Week 14: Two of a Mind
After last week's saxophone detox, 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 Paul Desmond and Gerry Mulligan. We know Desmond from Time Out—in fact, he composed "Take Five."1 Mulligan, on the other hand, enjoyed inspired collaborations with Chet Baker (though sadly Chet is Back! isn't one such example). What's more, the format of this album (two cooperating saxmen with a stereo channel apiece2) calls to mind Sonny Meets Hawk! from a couple of weeks ago.
My overall impression of Two of a Mind is that it's witty; 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 they know that you know—and then they're off on a wholly fresh idea." Clever, but Desmond & 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 the album's Wikipedia page.)
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." Judy Holliday (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!"3 Now that is an A+ Spoonerism; a brilliant example of the comedic arts that we seek to advance here at the Simpsonian. 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 Eliot's most famous stanza4).
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.5 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 Sonny Meets Hawk!. I can't quite put my finger on why: the best analogy I have is that Two of a Mind is a wonderfully blended Scotch—Desmond's own favoured Dewar's, perhaps—while Sonny Meets Hawk! is my beloved Laphroaig. 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.
Favourite track: Untitled Blues Waltz
"Take Five" is the best-selling jazz single of all time. So it was particularly generous of Desmond to bequeath all further proceeds from his songs to the Red Cross—a gift that so far has totalled over six million dollars.
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.
Once again, I am indebted to the album notes for this anecdote.
Though—controversy!—the Wikipedia page for "The Hollow Men" credits the same joke to Mort Sahl.
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.