Art Tatum -- Trio Days

I was wrong. I like Art Tatum. But in a slightly different way.

My introduction to Art Tatum, many years ago, was a series of solo piano albums. They left me cold.

No question, the man was gifted beyond belief. He could play faster, more accurately and with a greater sense of fun and originality than almost any pianist between Fats Waller and Thelonious Monk. And yet his solo work never felt right to me. Something always seemed missing. In the end, it's a matter of taste.

Recently I picked up a discarded CD from my public library for the rock-bottom price of $1. It's Art Tatum's "Trio Days." It's a no-name compilation of Tatum's piano-guitar-bass trio from 1942-44.

This I like. And now I know why.

From the very first song, I thought, "Oh my God! He's taking Fats Waller's stride and taking it one step further." I love that. Then I realized something else. The trio sounds exactly like Nat King Cole's trio from the very same period, right down to the guitarist. In fact, I had to check the liner notes to make sure it wasn't the same guitarist. It's not. Cole played with Oscar Moore; Tatum played with Tiny Grimes. But they sound absolutely identical, in a very good way.

At first, I thought Tatum's trio was the missing link between Waller and Cole. I figured Cole was copying the master. Turns out it's the other way around. After reading the liner notes, I now know it was Cole who set the mark with his popular jazz trio and Tatum who came a couple years later with a very similar trio. Not that it's an exact copy. Clearly Tatum is the superior pianist. And his bassist sometimes bows his instrument. And Tatum never sings. Otherwise, their trios are remarkably similar.

Anyway, if the only thing you know about Art Tatum are his acclaimed solo works, you need to find his trio works, too. For me, it was an eye-opener.

For an excellent profile of Tatum on NPR, click here.

Odd Couple: B3 and Clarinet

On its face, pairing a Hammond B3 organ and clarinet on a jazz album makes about as much sense as eating a peanut butter and vinegar sandwich.

And then again, maybe it's not so bad.

Last year, a local jazz DJ played a cut from a CD that caught my attention. The CD was called "The B3 and Me" and it was by an unknown (to me) clarinetist named Mort Weiss, paired with organist Joey DeFrancesco. It was released in 2006.

Now, I'm a big fan of the B3. I have quite a few Jimmy Smith albums. I also like Jimmy McGriff, Jack McDuff and Shirley Scott. At the same time, I enjoy wild klezmer clarinets and even Benny Goodman's big band. So I bought the strange B3-clarinet CD.

And surprise -- it's good fun.

For the most part, this is a traditional B3 trio, with organ, guitar and drums. Most of the music would be familiar to Jimmy Smith fans. But in every song where a soulful sax might take the spotlight, there's a clarinet instead. It fits.

The music is mostly bebop, swing and ballads, and it is very fine. I particularly enjoy Craig Ebner's taseful guitar. It goes without saying that DeFrancesco is terrific. If you like the B3, he's the guy to watch these days.

Oddly enough, DeFrancesco isn't credited on the cover or anywhere else in the liner notes. Something about a dispute with his label. But it's not like the producer tried to hide him. The CD cover states, "FEATURING A VERY SPECIAL GUEST: The Finest Jazz Organist in the World, Concord Recording Artist... You Guessed It."

OK, that's not very subtle. But anyway, if you like B3 combos, this is one to try.

(There's a very thorough review of this album at AllAboutJazz.com here, including a longer explanation of why DeFrancesco is not credited in the liner notes.)

Musically corny for Christmas, and that's OK

"A Charlie Brown Christmas" is the corniest jazz-Christmas album ever made.

And that's OK. It's even good.

I know the dig. What Vince Guaraldi played wasn't jazz, it was lounge music. It was sentimental. It was lightweight. It was sappy.

Yep. All of that.

But so what?

Christmas time is about memories. That's what the smells, the sights, the tastes and the music are about. Some are family memories, some are communal memories. "A Charlie Brown Christmas" is a TV show with a long, sappy communal memory.

If you're a certain age, you only need to hear the opening strains of the children's choir singing "Christmas Time is Here" and it all comes back. Linus and the sincere speech. Charlie Brown and the pathetic tree. And Dolly Madison snack cakes. I never ate them, but I can't separate the two things -- Charlie Brown and Dolly Madison. Watching on an old black and white TV in my parent's living room in the 1960s and 70s.

So go ahead. Tell me the show is goofy and the music is shallow. Doesn't matter.

Music evokes memories and feelings. And that's good.

You blockhead!

Horace Silver -- young and old

With musicians, and artists generally, there's a tendency to think the best work is the earliest.

It's usually true. Paul McCartney was never better than when he recorded with the Beatles. Chuck Berry's best work was the early hits like "Johnny B. Goode" and "Roll Over Beethoven." Tom Wolfe hasn't written anything as good as "The Right Stuff" and "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test."

So it is, too, with jazz musicians. Dizzy Gillespie's seminal work came in the 1940s and the birth of bebop. Chick Corea, while still solid and dependable, did his best work with Return to Forever.

There are exceptions, of course. Miles Davis constantly reinvented himself over a long period of years. Duke Ellington was a terrific composer and leader until the day he died.

And so, consider Horace Silver.

Early in my jazz education, I found a 2-CD set called "A Night at Birdland." It was recorded in 1954 by a fabulous quintet led by Art Blakey. Horace Silver was the piano player, only 26 years old, and he wasn't even the best musician in the group, or even second-best, and maybe not even third-best. There was Blakey on drums, the sensational Clifford Brown on trumpet, and the underrated Lou Donaldson on sax.

This is the very definition of hard bop. It's a 5-star ensemble playing at the peak of its power. Every song is masterful. The ballads are tender and poignant. The bop is breakneck and invigorating. Every one of the musicians is at the top of his game. It's likely Blakely never recorded a better live set -- and that's saying something. It's not a Horace Silver record, per se. Silver was still young and on the cusp of fame. But he's brilliant. If you buy just one Horace Silver CD, this would be my pick.

