second-sabbatical"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Oh yes, there was <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonny_Rollins#1969%E2%80%931971:_Second_sabbatical">another sabbatical</a> later.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="the-bridge-metaphor"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">4</sup> <p>Lest you fear that I might be approaching genuine insight with that comparison, worry not; I stole it wholesale from Avakian's album notes. Why do you think I told you to read them?</p> </div> 2025-08-17T00:00:00+00:00 2025-08-17T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-32/ <p>I am a total sucker for the format of "famous musical group plus full orchestral backing". <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%26M_(album)">Symphony &amp; Metallica</a></em>? Oh yeah. <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphonic_Music_of_Yes">Symphonic Music of Yes</a></em>? <em>Hell</em> yes. The critics seem to hate these—Yes's attempt was only good for 1.5/5 stars from AllMusic—but I can't get enough of them. What's not to love? If you're a fan of the band, presumably you already like the original songs—how can you <em>not</em> like hearing them with drama, power, and fullness that only a full symphonic backing can bring?</p> <p>Enter this week: celebrated saxman Paul Desmond is the headliner, but not as part of a quartet—he's joined by a full string section, a harp, and various other philharmonic goodies, as well as <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Hall_(musician)">Jim Hall</a> on guitar (who is consistently fantastic). One of jazz's coolest cats, backed by a classical cast? You can only imagine my anticipation.</p> <p>So it is with great disappointment that I must confess to being somewhat lukewarm on <em>Desmond Blue</em>. It's certainly not <em>bad</em>—"Desmond Blue" (the eponymous track) has some super-spy swagger; I love both the harp at the start of "Autumn Leaves," as well as the Baroque-like intro to "My Funny Valentine"—but as a whole, the package fails to fundamentally excite me.</p> <p>Perhaps I can pin this on a surfeit of strings? Behold my classical hot take: strings—violins in particular—are a tad overrated. Yes, of course they're beautiful, and yes, they can create an unparalleled lushness. But they can't match the sheer bombastic…ness of brass, nor the spitfire of notes churned out by a single piano, nor the tension and suspense of a roaring timpani. This album is billed as an orchestral accompaniment, and while that's technically true, I suppose I feel that this specific instrumentation doesn't evoke the raw power and "wow" factor I was hoping for.</p> <p>Maybe you object that the problem here is Desmond himself, not the string section. After all, I have often professed a weakness for the uptempo; might I be simply rejecting Desmond's cool aesthetic altogether? I think not, and have some evidence on offer. Desmond happens to be one of the most prolific musicians in our corpus of albums: we've heard him both with the Dave Brubeck Quartet on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-06/">Time Out</a></em> and <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-27/">Jazz Goes to College</a></em>, as well as alongside Gerry Mulligan on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-14/">Two of a Mind</a></em>. I'd rate all three of those albums as somewhere between "good" and "fantastic"—on each, Desmond impresses not with virtuosic flourishes (à la <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Charlie Parker</a>), but rather with his utterly entrancing <em>tone</em>. That tone is solid as ever on <em>Desmond Blue</em>, but I find the addition of the strings often veers more towards "cheesy" than "sweeping."</p> <p>Let me put it this way: I was hoping the combination of jazz plus orchestra on this album would be like peanut butter and chocolate—two individually beloved items that somehow combine to exceed the sum of their parts. Instead, <em>Desmond Blue</em> more like… potato chips and popcorn? Again, each great on its own, and put together they're still good—very good, even!—they're just not any better for the marriage.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Desmond Blue</p> <hr> 2025-08-15T00:00:00+00:00 2025-08-15T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/ <p>After 31 weeks of jazz research, I've finally hit upon a foolproof signal to identify the true <em>crème de la crème</em> among jazz albums. It's quite simple, actually: if the cover art is a painting by <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S._Neil_Fujita">S. Neil Fujita</a>, the album will be life-changing.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#s-neil-fujita">1</a></sup> Our first such example was <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-06/">Time Out</a></em>, back in week 6—a strong contender for my favourite album of the first half, rivaled primarily by <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">Tijuana Moods</a></em> (also by Mingus!)—and <em>Mingus Ah Um</em><sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#mingus-ah-um-title">2</a></sup> rivals or exceeds <em>Time Out</em> in my estimation.</p> <p>As such, this album deserves a proper track-by-track commentary. If you want an actually <em>insightful</em> rendition of that premise, allow me to direct you towards <a rel="external" href="https://altrockchick.com/2022/08/14/charles-mingus-mingus-ah-um-classic-music-review/">altrockchick</a>, who artfully blends deep musical insight with relevant historical context. If, on the other hand, you're satisfied with the flaccid pseudo-intellectualism upon which we pride ourselves here at the Simpsonian, don't touch that dial.</p> <h2 id="tracks">Tracks</h2> <h3 id="better-git-it-in-your-soul">Better Git It in Your Soul</h3> <p>If I could only keep one track from <em>everything</em> we've heard so far, this would be it. "Better Git It in Your Soul" is a pure expression of jazz <em>joy:</em> the rhythms are infectious, the melodies are catchy, and Mingus himself can't help but inject some background gospel extemporizations. In the sitcom adaptation of my life, this is theme song—friends appear one at a time in the background, looming like phantoms until we make eye contact and share an "<a rel="external" href="https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/313/188/13b.jpg">oh you</a>" look, at which point they make their madcap dash to centre stage as the rapid sax/brass section plays.</p> <p>Far be it from this neophyte to attempt to gatekeep jazz, but if this track doesn't do it for you, I'm not sure anything in the jazz canon will—just as the title proclaims, you better git it in your soul!</p> <h3 id="goodbye-pork-pie-hat">Goodbye Pork Pie Hat</h3> <p>I've noticed that seemingly wacky track titles are not uncommon in jazz (seriously, check out some of the ones on <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">The Jazz Messengers</a></em>); at first blush, I assumed this was another entry in that storied tradition. The truth is far more solemn: a <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pork_pie_hat">pork pie hat</a> simply refers to a style of hat that was popular in the 1930s &amp; 1940s—a style that was particularly favoured by prominent saxophonist <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lester_Young">Lester Young</a>. We touched on one of Young's tragic final performances <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-30/">last week</a>—this composition is a moving elegy to Young, and the first of several references Mingus makes to his musical forebears on this album.</p> <h3 id="boogie-stop-shuffle">Boogie Stop Shuffle</h3> <p>But Mingus doesn't dwell on the tragic; we immediately transition to an upbeat boogie that stays firmly lodged in your eardrums long after the album is done. The piano keeps that line swinging on repeat pretty well throughout the song, while the other voices take turns layering other ideas on top.</p> <h3 id="self-portrait-in-three-colors">Self-Portrait in Three Colors</h3> <p>Mingus again pumps the brakes with another slower, searching track. The title offers a puzzle that's somewhat beyond my discernment: what exactly are the three colours that comprise this self-portrait? I assumed they'd appear "temporally" (i.e., one after the other), but I don't hear any obvious transitions to suggest that. Perhaps each instrument is supposed to be carrying a colour?</p> <h3 id="open-letter-to-duke">Open Letter to Duke</h3> <p>Another fantastic—if somewhat disjointed?—track. We start firmly in upbeat bebop territory, but we don't stay there long: just before the two minute mark (and just after a short drum solo), a theme is introduced that, to me, is the most memorable part of the song—a high note, followed by a rapid "slide" down ending with a slight dissonance that continues to be explored throughout the middle of the track; slowly pulled apart like a confectioner working taffy. When the theme is finally restated at 4:15, it feels unavoidable; a black hole drawing us back to where we started. And yet, it isn't <em>really</em> inevitable—just as we abruptly cut from the hard bop to this section, Mingus takes yet another unexpected turn around 5:10 and discards the dissonance in favour of a jaunty staccato theme to close out the last ~40 seconds. (Wikipedia mentions this track was based on three earlier Mingus compositions; perhaps that explains this track's patchwork nature?)</p> <p>If you've paid even a modicum of attention on our jazz journey, you'll have clocked that the title here is an obvious nod to <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-26/">Duke Ellington</a>, one of America's most-beloved bandleaders. Based on the phrasing of the title, I had assumed this track was antagonistic: a rising star firing a salvo against the old guard; rejecting accepted conventions in favour of blazing new trails. That happens to be completely wrong on all accounts; Ellington was one of the earliest and most formative musical influences on the young Mingus. Later in life they would go on to collaborate professionally, though their time together didn't <a rel="external" href="https://curtjazz.com/2019/03/02/duke-fires-mingus-juans-an-old-problem/">last</a> <a rel="external" href="https://medium.com/cuepoint/the-eloquent-firing-of-charles-mingus-by-duke-ellington-a20dc350e4fa">long</a>…</p> <h3 id="bird-calls">Bird Calls</h3> <p>Aha! A straight bebop composition with "Bird" in the title on an album like this? That's an easy slam dunk; of course it's a reference to <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Charlie Parker</a>. Except, apparently this is the exception that proves the rule; quoting from <a rel="external" href="https://www.charlesmingus.com/mingus/mingus-explains-song-titles">charlesmingus.com</a>: "It wasn't supposed to sound like Charlie Parker. It was supposed to sound like birds—the first part." Now I'm confused on two counts: first, because that seems utterly implausible—Mingus was dismissive of Parker at first, but eventually came to recognize him as a jazz genius; how could this <em>not</em> be a reference to him? Second, I can hear the bird calls at the very <em>end</em>—but the beginning? Not so much.</p> <h3 id="fables-of-faubus">Fables of Faubus</h3> <p>Another highlight of the album, <em>selon moi</em>. This is also our first taste of Mingus's political side: the titular Faubus is <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orval_Faubus">Orval E. Faubus</a>, best-known for sending in the Arkansas National Guard to prevent black students from attending a local high school (in stark defiance of the Supreme Court's then-recent decision in <em>Brown v. Board of Education</em>). Especially given Mingus's multiracial background, he was (appropriately) pissed off by this stunt, and originally wrote "Fables of Faubus" as what today we would call a diss track. Now, you might be understandably confused as to how a groovin', struttin', but importantly <em>instrumental</em> song might communicate these political overtures, and the answer is (as always) the meddling interference of music executives. "Fables of Faubus" originally <em>did</em> feature lyrics that leave little doubt regarding Mingus's political leanings, but spineless Columbia Records insisted they be removed from the album. Mingus found a way, though—a year later he released <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Mingus_Presents_Charles_Mingus">Charles Mingus Presents Charles Mingus</a></em> with the more independent label "Candid," which allowed Mingus to release the track as he had always intended (titled "Original Faubus Fables" on that album—yes, that album is on my "must acquire" shortlist).</p> <h3 id="pussy-cat-dues">Pussy Cat Dues</h3> <p>This track is notable for its changeup in the woodwinds: <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Handy">John Handy</a> swaps his alto for a clarinet for the only time on this album, and the resulting solo is smooth and cool—somewhat reminiscent of earlier jazz, based purely on that instrumentation (<a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-15/">Benny Goodman</a> comes to mind), but still remaining distinctly modern. (There's another great Mingus solo on this one too—at over nine minutes in length, everyone gets space to have some fun.)</p> <p>Nothing against "Pussy Cat Dues," but for my money the tracks from here on out don't shine quite as brightly as what we've heard already—in context of jazz as a whole, each definitely holds their own, but the best of this album really is a cut above.</p> <h3 id="jelly-roll">Jelly Roll</h3> <p>Yet another homage from Mingus, once more helpfully identified in the title—this time the subject is <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jelly_Roll_Morton">Jelly Roll Morton</a>, one of jazz's earliest performers. (So early, in fact, that he claimed to have invented jazz entirely.) In <em>Myself When I Am Real</em>, Gene Santoro's biography of Mingus, this track is described as an ingenious blending of old and new; in particular, each soloist was asked to play an old-style solo followed by a more modern one. That distinction isn't fully obvious to me, but one thing that is is Mingus's bass lines; he really gets a chance to shine on this one (along with some funky percussion).</p> <p>(I am once again indebted to <a rel="external" href="https://altrockchick.com/2022/08/14/charles-mingus-mingus-ah-um-classic-music-review/">altrockchick</a> for the quotation from Santoro.)</p> <h3 id="pedal-point-blues">Pedal Point Blues</h3> <p><em>(This track onward are all bonus tracks, and not present on the original 1959 release.)</em></p> <p>Here's a track that reminds me my knowledge of music theory is sorely underdeveloped: in general, a <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pedal_point">pedal point</a> is when a single note is held or repeated while a dissonant melody plays over top: the pedal point is a niggling itch, a brooding background tension that demands to be resolved by a shift in the main harmony. Wikipedia is rife with examples, but the one most familiar to my ears is Chopin's "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_6APTb3RNQ">Raindrop Prelude</a>," in which a single repeating A♭ contrasts quite differently with the two melodic sections. Alas, for all my straining, my undiscerning ears fail to find the same effect in "Pedal Point Blues:" there's certainly repetition in the lines of each individual instruments, but I can't find what's static amongst those lines—they all seem to be in motion at once—doesn't that definitionally exclude a "pedal point?"</p> <h3 id="gg-train">GG Train</h3> <p>We've heard "Take the A Train" <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-07/">time</a> and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-26/">time</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-27/">again</a> already, but this week we have a new challenger in the "NYC subway line <em>cum</em> jazz standard" smackdown: "GG Train."</p> <p>If you're already rabidly composing an email to inform me that, in fact, NYC has no such GG train, you're in need of a history lesson—today's G train was indeed the GG train when Mingus composed this tune; the city bid "gg" to the first "G" in "GG" in 1985.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#train-geeks">3</a></sup> Still, it's good to know that <a rel="external" href="https://www.charlesmingus.com/hsaudio">some things never change</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p>Mirroring the unreliable stop-and-go service of the New York City subway’s GG train (now simply known as the G train), this composition alternates between uptempo and ¼-time ballad sections.