Grant Green

What’s It All About, Then? Part Three: Jazz, Featuring Five Of My Favorite Things

November 18, 2010 By Sean Murphy 2 Comments

Just before my birthday, on the subject of Eric Dolphy (who I’m happy to call attention to anytime the opportunity presents itself), I had the following to say about what the ways music affects and moves me (I had more to say, about a month later, on the subject of Wayne Shorter, here):

Question: What’s it all about?

Answer: I don’t know.

But I do know a few things.

I know some of the things that make me tick.

Even though I write (for fun, for real and forever), I would still say that music has always been the central element of my existence. Or the elemental center. Writing is a compulsion, a hobby, a skill, a craft, an obsession, a mystery and at times a burden. Music simply is. For just about anyone, all you need is an ear (or two); that is all that’s required for it to work its magic. But, as many people come to realize, if you approach it with your mind, and your heart and, eventually (inevitably) your soul, it is capable of making you aware of other worlds, it can help you achieve the satisfaction material possessions are intended to inspire, it will help you feel the feelings drugs are designed to approximate. Et cetera.

I know that jazz music has made my life approximately a million times more satisfying and enriching than it would have been had I never been fortunate enough to discover, study and savor it.

During the last 4-5 years, I’ve had (or taken) the opportunity to write in some detail about Charles Mingus, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, Freddie Hubbard, Ornette Coleman, John Zorn, and Herbie Hancock. This has been important to me, because I feel that in some small way, if I can help other people better appreciate, or discover any (or all) of these artists, I will be sharing something bigger and better than anything I alone am capable of creating.

When it comes to art in general and music in particular, entirely too many people are very American in their tastes: they know what they like and they like what they know. And there’s nothing wrong with that, since what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Also, let’s face it, the only thing possibly more annoying than some yahoo proselytizing their religion on your doorstep is some jackass getting in your grill about how evolved or enviable his or her musical tastes happen to be. Life is way too short, for all involved.

On the other hand, back in the day I was obliged to talk about music using only words. Now there is YouTube. You can’t believe everything you read, but you can always have faith in what you hear; the ears never lie. Not when it comes to music. Not when it comes to jazz music.

How to talk about jazz music? Well, perhaps it’s better to determine how not to talk about jazz music. Hearing is believing. That’s it. And if you hear something that speaks to you, keep listening. Whatever effort you put in will be immeasurably rewarded. Trust me.

So, let’s get it on. I wouldn’t say these are my five favorite pieces, or necessarily my five favorite artists, but they are some of my all-time favorite tunes by some of my all-time favorite jazz musicians. I also happen to think that these are all representative of the type of work these men did, and should serve as easy gateways to deeper study for those who are inclined or intrigued. Contact me directly if you want some suggestions on which albums to pick up (or go to Amazon.com and see which albums generate the most enthusiasm; or check out YouTube and type in an artist’s name and just see what happens).

1. Jimmy McGriff, “Back On The Track” (Though not nearly as famous or prolific as the “other” Jimmy, Jimmy Smith, McGriff had considerable game and he got down with the funk as well as any of his fellow organists did. This is an obscure song from an obscure album –and to be honest, the whole album ain’t that great– but what a song. This is happiness in musical form, and you can hear the words through the music, particularly during the wave-crashing choruses. I love how the song shifts from ever-so-slightly melancholic and introspective to ebullient. This is music to put a smile on your face and all up and down your soul…and it’s addictive as all get-out):

2. Herbie Hancock, “Tell Me A Bedtime Story” (I’m officially on record declaring Herbie Hancock one of the coolest human beings to ever walk the earth, and I’m sure I’ll have more to say about him, building in part on observations like this. For now, let it simply be stated that while I could never, under any circumstances, consider actually trying to cull down a universe of music into some type of ultimate list, if I was forced under penalty of painful death to do so (having to do so would be its own sort of painful death, but at least at the end I’d still be alive and I’d still have the music I chose) I would have to put this song very near the top of that list. If “Back On The Track” is readymade bliss for whatever ails you –and it is– “Tell Me A Bedtime Story” has functioned, in my adult life, the way an ice cream cone or the thrill of the diving board were when I was a child: in the air or in my mouth, the delights were expected, and consistently satisfying. This song has never ceased to soothe and exhilarate me, and I’ve been listening to it with regularity for at least a decade and a half. You could spend an entire afternoon trying to sort through just the better music Herbie has provided, and picking one penultimate piece is pointless…but all of his compositional acumen and unmatched ear for melody –and above all, that ineffable feeling the best music delivers are on display here. This is the sort of magic you need not be a wide-eyed kid to behold, or believe in):

3. Rahsaan Roland Kirk, “Three For The Festival” (I have a much longer piece in the works –it’s been a long-standing work-in-progress– celebrating the life and music of this truly unique artist. If there was any justice in this whacked-out world, Kirk would have been a superstar during his life and his likeness would be printed on our currency today. He could play anything you can blow air through: sax, clarinet, conch shell; he even invented new instruments to satisfy his prodigious imagination. Whether soaring off on his own engine or more than holding his own with blues (and rock) legends or appropriating Christmas music and making it really sacred, Kirk is a singular –and irreplaceable– legend that America should be proud to have produced. I’m not going to suggest that there is something seriously wrong with you if you don’t feel this, but…well, yes I am):

