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Putting Some English on Jazz

Putting Some English on Jazz

Wouldn’t it be great if a music label celebrated the U.K.’s contribution to modern jazz and spotlighted some up-and-coming players as well? And what if that label took elaborate measures to ensure that the recordings sounded great—and what if, just like in the old days, that label released its all-analogue recordings on vinyl? Okay, and just to be greedy let’s imagine a discography that includes previously unreleased music by icons who put U.K. modern jazz on the map—musicians like Ronnie Scott, Joe Harriott, Tubby Hayes, Don Rendell, and Michael Garrick, for example—as well as some key players who surfaced shortly thereafter, like Norma Winstone, John Surman, and Kenny Wheeler. What united musicians of these and later generations—and cries out for careful, passionate, and sonically meticulous documentation—was a desire to forge their own sound. “That generation of musicians in the 60s realized that just imitating Americans wasn’t enough,” is how pianist Howard Riley described the mood among his colleagues, and in fact some British jazz musicians deliberately chose not to move to America, preferring instead to work with players from their own country. Ultimately their success in carving out their own style suggests that an independent, questioning attitude toward the jazz tradition could be liberating and productive.

Because of England’s rich jazz history and the fact that it’s still evolving, I’m happy to report that the label that would do that tradition justice already exists. Formed in 2009, Gearbox Records has released over 25 recordings that include recent projects from British jazz players as well as some previously unissued recordings going back as far as the 1950s. The label’s discography includes both straight-ahead and avant-garde jazz from players old and new, jazz vocalists, and also some newer players who mix one part jazz with other styles. In England such cross-pollination has always seemed more common and less suspect than in America—and again it seems that a less reverent relationship to the tradition might in some ways be a blessing.

Putting Some English on Jazz

One old-school, back-in-the-day, long-established tradition that Gearbox Records definitely does embrace is the format on which the music is released. The label is dedicated to producing vinyl records that are recorded, mastered, and pressed according to painstaking standards—so much so that Gearbox has its own analogue vinyl cutting facility. “The studio was principally built for Gearbox Records to master and cut its own records exactly how it wants,” its Web site states, “with no digital in the signal path or even a digital-to-analogue converter to generate preview signals. It features an all-valve playback area— for vinyl and digital playback and for demonstrating great hi-fi provided by our partners Audio Note.” Components involved in the process include a vintage Lang Pultec EQ and limiter, Maselec master control and de-esser and Prism Maselec EQ, a vintage RCA KU-3A ribbon microphone, and a Studer C37 valve reel-to-reel tape source complete with both mono and stereo head blocks. The owner of Gearbox, Darrel Sheinman, says that “As non-physical digital music starts to take off to replace CD, the desire for people to have and hold things they love remains. The most complete way you can do this in music is through the vinyl medium, so gradually vinyl will replace CD sales once the turntable infrastructure re-builds, which is happening.” I should sneak in here that Gearbox LPs include a free lossless digital download code and that some Gearbox recordings (under license or through a joint venture) are available as CDs that contain bonus tracks.

More than a little curious to check out some Gearbox releases, I recently sampled some of their latest offerings. With the exception of what was originally a private recording of a Tubby Hayes concert, the records boasted superb sonics. In particular I was taken by the sparse small-group sound of Simon Spillett’s Square One and the much more layered soundscape of Kenny Wheeler’s brainchild, Mirrors. I should add that Gearbox has a penchant for records with a hip retro look and old-school graphics—and that these are limited editions with a history of selling out.

