2009 Jazz Album of the Week #3: Ruth Brown - Blues On Broadway

Ruth Brown - Blues On Broadway

This week's choice comes as several of my friends are experiencing periods of distress. During those times, this has been my fallback for the last 20 years now.

I rank this album among the three greatest recordings of all-time, along with Miles Davis' Kind Of Blue and John Coltrane & Johnny Hartman. While it may not have the influence or historic importance of the other two, it certainly possesses the same amount of PFM (pure fuckin' magic).

With the opening track, the band sets the tone of the album: sincere but unapologetic, in-your-face blues. Tate and McKibbon create a slightly funky but laid-back path for Forrester's organ, which acts as a vehicle for Ruth's story of woe. On Good Morning Heartache, Forrester's haunting organ tones create a perfect backdrop for Brown's embittered vocals that literally cause the hairs on the back of one's neck to rise. However, Brown's tongue-in-cheek delivery on If I Can't Sell It and I Don't Break Dance keep the entire album from getting too gloomy. St. Louis Blues is a tour-de-force that seemingly just won't quit, even when seems nearly impossible for it to keep going.

And then there is Am I Blue. For my money, possibly the most beautiful recording ever made. The wonderful dialog between guitar and piano, the pure emotion of Brown's vocals, and the soulful wail of Crawford's alto all combine to create perfection. Words just cannot adequately describe it. At least, not any that I can think of.

2009 Jazz Album of the Week #2: Joey DeFrancesco (with Jimmy Smith) - Incredible!

Joey DeFrancesco (with Jimmy Smith) - Incredible!

If I could travel back in time to attend any single jazz event, the choice would be a tough one - the rebirth of the Duke Ellington Orchestra at Newport in 1956, Chicago in the early 20s to listen to a young Louis Armstrong jam with King Oliver, Minton's Playhouse to hear the formation of bebop, etc. But one of them that definitely ranks near the very top of the list would be to travel back to a jazz club in 1955 to watched the stunned faces of an audience witnessing Jimmy Smith for the very first time.

I would expect they would be similar to those of some of my friends who hear this album for the first time, having never experienced the sounds of the jazz B3. And with this recording, DeFrancesco basically takes the listener through the gamut of the instrument. Nothing he plays here is new - nearly every lick and chop has been lifted directly from Jimmy Smith - but he is a master pilferer.

The first track is pretty much just an homage to Jimmy himself, playing one of his classic tunes almost note-for-note. On When You're Smilin', DeFrancesco uses the famous squabbling technique Smith created to mimic the sound of pianist Erroll Garner. The Good Life gives him an opportunity to show off the mellower side of the Hammond, utilizing various drawbar settings and judicious use of the rotating Leslie speaker.

For the last two numbers, DeFrancesco joins the master and his trio for a couple of medleys, where Smith shows that no matter how good DeFrancesco is, he'll always live in the shadow of one James Oscar Smith.

Hopefully you guys will enjoy repeated listenings of this one - I know I do.

2009 Jazz Album of the Week #1: Milt Jackson Quintet - That's The Way It Is

Milt Jackson Quintet - That's The Way It Is

This is the first in what I expect to be a weekly series of posts where I shall highlight one of my favorite jazz albums. This week's selection is one of the first albums I found when I became interested in jazz and raided my dad's stash as a kid. It is also one of a handful of albums that I have every note of every solo committed to memory. This is pure jazz-blues at its finest, dripping with soul from every note.

It was recorded live in August of 1969 at a now default club called Shelly's Manne-Hole (owned by the great jazz drummer, Shelly Manne, of course). [Side note: a few years back, I discovered there was another album released from the same two nights that has never been officially released on CD. I have a copy on vinyl and plan to digitize it soon.]

Here are some points of interest for this album:

First, notice how Alexander & Brown exchange roles at the beginning and end of Frankie & Johnny, with the bass playing the melody and the piano covering the bass line. Ray Brown is arguably the greatest melodic jazz bassist who ever lived (though I doubt you'd find many to argue with). Besides being known as the leader of his own band and a member of the Oscar Peterson Trio and the Modern Jazz Quartet, just to name a few, he is also famous for his marriage to Ella Fitzgerald and for "discovering" Diana Krall.

Milt Jackson was the first to lower the speed of the vibraphone's oscillator to 1/3 its normal speed, something which has become the norm for most vibists who followed. That gives his sound a much mellower tone than say that of Lionel Hampton, as can be heard on the beautiful ballad, Here's That Rainy Day. Also note the interplay between Jackson and both the piano and bass on that track.

This is one of the first recordings of Monty Alexander, a Jamaican-born pianist who met Jackson & Brown at a club in New York called Jilly's, where he would frequently play, and which was a favorite hangout for Frank Sinatra. His style combines the speed and fluidity of Oscar Peterson with the soul of Gene Harris. You'll hear a lot more from him (as well as Brown & Jackson) on future installments, I promise.

Teddy Edwards is just Teddy Edwards, though I've never heard him play with more soul than on this record.

The only story I have about the drummer, Dick Berk, is that he played at Temecula Jazz Festival a few years back, where Soul Camp was also playing. Unfortunately, our sets happened to be at the same time, so I did not get a chance to see him.

And with that I say: sit back, relax, and enjoy.