</p> </blockquote> <h3 id="girl-of-my-dreams">Girl of My Dreams</h3> <p>This is the only track on the album not composed by Mingus himself; it comes to us by way of Sunny Clapp from all the way back in 1927. "Girl of My Dreams" was a big hit upon its first publication, and has been frequently covered since; here, Mingus's version dispenses with the vocals in favour of some sharp sax lines. Having also listened to some older recordings (e.g., <a rel="external" href="https://archive.org/details/1927-USA-Archives-1927-08-26-Blue-Steele-Orch-Girl-Of-My-Dreams">this one</a>), I really like Mingus's take: he maintains what makes the main melody so beautiful, but injects enough energy to move it from that sonorous, old-timey sound to something fresh and crisp. The tempo changes are a big part of that—we're treated to some dizzying bebop riffs, but everything slows right back down to really accentuate the chorus.</p> <h2 id="conclusion">Conclusion</h2> <p>Whew. A long write-up isn't necessarily a positive one, but all the same—we're now at double what the previous longest article was; it should come as no surprise that I think this album is pretty special. I'm not sure there's any single element I can point out as being the secret sauce; perhaps it's all in the balance: this album is eclectic, but still grounded; it has high-minded compositions, but never forgets to also just be fun. Mingus was known as "the angry man of jazz," but it's clear from <em>Mingus Ah Um</em> that there was far more to him than that.</p> <p>One of my goals with <em>Fifty Weeks of Jazz</em> was to try to find which parts of jazz would really speak to me. 31 weeks in, the two-word reply "Charles Mingus" turns out to be a pretty good answer to that question.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Better Git It in Your Soul</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="s-neil-fujita"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>If that's not enough for you, Fujita also designed the covers for <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">The Jazz Messengers</a></em> and <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/">’Round About Midnight</a></em>, both of which are <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:RoundAboutMidnightMilesDavis.jpg">pretty damn cool</a>. He then went on to create the iconic marionette design for that cult classic indie movie, The Freakin’ Godfather (!). If you want to learn more about Fujita's life and creative works, I highly recommend perusing Hanna Shibata's incredibly stylish <a rel="external" href="https://hannashibata.github.io/sneilfujita/index.html">homage</a>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="mingus-ah-um-title"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>I'd be remiss not to mention where the album title comes from, because once you dispel the intial confusion, it truly is a Simpsonian-certified Work of Comedy. Understanding the joke requires some knowledge of Latin's many suffixes, but don't worry; you've already picked many of them up via latent exposure (e.g., you could distinguish an alumn<i>us</i> from an alumn<i>a</i>, no?) Mingus must've had his share of Latin conjugation lessons back in his day, because this title plays on that: he starts from his own name, <em>Mingus</em> (whose trailing <em>-us</em> happens to put it in proper "masculine nominative" form for an adjective), and like a dutiful child, recites the following related suffixes: <em>-a</em>, <em>-um</em>. Taken all together, we arrive at our titular <em>Mingus Ah Um</em>, though I personally think <em>Mingus, Minga, Mingum</em> would've been even better.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="train-geeks"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>God I love train geeks. I mean, just look at <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G_(New_York_City_Subway_service)">this Wikipedia page</a>: this much-maligned subway line is better chronicled than most nations ever to have graced this earth.</p> </div> 2025-07-31T00:00:00+00:00 2025-07-31T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-30/ <p>Why is nearly every mass-market, commercially-produced creative work so universally crap? You know the answer—perhaps you've lived it—pointy-haired bosses, sticking their noses where they don't belong, rooting madly for pecuniary truffles to sate the unending appetite of beancounters and shareholders alike—all at the expense of preventing the <em>true</em> visionaries from making something special.</p> <p>But, rare as they may be, there are yet exceptions. One such shining example took place in 1957, when one uncompromising TV producer (<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Herridge">Robert Herridge</a>) somehow convinced CBS to give him creative <em>carte blanche</em> in putting together a live, one-hour jazz concert for TV: <em>The Sound of Jazz</em>.</p> <p>Look, technically I should be reviewing <em>The Sound of Jazz</em>, the album recorded from the rehearsal for the TV broadcast. And I generally do prefer the precision and perfectionism that can only really be achieved in the studio. But just as poetry is meant to be appreciated as more than words on paper—it only truly comes alive in our voices—so too jazz ought to be more than just sterile, pristine recordings; it should also be shared, performed, <em>celebrated</em>. So if you happen to have a spare hour, I encourage you to tune in to <em><a rel="external" href="https://archive.org/details/thesoundofjazz1957">The Sound of Jazz</a></em>, the TV program, for yourself. Not only will you hear some great jazz, you'll also get to watch some jazz greats not merely <em>performing</em>, but also luxuriating in both the music and the company of each other. Allow me to take you through my favourite vignettes of the broadcast.</p> <p><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/">Last week</a>, we heard from "Philly Joe" Jones on drums. This week we once again have jazz drummer Jo Jones on percussion, who, somewhat surprisingly, is a completely different guy. (He was sometimes nicknamed "Papa" Jo Jones to distinguish him from the younger Philly—despite the 12-year age difference between Philly and Papa, the shared name seems to have imparted a mortal synchronicity: they died within days of each other in 1985.) As it happens, we've encountered Jo Jones before; remember <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Charlie Parker</a>'s "origin story" of having a cymbal thrown at him during a cutting session gone awry? Yeah, that was Jo Jones. For the life of me, I cannot reconcile that outburst with the happy-go-lucky percussionist featured in <em>The Sound of Jazz</em>. Seriously, how can this <a rel="external" href="https://youtu.be/K1Ok2Gjf1T4?t=906">grinning goof</a> be the same person who "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ART5pmT6zro&amp;t=149s">nearly decapitates</a>" Bird?<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#fletcher-story">1</a></sup></p> <p>Man, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-11/">Thelonious Monk</a> sticks out like a sore thumb here. Not just in <em>what</em> he plays—though his avant-garde composition "Blue Monk" forms a notable contrast with the other tracks, which lean more toward blues and swing—but also in <em>how</em> he plays the piano. Compare <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-07/">Basie</a> <a rel="external" href="https://youtu.be/K1Ok2Gjf1T4?t=1329">elegantly tickling the ivories</a> while <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-04/">Billie Holiday</a> hovers at his shoulder, with Monk, <a rel="external" href="https://youtu.be/K1Ok2Gjf1T4?t=1443">who pounds the keys like they owe him money</a>. The cameraman knew how to milk this for maximum drama: check out <a rel="external" href="https://youtu.be/K1Ok2Gjf1T4?t=1480">this shot</a> of Basie watching Monk play (seated directly across from each other) and decide for yourself what Basie's thinking in that moment. (Monk <a rel="external" href="https://newrepublic.com/article/72966/thelonious-monk-does">did not take kindly</a> to that stare!)</p> <p>I hadn't even heard of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Giuffre">Giuffre</a> before this, let alone his trio, but their performance of "The Train and the River" is by far my favourite track. Seeing it live only further accentuates the magic: sometimes I find a trio to be a little bare in its sound, but that's not the case here; every time I listen I'm blown away by the depth and richness of texture that they're able to evoke. Note to self: pick up another one of their albums sometime.</p> <p>But the real star of the show is Holiday herself. That she even appears is a minor miracle: the TV execs awoke in a meddlesome mood the day of the performance, and sent a note to the studio: "we must not put into America's homes, especially on Sunday, someone who's been imprisoned for drug use."<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#bitter-crop">2</a></sup> Herridge informed them that if Billie was through, so were he and the other key staff. The execs relented, and in doing so created the most heart-wrenching moment of the evening. You see, Holiday had <a rel="external" href="https://www.mosaicrecords.com/lester-young-and-billie-holiday/">a complicated relationship</a> with Lester Young, who was playing saxophone that night: decades before, the two had been frequent collaborators and close friends, but the vicissitudes of time had since pulled them apart. Young was in poor health at this point, and wasn't even expected to stand for his solo—but <a rel="external" href="https://youtu.be/K1Ok2Gjf1T4?t=2139">watch what happens</a> when he gets his moment with Lady Day.</p> <p>There wasn't a dry eye in the control room. Young died within two years; Holiday followed months after.</p> <br> <p>Writing for <em>Harper's</em> magazine, Eric Larrabee proclaimed <em>The Sound of Jazz</em> to be "the best thing that ever happened to television." It's hard to agree with that statement in 2025 (after all, we've had <em>Better Call Saul</em> since), but I think you'd still be hard-pressed to find an introduction to jazz—not just jazz-the-music, but jazz-the-people, jazz-the-<em>culture</em>—better than <em>The Sound of Jazz</em>.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#broadcast-vs-album">3</a></sup></p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> The Train and the River</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="fletcher-story"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>In <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6lFs5gbv_k">Fletcher's telling</a>, at least.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="bitter-crop"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>This quotation comes from <em><a rel="external" href="https://www.paulalexander.net/bitter-crop">Bitter Crop</a></em>, by Paul Alexander, which I found via <a rel="external" href="https://www.wbgo.org/music/2024-02-26/the-moving-performance-of-billie-holiday-lester-young-on-the-sound-of-jazz-tv-program">WBGO</a>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="broadcast-vs-album"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>I've glossed over it above, but the album version of <em>The Sound of Jazz</em> is somewhat different than the live broadcast; e.g., apparently <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-14/">Gerry Mulligan</a> refused to appear on the former because it didn't pay any extra.</p> </div> 2025-07-27T00:00:00+00:00 2025-07-27T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-29/ <p>We first heard Davis on his best-known album, <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">Kind of Blue</a></em>; this week, with <em>’Round About Midnight</em>, we wind back the clock just a few years before that landmark release. Recall that <em>Kind of Blue</em> was a pioneering exercise in "modal jazz;" by contrast, <em>’Round About Midnight</em> is more transitional: we hear some of Davis' last mainstream work in bebop/hard bop alongside experiments in a "cooler" style that would eventually lead to him advancing the frontiers of jazz.</p> <p>There's lots to love in this album: for me, Davis &amp; Coltrane generally steal the show (their interplay and tone on "Bye Bye Blackbird"—Coltrane's in particular—are a real highlight), but the rest of this "<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miles_Davis_Quintet#First_Great_Quintet/Sextet_(1955%E2%80%9358)">first great quintet</a>" each has their moments too, like the piano at ~5:45 in "All of You," the bass solos in "Little Melonae," or the drums at the end of Budo (which instantly called <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">Art Blakey</a> to mind for me, though it's actually <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philly_Joe_Jones">"Philly Joe" Jones</a>).</p> <p>Of those many delights, the track that particularly stood out to me on first listen was "Ah-Leu-Cha." "Ah-Leu-Cha" is a <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">Charlie Parker</a> composition;<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#ah-leu-cha-origin">1</a></sup> we're firmly in bebop territory here (and the lively tempo comes in strong contrast to the relaxed "’Round Midnight" that precedes it). Fascinatingly though, Parker's original recording was noticeably more relaxed than what's on this album—and in at least one live performance, Davis counts the group in on a truly <em>blistering</em> tempo. Listen for yourself (for a simulated K-hole, repeatedly listen to the last one, then immediately drop back down to the first):</p> <ul> <li>Slow (relatively speaking!): <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQbWYgmiyFw">original Parker recording</a></li> <li>Medium: <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XG0iJDrrtw0">’Round About Midnight</a></li> <li><em>Ludicrous</em> speed: <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPvybOgo_S0">Miles &amp; Monk at Newport</a> <ul> <li>To me, this one is frenetic but not awful; I'm generally Team Faster Is Better. At least one critic disagrees: as Jack Chambers writes on page 288 of <a rel="external" href="https://archive.org/details/milestonesmusict0000cham/page/n337/mode/2up">his epic biography of Davis</a>: "The sextet's performance is substandard. Davis' most conspicuous contribution comes in tapping out overzealous tempos on all tunes, including a breakneck tempo on Ah-Leu-Cha that reduces the ensemble to shambles."<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#chambers-reference">2</a></sup></li> <li>Love it or hate it, this has been on the official Miles Davis YouTube channel for nearly a decade and has hardly 500 views (~1% of which are from me)—that seems wildly low.</li> </ul> </li> </ul> <p>(Hat tip to <a rel="external" href="https://dgmono.com/">Deep Groove Mono</a>, for breaking down the relevant Ah-Leu-Cha history in <a rel="external" href="https://dgmono.com/2021/03/19/origins-of-bop-charlie-parker-miles-davis-ah-leu-cha/">this very helpful post</a>.)</p> <p>Overall, I'm still not sure where to place <em>’Round About Midnight</em>—in many ways, it feels like an album caught between worlds. If I want nothing but hard bop, I'd sooner reach for <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">The Messengers</a>, and if I really want to cool off, there's no beating <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">Kind of Blue</a></em>. But if all you're looking for is some great jazz from a formidable quintet, and you're not too picky on subgenres, you could do a lot worse than <em>’Round About Midnight</em>.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Ah-Leu-Cha</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="ah-leu-cha-origin"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Apparently "Ah-Leu-Cha" is based in part on "Honeysuckle Rose"—which we heard <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-28/">last week</a>—but I can't hear it for the life of me.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="chambers-reference"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Brought to my attention by <a rel="external" href="https://jazzprofiles.blogspot.com/">JazzProfiles</a> in <a rel="external" href="https://jazzprofiles.blogspot.com/2012/10/ed-bickert-and-lorne-lofsky-ah-leu-cha.html">this blog post</a> (thanks!). Please forgive my not reading the biography in its entirety—illuminating, I'm sure, but 850 pages is a lot to ask for a weekly post.</p> </div> 2025-07-17T00:00:00+00:00 2025-07-17T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-28/ <p>Well, it's week 28 and we've officially come full circle: ol' Pops was the one to <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-01/">kick this whole thing off</a>, and this week he's back once again. Interestingly, that earlier album and this one were contemporaneous releases as well: <em>Louis Armstrong Plays W. C. Handy</em> helped revive public interest in Armstrong in 1954; <em>Satch Plays Fats</em> was the follow-up in 1955. Overall, I prefer <em>Armstrong Plays W. C. Handy</em>: they both feature stellar vocals and trumpeting from Armstrong, alongside great banter with Velma Middleton on several tracks, but the nearly nine-minute-long "St. Louis Blues" on the <em>Handy</em> album is unparalleled, and the whole thing is chock-full with a sheer joy that I don't think has been matched by anything else we've heard.