Fans of clean-sounding straight-ahead jazz should check out Simon Spillett’s Square One. A highly-touted young tenor saxophonist from England, Spillett cites Tubby Hayes as his chief influence and is also quick to praise John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, and Stan Getz. If after a few bars of the opening track you’re reminded of the classic Blue Note sound, that makes sense: “Shepherd’s Serenade” was composed by Dizzy Reece, a British jazz musicians who recorded it for his first Blue Note LP, a session that also included Tubby Hayes. Square One is a mix of bop, blues, and ballads by a quartet that offers a fresh take on 1960s-sounding jazz. The sweetest performance is the Armando Manzanero ballad “Yesterday I Heard the Rain”; much edgier is a succinct and fiery reading of “A Night in Tunisia” that sounds like a perfect set-closer. Square One is a dry recording with a nice sense of space, fat bass, and a crisp drum sound, plus strong tonal balance. Another nice touch: the tastefully period cover art hearkens back to the days when jazz musicians and their album covers won all the style awards.

Another gem is the Tubby Hayes Quartet’s Seven Steps to Heaven: Live at the Hopbine 1972, for which Spillett, who writes about jazz as well as playing it, did the liner notes. Since the recording wasn’t slated for official release and four decades have passed since the performance, the notes required some detective work, including who played what. What’s obvious, however, is the chemistry among the players on the night the music was recorded, the wild card being Tony Oxley, a drummer often associated with the avant-garde movement. In company with bassist Daryl Runswick, Oxley finds numerous opportunities to stir the pot during this session, goading pianist Mike Pyne and the bandleader on the standards “Seven Steps to Heaven,” “Alone Together,” and “Someday My Prince Will Come” (on which Hayes sets aside his tenor to play flute). In the liner notes Spillett refutes the notion that Hayes, whose performance here took place a year before his untimely death at age 38 and who was already facing serious health issues, was no longer a vital musical force. I have to agree, as the way Hayes burns through the changes on “Seven Steps to Heaven” and testifies at the climax of “Alone Together” seems to lay that question to rest. Because of the less-than-perfect source for this release—originally it was a private recording—sonics aren’t as impressive as with other Gearbox releases; in particular, the bass seems faint and the staging distant. I suspect, however, that even the most ardent audiophile among us has been deeply moved by recordings far inferior to this one; what the sound issues don’t wash away is the power of the performances.

 

Kenny Wheeler/Norma Winstone/ London Vocal Project’s Mirrors sets to music poems by Stevie Smith, Lewis Carroll, and William Butler Yeats. A rhythm section that includes Nikki Iles on piano lays the foundation while voices and horns weave in and out of the foreground. Vocal duties are shared by the 24-piece London Vocal Project and the veteran U.K. jazz singer Norma Winstone; along with Iles, soloists include Mark Lockheart on saxophones and Wheeler on flugelhorn. Sometimes poetry set to music sounds stilted and heavy-handed, but on Mirrors the two art forms blend together naturally. Much of the credit goes to Kenny Wheeler’s ability to create rich, flowing melodies that reflect both the whimsy and the hints of darkness in the poems. In spite of a deep and busy soundscape, Mirrors sounds light and airy, the silken voices of the London Vocal Project and Wheeler’s flugelhorn landing softly on the ears. There’s also a CD version of Mirrors with additional cuts.

Although Gearhead plans to continue releasing jazz records, the label recently started to branch out, and the eponymous Slowly Rolling Camera is an example of this new trend. This U.K. band that includes four core members as well as a revolving cast of guest musicians unites the soul music of the seventies and eighties (at times I was reminded of Soul II Soul and the Eurythmics) with an ambient electronic feel I immediately associated with Portishead. (The producer, it turns out, was Andy Allan, who’s produced both Portishead and another SRC influence, Massive Attack.) Dionne Bennett’s soulful voice plus a steady groove balance the more ethereal keyboards and aural mystery. On the instrumental “Outside,” the often low-key vibe of the record gives way to an impassioned tenor sax solo by Mark Lockheart where he rages against an electronic soundscape. It speaks to the quality of the recording that in spite of the layered sound and the use of electronics the double bass has a warm, strong presence. This release is also available on a CD that includes bonus tracks.


