Blue Note Records

Within my first two years of being in business I got two big introductions to Blue Note records. The first came when a guy named Bob came into the store. I immediately recognized him as a guy who used to work at Kingbee records on Evans near D.U. He then went on to work at Record Revival (later Jazz Record Revival) on Broadway. He was always a nice guy and had recommended a few albums to me over the years that I really liked. This day he was selling a handful of CDs. He pointed one out to me. “You ever heard this one?” He shook his hand like he was putting out a match. “Hot Stuff.” The CD was Cornbread by Lee Morgan. I took it home that night and played it. It was indeed a magnificent jazz album. Morgan had such a strong tone and melodic sense on trumpet, his band was red hot and the recording was really present and snapped with the tight arrangements.

The second event came when someone dropped a stack of free magazines at the store. It was a guide to independent record stores nationally. I thumbed through it and was surprised to see our store in there. I’ll never forget it. They said we were a good store with a lot of nice used stuff. Then the author explained how he had gotten a couple of rare Blue Note pressings for way less than they were worth out of our racks. I was stung. Not by the loss of revenue, but at the perceived lack of knowledge. It changed the way I approached my job. I thought, if I’m going to do this, I have to know at least as much as the average customer (a ridiculous thought-there is no average customer).  It gave me a kick in the ass to both really learn about label variations and to understand better what the mystique was with Blue Note.

It took a few years before we got to the point that we were buying large collections every day, but it did finally happen, and I started to see some Blue Notes come through the door. A regular character who bought a lot of jazz named Shelby passed away and his family sold his records and he had a handful of great titles. They were beat to shit, but I decided to take a couple home and try them out. I will never forget the sense of revelation I had when I put that first original Blue Note pressing on my turntable and the exciting sound recording mastery thundered out of the speakers. I had never heard a record sound so alive! And remember this record looked like hell. Once the needle fell into those grooves, the scuffs and grime disappeared and, like magic, it sounded like you were in the studio with a room full of great players. I would learn this was no fluke. Blue Note records were largely recorded by a man named Rudy Van Gelder in his home in New Jersey. A dentist by trade, he loved jazz and sound, and he combined those two passions to create an undying legacy. The first generation or two of Blue Note are unparalleled recordings. Van Gelder’s abilities, the musicians, the times, and the pressing technology-I’m not sure exactly what all the factors were, but nothing sounds like a Blue Note.

A number of Blue Note recordings became some of my favorite albums. One in particular blew my mind. Eddie Gale’s Ghetto Music is an incredible mix of jazz, funk, gospel and conscious soul unlike anything else. It is cosmic and earthy at the same time. It’s one of the records I’ve tried to turn people on to over the years. Finally, an original mono copy of Lee Morgan’s Cornbread came in to the store. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited. I took it home that night and breathlessly put it on the box. I wish I had the words to convey exactly how amazing that first listen was. From the opening notes of Larry Ridley’s bass and that first blast of horns from Lee, Jackie McLean and Hank Mobley I couldn’t believe how present the music was. You could literally feel the room the album was recorded in. You could see where each player was in your mind’s eye. This was why I was collecting records. This exact feeling of presence-like you were there. I have played that record, I’ll bet, a thousand times. When people come over and want me to show off my stereo or collection, the night will always include Cornbread, usually with me holding the record up and saying “this is why we are still in business!” And I believe that. The specific magic contained in a well-pressed piece of vinyl is something that can not be undervalued. It is the medium through which the magic of music can best be expressed (short of live performance). After the many, many playings, Cornbread has lost none of that magic. The record still sounds amazing-no surface noise, just the pulse-quickening greatness of the original session. It is my go-to audiophile recording. Nothing sounds better to me.

The magic and mystery of Blue Note is well known in the collecting world. They are rare as hen’s teeth and highly sought after. Thus, the prices have become very “dear” as it were. Even so, if you see a nice one, and if you are excited by the art and science of recording, as well as great jazz-there is no more rewarding investment to be had in the record collecting world.

Here are some of my favorites.