Fast forward 42 years to 1996.

Horace Silver was 68 and past his prime. A critic tagged him "the hardbop grandpop." Silver liked the name so much, he used it as an album title. Following Blakey's lead, he surrounded himself with younger musicians, notably four horn players. And he wrote 10 new songs.

I won't pretend that "The Hardbop Grandpop" was the Jazz Messengers reincarnated. But it's very good. It's probably better than a 68-year-old has any right sounding. The mood is different. It's not hard bop exactly, despite the title. There's more soul. The brass really takes the forefront. Silver takes his solos, and they are very good, but he mostly lets the younger guys shine. (Though Silver wrote corny lyrics for half of the songs, he wisely decided against using a singer. The CD is entirely insrumental, though he included the lyrics in the liner notes, for anyone who wants to follow along.) It includes tributes to Coleman Hawkins and Dexter Gordon and even a tune based on a teapot whisle. All of it is wonderful and lyrical and soulful.

No, it's not vintage Silver. It's not as good as the Blakey/Jazz Messenger stuff. So maybe it's only 4-star CD. With legends in late-career, you adjust your pallette. This is enjoyable music. It's not fair to compare Paul McCartney in 2007 to Paul McCartney in 1968. It's the same in jazz. Even so, sometimes a lion in winter is still a majestic thing.

Celeste + Jazz = Blech!

In 28 years of professional writing, I don't think I've ever used the word "twee." But I'm about to.

Look it up. Dictionary.com says "twee" means "affectedly dainty or quaint." Put another way: Unnaturally cute.

That's the celeste in jazz. It's cute and dainty and thoroughly unnatural. What's more, it's a mood killer. I can't understand why anyone would use it.

You've heard the celeste, even if you don't know it. It sounds like a toy piano. That's the problem. It's about the most un-serious musical instrument I can think of, except maybe a kazoo.

There's a place for the celeste in classical music. Tchaikowsky used it effectively in The Nutcracker. Think of the "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies." It's also in Grofe's "Grand Canyon Suite."

But lately I've been listening to "The Blues Piano Artistry of Meade Lux Lewis." It was recorded in 1961 and it has 10 tracks. Seven of them are pure barrelhouse, booggie-woogie, solo piano pleasure. It's about as good and rolicking as a solo piano can get.

And then there are three tracks on celeste. Let's just say blues were never meant to be played on a celeste. The CD just stops cold dead at each track.

In fairness, Monk used a celeste, too, on his classic "Brilliant Corners" album, five years before Lewis. He did it on one track, "Pannonica." At least he was smart enough to surround himself with other instruments. He plays the celeste with his left hand and the piano with his right. Plus there are two saxes, drums and bass. And he does lay off the celeste for part of the track. Still, it doesn't sound right.

You have to wonder. Didn't anyone say to Monk or Lewis, "Dude, that's wrong. You sound like a 5-year-old. You sound... twee!"

I wish someone had.

Blue Note LP + CD

I don't get it.

I recently received an email from Blue Note Records. You can see the offer here.

They're offering 12 "classic Blue Note bestsellers," each in a package containing one LP and one CD. As the email explains: "CD for the car or computer, and a warm analog LP for the home sound system!" Each package sells for $20.98 at the Blue Note Direct Store.

Among the classic LP-CDs for sale are John Coltrane's "Blue Train," Herbie Hancock's "Maiden Voyage" and Dexter Gordon's "Go!" You can see the offer here.

Is there really a market for this? Are people still buying LPs? I like LPs and I still have many old favorites, but I don't like them enough to buy a CD for the car and an LP for home. Not even to get the "stunning, legendary album covers, which are works of art themselves," as the promo says.

Obviously, Blue Note knows it's market better than I do. But I don't see the attraction. I'd be curious to know how many they sell.

The Bad Plus - But Is It Jazz

And now for something completely different.

I've been listening to The Bad Plus. They're not new, exactly. They've been around since 2003. That's pretty new relative to the rest of jazz/rock/pop/whatever.

And I guess it doesn't matter so much what they are. Jazz? Power trio? Fusion? Well, no, not fusion. By definition, fusion would have to include something electric, and The Bad Plus isn't that. It's just a traditional jazz trio of piano, bass and drums.

But there's nothing traditional about their music.

I have 3 Bad Plus CDs, two of which I bought last week. They are: “These Are The Vistas” and “Give” and “Suspicious Activity?” (The question mark is their's, not mine.)

I like them – I think. I can't recall hearing anything like them before. And how often does that happen?

I remember hearing Monk for the first time. I thought: “Wow, I know that's jazz,but it's unique.” That was three decades ago and I still believe it. I have searched near and far and I haven't found anyone yet who sounds like Monk, or even remotely reminds me of Monk.

The Bad Plus does. Not because their music is Monk-like. It is anything but. Still, it reminds me of Monk in its utter freshness. This is unlike any jazz trio I've heard before. Maybe that's because it's not jazz. It's not free jazz. Maybe this is more like a power trio – like the Jimi Hendrix Experience or Cream, but substitute a piano where Jimi or Clapton would play guitar.

The drummer is mad crazy. He reminds me of Keith Moon (the Who) or Carl Palmer (ELP). The bass is big and fat. And the piano is loud and fast and playing heavy block chords, kinda sorta like McCoy Tyner, but nothing like that. This is dense music, bomabastic music. There's very little melody per se, which usually ticks me off. But somehow, this works.

These aren't five-star CDs, really. I can't listen to them for long stretches. But for four or five or six tracks, they're really provocative.

I can't think of anything remotely like them. Can you?