</p> <p>But beyond that simple comparison, what shall we chew on this week? Regular readers know that there isn't any prescribed structure for a <em>Fifty weeks of jazz</em> entry—perhaps we ought to examine <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fats_Waller">this album's namesake</a>, or the fascinating life of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andy_Razaf">his chief collaborator</a>? Or what about <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Avakian">this Avakian fellow</a>, whose name seems to grace every Columbia jazz record; ought we pull back the curtain there? Not to mention the music itself; there's some overlap with a <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/">Sarah Vaughan album</a>; perhaps we're due for another <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/">Standards Showdown</a>? All good options, but this week I want to zero in on one song in particular: one that hooked me with its intro, but kept me on the line with a linguistic puzzle.</p> <p>Specifically, my favourite track this week is the lively and flirtatious "All That Meat and No Potatoes." I mentioned earlier that I love the banter between Armstrong and Middleton; this track's got it in spades. But the music's just as fun: Armstrong opens with a wide, bright, jaunty riff that he explores while the background instruments each take a turn joining in on the fun. Unsurprisingly, the chorus the really swings—but, ahem, what does the phrase "all that meat and no potatoes" <em>mean</em>, exactly? I'll give you the first half of the lyrics; see if you can figure it out (below, Armstrong's part is bolded):</p> <blockquote> <p>Hey Pops! What’s wrong Daddy?<br> You look like something's botherin’ you<br> <b>There's nothin’ botherin’ me honey<br> That a piece of roast beef can’t fix up</b></p> <p>A man works hard, then comes on home<br> Expects to find stew with that fine ham bone<br> He opens the door, then starts to lookin’<br> <b>Say, woman, what’s this stuff you cookin’?<br></p> <p>Now all that meat and no potatoes<br> It just ain’t right, just like green tomatoes<br></b> Here I’m waitin’<br> Palpitatin’<br> With all that meat <b>and no potatoes</b></p> </blockquote> <p>Pencils down—what did you come up with? Of course, we all know the phrase "meat and potatoes," meaning something plain or pedestrian—but that doesn't seem to quite fit here. "All that meat and <em>no</em> potatoes" suggests a certain imbalance, but in the context of 1940s,<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#all-that-meat-first-recording">1</a></sup> that strikes me as a <em>fortuitous</em> one: surely midst WWII you'd happily take a double serving of meat and forego the potatoes?</p> <p>The trick to deciphering this one is to understand that every song from the 1930s to the 1950s<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#dirty-food-songs">2</a></sup> that purports to be about food is actually about sex. Through that lens, we realize that Fats isn't really complaining about his dinner (his nickname matched his figure; he hardly seems the type). Rather, he's lamenting that his otherwise buxom ("all that meat") lady friend sports somewhat underdeveloped bazongas ("and no potatoes!")—the breasts, of course, being the most tuberous aspect of the female physique.</p> <p>Don't believe me? I don't blame you; it certainly doesn't seem to agree with certain <a rel="external" href="https://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/all+that+meat+and+no+potatoes">dictionaries of idioms</a>. But whereas other, <a rel="external" href="https://digitalcitizen.ca/2010/10/29/a-dirty-song-called-all-that-meat-and-no-potatoes-and-lyrics/">lesser blogs</a><sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#digital-citizen">3</a></sup> are happy to simply purport this as fact, here at the Simpsonian we pride ourselves on our <em>research</em>, and by research, I mean asking ChatGPT. Spare me your scowl, philistine; yes, upon first asking, ChatGPT simply regurgitated many of the same sources upon which I've just heaped scorn, but—and here's the thing!—you can just <em>ask it for a better source</em>. In the present case, that yielded <a rel="external" href="https://greensdictofslang.com/">Green's Dictionary of Slang</a>, which appears to have garnered praise from the academics, in addition to the imprimatur of Oxford University Press (but see also <a rel="external" href="https://languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=3847">some mild criticism</a> from—where else?—Language Log). Green has <a rel="external" href="https://greensdictofslang.com/entry/psv7z7a#j775cca">a direct hit</a> for our phrase, which confirms the ribald definition, and even offers a further literary citation as evidence. It also offers many other <em>filthy</em> euphemistic uses of the word "meat" (including an application of "all that meat and no potatoes" to <a rel="external" href="https://greensdictofslang.com/entry/psv7z7a#vs4kh5y">the male anatomy</a>), but that's neither here nor there.</p> <p>Well, that about does it for me this week; I'm stuffed. There's many fine details we haven't the time to discuss (like the "Rhapsody in Blue" quotation in "Ain't Misbehavin’"!), but allow me to steal Mike Judge's conclusion for myself: at the end of <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Office_Space">Office Space</a></em>, <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gk7Jjl3qX5o&amp;t=132s">the flames devouring Initech</a> are stoked by some hot—and strangely familiar—background jazz.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#office-space-spoilers">4</a></sup> You guessed it—all that meat and <em>no</em> potatoes!</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> All That Meat and No Potatoes</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="all-that-meat-first-recording"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>The first recording I can find of "All That Meat and No Potatoes" dates back to 1941—<a rel="external" href="https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/200049601/BS-062765-All_that_meat_and_no_potatoes">the page for that recording</a> on the "Discography Of American Historical Recordings" lets you stream the original Fats audio. Armstrong's cover sounds more complete to me overall, but I love the heavy punch that Waller puts on the downbeat. Listen for yourself; the website even offers an embed option for me to easily share it:</p> </div> <iframe height="285" width="550" src="https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/take/embed/177725" frameborder="0"></iframe> <p>…oh brother.</p> <div class="footnote-definition" id="dirty-food-songs"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>And ever since then until the present day too, fine.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="digital-citizen"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>If you're out there, Digital Citizen, I promise this ribbing is intended in nothing but good fun; us .ca registrants have to stick together. For you, this track was one of the <em>Best Songs I Heard for the First Time in 2010</em>—allow me to join you in that assessment, a mere 15 years belatedly. (You need to fix your link to the full list, though.)</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="office-space-spoilers"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">4</sup> <p>Spoilers for <em>Office Space</em>, sorry. But seriously, if you haven't already seen it, you truly owe it to yourself to correct that. Also, thanks to Reddit user <a rel="external" href="https://www.reddit.com/user/sonofabutch/">sonofabutch</a> for <a rel="external" href="https://www.reddit.com/r/woahthatsacover/comments/157g3lw/fats_waller_all_that_meat_and_no_potatoes_made/">pointing out</a> this connection.</p> </div> 2025-07-06T00:00:00+00:00 2025-07-06T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-27/ <p><em>Jazz Goes to</em> College‽ As a card-carrying pseudo-intellectual, this title has me salivating: I can't credibly claim to have jazz in my <em>soul</em>, but perhaps Brubeck and his quartet have distilled jazz's inscrutable mystique into pure mathematical equations; at last, unquestionable hipness might be within reach for any square willing and able to bring their intellect to bear upon the subject.</p> <p>…but alas, the title is rather more literal than that: this album is a compilation of live sessions recorded at several universities across the Midwest. <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-06/">Time Out</a></em>, also by Dave Brubeck Quartet, is one of my absolute favourite albums from the first half of our experiment, so I came into this week with high hopes. I leave the week… disappointed, but only very slightly so.</p> <p>You see, what most captured my imagination in <em>Time Out</em> was the album's signature rhythmic experimentations, most notably in "Blue Rondo à la Turk," which tumbles along with the frenetic insistence of a toddler who has just learned to walk—every step has their entire momentum behind it; looking on, one is amazed that either avoids faceplanting. <em>Jazz Goes to College</em> (recorded five years before <em>Time Out</em>) doesn't feature similar innovations. What it does offer, however, is a fine selection of very cool jazz. I've <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-21/">previously written</a> that I'm more partial to the up-tempo, fiery stuff; while I still think that's true in general, this album Bru-bucks that trend. The tracks here are generally relaxed and minimal, with Brubeck and Desmond frequently trading the spotlight, but without ever growing boring or bland. Much of that feat is owed to their musicianship: perhaps I'm deluding myself, but my immediate reaction to first hearing Desmond on this album was <em>recognition</em>. I'd surely fail any comprehensive blind saxophonist identification quiz, but those first phrases immediately called to mind both <em>Time Out</em> as well as <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-14/">Two of a Mind</a></em>; similarly, Brubeck is quite distinct amongst the many pianists we've heard so far.</p> <p>As for the tracks themselves: we start off strong with almost 12 minutes of "plain old blues"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#college-plain-old-blues">1</a></sup> in "Balcony Rock." Desmond's smooth, signature style never disappoints, and it's only heightened by the contrasting tension Brubeck introduces; there's a series of chords that build, swell, and resolve around the 6:45 mark that perfectly encapsulate how a jazz pianist can thrill without invoking the sheer virtuosity of, say, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-18/">Art Tatum</a>. "Le Souk" is my favourite track—it would be another several years before the quartet served as <a rel="external" href="https://archive.org/details/1959yearthatchan00kapl/page/130/mode/2up">ambassadors abroad</a> and brought back Turkish rhythms for "Blue Rondo," but the early Middle-Eastern melodic influences evident in "Le Souk" already presage those later explorations. Just like <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-26/">last week</a>, I'm somewhat flat on another cover of "Take the 'A' Train": its iconic, rollicking piano riff has always been at the heart of the song for me; here, that element is downplayed so that Brubeck and the gang can try on some fresh ideas—none of which exceed the original to my ear. In fairness, "Take the 'A' Train" was 15 years old at the time of this recording; I suppose that it would've been decidedly unhip for a cool jazz group to play an ancient standard "straight."</p> <p>All told, while <em>Jazz Goes to College</em> wasn't the revelation I was hoping for, it's still a laudable lecture from a pre-eminent professor of cool jazz—well worth trekking across campus for, hangovers be damned.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Le Souk</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="college-plain-old-blues"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Per the album notes, which are also quick to caution "if a blues played by Brubeck can ever be called plain or old!" in a parenthetical. There's a gap in my identification abilities here: listening to <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twelve-bar_blues">a standard blues progression</a> sounds quite familiar, but I didn't spot it myself in "Balcony Rock."</p> </div> 2025-07-01T00:00:00+00:00 2025-07-01T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-26/ <p>In an attempt to remedy last week's bebop <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/">perversion of young minds</a>, this week brings a double helping of wholesome jazz—straight from one of America's most beloved band leaders, Duke Ellington. The last time we heard from the Duke, he was going <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-07/">head-to-head with Count Basie</a>; this week his band has the stage to themselves.</p> <p><em>Ellington Uptown</em> was first recorded in late 1951, amidst a somewhat difficult time for Ellington: his signature big band style was long past its commercial heyday, and several key members of his band departed earlier that year (most notably Johnny Hodges). Meanwhile, one of Ellington's main creative ambitions was to move jazz beyond the three-minute compositions that had originally brought him fame and success. Those forces all coalesce here, and the result is our most symphonic album yet: multiple tracks (especially "A Tone Parallel to Harlem", "The Controversial Suite", and "The Liberian Suite") are extended compositions, featuring semi-formal structures more reminiscent of classical music than of traditional jazz. (There's even strings!) Might this be a precursor to what would later be dubbed "<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_stream">Third Stream</a>?"</p> <p>I really enjoyed listening to <em>Ellington Uptown</em>, and this week I'd like to comment on some of the individual tracks in more detail. We begin with <strong>"Skin Deep,"</strong> and what a way it is to start! This one grabs your attention from the first note and never lets go. This is also the album's biggest dose of percussion—I haven't measured it exactly, but I'm pretty sure that fully <em>half</em> of this song's 6:49 runtime is just drum solos.</p> <p><strong>"The Mooche"</strong> is slinking and sly; it makes me want to strut around once again in <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grim_Fandango">Grim Fandango</a></em>'s Rubacava. There's plenty of solos to go around here, from clarinet to saxophone, but most remarkable is the rumbling wah-wahs from the trombone. (Wikipedia mentions that <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tricky_Sam_Nanton">Tricky Sam Nanton</a>, a long-time member of Ellington's band, was one of the pioneers of that distinctive wah-wah sound, though sadly he passed away before this album's recording.) Side note: I assumed that the titular "mooche" was meant to evoke the French <a rel="external" href="https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mouche">mouche</a>, but apparently Ellington just meant someone who's always borrowing off of you—y'know, a <em>mooch</em>—which is <a rel="external" href="https://tdwaw.ellingtonweb.ca/supportingwebpages/TheMoochOrTheMooche.html">sometimes how the title gets spelled</a>. Oh, how I love a side of orthographic pedantry to complement my jazz.</p> <p><strong>'Take the "A" Train'</strong> is the only track I'm mixed on. I first fell in love with that tune—an Ellington standard—in the <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-07/">band battle version with Basie</a>; in my opinion, that recording still has more raw energy. The <em>Ellington Uptown</em> version adds some vocals (including scatting) that I could take or leave, but doubling the track length to eight minutes gives them more liberty to explore and experiment, which is fun.</p> <p><strong>"A Tone Parallel to Harlem"</strong> captures the quotidian routines of a community, from the bustle and excitement of dancing in the street, to quiet, reflective evenings in the park. Wikipedia cites <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ellington_Uptown#cite_note-5">a favourable comparison</a> to Gershwin's <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhapsody_in_Blue">Rhapsody in Blue</a>, which I find quite apt. Listen carefully to the trumpet voice at the very beginning, which plaintively welcomes you to "Haaar-lem."</p> <p>Of the two <strong>Controversial Suite</strong> tracks, "Later" is the one that sticks with me, owing to its distinctive "tick-tock" pulse throughout. I need a mod to make it the background music for a certain <a rel="external" href="https://www.mariowiki.com/Tick-Tock_Clock_(race_course)">Mario Kart course</a>…</p> <p>Finally, in the <strong>Liberian Suite</strong>, I love the sax solo at the end of Dance No. 1, as well as the strings in Dance No. 3, but the vocals in "I Like the Sunrise" are the real show-stopper for me. The lyrics are simple, but the melody is so moving, and delivered with such confidence, that I'm enthralled every time. This was commissioned by the government of Liberia to celebrate their centennial—I wonder if it's still known there.