I'd Love to Turn You On #201 - Wayne Shorter - Juju

Looking at contemporary jazz saxophone I believe one can trace the influences back to three saxophone players from the late fifties and early sixties. Those players are John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, and Wayne Shorter. John Coltrane studied and played with Ornette Coleman, as Wayne Shorter studied with John Coltrane. It is amazing how they took each other into consideration rather than trying to evolve inside a vacuum. Juju is a glimpse of Wayne Shorter dealing with the evolving legacy of John Coltrane’s impact upon jazz. As he was developing as an artist he had to assimilate, process, and learn to mature with the musicians around him. The result is one of his most powerful Blue Note releases, recorded in 1964 and released in 1965. I chose Juju for I’d Love To Turn You On because I think it is a great portrait of an artist as he is growing and evolving, reaching for that next step. This is what makes Wayne Shorter such a vibrant player, from his days with Art Blakey through his days with Miles Davis and up until today. He continues to make relevant music, lending a rounded perspective that few can match.

The band of McCoy Tyner on piano, Elvin Jones on drums, and Reggie Workman on double bass is two thirds of the classic Coltrane Quartet. Elvin Jones has a rolling and bubbling swing that interacts perfectly with Tyner’s bombastic chords on the first song “Juju,” laying a perfect bed for the melody. It is only after a few times through the harmonic structure that the frame of the tune, which is fairly simple and repetitive, becomes evident. This reveals the skill of the players, this ability to conceive of dense interlocking textures from simple source material and lay a cohesive bed that Shorter and McCoy Tyner can both solo in. Shorter’s solo seems patient to explore long tones at points, then work long phrases, and then hover on one note, not going any one place. It is the tone of the playing that makes the solo worthy of keeping; even if the solo is a little directionless the spirit of the playing has great zest. The spirit is in the exploration.             

“Deluge,” the second tune, is a textbook Blue Note Swing. After the first somber statement by Shorter the entire band joins in for a cohesive, unstoppable demonstration of mid-sixties jazz. Elvin Jones in particular seems to be at the height of his powers, so relaxed that the drumsticks can just bounce on the snare or toms and do no wrong, while at the same time laying down a thick wall of impenetrable cymbals. Shorter then starts a solo with lengthy statements, taking his time working out his ideas and leaving time for the rhythm section to respond and fill space. The quarter note lock-up underneath Tyner’s solo between Reggie Workman and Jones’ ride cymbal is perfect, allowing Tyner to play single note fills or lay down big pedal point chords with his left hand and cascade massive fills with his right hand. The pocket on this tune is so great anything could happen.

“House of Jade” is a downtempo number that eventually picks up a little more speed. It has a ballad feel and the bridge, or middle part of the song, has a pedal point where the harmonic motion holds still in the rhythm section. This allows for increased activity on the melody instrument. It functions much the same way a zoom lens might, to bring greater detail to a certain part of a photo or frame in a picture or movie. The drums eventually double time under the sax solo propelling the rhythmic motion forward even when it drops back to the original time.

“Mahjong” starts with a playful drum solo and piano statement and then Shorter plays the melody which is supported by Tyner’s trademark quartal tones. Tyner is really the perfect piano player for these type of tunes because he can fill the space in songs that have two or three chordal areas in them and still make it interesting. As Tyner fills the space, Shorter plays the melody, and then this happens again. They play a bridge, restate the original melody and then repeat the whole thing. Tyner supplies a thick texture of harmony for his own solo that he can nestle in. While McCoy Tyner fills the space, it might be the opposite of what Shorter was experiencing in Miles Davis’ group where Herbie Hancock would boil a piano voicing down to one or two notes, a chord cluster, or lay out and let space and Tony Williams take over.

“Yes or No” is a real burner of a tune. The melody starts out with a flurry and ends with Shorter holding a long tone as Tyner, Workman, and Jones cruise below it banging out comping chords and flurries of color. This motif repeats several times before the bridge, in which Shorter plays out the song’s title in an up-and-down and back-and-forth manner. Jones’ ride cymbal is a constant North Star of precision during this song, one that all can look to as a guide in direction and meter. Shorter warms up on the first chorus but after that really opens up and plays his most technically demanding and passionate choruses of the record. Tyner takes over but takes a minute to regain the intensity of where Shorter left off, as if maybe he was not ready for Shorter to actually end his solo and was caught off guard having to begin his. A definite high point of the record. They end the record with “Twelve More Bars to Go,” a hard-swinging modified blues. Shorter really works the changes from inside to out. He is the only soloist and the band sounds great. In terms of innovation this has to be the most standard tune on the album. It doesn't have the passion of “Yes and No” or the catchiness of some of Shorter’s other tunes.