Putting Some English on Jazz

Gearbox isn’t the only outside-U.S. label I’ve discovered that’s putting out worthy jazz recordings—whether new or reissued—over the last few years. One record that particularly impressed me is Howard Riley’s Live With Repertoire (NoBusiness Records). A recording of a 2011 concert by Howard Riley, this album has seen steady rotation on my stereo, and I’ve no trouble pinpointing why: it’s pretty. This solo piano performance contains a generous helping of both better-and lesser-known (and ballad-oriented) Monk. The homage to Monk even extends to the standards, as all of them (“Darn That Dream,” “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You,” “Body and Soul”) are tunes Monk performed in a solo context. The mood here is reflective, the playing sparse and lyrical, the homage to Monk heartfelt. I was already hooked on this record before discovering that Live with Repertoire is the first album Riley released after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. To state the obvious, that makes an already memorable performance all the more impressive.

Norma Winstone’s new Dance Without Answer (ECM) finds the veteran singer still trying new things, and with splendid results. Along with developing a unique approach to jazz standards, Winstone is a talented lyricist whose songs sometimes examine how relationships fluctuate over time, deepening, reigniting, or fizzling out as love is discarded, remembered, or rediscovered. The second half of Dance Without Answer is a departure for the singer, as much of it focuses on pop material. Madonna’s “Live to Tell,” Nick Drake’s “Time of No Reply,” and Tom Waits’ “San Diego Serenade” are all so good that I’d recommend any of them to the uninitiated. Two songs are even better, however: “Bein’ Green” (that’s right, the old Sesame Street song) and the closer, a cover of Fred Neil’s “Everybody’s Talking At Me,” a tune we also associate with Harry Nilsson and the soundtrack to Midnight Cowboy. Produced by Manfred Eicher, this recording of Winstone, Glauco Verner (piano), and Klaus Gesing (bass clarinet/ soprano saxophone) stands out for its clarity. Like many other ECM small-group jazz releases, its pure, austere sound evokes well-recorded chamber music.

In his liner notes to the Peter Lemer Quintet’s 1968 release Local Colour (ESP), the bandleader writes, “At the time of this recording, at least four new English groups were heading their own distinct ways, each full of the fun and joy that comes when releasing fresh musical energy.” Local Colour lives up to those words; although it clearly bears the stamp of late 1960s jazz, there’s something special about it as well. Lemer in particular is a thoughtful and sometimes introspective soloist with a penchant for highly intricate compositions. (He’s also a bit puckish when it comes to comping.) Especially good are “Flowville” and “Carmen,” which share a noirish quality and bear the influence of Monk. At the time Local Colour was released Lemer was a relative unknown with no albums as a leader under his belt, and although he’s been involved in countless jazz and rock projects it remains his only album as a leader. As with so many releases by ESP, one doubts that, were it not for the remarkably free-spirited nature of the label, this one-time quintet (which includes John Surman, Nisar Ahmad Khan, Tony Reeves, and John Hiseman) would ever have been recorded. Until last year Local Colour had never officially been released in the U.S. on CD, but in 2013 it came out on the limited rESPlica series and was remastered by archivist Michael D. Anderson.


Putting Some English on Jazz

Of all the records discussed in this article, Evan Parker/Barry Guy/Paul Lytton’s Live at Maya Recordings Festival (NoBusiness Records), available as two LPs or one CD, is easily the most “outside,” with an all-out, no-holds barred performance that bristles with live energy. The communication among the trio as well as their use of dynamics is exceptional, and the brooding solo and duo passages that emerge after frenzied group interplay have all the more impact in this clean and very live-sounding recording. During the more aggressive passages drummer Paul Lytton achieves staggering velocity without drowning out the other musicians while Barry Guy bypasses walking bass lines for more speed and intensity. Toward the end of the performance, when Parker uses circular breathing while his bandmates play with equal fervor, one gets the impression that this long-running trio gave it everything they had artistically and physically. I heartily recommend playing Live at Maya the next time someone tells you that jazz makes okay background music.