</p> <p>So there you have it: nearly 80 minutes total (in this extended CD re-release) and I like it all. Perhaps this makes me unhip, but I have a real soft spot for big band: not to pooh-pooh the bebop virtuosos, but by dint of sheer numbers, big bands offer a fullness and richness that no small ensemble can equal. Couple that with some pointers on structure and instrumentation from the classical world—without any of the possibly attendant stodginess—and you've got a recipe for some great tunes.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> The Mooch(e)</p> <hr> 2025-06-25T00:00:00+00:00 2025-06-25T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/ <p><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">Two weeks ago</a>, we were listening to "Birdland" by Weather Report, and this week we come full circle: that song took its name from <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birdland_(New_York_jazz_club)">a New York jazz club</a>, which was itself named after <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Parker">Charlie "Yardbird" Parker</a>—better known as just "Bird." Parker was one of the most influential saxophonists in the history of jazz, and is the subject of Clint Eastwood's 1988 biographical film <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bird_(1988_film)"><em>Bird</em></a>, from which we get this week's album.</p> <p>Eastwood is a lifelong lover of jazz for whom Parker was a particular inspiration. So when he set out to tell Bird's story, he faced a problem: given Bird's untimely passing, the recordings we have of him are generally of poor quality, and would have stuck out sorely in the movie. Eastwood and music supervisor Lennie Niehaus agreed that having a contemporary saxophonist "dub" Parker's iconic playing would be sacrilegious, so they tasked the audio engineers with surgically extracting Parker's solos from those original recordings (!).<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#chan-private-recordings">1</a></sup> Contemporary musicians then re-recorded the other parts alongside those authentic Parker solos for the film's score.</p> <p>As part of this week's research, it only seemed right that I supplement the soundtrack by watching the movie. It's over two and a half hours long, but it never seemed to drag for me, owing largely to the warmth, humour, and almost childish tenderness Forest Whitaker brings to the lead role. In my viewing, two things stood out in particular: first, it was fascinating to be <em>visually</em> immersed in the jazz culture of 1950s New York City. Throughout this project, our exposure to the leading names of jazz has been almost exclusively through their musical output—Eastwood's biopic delivers the sights and social dramas of the period in addition to the music. And while the NYC of today in many ways looks quite different compared to that depicted in <em>Bird</em>, one scene hasn't changed: wherever jazz thrives, there will be bustling clubs filled with drink-laden tables and packed with an audience enraptured by the cats on stage.</p> <p>Secondly, it was fascinating to be reminded of just how <em>controversial</em> bebop was in its nascent days—after Bird and the gang try to bring this new style to the West Coast, their engagement is cancelled early, with some unnamed music executive declaring "bebop tends to pervert young minds." Hoo boy! In our era of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drill_music">drill music</a>, and, well, <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsm4poTWjMs">WAP</a>, it's quaint to see how reviled bebop was for its… use of chromatic scales? (Yes, okay, presumably much of that ill reputation was due to bebop's association with the drug scene—that same drug scene that killed Bird before 35, along with a slew of other jazzmen—but still, perverting young minds??)</p> <p>But for all these words I have yet to comment on the music itself. Alas, I clearly have yet to achieve jazz transcendence: for all my efforts, I can't quite detect what makes Parker so singularly spectacular. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it—"Lester Leaps In" has infectious energy; "Laura" is heart-wrenching; "April in Paris" might've won last week's <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/">Standards Showdown</a> —but what most caught my ear were <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jon_Faddis">Jon Faddis</a>'s fleet-fingered trumpet solos on "Ko Ko" and "Ornithology" (where he covers his mentor, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dizzy_Gillespie">Dizzy Gillespie</a>).</p> <p>Let me close this week by once again lamenting the devastating effect that heroin had on Harlem and jazz, aptly chronicled by Stephen Eide in <a rel="external" href="https://www.city-journal.org/article/when-heroin-hit-jazz">this piece</a>. That is only one of innumerably many examples of communities ravaged by drugs, but it is one that robbed us of so many musical visionaries at their peak. Though Charlie Parker was taken from us far too soon, he is not forgotten—Bird lives.</p> <figure> <img src="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-25/./bird_lives.jpg" alt="A photo of sidewalk graffiti, proclaiming 'BIRD LIVES'" class="centre"> </figure> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Ornithology</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="chan-private-recordings"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Some of these recordings weren't even commercial, they were friendly sessions recorded on very early tape recorders. A few even came directly from the private collection of Chan Parker, Bird's long-time common-law partner.</p> </div> 2025-06-22T00:00:00+00:00 2025-06-22T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-24/ <p>Over the past several weeks, we've seen a certain correlation: the more recent an album is, the more it seems to depart from "traditional" jazz, in favour of <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/">pushing the boundaries</a> or <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">incorporating other genres</a>. <em>Marsalis Standard Time, Volume 1</em> bucks that trend: despite being first released in 1987 (a mere 38 years ago…), there's no bells and whistles here, nor is there even a hint of fusion: this is just old-school <em>jazz</em>, baby.</p> <p>What I didn't know during my first listen is that this approach is very <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wynton_Marsalis#Debate_on_jazz">characteristic of Marsalis</a>. He's a staunch traditionalist in the world of jazz, a proponent of "<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Straight-ahead_jazz">straight-ahead</a>" jazz. Accordingly, on this album Marsalis picks a number of standards and brings them to us with exacting precision. In other weeks, we've heard original compositions that are clearly the works of an auteur intent on moving the art as a whole forward; by contrast, Marsalis is content to simply add his take on tried-and-true tunes. For me, the result is more reminiscent of classical music than anything else: the compositions themselves are taken to be fixed, and we instead are interested in a performer's personal interpretation of them.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#classical-vs-jazz">1</a></sup> And just like classical music, the contemporary listener benefits from advances in recording technology; the tracks here are crisp and clear, unlike some of the earlier albums we've heard. Overall, Marsalis and his band produce wonderful results here, and I think there is value in some musicians focusing on excellent performances of "no-nonsense" works. But I can't endorse his philosophy as a whole—in a world with only Marsalians, wouldn't jazz become a dog chasing its tail, celebrating where it's been without having anywhere to go?</p> <p>But let's set ideological quarrels aside, because this week we've got just enough contenders for our first-ever… Standards Showdown! Part of the culture and tradition of jazz is a shared songbook of "<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jazz_standard">standards</a>" that are routinely covered by performers. After 24 albums, we've got enough overlap that I thought it would be fun to put Marsalis's recordings head-to-head against some others.</p> <h2 id="april-in-paris-vs-garner">"April in Paris" vs. <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-19/">Garner</a></h2> <p>I'll be honest: when I first listened to these side-by-side, I couldn't tell they were supposed to be based on the same tune. After comparing to some other recordings, it seems to me that Garner was pretty liberal with his ornamentation. Not that he's the first to do so, mind you—<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCmcoZktZG4">Count Basie's Orchestra</a> smuggled "Pop! Goes the Weasel" into their cover?? To my ear, Marsalis is truer to the heart of the tune, and for that, he takes the first point.</p> <p>Note: "April in Paris" was also on the <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-08/">Helen Merrill</a> album we heard, but since she sings hers, I'll exclude it in the interest of trying to keep an apples-to-apples comparison.</p> <p><em>Winner:</em> Marsalis</p> <h2 id="a-foggy-day-vs-benson">"[A] Foggy Day" vs. <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-16/">Benson</a></h2> <p>No disrespect to any of the great <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yNfmKh2XoQ">crooners</a>, but I've always preferred the energy of Benson's up-tempo, snappy take on this one. However, I can't help but find the lyrics themselves <em>so cheesy</em>.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#foggy-day-lyrics">2</a></sup> Marsalis, by contrast, get to have his cake and eat it too: he takes that earworm melody and spins it out instrumentally for a full seven-and-a-half minutes. All the fun, with none of the cheese—notch a second point for Marsalis. (It's an especially meaningful win for Marsalis, because Benson was one of the poster boys for the "corruption" of jazz, with his pop stylings.)</p> <p><em>Winner:</em> Marsalis</p> <h2 id="autumn-leaves-vs-garner">"Autumn Leaves" vs. <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-19/">Garner</a></h2> <p>I am a sucker for the drama with which Garner suffuses this one: when that left hand comes crashing in like the waves against the shore at his <em>Concert by the Sea</em>, it gets me every time. While I do love the tug-of-war between the fast and slow tempi at the start of Marsalis's take, it never reaches the same emotional highs for me. Garner wins the rematch, preventing a Marsalis sweep!</p> <p><em>Winner:</em> Garner</p> <p>Two out of three ain't bad, Marsalis—a solid showing indeed for the inaugural Standards Showdown. A couple final tidbits of trivia to close us out:</p> <ul> <li>Marsalis is an alum of <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">The Jazz Messengers</a>—and that's not <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-19/">the first time</a> we've seen a connection to Art Blakey's group.</li> <li>Marsalis is one of the only artists we've heard who is still actively performing. In fact, he's currently <a rel="external" href="https://wyntonmarsalis.org/tour/upcoming">on tour</a>.</li> </ul> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Caravan</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="classical-vs-jazz"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Though obviously one has much greater latitude in re-interpreting a standard than, say, Beethoven's Ninth; regardless, in both cases the emphasis is on presenting new ideas in a well-known piece.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="foggy-day-lyrics"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Catchy too; I sing this all the time. And yes, I know I just disqualified Merrill's "April in Paris" because it has vocals, but I don't have another instrumental "A Foggy Day," so you'll have to deal with this asymmetric matchup.</p> </div> 2025-06-17T00:00:00+00:00 2025-06-17T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-23/ <p>We're back in jazz fusion land, with a fun chain of connections leading to this week's album: we first started getting funky with <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">Herbie Hancock</a>, who was also instrumental in Jaco Pastorius's <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-22/">debut album</a>. Jaco is back again this week as the sole bassist for this Weather Report album—a gig he secured by approaching the band's leader, Joe Zawinul, after a show and proclaiming "I'm John Francis Pastorius III. I'm the greatest bass player in the world." ("As was [Jaco's] habit," <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaco_Pastorius#Weather_Report">Wikipedia adds</a>!) Jaco's debut album was great, but this is the one that made me a believer: in my listening notes, I wrote "the electric guitar is the star of this album". So imagine my surprise when I discovered there <em>is</em> no electric guitar on this album—it's just Jaco doing Jaco things on his bass.</p> <p>The liberal use of synthesizers gives <em>Heavy Weather</em> a full and more modern sound compared to many of the other albums we've heard—and with Pastorius on the bass, it should come as no surprise that he gets plenty of time in the spotlight (especially on "Teen Town"). The many solos throughout the album (bass and otherwise) continually enthrall (e.g., the electric piano (?) near the end of "A Remark You Made"; the sax at 2:00 in "The Juggler"), but so too do the smaller ornamentations—the "da-ding" on the piano at around 1:08 in "The Juggler" is tiny but adds so much. "Rumba Mamá" feels like the odd one out to me here: recorded live in 1976, it's heavy on vocals and Latin beats, but light on everything else—a significant departure from the rest of the album.</p> <p>The best-known song from the album is "Birdland," and while it's a phenomenal track (especially Jaco's bass near the start!), my one critique is that it ends up feeling a little too "sunshine &amp; rainbows" for me. There's so much intrigue and anticipation at first, but I find the theme introduced right at 2:00 so irrepressibly upbeat that it dominates the mood, and collapses any emotional ambiguity into a one-note <em>feelin' good</em>. If you're looking for an easy smile, it's great; I only wish they had left a little more of that initial edge on it. But that depressive nitpicking of an irredeemable curmudgeon hardly dampens the bright skies on display here—I'll be returning to <em>Heavy Weather</em> season after season.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> A Remark You Made</p> <hr> 2025-06-08T00:00:00+00:00 2025-06-08T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-22/ <p>I expected to like <em>Jaco Pastorius</em>—both the bassist as well as his self-titled debut album—from the start. It is the official editorial position of the Simpsonian that <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rush_(band)">Rush</a> is the greatest rock group of all time, so I hope there is no doubt when I say that I surely appreciate a proper <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzCB6Q3sc60">bass-slapping</a>. Alas, despite all that, my first listen of this album sailed right under my whelms. I had a hard time following along or categorizing the album: we start with the virtuosic but minimal "Donna Lee," followed by the distinctly R&amp;B "Come On, Come Over", then a few progressive tracks, finally tied up with some soaring strings?<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#pastorius-bonus-tracks">1</a></sup> I couldn't make heads or tails of it.</p> <p>But with repeated listens, something finally clicked. The real "a-ha" moment for me was likening this album to Daft Punk's <em>Random Access Memories</em>—bear with me. Yes, the two albums sound pretty different, but they both explore all kinds of different musical ideas/genres, while still maintaining a coherent, singular identity that binds all the tracks together. Even when drilling down to the level of individual tracks there's some fun parallels; let me break them down for you:</p> <table><thead><tr><th>Archetype</th><th><em>Jaco Pastorius</em></th><th><em>Random Access Memories</em></th></tr></thead><tbody> <tr><td>Catchy dance hit featuring another R&amp;B group on vocals</td><td>"Come On, Come Over" (feat. <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sam_%26_Dave">Sam &amp; Dave</a>)</td><td>"Get Lucky" (feat. <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pharrell_Williams">Pharrell Williams</a>)</td></tr> <tr><td>Minimal track that strongly features a single instrument</td><td>"Portrait of Tracy" (maybe "Donna Lee" as well?)