Juju was released in 1965 and recorded in 1964. Speak No Evil was released in 1966 and also recorded in late 1964. These are both great Wayne Shorter records. I think they are notable because they illustrate the process of one contemporary dealing with the legacy of another contemporary successfully. By this time John Coltrane was recording Crescent and A Love Supreme so he was continuing to innovate. Both of these artists are moving forward on their separate journeys. Shorter would have more Blue Note records and Miles Davis recordings, and then he would eventually become a founding member of Weather Report.

Hopefully I am turning you on to the fact that yes, Juju itself is great, but looking at it in context of Wayne Shorter’s evolution is the truly fun part. For me that has always been the amazing part of jazz records is how they link together, historically, via recording labels, or band personnel. Have fun listening!

-         Doug Anderson

I'd Love to Turn You On #196 - Miles Davis - Filles De Kilimanjaro

Filles De Kilimanjaro and In a Silent Way are two records that clearly lead away from “traditional” jazz and into the “electric” jazz era for Miles Davis. The album was released in 1969 and the title was a reference to a coffee company Miles had invested in. Filles featured his quintet from the recordings directly prior with two additional musicians. The musicians were Wayne Shorter on saxophone, Tony Williams on drums, Ron Carter on electric rather than his usual acoustic bass, and Herbie Hancock on Rhodes piano. The additional musicians were Chick Corea, playing electric and acoustic pianos, and Dave Holland, playing acoustic bass. Miles Davis was experimenting with taking away the swing element in the music, at least from the rhythm section, and replacing it with a more rock-based feel. Along with a transition in feel came a transition in instrument choice. The horn section was using traditional horns, but the rhythm section was altering their sound by using contemporary instruments. Electric keyboards and basses start to appear where only acoustic instruments had been before. Filles De Kilimanjaro is a snapshot of a metamorphosis. It is a band in the midst of a change from one state to another, and the record is a vital picture of the process.

“Frelon Brun (Brown Hornet)” is the first track and it starts with the alternate rhythm section of Corea and Holland. The melody is played followed by a blistering solo by Miles, in which Williams not only holds down the time, but takes interjection and counter statement to a high level. Wayne Shorter does not ease up on the second solo, nor does Williams. It is only on Corea’s solo that we get a little respite and that may be only because the tone of his electric instrument would not fully cut a combative Williams. After a bit of a back and forth from Corea and Williams the melody is stated again and the song ends. Speculation that Davis was inspired by James Brown and Hendrix certainly makes sense when examining tracks such as these. A solid groove is laid down by Williams and Holland, but then Corea and Williams have an ability to comment and interject in an energetic fashion an additional layer on top of that first groove. This gives the music a rhythm and a pulse of rock, a straight meter, but the added layers and complexity of jazz.

“Tout De Suite” starts on a cool slinky and downtempo groove, but quickly moves to Hancock prodding in an increased tempo which sets up a new energetic space. Rather than set up a steady groove, Carter uses his bass more as an accompanist with random prods and Miles once again moves in with an aggressive first solo. Shorter takes the second solo with Williams pulsating time on the high hat. Hancock and Williams seem to have a real connection, while Carter seems tentative in his electric duties, or maybe his nontraditional bass role. Hancock’s solo blends pulsation with flurries and eventually melts slowly allowing for the head to melt back in. Williams shifts the tempo back up after the head for a finale that fades out. The liquidity of the transitions and the ease in which the ensemble flows from one state of being to the next are remarkable. It is a level of communication which only comes with playing music for an extended amount of time and a willingness to explore. “Petits Machins (Little Stuff)” has a playful head and continues in the theme of having a unison head. Ron Carter fills more space by holding down pedal points and Tony Williams sets up space filling it with a chattering snare. Miles once again takes the first solo and the main theme is never too far away. Wayne Shorter’s solo is a little more exploratory, allowing for more space in reply from Williams and Hancock. Tony Williams is the glue on this track. You can hear the trust in space and the patience. A less experienced band might have fallen apart. Herbie Hancock’s solo is next and consists of right hand runs with occasional flurries of chord clusters. It leaves Williams plenty of space to frolic. After Hancock’s solo Miles comes back in with a short statement of the head out.