S.O.S.’s Looking for the Next One (Cuneiform) is a two-CD set combining a reissued studio effort with a previously unreleased concert recording by a trio active from 1973 to 1976. In S.O.S. three of England’s most important horn players—Mike Osborne, Alan Skidmore, and John Surman—played their usual instruments and sometimes doubled on keyboards, electronics, and drums. Clearly this short-lived group was both ahead of its time and timeless. When the three horns play, one thinks of World Saxophone Quartet, Rova Saxophone Quartet, and later John Surman efforts where, by overdubbing horns, he conjured up a choral effect. At the same time the use of electronics prefigures solo albums by John Surman on the ECM label where the combination of keyboards and horns creates a trancelike mood. At times S.O.S. are bold and aggressive, but they also have a strong lyrical streak, with beautiful folk-like melodies like those that have graced so many of Surman’s ECM releases.

Were a first-timer to plunge into U.K. jazz, John Surman’s Flashpoint: NDR Jazz Workshop–April ’69 (Cuneiform 1-CD/1-DVD), a TV studio performance, would be a great place to start. The 10-piece band features several key figures in British jazz history, including Kenny Wheeler, Alan Skidmore, Mike Osborne, and Ronnie Scott, as well as the bandleader. Originally filmed for a television broadcast, Flashpoint includes, in mono, the audio tracks on CD as well as a separate DVD. This is an impassioned performance that turned out to be a sort of who’s who of British jazz horn and reed players. Particularly memorable is the sensual ballad “Gratuliere,” on which Surman delivers an edgy solo while Ronnie Scott achieves such a sweet tone on the tenor that comparisons to Oliver Nelson seem in order. The music here owes much to John Coltrane, who had died only a couple years before, but it avoids the repetitive mimicking that marred some recordings from that era.

Jeff Wilson

By Jeff Wilson

This will take some explaining, but I can connect the dots between pawing through LPs at a headshop called Elysian Fields in Des Moines, Iowa, as a seventh grader, and becoming the Music Editor for The Absolute Sound. At that starting point—around 1970/71—Elysian Fields had more LPs than any other store in Des Moines. Staring at all the colorful covers was both tantalizing and frustrating. I had no idea who most of the artists were, because radio played only a fraction of what was current. To figure out what was going on, I realized that I needed to build a record collection—and as anyone who’s visited me since high school can testify, I succeeded. Record collecting was still in my blood when, starting in the late 1980s, the Cincinnati Public Library book sale suddenly had an Elysian Fields quantity of LPs from people who’d switched to CDs. That’s where I met fellow record hawk Mark Lehman, who preceded me as music editor of TAS. Mark introduced me to Jonathan Valin, whose 1993 detective novel The Music Lovers depicts the battles between record hawks at library sales. That the private eye in the book, Harry Stoner, would stumble upon a corpse or two while unraveling the mystery behind the disappearance of some rare Living Stereo platters made perfect sense to me. After all, record collecting is serious business. Mark knew my journalistic experience included concert reviews for The Cincinnati Enquirer and several long, sprawling feature articles in the online version of Crawdaddy. When he became TAS music editor in 2008, he contacted me about writing for the magazine. I came on board shortly after the latest set of obituaries had been written for vinyl—and, as fate had it, right when the LP started to make yet another unexpected comeback. Suddenly, I found myself scrambling to document all the record companies pressing vinyl. Small outfits were popping up world-wide, and many were audiophile-oriented, plus already existing record companies began embracing the format again. Trying to keep track of everything made me feel, again, like that overwhelmed seventh grader in Elysian Fields, and as Music Editor I’ve found that keeping my finger on the pulse of the music world also requires considerable detective work. I’ve never had a favorite genre, but when it comes time to sit down and do some quality listening, for me nothing beats a well-recorded small-group jazz recording on vinyl. If a stereo can give me warmth and intimacy, tonal accuracy, clear imaging, crisp-sounding cymbals, and deep, woody-sounding bass, then I’m a happy camper.

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