</td><td>"Within"</td></tr> <tr><td>Soaring string introduction</td><td>"Forgotten Love"</td><td>"Beyond"</td></tr> <tr><td>Eight-ish minutes of experimental prog <em>something</em></td><td>"Kuru / Speak Like a Child"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#kuru">2</a></sup></td><td>"Touch" (arguably "Giorgio by Moroder" too)</td></tr> </tbody></table> <p>But there's also a more direct jazz connection worth pointing out here: Herbie Hancock! We first met Hancock a <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/">couple weeks ago</a> alongside his Headhunters; Hancock features prominently on this album too. He plays keyboard on several tracks here, and the "Speak Like a Child" half of "Kuru / Speak Like a Child" comes from an earlier composition of his. Hancock was clearly a fan of the young Pastorius; the back of the album features this extended praise:</p> <blockquote> <p>Jaco is a phenomenon. He is able to make sounds on the bass that are a total surprise to the sensibilities. Not only single notes, but chords, harmonics, and all sorts of nuances with the color of the instrument that when combined and translated through Jaco make for some of the best music that I've heard in a long time.</p> <p>Of course, it's not the technique that makes the music; it's the sensitivity of the musician and his ability to be able to fuse his life with the rhythm of the times. This is the essence of music. On this record Jaco captures some of that rhythm.</p> </blockquote> <p>So after a week's worth of listening, I've ended up exactly where I thought I would: this album is awesome; highly recommended.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Kuru / Speak Like a Child</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="pastorius-bonus-tracks"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Those soaring strings are from "Forgotten Love," which was the closing track on the original release. The CD re-release I have includes two bonus tracks afterwards—generally I'm all for those goodies, but in this case I find they really ruin the perfect dénouement created by "Forgotten Love." ("6/4 Jam" <em>is</em> pretty fun though.)</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="kuru"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>…isn't Kuru that prion disease typically spread via cannibalism?? Yes, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuru_(disease)">yes it is</a>…</p> </div> 2025-06-02T00:00:00+00:00 2025-06-02T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-21/ <p>Ah, we've arrived at <em>bossa nova</em>: Spanish for "the new boss," because when João Gilberto and Stan Getz popularized the genre with their 1964 album <em>Getz/Gilberto</em>, everyone took notice of the new boss in town. Or something like that.</p> <p>This album, <em>The Best of Two Worlds</em>, is the reunion of Getz (saxophone) and Gilberto (vocals) over a decade later. (Gilberto's then-wife, known professionally as Miúcha, joins as well, providing the English vocals.) This music is precious: it's exquisitely beautiful, and sumptuously smooth. That smoothness is pleasing, but at times it runs the risk of becoming sedate. When I listen to jazz, I'm not looking to appreciate an abstract Rothko with detached amusement—I want my passions <em>inflamed</em>, dammit! <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">Tijuana Moods</a> is such an interesting contrast here: both albums have their souls in Latin America, but their vibes could not be any more different. <em>The Best of Two Worlds</em> is foolproof dinner party background music; with Mingus it's chaos and confusion, fire and brimstone. (Yes, the hellfire is a <em>good</em> thing.)</p> <p>That being said, the first two songs on this album are sublime enough to transcend my impertinent grousing. "Double Rainbow" is the most magnificent song ever to feature a double rainbow, and that is a category with <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MX0D4oZwCsA"><em>stiff</em> competition</a>. But "Aguas de Março (Waters of March)" is the runaway star for me. I don't generally go for its style of free-form, abstract lyrics, but here everything just <em>works</em>, thanks largely to Miúcha's lithe vocals and Getz's legendary tone. (No shade to Gilberto, who is a great singer as well, but he just doesn't make my heart ache like Miúcha.) Apparently the lyrics <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waters_of_March">are inspired by</a> the sudden, heavy March rains in Rio de Janeiro, which routinely carry various detritus through the streets. It's a highly evocative image, and one that makes me think I need to get outside more. I shudder to think of a version of this song inspired by my life… <em>A bit, a byte, a keystroke at night…</em></p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Aguas de Março (Waters of March)</p> 2025-05-25T00:00:00+00:00 2025-05-25T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-20/ <p>What the <em>funk</em> is this‽</p> <p>Right from the first listen, this has jumped into my personal top five albums from this project, and probably the top three. It's a total mind virus; I've been listening to it every day since. Once you have the opening lick in your eardrums, it's all over. There is simply no escaping it.</p> <p>I don't have any particularly intelligent analysis (as usual); all there is to say is that the vibes here are immaculate. "Chameleon" makes me want to stalk around Manhattan at 2 a.m. "Watermelon Man" makes me want to drive around like that <a rel="external" href="https://archive.org/details/gorillaz_final_drive">old 3D Gorillaz game</a> (<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozr6SBxIOE8">video</a>). "Sly" makes me want to frantically scramble to evade the police. "Vein Melter" makes me want to… actually I'm not sure; that one's pretty chill.</p> <p>I had never heard of Hancock before this, which is impressive, given that he's accomplished pretty much everything there is for a musician to accomplish. A quick sampler of some of his laurels: personally scouted by Miles Davis for his "<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miles_Davis_Quintet#Second_Great_Quintet_(1964%E2%80%9368)">Second Great Quintet</a>;" 14 Grammys (including Album of the Year); and an Oscar for Best Original Score. No lack of commercial success either: Wikipedia <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Head_Hunters">claims</a> (albeit without citation) that <em>Head Hunters</em> was the best-selling jazz album ever until <em>Breezin'</em> (by <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-16/">George Benson</a>) came along. Plus, he made a nice chunk of change recording jingles for all kinds of TV commercials, and he composed the theme for a <em>Fat Albert</em> special. But he isn't a commercial sellout either: Hancock was (and continues to be) chairman of the "Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz" for so long that they decided to just rename it the "Herbie Hancock Institute of Jazz" instead.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#hancock-institute-of-jazz">1</a></sup></p> <p>This album is arguably our first glimpse into jazz <em>fusion</em>: the extended solos and general structure are reminiscent of the jazz we've heard so far, but the instrumentation (especially the heavy focus on synthesizers/electric piano) and general funkiness are a new twist, and I am 100% here for it. And can I just say: fusion <em>anything</em> is obviously always going to be better than the original. It's practically so by definition—take the best parts of multiple things and stick them together—how could that <em>not</em> be better than what you started with? French fries in my falafel wrap? Synthesizers in my jazz? Yep, a double helping of each please. FUSE IT!</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Chameleon</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="hancock-institute-of-jazz"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Which like, ouch, for Monk.</p> </div> 2025-05-20T00:00:00+00:00 2025-05-20T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-19/ <p>Wow, what a contrast with <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-18/">last week</a>. Whereas Tatum astonishes with technical wizardry, Erroll Garner shows that less can be more; Tatum bowls the listener over with an incessant acoustic assault, while Garner makes the silences work just as hard as the notes themselves. By far my favourite feature of Garner's playing is when he really unleashes that booming, thundering bass from his left hand (like in "How Could You Do a Thing Like That to Me"). It feels almost sacrilegious to say, but I far prefer Garner's approach: I will forever be in awe of what Tatum could do on the keys, but Garner strikes me as simply more <em>musical</em> in the end.</p> <p>That we even have this album is a happy accident: per <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concert_by_the_Sea#Recording_and_music">Wikipedia</a>, there were no plans to record it, but Garner's manager spied a tape recorder running backstage (placed by an enterprising <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taper_(concert)">taper</a>); that tape eventually became this album. It was an especially fortunate happenstance for Garner's label, Columbia—the notes for the 2015 rerelease claim that the album brought in over a million dollars in sales by 1958 (three years after the original release). Not bad for a record with an out-of-tune piano and barely audible backing instruments!</p> <p>As is tradition around here, allow me to offer a connection in closing: <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">early on</a>, we met Art Blakey, along with his Messengers. Blakey's widely considered to be one of the greatest jazz drummers of all time, and to some extent he has Garner to thank for that: <a rel="external" href="http://artblakey.com/biography/">according to Blakey</a>, he started his career gigging on the piano, but that ended abruptly one night when the club owner ordered him onto the drums instead. One gets the impression that Blakey perhaps wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the request at first—but when the club owner pulled his pistol on Blakey, Blakey had a sudden change of heart. For whom was Blakey vacating the piano bench? You've already guessed it, of course: Erroll Garner.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Mambo Carmel<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#mambo-carmel">1</a></sup></p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="mambo-carmel"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>The opening chords in this one really reminded me of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B%C3%A9la_Bart%C3%B3k">Bartók</a>, but I can't coherently articulate why.</p> </div> 2025-05-11T00:00:00+00:00 2025-05-11T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-18/ <p><em>Editor's note: we sincerely apologize for the disruption in our usual weekly publication schedule. We recently welcomed a new staff member at the Simpsonian and are very busy training him—we're confident that he'll one day become a valued addition to the team, especially once he can feed, bathe, and clothe himself.</em></p> <p>If someone says, "you <em>have</em> to listen to this," and the recording begins with a staticy hiss (as this one does), how should you react? In my opinion, you should be elated. Think of it this way: in 2025, we enjoy a surfeit of extremely high-quality audio recordings; if you want to hear a world-class pianist performing in optimal studio conditions, they're not in short supply. So if, despite that, someone recommends a low-quality recording, there must be something very special about the content. <em>Piano Starts Here</em> falls squarely into that camp.</p> <p>Unfortunately I lack the time to dive deep into Tatum's life, so I'll confine myself to the basics: he plays like a man possessed, which you can confirm for yourself by listening to thirty seconds of his music. Many regard him as the greatest jazz pianist ever to have lived; many renowned pianists cite him as a formative influence. But what's more impressive to me is his legacy as an <em>anti</em>-influence: Wikipedia has <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art_Tatum#Influence">a paragraph</a> on all the musicians who heard Tatum play and found the skill gap so disheartening they gave up the piano entirely. One such flunky was Les Paul, so arguably Art Tatum invented the electric guitar?</p> <p>Tatum's playing reminds me of only one other pianist: <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Horowitz">Vladimir Horowitz</a>. Horowitz holds a special place in my heart because I stumbled upon him by pure chance: I purchased a used album of his from my local library on a whim and had my socks thoroughly knocked off the first time I listened to it. The best simile I can offer is that Horowitz's playing (especially in the upper register on the right hand) is like water pouring from a handcrafted teapot: a flow so steady, swift, and perfect that there's no telling where one note ends and the next begins. Tatum is the only other pianist I've heard who can match that lofty bar, and as it so happens, the two were contemporaries; I was delighted to read about some of their encounters <a rel="external" href="https://vivavirtuoso.com/tatum-horowitz-and-tea-for-two/">here</a>.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> St. Louis Blues<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#tatum-st-louis-blues">1</a></sup></p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="tatum-st-louis-blues"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>I'm biased because this was the very first track all the way back in <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-01/">week 1</a>—that's still one of my favourite songs from this entire experience, so hearing the same theme again here caught my ear right away. "Tiger Rag" is pretty great too.</p> </div> 2025-04-27T00:00:00+00:00 2025-04-27T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-17/ <p>Perhaps more than any other artist we've heard thus far, Nina Simone defies categorization. Do we set her against the <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/">other</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-04/">female</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-08/">vocalists</a> we've heard? On this album she sings the blues—ought we compare her to <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-01/">Louis</a>? But of course, she was also a talented pianist, and we've heard <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-11/">a few</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-13/">of those</a> as well; maybe they're a better fit?</p> <p>The answer, of course, is obvious: any attempt to confine such a singular artist to a particular label is an exercise in futility. Simone's own description of her work was "<a rel="external" href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/culture/article/20240215-in-history-nina-simone-how-racial-injustice-fuelled-her-songs">black classical music</a> <em>[…]</em> It's a combination of gospel, pop, love songs, political songs, so it is black-oriented classical music, that's what it is." I wasn't aware of how deep her classical music training ran—Simone loved Bach in particular, and that influence isn't hard to hear in this <a rel="external" href="https://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/instruments/piano/nina-simone-improvises-bach-fugue-classic-song/">fugal interlude</a> from one of her live performances.</p> <p>In <em>Nina Simone Sings the Blues</em>, we only get a small slice of her oeuvre (lacking many of her <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHRNrgDIJfo">best-known</a> <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCjzNfJLHa0">songs</a>), but it's a worthy one nonetheless. This week, let me take you through my favourite tracks from the album.</p> <h3 id="buck">Buck</h3> <p>This song isn't even two minutes long, but Simone still manages to pack a lot in. The flirty lyrics and light-hearted, breezy vocals make it a fun listen, but my favourite part is the opening organ riff that forms the backbone of the song: it's such a groovy saunter down the keys, and a total earworm.</p> <h3 id="i-want-a-little-sugar-in-my-bowl">I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl</h3> <p>If "Buck" was suggestive, this one is downright filthy—the lyrics aren't subtle in their innuendo, which is especially surprising given that they're heavily based on a <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Need_a_Little_Sugar_in_My_Bowl">1931 song</a>. (Not a time I associate with free expression of feminine libido!)</p> <p>This track puts the spotlight on Simone's vocals, and allows her softer side to shine. Simone had an incredible ability to channel powerful emotions (as we'll soon encounter), but this song shows she could be just as effective in a more subdued setting.