“Filles De Kilimanjaro” has a unison head with an ostinato (or repeating line) that both the bass and keyboard double. The melodic statement is played a couple of times and then Miles takes a solo. The use of one key lets Miles use more extended tones to get tense tonalities at the end of his solo. Shorter starts his solo with short bursts of notes and balances it out with longer tones referencing the main melody. The main melody is then broken up with only bits played and Hancock soloing in between those statements. Miles solos a bit more still referencing the main melody strongly, and then the track fades out. This track has the sense of anticipation and mystery which is only resolved by Miles playing in a major (happy) key. That major key (or happy resolution) gives the song a strong resting place and a good ending. Chick Corea and Dave Holland are back for “Mademoiselle Mabry (Miss Mabry).” This song is rumored to be a reworking of Jimi Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary.” The extended bass and keyboard blues statement with Williams playing sparsely over the top is like nothing else on the record. Miles gently plays the head with subtle inflections and half valve expressions. Williams avoids any steady beat and just comments on the toms with an occasional high hat snap or cymbal roll. Shorter opens up his tone a little for his solo, allowing Williams to increase his interaction, while Corea and Holland state the framework. Corea’s solo is largely a duet with Holland, with Williams just hitting the form landmarks and a few cymbal flourishes. Miles then comes back in to play briefly over the cycle that will signal the end of the song, and the record. Compared to the rest of record “Mademoiselle Mabry (Miss Mabry)” is slowed down, simple, and starkly beautiful.

Filles is a suite of music. As with many records the cumulative force of the whole is greater than the individual force of its parts. The groundwork for In A Silent Way was being laid on this record, which is one of the fascinating things about Filles. The drums are more pattern-based, although Williams has the ability to still hold a groove and interject. The bass is working with ostinato patterns as opposed to walking lines. It repeats a rhythmic motif to add a texture and a mood. All the songs are in one key lending to a subconscious cohesiveness that might only be noticeable to a certain segment of listeners, but gives a certain feel and sameness to the entire album, despite the individuality of the compositions. We can see detail and individuality in each piece, but only within the whole is the deeper meaning and contents revealed. While a traditional head-solo-head format is being utilized, within that roles are being exchanged and Miles’s new catchphrase “New Directions In Music” was being put to the test. This is a catchphrase that his albums would bear from now on. As  we near the 49^th anniversary of the record we have the benefit of hindsight to show us what a masterpiece Filles De Kilimanjaro is. Miles always had remarkable taste in sideman. The personnel of this album is a virtual who’s who of jazz legends today. Each of them lead their own ensembles and expose great new talent to the jazz world. All are still with us with the exception of Miles Davis and Tony Williams. Just following any one of these band members’ careers after this album will provide a trove of great listening. This was always one of the greatest gifts of Miles Davis, starting from his days of bandleading on the Prestige Label - choosing bandmates with interesting voices such as John Coltrane, Wayne Shorter, and Herbie Hancock, and so many more that made his music so rich. So when people ask me which is my favorite, Filles De Kilimanjaro or In A Silent Way? I say why choose? Love them all, don’t leave any out. I guess it depends which one you love that day, but I’d love to turn you on to Filles.

-         Doug Anderson

What Are You Listening To Lately (Part 3)?

I think I speak for many record store employees when I say that the most dreaded question a customer can ask is “What are you listening to lately?” Most of us are on our own strange little personal journeys that are miles away from what anyone else we know is interested in. But I can promise you, we all have a pretty similar reaction when that question comes up: we brace ourselves and usually throw back a quick "What have YOU heard lately that you've liked?", because it would take too long to explain exactly what we’re actually listening to lately and why. With that in mind, here's a snapshot of what I have actually been listening to lately – what’s in the walkman, on the stereo, what I’m picking when I’m at work, and what I’ve been playing when I’m in the shower.