4. McCoy Tyner, “Valley Of Life” (I’ve celebrated Tyner’s work as 1/4 of the great Coltrane Quartet –my vote for second best jazz collective of all time, just –and I mean just– behind the second Miles Davis quintet (link to discussion of that band above). McCoy, of course, continued to make remarkable music after Coltrane departed this planet, and he is still on the scene, gracing the rest of his with his elegant presence. Picking a favorite Tyner release would be agonizing, but anyone who is interested in learning more can –and should– look for anything from the late ’60s through the mid-’70s: this is when he was utterly locked in and dropping masterpiece after masterpiece, including Expansions, Extensions, Asante, Sahara, Enlightenment and Trident. “Valley of Life” from 1972′s Sahara, is a personal touchstone and one of the premier examples I would offer of what some people (like me) tend to call “other” music: moments that are impossible to define, unfamiliar yet recognizable, and seemingly in touch with sensations we are not accustomed to accessing. This is a meditation of tranquility, harmony and a real spiritual sense of unity: it is from another place and transports you there. In other words, it’s impossible; a miracle):

5. Grant Green, “Round About Midnight” (Grant Green is another genius I have a long overdue appraisal of that needs to be completed: for now it can suffice to say that he is definitely my favorite jazz guitarist. For my money, no one else had a run as long, productive and enduring as he did for Blue Note all through the ’60s: album after album of ideas, energy and innovation. Consider his (way underappreciated) rendition of the immortal Thelonious Monk’s “Round About Midnight”: if you didn’t know Monk’s version it would be difficult to understand that this is a cover of one of jazz’s top-shelf compositions (in other words, it’s not a by-the-numbers reproduction; Green imbues it with his own distinctive elan). The tone Green gets from his guitar is so full of feeling and grace it is sometimes overwhelming. When it comes to jazz, Green is one of my secret weapons: there are few people I’ve introduced to his music who have not subsequently fallen under the spell. I hope if you are reading this and are hearing him for the first time, this marks the beginning of a lifelong love affair) :

Stay tuned for part four (and more…)

Filed Under: Music Tagged With: Eric Dolphy, Grant Green, Herbie Hancock, Jazz, Jimmy McGriff, McCoy Tyner, Rahsaan Roland Kirk

Ten Songs For Myself

August 26, 2010 By Sean Murphy 2 Comments

Eight years ago today.

I’m sure anyone who has lost a parent (or heaven forbid, a child) can understand that when this happens it becomes a line of demarcation: your life before and your life after. It doesn’t mean nothing is ever the same or that you never get past it (everything is the same and you get past it except for the fact that nothing is ever the same and you never get past it. You don’t want to).

One year ago today this is what I had to say, and I’m not sure I can (or need to) improve upon this sentiment:

Blogs are, or can be, like diaries.

Except that diaries, by nature, are private. Which begs the question: do people who blog censor or soften the observations, complaints or critiques that in other times would exist inside a document designed to remain unread by others? (Or more to the point, should they?) To be certain, only a few years ago, thoughts like the ones I’m about to express would have been safely ensconced inside a journal, not read by anyone else, even including myself (I don’t often return to old journals, hopefully because I’m too busy living in the here and now). And for whatever it’s worth, I am humble enough to know that small numbers of people visit this blog, and I have enough sense (or self-respect) to instinctively acknowledge that nobody is well served by overly earnest airing of personal trivia.

Put another way, I don’t begrudge anyone else documenting every last detail of their existences (no matter how mundane or mawkish); I simply remain uninterested in reading about it. In that regard, blogs are self-regulating: if you don’t write things that others will find interesting, you won’t have an audience. And who cares anyway? In that regard, blogs are like diaries: people post on them because they want to, or need to, and the concept of friends or strangers reading their innermost thoughts won’t necessarily hamper their willingness to compose. Still, only the sensation-seekers looking for notoriety (usually the already famous, and even those folks have a shelf-life of about six months) go out of their way to wax solipsistic in a public forum.

When it comes to the death of my mother, I of course have meditated on the loss privately and publically, and anyone who knows me (or reads this blog) understands that her life and death are an unequivocal component of my ongoing existence. Nothing remarkable about that, really: it is what it is. I am not alone; in fact, one need not suffer the untimely death of a parent to understand that their presence is inextricable from one’s own. That said, it’s not because my feelings or experiences are unique, but because they are the opposite that I have little compunction sharing some thoughts on this plaintive anniversary. Indeed, for me these occasions are much more a celebration of her life (and her unambiguously positive influence in my life) than any sort of disconsolate meditation on death. It is what it is.

As I have mentioned in other pieces (most recently on my birthday), one of my earliest and most positive memories of art and discovery is associated with my mother: listening to Nutcracker Suite and drawing pictures. I still listen, as anyone who knows me knows, and I still draw pictures, only I use words (and, whenever possible, my mouth –as anyone who knows me knows).

I’ve long maintained that while I don’t begrudge anyone their pleasure in augmenting their musical experience with altered substances, I am happy to take it straight, no chaser. When I listen to music it does everything I suppose it is designed to do: it soothes me, inspires me, consoles me and makes me genuinely grateful to be alive. To be among the same species that was capable of creating this magic. To be transported to other times and places while being wholly present in the here-and-now (what a miracle that is when you think about it; something drugs cannot do half as reliably, or inexpensively…or legally). I don’t turn to music when I need it most, because I always need it. But certainly there are some songs I need at certain times more than others. There are, fortunately, too many to list or share, but there will be many more anniversaries of this day to remember, and I’ll look forward to sharing more at the appropriate occasions. For today, here are some songs that always help.

Chopin, “Waltz, Op. 64, No. 2″ (performed by Artur Rubinstein):