</p> <h3 id="backlash-blues">Backlash Blues</h3> <p>Here we arrive at a portrait of Nina the activist: a series of <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medgar_Evers">horrific</a> <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/16th_Street_Baptist_Church_bombing">murders</a> in the 1960s spurred her to political advocacy; this song, with lyrics penned by her poet friend <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Langston_Hughes">Langston Hughes</a> is one such example. The protest here is an icy cool, not a fiery rage—the guitar runs are gripping, and the whole piece drips with discontent (though not disempowerment).</p> <h3 id="the-house-of-the-rising-sun">The House of the Rising Sun</h3> <p>Surely you've heard <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4bFqW_eu2I">The Animals' version</a> of this folk classic. That's not the only time they crossed paths with Simone—their cover of <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2sz_YwwwQ4">Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood</a> was far more successful than Simone's original recording (which allegedly led to <a rel="external" href="https://www.covermesongs.com/2018/04/thats-a-cover-dont-let-me-be-misunderstood-the-animals-nina-simone.html">some tensions</a>).</p> <p>I find Simone's take here jauntier and less haunting than The Animals'—overall I prefer the latter, but the bluesy roots come through more strongly in Simone's.</p> <h3 id="my-man-s-gone-now">My Man's Gone Now</h3> <p>Far and away my favourite song of the album: every time I listen, it gives me full-body chills. I can't adequately describe this one—you'll need to listen for yourself—but the album notes give a good taste:</p> <blockquote> <p><em>My Man's Gone Now</em> was the last selection taped at the recording session. Miss Simone was physically and emotionally exhausted from previous recording, but she sat down at the piano and began to play and sing this moving "Porgy and Bess"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#porgy-and-bess">1</a></sup> tune. The bass picked it up. From somewhere she called up the stamina to deliver with even more intensity and spirit a rare, perfect performance in one take, which could not possibly be improved.</p> </blockquote> <p>Simone's life wasn't an easy one: her famous temper repeatedly got her into serious trouble; near the end of her life that volatility was formalized in a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. In so many ways, she contained multitudes: despite our inclinations, her music and legacy defy tidy summarization. I'm very glad to have begun discovering her story this week.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> My Man's Gone Now</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="porgy-and-bess"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Note to self: at some point, I really ought to give the Gershwins their own treatment: besides this album, we've already <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/">heard</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-15/">three</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-16/">others</a> that lift tracks from those brothers.</p> </div> 2025-04-21T00:00:00+00:00 2025-04-21T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-16/ <p>Inside George Benson there are two wolves:</p> <ol> <li>the coolest cat you've ever seen, and</li> <li>the softest, most wholesome guy you've ever met.</li> </ol> <p>In "Clockwise" he's laying down a <em>lick</em> on his electric guitar in tandem with the baritone sax, and hoo boy is it tasty. By contrast, "A Foggy Day" is a cover of a Gershwin song originally made popular by Fred Astaire—Benson's up-tempo take on it injects some much-needed pep, but that doesn't make it any less old-timey.</p> <p>Many of the artists we've heard so far have been singular students of jazz, devoting their entire career to discovering and mapping her many details. Not so with Benson—there's no disputing his jazz <em>bona fides</em> (as evidenced by this album), but he also extensively recorded pop and R&amp;B;<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#benson-beatles">1</a></sup> many of the 10 (!) Grammys he's won come from those latter two genres. The aforementioned Cool Guy/Nice Guy dichotomy is present in his pop stuff too: in "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIF7wKJb2iU">Give Me The Night</a>" he's about to sweep your girl off her feet and rollerskate<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#benson-rollerskating">2</a></sup> her away into the Californian sunset, but in "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7JyA5xE078">Never Give Up on a Good Thing</a>," relationship counselor Benson exhorts you to… never break up? (This is somewhat less surprising after learning that Benson is a Jehovah's Witness and is celebrating sixty years of marriage in 2025.)</p> <p>But back to <em>It's Uptown</em>: this is the first album we've heard that makes the guitar the star of the show. I have mixed feelings about that—it's hard to top the cool factor of a well-placed guitar riff, but I also find that the instrument struggles to evoke a certain mournful or plaintive tone that is so often core to jazz. That being said, the trusty six-string has other tricks up its sleeve. A great example is "Bullfight," where Benson starts by setting up a Latin beat with some dense, choppy rhythmic chords, then effortlessly transitions to the solo melody. Finally, it bears mentioning that although Benson came to fame as a prodigious guitarist, he's a great vocalist as well—I find the lyrics of the selections on this album a bit cheesy, but I'm a fan of the clear, bright tone of his voice.</p> <p>So until next week, follow Benson's example: be the baddest dude you can while still being a good guy.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Clockwise</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="benson-beatles"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Not to mention his own rendition of <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Other_Side_of_Abbey_Road">Abby Road</a></em>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="benson-rollerskating"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>According to <a rel="external" href="https://www.spin.com/2024/07/george-benson-still-breezin-after-all-these-years/">this interview</a>, the rollerskating wasn't planned: on the evening of the shoot, there just happened to be a group of people rollerskating, and Benson—who spent his youth skating—insisted on joining in on the fun (to his manager's great consternation).</p> </div> 2025-04-13T00:00:00+00:00 2025-04-13T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-15/ <p>Going into middle school, I needed to pick an instrument for music class. The choice was clear: I could barely get a whimper out of a flute, and my buzzing on the brass was no good, but by God could I wail on the saxophone. My father was only too happy to indulge my affinity for woodwind by purchasing me a… clarinet. Practicality ruled the day: a clarinet, you see, is significantly cheaper than a saxophone, and is <em>just</em> compact enough to be crammed into one's backpack for easy transportation—my father had no sympathy for the fact that I idolized <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaoLU6zKaws">sexy sax man</a>, not Squidward. I've been unpacking that trauma ever since.</p> <p>It was surprising to me, then, to learn that all of that unpleasantness could have been avoided had someone simply played me this album all those years ago. Goodman is front and centre on the ol' licorice stick, and blows as hard as any another cat on the scene; there's no shortage of sax appeal here. As for the rest of the quartet: there's no bass (sad), but instead we've got double percussion—drums and <em><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vibraphone">vibraphone</a></em> (!)—to lay down a backbone, plus keys to fill everything out.</p> <p>From the instrumentation alone, this one struck me as antiquated: nothing else we've heard so far emphasizes these particular instruments, and I can't help but find the combination slightly cheesy. Not in a bad way! It's always fun, and it does legitimately go hard, but clarinet and vibraphone sound so <em>wholesome</em> to me; overall it doesn't quite have the same edge as <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">some other things</a> we've listened to.</p> <p>Am I right in deeming this sound "dated?" Sort of: Goodman's quartet first made it big around 1936, but this particular recording is an attempt to recapture that magic in 1964 (well after the group had split—hence the "again" in <em>Together Again!</em>).<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#64-quartets">1</a></sup> Music had changed much in those intervening decades, thanks in no small part to Goodman himself: many consider his <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Famous_1938_Carnegie_Hall_Jazz_Concert">1938 Carnegie Hall concert</a> to be the event that elevated jazz from popular frippery to serious art music. Society had changed as well, and Goodman was involved there too—his racially integrated quartet was highly controversial and nearly unprecedented, but that didn't stop them from touring the South; by all accounts that I've read, Goodman unflinchingly insisted on the equal treatment of all band members at every stop along the way.</p> <p>I'm not sure what the original reception to this album was in 1964, but I wouldn't be surprised if it mirrored my own: it's lovely music, but also clearly from another time—a long-lost treasure unearthed from a forgotten time capsule. I suppose that's a reputation one only earns by doing something groundbreaking in the first place.</p> <p>One final thought: while listening to this album, I kept feeling there was some kind of connection I couldn't quite place. By the end of the week I finally pieced it together: the theme from <em><a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMwSNDRP90o">Monsters, Inc.</a></em> sounds like it could've come right out of a Goodman ensemble (albeit with soprano sax filling in for clarinet). And man, what a bop that theme is.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Dearest</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="64-quartets"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>For more information, see <a rel="external" href="https://64quartets.wordpress.com/2020/08/18/5-the-benny-goodman-quartet/">this incredibly detailed article</a> by Chris O'Leary (from which I've drawn throughout).</p> </div> 2025-04-06T00:00:00+00:00 2025-04-06T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-14/ <p>After <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-13/">last week's saxophone detox</a>, this week the jazz gods smiled upon me with a double helping. And after fourteen weeks, dare I say we're… learning? Check this out: this week's album features <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Desmond">Paul Desmond</a> and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerry_Mulligan">Gerry Mulligan</a>. We know Desmond from <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-06/">Time Out</a></em>—in fact, he composed "Take Five."<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#desmond-bequeath">1</a></sup> Mulligan, on the other hand, enjoyed inspired collaborations with Chet Baker (though sadly <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-10/">Chet is Back!</a></em> isn't one such example). What's more, the format of this album (two cooperating saxmen with a stereo channel apiece<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#desmond-mulligan-mnemonic">2</a></sup>) calls to mind <em><a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-12/">Sonny Meets Hawk!</a></em> from a couple of weeks ago.</p> <p>My overall impression of <em>Two of a Mind</em> is that it's <em>witty</em>; several of these tracks are full of tongue-in-cheek "gotchas" (which, admittedly, are lost on me). Per Avakian's notes on the back of the album, "they will let you hear just enough of what you might expect to let you know that <em>they</em> know that <em>you</em> know—and then they're off on a wholly fresh idea." Clever, but Desmond &amp; Mulligan haven't made a fool of me—I'm too ignorant to be hoodwinked by their tricks. What's more, the title track is apparently meant to be another oblique musical reference for the true devotees. (Spoiler alert: the answer is front and centre on <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_of_a_Mind">the album's Wikipedia page</a>.)</p> <p>That same wit shines through in the track names. Apparently, after hearing the rapid tempo on track 4, one of the audio engineers aptly suggested the title "Flight of the Bumblebee." <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_Holliday">Judy Holliday</a> (an actress who was hanging out in the control room and would go on to marry Mulligan a year after this recording) retorted "or… Blight of the Fumblebee!"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#blight-of-the-fumblebee-anecdote">3</a></sup> Now <em>that</em> is an A+ Spoonerism; a brilliant example of the comedic arts that we seek to advance here at <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/jokes/#seriously-stupid-spoonerisms">the Simpsonian</a>. Desmond was also known to partake himself: a lifelong womanizer, upon crossing paths with a former girlfriend he remarked "There she goes—not with a whim but a banker" (a Spooneristic allusion recalling <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hollow_Men">Eliot's most famous stanza</a><sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#hollow-men-spoonerism">4</a></sup>).</p> <p>As for the music itself, it's casual, friendly, and coordinated. Desmond's alto contrasts nicely with Mulligan's baritone; their counterpoint is on point.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#counterpoint-refresher">5</a></sup> The electric guitar on "Untitled Blues Waltz" really got me too—there's an instrument that's been in short supply so far, so the extra funk it brings hits all the harder. Even so, I found myself longing for some of the rougher edges from <em>Sonny Meets Hawk!</em>. I can't quite put my finger on why: the best analogy I have is that <em>Two of a Mind</em> is a wonderfully blended Scotch—Desmond's own favoured <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewar%27s">Dewar's</a>, perhaps—while <em>Sonny Meets Hawk!</em> is my beloved <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laphroaig_distillery">Laphroaig</a>. Many people in many circumstances will prefer the smooth refinement of the former—but sometimes you want a bare-knuckled peat punch just to remind yourself that you're alive.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Untitled Blues Waltz</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="desmond-bequeath"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>"Take Five" is the best-selling jazz single of all time. So it was particularly generous of Desmond to <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Desmond#cite_note-18">bequeath all further proceeds from his songs to the Red Cross</a>—a gift that so far has totalled over six million dollars.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="desmond-mulligan-mnemonic"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Another week, another mnemonic—sure, no problem. This time, start by making a capital "G" with your left hand (curling your thumb inwards) and a lowercase "d" with your right. Then, either swap your hands around or put your headset on backwards, because Desmond is on the left, and Gerry is on the right.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="blight-of-the-fumblebee-anecdote"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">3</sup> <p>Once again, I am indebted to the album notes for this anecdote.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="hollow-men-spoonerism"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">4</sup> <p>Though—controversy!—<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hollow_Men">the Wikipedia page</a> for "The Hollow Men" credits the same joke to <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mort_Sahl">Mort Sahl</a>.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="counterpoint-refresher"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">5</sup> <p>If, like me, you need a refresher: counterpoint is when a piece of music features several musical lines that exist completely independently (i.e., it'd sound fine to play just one without the other); however, when played together, the resulting sound is far beyond the sum of its parts. You can hear counterpoint in everything from the lowly "Frère Jacques" (when sung as a round) all the way to Bach's deeply intricate fugues.</p> </div> 2025-03-30T00:00:00+00:00 2025-03-30T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-13/ <p>Enough of this American jazz hegemony! <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martial_Solal">Martial Solal</a>, "an Algerian-born Frenchman who plays more like an American than perhaps any other foreigner,"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#solal-description">1</a></sup> is here to show us a European take on jazz.