The record changer (Feb-Dec 1948)

the side -as a whole has a tired sound, due to a lack that we might not have been able to identify a couple of years ago, and that's a certain kind of beat. Plenty of people, even those who don't like bebop or its tributaries much, recognize a little something odd in there without bothering to isolate it; once they bother to do so, the overt act is committed, and so are they — for better or worse. It seems to me that the first thing to intrigue non-aficiandos is not the brilliant, exhaustive inventions of Charlie Parker or Dizzy, but the beat. And, more specifically, the drumming. The demands on a modern drummer are trernendous, because he has emerged from the background; he is no longer in the supporting cast ("I like to feel drums, not hear them"). In short, the kind of drumming which made men like foe Jones and Sid Catlett great is of little value to a bop group — there just has to be more than that. There are only a couple of guys, since I have listened to jazz, who have struck me as playing drums just about the way they should be played. Among the earlier jazzmen, greatly though I respected men like Bertrand and Baby Dodds, it was George Stafford who reached out and smote my ear. And now it's Art Blakey, whose effect on any group he plays with is phenomenal (greatly though I respect the several other great ones, headed by Max Roach and Shadow Wilson, that is). For one thing, you don't have to know a flatted ninth from a fourth at bridge, to spot something rhythmically unusual. When a Rlakey or Roach is on drums, the effect is like loading your minestrone with that real ripe Parmesan. Where was I ? "CONFIRMATION" features, as I recall saying, one of Dizzy's finest solos. It is really a tapestry, full of color and texture, and woven with consummate skill. He has a conception of an ordinary chord about twice life-size. ■ This is the kind of improvising which, if you could diagram it, would be a model of logic and design. In supj>ort of him are the wonderfully facile and enthusiastic Ray Brown on bass, Milt Jackson, Lucky Thompson, Al Haig, all performing pretty well, and (this started my lengthy digression) not-interestingenough drums by Stan Levey. On the other side is DIAL-OGUE, a fairly jivey item presenting the Ralph Bums Quintet — Serge Chaloff, ChuckWayne, Artie Bernstein, and Don Lamond being the other four. The only man who plays in a recognizably bebop groove is Chaloff, and I mean by that that there isn't much trace of in betweenness in his style, i I would like to say here that moldy figs are • becoming more numerous in the modern ramp, almost, than they are in the traditional. One of the pleasant things about the Mrange eruption of bop was the readiness . of interested parties to bend an ear to any) thing that sounded good. Now, unfortunately, a lot of people have ! found the formula, or so they think — they KNOW what's good. And Chaloff's playing on this side would, I believe, be underwritten bv those people as a safe bet, "that's it! That man plays^ BEBOP!" Well, he does. But I don't think he plays much else. He can get around on that baritone, yes, and he pushes, but he is not actually cre, Htive— he plays within a style. I feel the same way about a number of other modern musicians, who shall be temporarily nameless. Ralph Burns is an in-betweener. He sounds sometimes as if Teddy Wilson were looking over his shoulder, and sometimes he is the complete modern. The pace here is fast, and he handles it nicel3-, with considerable professional help from Artie Bernstein. FRANCIS WOLFE PHOTO ART BLAKEY The Charlie Parker group's BIRD LORE now enjoys a notoriety which is pretty well justified. It's the best side in the album, and a pretty successful record all around. Parker's ensemble variation on a theme from HOW HIGH THE MOON is standard equipment in all modern small groups' repertoires, practically an evergreen. After that ensemble, the solo by Charlie begins so easily and continues so effortlessly that the fascinating things he does escape you at first. They're there, though. I'd like to say a few hundred words concerning what makes Charlie sound like Charlie, but that can wait. Miles Davis has a typical soliloquy. He plays like a man who, wishing to evoke a few elusive ideas, chooses a trumpet just for the hell of it. Most of the qualities that distinguish a trumpet have been discarded by Miles — brilliance, for instance. He is a low-pressure salesman of introspection, although very often he doesn't have to assert himself to be .top-notch. He sounds occasionally as if he were making a dire prediction. There is some good tenor by