John Lee Hooker – Travelin’
I know that John Lee Hooker stomping, singing and playing guitar by himself is the archetypal version of JLH, but I have to admit that I love it when he deigns to have a bass and drums (and sometimes another guitar) with him, as was often the case on the early 60’s Vee-Jay albums he did. Even though they don’t exactly add anything to the music – they follow his lead at all times and are, as such, more ornamental than fundamental in the music – I still love the way a cymbal ringing along with him sounds, the way a snare sounding off on the two and four sounds. Also delightful for me is the way each of these songs fades out with John Lee usually still singing, as though each track is but a snatch out of a continuum of rhythms over which he plays the ultimate raconteur, telling his stories now with his voice, now with his guitar; the fade kicks in and we skip ahead to the next chapter in his stories of love and loss on the road. He’s made more dynamic songs, sure, but as a full album, very few from his catalog are of a piece the way this great one is.


Das EFX – Dead Serious
Though you may get a little tiggidy-tired of their shtick by track 10, you gotta admit that it’s a hell of a gimmick and tough to do, too – more an intricate and (for me at least) largely entertaining circus act than an empty set of smoke and mirrors or some sleight-of-hand parlor trick. And maybe it never again hits the highs that “Mic Checka” (track 1) and “They Want EFX” (track 3) do, but it never loses momentum, never loses the all-important sense of humor they’d be lost without. It starts strong, goes all out for humor, hooks and gross out (humorously delivered, of course) for the first half, then takes it easier for side two – or maybe I just get a little tiggidy-tired by track 10 myself. But persevere – track 10 itself is great, so try not to wear down before it’s over. It was only good enough to (sorta) take as the title of their follow-up. Besides, the rest of that second half is pretty damn good in its own right, it’s just in the wake of the first half that it doesn’t quite dazzle.


Wayne Shorter – The Soothsayer
Like Et Cetera, this album sat in the can for over a decade and in listening it’s tough to understand exactly why – must’ve fit somebody’s marketing plan of the day. Even so – 1980 is a little long to have waited for these spring ’65 sessions. But blah blah blah, spilt milk and all that – I guess by the high standards Shorter had set with his incredible string of 1960’s Blue Note albums, this is a lesser session that could wait for release, rather than being shot out hot on the heels of the masterpiece Speak No Evil. The song “Angola” is spectacular – a fast one in which Shorter, James Spaulding, and Tony Williams simply blow the roof off (I mean, Wayne does in typically oblique Shorter-esque fashion, of course). “Lady Day” is a lovely ballad which Bob Blumenthal’s notes for this edition call “a haunting ballad in the vein of ‘Infant Eyes’” to which I’d add “only not quite as haunting, because it’s less melancholy, if no less beautiful.” The waltzes that begin and end the regular album are pretty great too; one a Shorter original that drives home one of Blumenthal’s other points about the record (I’ll get to that); the other a lovely arrangement of Sibelius’s “Valse Triste.” Bluementhal’s notes point out that (Freddie) Hubbard, Spaulding and (McCoy) Tyner, all first-class players, may not be intimidated by the challenges of the music, but none of them are able to play out the implications (of the compositions) as fully as Shorter himself.” And that’s what I alluded to earlier – while everyone here is able to approach Shorter’s unusual writing and solo on his tunes with gusto, he’s the only one who sounds fully at home with the compositions – well, in the soloing at least. Maybe it’s just that his approach to soloing is as idiosyncratic as his writing, but that’s the way it sounds. Everyone in this terrific group sounds great here – Wayne Shorter just sounds better.


Sonic Youth – Evol
This is Sonic Youth right on the cusp of their breakthrough – Steve Shelley’s in place, nearly every track gives up something like a hook (or at least a really memorable bit) – and if it managed to rise up just a little bit more, if the best bits peaked just a touch higher, it’d be major and not just “good.” As it is, the singles – “Star Power” and “Expressway to Yr Skull” – kill, their best moments on record to this point of their career. Not too far behind are “Tom Violence” and the odd little “In the Kingdom #19.” The rest sounds good, but the feel just one push short of really making it. A shame that not all turntables respond to the lock groove that closes things – having that comforting electric drone flesh out the final 11 minutes or so of the Evol side of a Sonic Youth C-90 was a very nice thing. CD version also includes bonus material – “Bubblegum” is a great cover I’ve never heard the original of. Glad they chose it for this. I just take my mental rating down a half notch because they could’ve replicated that lock groove on CD if they really wanted to. I’m not sentimental about “original vinyl” stuff, but that’s one gimmick I really liked.