</p> <p>This album comes to us (mostly) live from the storied <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newport_Jazz_Festival">Newport Jazz Festival</a>—charmingly, the back of the album explains that since the only festival slot available for Solal was too short for a full album, they pre-emptively recorded a rehearsal sequence and slapped the festival applause onto the end of those tracks "to make for more natural home listening." (Once you hear the same crowd whistling on half the tracks, you can't unhear it.)</p> <p>Solal covers some well-trod standards in his set (e.g., "'Round Midnight", "Boplicity"), but the one that really caught my attention was an original composition of his: "Suite pour une frise." Don't be alarmed if the title makes no sense to you; as Martial himself put it: "If you don't understand French, I will make George Avakian to translate in the album notes." Avakian comes through, explaining that the piece is "inspired by an actual frieze; not a classical Greek one but a modern one painted on aluminum high on a modern glass-walled building in Brussels." I, however, needed things broken down even further; I had a vague recollection that a frieze is some architectural thing, but Wikipedia's definition—"even when neither columns nor pilasters are expressed, on an astylar wall it lies upon the architrave ('main beam') and is capped by the moldings of the cornice"<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#wikipedia-frieze">2</a></sup>—left me with more questions than answers.</p> <p>Allow me to spare you my confusion: if a building has a flat part above some columns, and especially if the flat part has a nice design on it, that's a frieze, more or less. Of course, the natural follow-up question is: can we locate the <em>exact</em> frieze that so inspired Solal? Well, the <a rel="external" href="https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suite_pour_une_frise">French Wikipedia</a> page for the song mentions that it was commissioned for the inauguration of a frieze by Ralph Cleeremans (which demonstrated Cleeremans' novel "aluchromie" technique that allowed fixing pigment to aluminum). I was able to track down some <a rel="external" href="https://web.archive.org/web/20241214225410/https://rotordc.com/aluchromie-panels-by-ralph-cleeremans">general information</a> about Cleeremans' work, and while I'm doubtful it's the exact frieze in question, you can <a rel="external" href="https://rotordc.com/shop/product/902orn014-set-of-aluchromie-panels-by-ralph-cleeremans-285-cm-high-set-14-35750">purchase one of his originals</a> for a cool 4000 Euros.</p> <p>But, ah, back to the song itself: "Suite pour une frise" leaps out of the gates with forceful energy, and it builds tension early on that keeps you on the edge of your seat. There's a couple great sections where the bass takes the spotlight, but above all else, this one puts Solal's virtuosity front and centre. For me, that last ingredient is the key piece here—I deeply love the piano, but spartan jazz melodies on the keys just don't seem to grab me as much as they might on say, a saxophone. I'm a firm believer that if you can't play the prettiest notes, you ought to at least play the <em>most</em> notes, and on that metric, Solal does not disappoint. (Mind you, I'm <em>not</em> saying that the piano is inherently less musical than other instruments, as my wife would have you believe—a mournful Chopin is equally moving as a crooning sax, but I've yet to find the former properly represented in jazz.)</p> <p>One final note: I love how much <em>humanity</em> a live recording captures. Yes, Solal's rhythms and melodies will continue to bounce around in my head, but so will his charming introductions ("…and now, Thelonious Monk's <em>classique de jazz</em>, 'Round Midnight"). I'm sure that to Solal, those off-hand remarks were an utterly forgettable part of the show, but on this album they can't help but colour the listener's overall perceptions—an unintended improvisation, recorded for posterity.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Suite pour une frise</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="solal-description"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Taken from the album notes, which are a veritable gold mine for this album, as we'll soon see.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="wikipedia-frieze"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>I'm not kidding, that's an <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frieze">actual quote</a>. I like to consider myself a reasonably well-educated and well-rounded person, but after repeatedly bashing my head against that entry, I retreated to <a rel="external" href="https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simple_English_Wikipedia">Simple English Wikipedia</a> and that was only marginally better.</p> </div> 2025-03-23T00:00:00+00:00 2025-03-23T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-12/ <p>Ah, the saxophone: I'm sure we can all agree, objectively one of the best instruments. And this week we're treated to a sax masterclass: as the back cover helpfully explains, we've got <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonny_Rollins">Sonny Rollins</a> ("the 'boss' of modern tenor sax") on the left channel, and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coleman_Hawkins">Coleman Hawkins</a> ("the father of jazz saxophone") on the right.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#rollins-hawkins-mnemonic">1</a></sup> These are indisputably two masters of the instrument, live in improvisational conversation with one another, and what a conversation it is.</p> <p>But first! Since we're on the topic of the saxophone, there's something I positively have to get out of my system. Please enjoy this series of increasingly absurd fun facts that never fail to delight me:</p> <ul> <li>The saxophone was invented in the early 1840s by <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adolphe_Sax">Adolphe Sax</a>. So it really just is a "Sax-o-phone." For some reason I always thought it'd be deeper than that.</li> <li>But Sax didn't stop at his phone: he also graced us with his <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saxhorn">saxhorn</a>, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saxtuba">saxtuba</a>, and—who could forget?—the dulcet <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saxotromba">saxotromba</a>. Also, this thing:</li> </ul> <figure> <img src="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-12/./six_valve_trombone.jpg" alt="Photograph of Adolphe Sax's 'six-valved trombone'" class="centre"> <figcaption><p>"<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Trombone_a_six_pistons-IMG_0853-black.jpg">Six-valved trombone by Adolphe Sax</a>," as photographed by Wikipedia user <a rel="external" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Rama">Rama</a>, Cc-by-sa-2.0-fr</p> </figcaption> </figure> <ul> <li>But those pitiful horns could only deafen a man at <em>close</em> range. Sax had greater ambitions: his "Saxtonnerre" (a locomotive-powered… organ?) was designed to be heard all across Paris, without any amplification. (This one never made it past the concept stage.)</li> <li>At this point, you might have pigeonholed Sax as a designer of niche instruments. Not so; he was a true renaissance man—when he saw the devastation wrought by prolonged sieges in war, he designed the perfect solution: a cannon so giant that rather than besiege a city, one could simply <em>level the entire city with a single shot</em>. He called it—all together now!—the "Saxocannon." Mercifully, it was never built.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#saxocannon-source">2</a></sup></li> </ul> <p>Even by my loose standards, that's a signficant digression. How's the actual album this week?</p> <p>It's a hoot and a holler! And a times a screech, and also occasionally a… plaintive whine? Point is, there's <em>lots</em> of sounds coming out of the saxophones, including a bunch that I wasn't expecting and a few that frankly I don't associate with competent saxophonists. And yet somehow, it all works? I mean, just listen to this snippet from the end of "Lover Man":</p> <p><audio controls src="lover_man_excerpt.mp3"></audio></p> <p>You cannot tell me in good faith that no saxophones were hurt in the making of this album. But you also cannot tell me that their pain was in vain.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> All the Things You Are</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="rollins-hawkins-mnemonic"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Don't worry, I've got a mnemonic for this one too. Try to make a lower-case "h" by curling your index finger down and straightening your other (non-thumb) fingers. You'll have a proper "h" on your left, which is Hawkins' channel. And the, uh, other one is Rollins.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="saxocannon-source"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>Hat tip to <a rel="external" href="https://www.nosuchthingasafish.com/">No Such Thing as a Fish</a> for putting me onto this (and much more) tomfoolery.</p> </div> 2025-03-16T00:00:00+00:00 2025-03-16T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-11/ <blockquote> <p>Moms didn't dig [jazz], she just didn't go for it</p> <p><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Parker#Other_tributes">Bird</a>, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miles_Davis">Miles</a>, and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Roach">Max</a>… she couldn't see it</p> <p>Morning, afternoon, night, or anytime</p> <p>That is, until I played her some <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thelonious_Monk">Monk</a> one night, late</p> <p><a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%27Round_Midnight_(song)">'Round about Midnight</a> time</p> <p>I played her some Monk!</p> <p>—Thelonious, that is</p> <p>And now Mom spends many of her <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Night_in_Tunisia">nights in Tunisia</a></p> </blockquote> <p>—"<a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">A Colloquial Dream (Scenes in the City)</a>"</p> <p>I suppose you can tell that Thelonious Monk is a big name given that I've already alluded to him <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">three</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">times</a> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-10/">so far</a> before actually getting to one of his own albums.</p> <p>In retrospect, I can see that I came to this album with misplaced expectations. Knowing how revered Monk is and that this is one of his best-known albums, I was expecting something more avant-garde—something challenging and foreign; something that had moved jazz as a whole forward. Instead it's a… very fun and dare I say <em>approachable</em> listen? If someone wanted to dip their toes into jazz, this seems like a pretty reasonable recommendation to me.</p> <p>Everything that I've read about Monk mentions his idiosyncratic approach to piano—his percussive attacks on the keys, "angular" melodies, and emphatic use of dissonance and silence. I'm still too much of a neophyte to discern those in any sophisticated way; I can hear the dissonance come through in places (particularly in "Body and Soul"), but I doubt I could pass a blind "is it Monk?" test.</p> <p>Perhaps the above makes it sound like I'm down on the album, which isn't the case. There's a lot of fun and whimsy here; I particularly like the scratchy sax in "Bright Mississippi" and the main jaunty melodic line it features. "Bye-Ya" and "Sweet and Lovely" also stand out because I know them from <a rel="external" href="https://musicbrainz.org/release-group/e0b33a23-c61c-34a1-a903-47a55255ede5">an earlier album</a> (not featured in our 50-week journey)—in "Sweet and Lovely" I prefer the halting <em>ritardando</em> ending on <em>Monk's Dream</em> to the chromatic (?) flourishes on the other album.</p> <p>But overall, I'm leaving this week with a renewed appreciation for <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/">Tijuana Moods</a>—I think that's closer to what I wanted <em>Monk's Dream</em> to be. Maybe by the end of this project I'll be able to better appreciate Monk's genius in its own right.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Bright Mississippi<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#bright-mississippi-disambiguation">1</a></sup></p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="bright-mississippi-disambiguation"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Uh, the (take 1) version I guess? It's cool that many of the albums we've seen so far contain multiple versions of the same song, but I don't yet know any of them well enough to distinguish between takes.</p> </div> 2025-03-10T00:00:00+00:00 2025-03-10T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-10/ <p>Ooh, this sounds pretty different to me than what we've heard so far. I think that's mostly due to the appearance of electric guitar in a few tracks and more prominent bass throughout—it strikes me as more "modern" overall? The song that most captured my attention was "Ballata in forma di blues," written for the album by Amedeo Tommasi (who also plays piano on the album); something about that starting chord progression had me completely transfixed. Interestingly, almost none of the other songs on the album were original compositions. They're almost exclusively covers, including a Thelonious Monk track (remember that name) and that perennial favourite, <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFS3BW0yOsw">Over the Rainbow</a>.</p> <p>After eight instrumental tracks, I wasn't expecting the vocals on the last four (all sung by Baker himself). There's a good reason for that—those four tracks weren't on the original album release; they were a series of "orchestral pop tracks" that Baker later recorded with Ennio Morricone. (Yes, <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYI09PMNazw"><em>that</em></a> Ennio Morricone.) Regardless, they've got a calm charm of their own that complements the more upbeat earlier tracks. I'm glad they were added for this CD reissue.</p> <p>As for Chet Baker the man, he seems to have been the poster boy for everything your high school's anti-drug program said would happen—with his boyish good looks and multifold musical talents, surely the world was young Chet's oyster! Unfortunately—<a rel="external" href="https://www.city-journal.org/article/when-heroin-hit-jazz">like many of his contemporaneous jazzmen</a>—Chet developed a heroin addiction early in his career and spent the rest of his life in and out of jail. He died at age 58 after apparently falling out of a hotel window while high.</p> <p>As if that wasn't sad enough, Wikipedia's biography of Chet includes the sentence "Baker was an irresponsible and distant father," <em>with a footnote</em>. Dear reader, I will be a father myself soon, and while I am sure I will make more than my own fair share of mistakes, I'm hoping not to foul it up to the point that it's <em>citation-worthy</em>.</p> <p>One more obligatory random connection. Remember when I said that listening to <em>Parole E Musica</em> <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-08/">made me feel like I was in Ripley</a>? Turns out I was a couple of weeks early—in the 1999 movie <em>The Talented Mr. Ripley</em> (based on the same source material as the 2024 miniseries), <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_A9xX_CVFA">Matt Damon impersonates a Chet Baker recording</a>.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Ballata in forma di blues</p> 2025-03-02T00:00:00+00:00 2025-03-02T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-09/ <p>Charles Mingus was another one of those "big names" from the jazz world that I recognized, but had never actually listened to until this week. <em>Tijuana Moods</em> sounds quite different than anything else we've heard so far; I'd describe it as more assertive and even a bit combative at times (though smooth elsewhere; e.g., on "Flamingo"). This certainly isn't "easy listening;" compared to the other albums it feels less eager to please the listener and more experimental—maybe it's fair to call it a concept album? As you might've guessed, the album was inspired by Mingus' time in Tijuana; throughout the album, even my ignorant ears can clearly discern the Latin beats and motifs getting the blood pumping as the jazz takes off.</p> <p>But the track that's stuck with me the most isn't even from the original release of the album. "A Colloquial Dream (Scenes in the City)" was only added on some later CD releases: it's nearly 11 minutes long and merges jazz with spoken-word poetry; it features a down-on-his luck narrator recounting his love for jazz and his struggles living in Harlem. At first, I didn't like it, and I wasn't convinced it was likeable by anyone—a fun novelty, sure, but is this still even music? But after listening to the album all week long, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Propinquity">propinquity</a> did its thing, and that narrator now lives rent-free in my head (a good development for him given his situation with the landlady). This isn't the kind of song you can blast at the gym or put on your party playlist, but if you're in a ruminative mood—possibly with a dram of whisky in hand—there's a real depth of soul here.