Lucky Thompson, fine background work by Dodo Marmarosa, and careful drums by Roy Porter. (A previous BIRD LORE, in this case ORNITHOLOGY, is also on Dial. It is slightly faster than this one, in parts better, in others not as good.) The other side is CURBSTONE SCUFFLE by Sonny Berman's Big Eight. This is the Herman gang in good form, and up tempo. The intro is a series of rich sounds flavored by Bill Harris's tone, and then they take off. Berman is efficient — good tone and ideas — and so are most of the other boys. I like the general sound of this record very well ; they get some interesting effects without losing any of the cleanness or beat. The ensembles are smooth and full, and the solos are well spaced. A good side. BEBOP, by the Howard McGhee Quintet, offers McGhee, Charlie Parker, and a rhythm section. The tempo is a little too much for the ensemble work, which is a bit desperate and sloppy despite the virtuosity of the principals. I once thought that if you goosed Roy Eldridge you would discover Howard McGhee, and I haven't changed my mind. Nobody I ever heard could get more miles per hour out of a trumpet than this guy, but, while some of the stuff is fairly valid, the accent on speed eliminates much that might happen. I'm fascinated by his skirling, I admit, but nothing much lingers. I get a feeling of transience listening to Parker, as if he had just .strolled through the studio. This is not one of his best efforts. The best thing on the record is some good piano by Jimmy Bunn, backed well by the bass and drums. In order to extract the virtues from LOVER MAN, the other side, you have to withstand some unpleasant sounds. Charlie Parker contributes most of those, as well as some interesting ones, backed by the excellent rhythm section of Kesterton, Porter, and Bunn, and an assist in the finale by Howard McGhee. This is an eerie record. I expected more than is there, and most of what is, I didn't expect at all, including a suggestion of unsureness on Charlie's part. If, after exploring all the possibilities in a tune, he found nothing that could interest anyone else and offered a few condensed afterthoughts, you'd get LOVER MAN. In a way, it reminds me of a cartoon by William Steig (from THE LONELY ONES) called I CAN'T EXPRESS IT. In the 1948 album is NOCTURNE, by Berman's Big Eight, coupled with McGhee's THERMODYNAMICS. For some strange reason I reviewed this one separately last month, so I'm left with just two records. The first side is STUPENDOUS, by the Charlie Parker All Stars, the most scintillating of whom besides Parker are Dodo Marmarosa and Barney Kessel. Kessel plays good guitar throughout— teaming well with Dodo in the ensembles and giving Charlie especially good backing during his solo. That solo is pretty good, but the Bird's best moment is a delightful break during the final ensemble, which at first sounds like a gap until he floats in with a few careless notes, and then plays a cluster of them with great force. Marmarosa's solo has a lot of expressive feeling, and not too much reliance on dexterity. I got more than usual out of McGhee on this side, though not too much in the way of tone. Flip this and find BIKINI, by the Dexter Gordon Quartet. Dexter, of CHASE fame, chases a minor key with occasionally fortunate results, but this is like an awful lot of other tenor-sax records — it doesn't lead to much. At no point can you say he reaches a level he's been building up to. Red Callender contributes an exceptionally dull bass solo. Parker is surrounded by more or less the company he now keeps on SCRAPPLE FROM THE APPLE, meaning Max Roach and Miles Davis, plus Duke Jordan on piano and Tommy Potter on drums. Max makes a difference, too — he assumes command of the beat, varying his sound behind each man, and he shares an intriguing tag with the piano. The intricate, fragmentary duet is typical of those by Charlie and Miles. They allude to, and infer delicately, all kinds of interesting things, which they usually get around to stating clearly in their solos. Charlie's is very ornate and clean, with some fine rippling runs, while Miles presents a wryly melodic line. Altogether, it's a pleasing disc. There is a great difference between DON'T BLAME ME, the reverse, which is a Parker solo, and the previously mentioned LOVER MAN. Here he includes almost more than there is to be found in the tune, although it's not exactly a case of famine or feast. There are some remarkably imaginative flights, and there are places where a few less notes would have been constructive. I like his treatment of the bridge quite well, and as a matter of (Continued on Page 26) JULY, 1948 21