</p> <p>Now catch this… DIG!</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> A Colloquial Dream (Scenes in the City)</p> 2025-02-20T00:00:00+00:00 2025-02-20T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-08/ <p>Eight weeks in, and we've arrived at a dubious honour: this is the first album where the top-billed performer (<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_Merrill">Helen Merrill</a> in this case) is still alive—as I write this in February 2025, she's a sprightly 95 years old according to Wikipedia. Perhaps more excitingly, we've also got our first duplicate track: we first heard "You Don't Know What Love Is" in <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-04/">week 4</a> (I give the edge to Merrill).</p> <p>This album has an interesting gimmick. For each "song," there's two tracks: the first is a spoken word version of the song's lyrics <em>in Italian</em>; the second is the real song (with Merrill singing in English). Is it completely unnecessary and self-indulgent? Yes. Do I love it, and does it make me pretend I'm living on the Amalfi Coast in <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ripley_(TV_series)">Ripley</a>? Also yes.</p> <p>Also, this is the third album to feature a lovely leading lady, and I have a confession to make: while there's no denying the sublimity of Merrill's singing, it's pretty clear to me by now that this isn't what I want out of my jazz—I'd almost always sooner reach for any of the instrumental albums we've heard, or Armstrong's bombastic vocals.</p> <p>One final bit of trivia for the week: this might be the first you've heard of Helen Merrill, but you surely know one of her son's songs: he wrote the original version of "<a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ak5xWekNfSo">I Love Rock 'n' Roll</a>."</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Why Don't You Do It Right</p> 2025-02-17T00:00:00+00:00 2025-02-17T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-07/ <p>As <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/">previously mentioned</a>, I had listened to a grand total of three jazz albums before setting out on this expedition. We've already encountered <em>Kind of Blue</em>; one of the other two was <em><a rel="external" href="https://musicbrainz.org/release-group/f8d5a1fd-04c9-338c-b1a4-811e3b65f684">Side by Side</a></em>—<em>Side by Side</em> was mostly a Johnny Hodges album, but they stamped his better-known bandleader Ellington's mug on the cover, presumably to juice the sales.</p> <p>I bring all of this up because this week's album features some of the same suspects: Ellington has gathered together his big band (Hodges included), but they're not alone: Count Basie—another big band luminary—is on set with his crew, and out to wage Big Band "Battle Royal" (<em>sic</em>)! The stereo mix is intended to capture the conflict: Basie's group is heard on left channel, while Ellington's is on the right.<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#basie-ellington-mnemonic">1</a></sup> To my undiscerning ear, the result sounds as cooperative as it does antagonistic, but that doesn't stop it from being a blast through and through. At peak moments, the brass can get a little screechy; I don't think it's ever over the top but my wife is not on board with it. (E.g., listen to the climax of Battle Royal—it's on the verge of cacophony, but I think it remains on the "impassioned finale" side of the line.)</p> <p>I've bandied about "big band" above with any proper explanation, so I suppose I ought to fill in some of those details: big band is exactly what it sounds like—a musical ensemble for jazz that consists of at least ten (and often 17 or more) musicians (usually divided into saxophones, trumpets, trombones, and rhythm). Compared to earlier jazz ensembles (which typically comprised 4–5 musicians), big bands were obviously larger, but also had a greater focus on written compositions (owing to the increased difficulty of coordinating solos across a much bigger group). Big bands reached peak popularity in the late 1930s/early 1940s alongside "swing," the subgenre of jazz they usually played. Swing was very popular at dance halls; as you might guess from the name, it features a "swinging" rhythm (usually by accenting the second and fourth beats). Both Duke Ellington and Count Basie were both highly regarded big band leaders who shaped the development of swing (Ellington in particular was also a prolific composer and arranger).</p> <p>tl;dr:</p> <dl> <dt>Big band</dt> <dd>Jazz group of at least ten musicians (probably more).</dd> <dt>Swing</dt> <dd>Subgenre of jazz with a strong emphasis on a "swinging" rhythm; frequently played at dance halls.</dd> </dl> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Wild Man (aka Wild Man Moore)<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#wild-man-notes">2</a></sup></p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="basie-ellington-mnemonic"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>Easy mnemonic to keep it straight: try making lowercase "b" or "d" letters with both your hands (i.e. make an "OK" gesture, then straighten your third, fourth, and pinkie fingers). You'll notice that on your left you have Count <em>b</em>asie, while on your right you have <em>d</em>uke Ellington.</p> </div> <div class="footnote-definition" id="wild-man-notes"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">2</sup> <p>I'm a sucker for some jazz flute (which also featured in a track on <em>Side by Side</em>). Wild Man brings that, and the ending gives me chills—the pianos trading off final high &amp; low notes is perfect.</p> </div> 2025-02-15T00:00:00+00:00 2025-02-15T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-05/ <p>We're into the heavy hitters now—this is one of the few jazz albums I picked up prior to this experiment, based on its universal praise. What is there for me to say that hasn't already been said? It's <em>Kind of Blue</em>—if any album <em>is</em> jazz, it's this one.</p> <p>From what I've been able to gather online, <em>Kind of Blue</em> is notable for pioneering modal jazz (in response to <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/">hard bop</a>). My limited understanding is that in hard bop, melodies were largely driven by quick chord progressions: soloists displayed their incredible virtuosity by continually adapting to the rapidly shifting tonal centre dictated by the chord changes. In contrast, modal jazz uses very few, slow-moving chords—giving soloists more latitude to develop their melodies without being constrained by the strictures of the chord progression. (As for what exactly musical "<a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mode_(music)">modes</a>" are and what their significance is, I still don't have a clear understanding.)</p> <p>I'm sure I'll be listening to and learning from this one for many years to come, along with the rest of the world.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> So What</p> 2025-02-15T00:00:00+00:00 2025-02-15T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-06/ <p>This album was an immediate revelation for me. I've listened to some great stuff already, but <em>Time Out</em> had me hooked from the first few bars—the opening rhythm of Blue Rondo à la Turk is now permanently tattooed on my brain. Perhaps that's no coincidence; <em>Time Out</em>'s primary innovation is its usage of time signatures that were previously uncommon in jazz (e.g., <span class="time-signature"> ^<b>9</b> _<b>8</b> </span> in Blue Rondo à la Turk; <span class="time-signature"> ^<b>5</b> _<b>4</b> </span> in Take Five). If, like me, you're struggling to understand the nuances of <span class="time-signature"> ^<b>9</b> _<b>8</b> </span> rhythm, here's a helpful explanatory video <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Blue-Rondo-%C3%A0-La-Turk.theora.ogv">from Wikipedia</a>:</p> <iframe src="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue-Rondo-%C3%A0-La-Turk.theora.ogv?embedplayer=yes" style="max-width: 100%" width="512" height="288" frameborder="0" loading="lazy" allow="autoplay; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe> <p>Got it? Good.</p> <p>Another thing that stood out to me was how… classical this album sounds? Even on my first listen, something here struck me as familiar in a way I hadn't experienced with the earlier albums.</p> <p>One more embed before we go: Canadian film animator <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steven_Woloshen">Steven Woloshen</a> produced a short film set to Take Five that I think is pretty neat:</p> <div style="padding:56.25% 0 0 0;position:relative;"><iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/215511559?badge=0&amp;autopause=0&amp;player_id=0&amp;app_id=58479" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture; clipboard-write; encrypted-media" style="position:absolute;top:0;left:0;width:100%;height:100%;" title="Cameras Take Five"></iframe></div><script src="https://player.vimeo.com/api/player.js"></script> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Blue Rondo à la Turk</p> 2025-01-28T00:00:00+00:00 2025-01-28T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-03/ <p>After Ms. Vaughan's lovely but somewhat sedate tunes, I was hoping for this week to bring a little more energy, and The Jazz Messengers definitely delivered on that front. Wikipedia tells me we're in <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hard_bop">hard bop</a> territory now, and it's not hard to hear why it might've earned that moniker.</p> <p>Art Blakey is undeniably a monster on the drums, but some of his solos end up sounding a little… samey to me? Take the first big solo from Infra-Rae: it starts to get repetitive for me in a way that I've never felt when listening to say, <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Peart">Neil Peart</a>. Listen for yourself and see if you agree:</p> <p><audio controls src="infra-rae_solo.mp3"></audio></p> <p>Not too much more to say on this one, other than that I'm glad to have some high-tempo, vocal-free jazz—good music for when you really need to get something done. Oh, and "Carol's Interlude" on this album really reminds me of "Epistrohpy" from another <a rel="external" href="https://musicbrainz.org/release-group/e0b33a23-c61c-34a1-a903-47a55255ede5">Monk/Coltrane album</a> I have.</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Hank's Symphony</p> 2025-01-28T00:00:00+00:00 2025-01-28T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-04/ <p>Given that the primary feature here is a solo female vocalist—Billie Holiday—I couldn't help but compare this album to the <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/">earlier Sarah Vaughan album</a>. I prefer this one: the lush orchestral backing really helps create a sweeping, dramatic sense of romance, as opposed to Vaughan's lighter, airier mood.</p> <p>Immediately, one can hear some fragility and rasp in Holiday's voice; she comes across as much more "mature" than Vaughan to my ears. What I hadn't realized was the sad explanation: at the time of the recording, Holiday was in poor health, after having weathered decades of damage from alcohol, hard drugs, and abusive relationships. She recorded this album in February 1958 and passed away barely 18 months later. The critical consensus seems to be that the album packs a huge emotional punch, but that Holiday had lost some of her range and force by this point—I'd like to return to her earlier work and compare for myself.</p> <p>I suspect this album will also hold a special place in my heart owing to the circumstances of my first listen: not wanting to miss a week, I had copied this album to my phone in advance of a trip to the Netherlands; I listened to it together with my wife on the train as we watched the Dutch countryside go by.</p> <p>Two miscellaneous closing thoughts:</p> <ul> <li>It's a dang shame that she never had a chance to sing a Bond theme (and not only because that would up the <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Time_to_Die_(song)">Billie–Bond count</a> to two).</li> <li>Thanks to Wikipedia, I learned that there's a <a rel="external" href="https://planetarynames.wr.usgs.gov/Feature/2542">crater on Venus</a> named after her.</li> </ul> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> For Heaven's Sake</p> 2025-01-14T00:00:00+00:00 2025-10-30T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/introduction/ <p>Right—the holidays are over, the Christmas tree is fuel for the fire, and the worst of the NYE champagne bottle shards have been swept up; it's time to get serious. As in, resolutions.</p> <span id="continue-reading"></span><p class="bubble"> <em>Update, 2025-10-30: if you're just popping in for the first time, I recommend you skip past the first few entries; like most series, this one took a little time to find its footing. I'd say it starts to pick up around <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-12/">week 12</a>; <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-15/">week 15</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-28/">week 28</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-30/">week 30</a>, <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-31/">week 31</a>, and <a href="https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-39/">week 39</a> are among my favourites.</em> </p> <p>Over the past few months I've been trying to listen to more jazz. I can't quite remember what started this whole project, but now I won't rest until I've achieved my own transcendental <a rel="external" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKwQ_zeRwEs">jazz trance</a>.</p> <p>As it so happens, while checking out the local flea market recently I chanced upon some very relevant <a rel="external" href="https://www.discogs.com/release/2375584-Various-The-Perfect-Jazz-Collection">box</a> <a rel="external" href="https://www.discogs.com/release/2966397-Various-The-Perfect-Jazz-Collection-2">sets</a>, comprising some fifty classic jazz albums.</p> <p>So here's the plan: at one album per week, that gives me about a year of autodidactic jazz education, plus a buffer at the end for some self-reflection. I don't have a textbook or any other proper guide; I'm just going to listen to the albums, binge some Wikipedia pages, and see where that gets me in a year.</p> <p>Fair warning: this post is just going to be me brain-dumping my uneducated, undiscerning thoughts on these albums. I don't imagine it will be entertaining or useful in any way for literally anybody else, but hey, you're the one reading it. If, for some misguided reason you do want to follow along, there's <a href="/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/atom.xml">a dedicated feed</a> for just this project in addition to <a href="/atom.xml">the overall blog feed</a>.</p> 2025-01-14T00:00:00+00:00 2025-01-14T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-01/ <p>Not really knowing anything about these box sets in advance, I embarked on this project with some trepidation that I had signed myself up for fifty weeks of crap. By the end of this album's first track, I was a believer.</p> <p>The top-notch musicianship and Satchmo's<sup class="footnote-reference"><a href="#satchmo">1</a></sup> trademark gravelly crooning are already reason enough to listen, but I can't emphasize enough how much <em>fun</em> this album is: the frequent banter between Louis and <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Velma_Middleton">Velma Middleton</a> is charming, and the whole thing is joyous and downright raucous throughout. I mean, just listen to this laugh:</p> <p><audio controls src="louis_armstrong_laugh.mp3"></audio></p> <p>One thing I don't understand: <a rel="external" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._C._Handy">W. C. Handy</a> was the "Father of the Blues," and most of the songs here have "blues" in the title—obviously there's lots of shared heritage between jazz and blues, but where exactly does that dividing line lie? And what is this exactly?</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> St. Louis Blues</p> <hr> <div class="footnote-definition" id="satchmo"><sup class="footnote-definition-label">1</sup> <p>One of Louis Armstrong's nicknames—look, I'm learning already!</p> </div> 2025-01-14T00:00:00+00:00 2025-01-14T00:00:00+00:00 https://simpsonian.ca/fifty-weeks-of-jazz/week-02/ <p>This one is a slower burn for me: obviously Sarah Vaughan is an incredibly talented vocalist, but this doesn't quite get my blood pumping like the last album; sometimes her melodies go a little too all over the place for my taste. That said, I'd gladly put this on for a nice romantic dinner (skip "Mean to Me" in that case, though).</p> <p>Also, apparently Miles Davis is playing the trumpet for most of these tracks? We'll get back to him soon enough…</p> <p><em>Favourite track:</em> Nice Work If You Can Get It</p>