On his 1963 Blue Note debut as a leader, Page One, Henderson recorded Kenny Dorham's "Blue Bossa", which has gone on to become, in the truest definition of the term, a jazz standard. He is joined by the composer on trumpet, pianist McCoy Tyner, and the rhythm tandem of Butch Warren, bass, and Pete LaRoca, drums. In the nearly 8 minute performance they evoke an atmosphere which transports the listener to an exotic locale. Its sensuous, soft intensity, combined with its muscular, syncopated melody, provides the tune with a wonderful Yin-Yang balance. This balance is also evident in the melodic line itself, with its perfect blend of descending scalar passages, contrasted with upward leaps. The somewhat narrow harmonic range of the tune is just interesting enough to provide the improvisers with a perfect springboard - simple enough so that the players can feel free, but with just enough motion to avoid monotony.

The performance itself follows a fairly unremarkable course, a reasonably standard pattern. What sets this performance apart are the quality of the individual solos, and the way the solos go together to create a beautifully balanced whole.

Briefly, the performance goes as follows. A few introductory bars of piano and rhythm. Then the 16 bar theme, played by trumpet and saxophone, is presented twice. We then get a 4 chorus trumpet solo, 3 choruses of saxophone (was he supposed to play 4, but he got everything said in 3?), 4 choruses of piano, and a one chorus bass solo. We then get a type of shout chorus, or an alternate melody, if you will. This alternate theme, related to the original melody but with some clearly different elements, is played twice. We then get another chorus like the bass solo, but with a different function now. It doesn't feel as if it's there to feature the bass player, but more as a re-introduction before the theme proper returns, a lessening in the ebb and flow of the energy of the tune to prepare the listener for the ultimate return of the theme. We then get the original melody, played twice, just as before, and a brief vamp to fade out on, and "outro" to balance the intro. A closer examination of the individual solos will reveal the great organization and beauty contained therein, and in the performance as a whole. (It might be helpful to give the tune a spin as you read on - the words a just a guide book, the tune itself is the scenic destination. After you read this you might not enjoy it any better, but you should be able to find your way around without getting lost!).

Kenny Dorham, the composer, is the first soloist. Throughout most of his solo he sticks very close to the melody, much the way a protective parent might stay close to their child. His first chorus begins with the first phrase of the melody, but he puts a "growl" on the first few notes. This timbral shift makes his restatement of the melody more personal. During the actual statement of the melody, the two horns play in tight rhythmic unison. Here, during his solo, he stretches notes, holding back, pushing ahead. He also often approaches his final note in a given phrase from below, something we haven't heard in the melody proper, but which will become a feature of the "shout" chorus. He sticks very close to the melody for his entire first chorus. His second chorus, while still utilizing the melody, begins to elaborate or develop it some more. It's still very clear that he is using the written melody as the source material for his improvisation. From the end of his second chorus through the start of his third he moves farthest away from the melody. This in one sense provides a type of release. After all, this is a jazz solo, the listener expects to hear the soloist "make something up on the spot". But by staying so close to the melody he creates expectations in the listener. Is he going to take us someplace else? Or is he so involved in the tune as composer that he wants to linger on the melody for his entire solo? When he finally goes away from the melody it releases the tension he had created. But it also sets up a different, higher level tension. He had given us the melody, and then given it to us again. When you get the same thing over and over again, you expect it to keep happening. By moving away from it he almost creates a sadness in the listener, a sense of loss. This melody, which by now we are so familiar with, has been taken away from us. We've been moved away from a familiar, comfortable place. Even though this more energetic, "jazz" playing seems in one sense a climax, a release of tension, it is actually a tension building element. Toward the end of his third chorus he begins to rhythmically stretch his phrases out. There is a suspension, an expansion, and opening up. When, during his fourth chorus, he again plays phrases directly from the melody, we reach a deeper, more satisfying resolution. He also frames his fourth chorus for us timbrally - his first phrase has the same type of growl with which he started his solo. This growl helps the listener know that we are coming to the end, that we are back where we started, that we have completed our trip. We have traversed a beautifully constructed arch. His approach could be called variational. He restates the melody, but with subtle yet meaningful changes, and uses this to build his statement.

Joe Hendersons' solo, which follows, could be characterized as developmental. While he occasionally points to the melody, he by and large constructs his solo out of figures of his own devise. He also takes a somewhat more virtuosic approach, making frequent use of fast arpeggios. There are more forceful, staccato phrases than Dorham used. His whole take on this tune is more driving and forceful, whereas Dorhams' is more lyrical An effective contrast (Yin-Yang, again). He begins his solo with a rapid turn figure, which is developed - not quite sequenced, but moved around. He then bursts into the first of his rapid fire arpeggios, dissolving into a paraphrase of the melody. He concludes his first chorus with a lick based on a diminished scale, fully in keeping with the sense of exoticism the tune has been exploring. His second chorus begins with a staccato octave, a sort of distillation of the path the entire melody travels in two brief notes. During this chorus he makes extensive use of a 3 note figure, related to the initial turn figure, yet clearly different from it. This 3 note figure is pushed around, or developed, melodically, rhythmically, harmonically, and timbrally (some nice close mike growls). A lot of mileage for a fairly indistinct 3 note grouping. His third chorus starts with what sounds like a quote from the "Perry Mason" theme, if memory serves me correctly. He then starts to hint at the melody, again paraphrasing it, but not restating as directly as the way Dorham had. We then get a little more of the 3 note figure, and finally the initial turn figure comes back. Just as Dorham had built an arch, so does Henderson Except, where Dorham had build his construct in the image of the melody, Henderson develops material that, while still related to the tune, is more clearly of his own invention He doesn't just play (and play with) bits of the melody, he derives new ideas from it, and builds with those ideas. These words clearly do not do justice to the beautiful logic, and intense emotionality of this great work. Listen.

So, we have Dorham and his variational approach, followed by Hendersons' developmental approach. Tyner, throughout his four choruses, seems to find a different way to construct his solo, one inherent in the very instrument he's playing. While both sax and trumpet are monophonic instruments, capable of producing one note at a time (except for certain "extended" techniques), the piano is a fully polyphonic instrument, capable of a wide variety of textures. Tyner uses the various textures at his disposal as the building blocks, the essential elements, of his solo. By contrasting block chord style playing (where both hands contribute to large, full sounding chords) with more typical jazz piano textures (left hand playing chords, right hand playing single note lines) he is able to produce a structure as equally satisfying as the two previous approaches, while yet as different as it could be. He builds ever more complex harmonies, until by his fourth chorus he's playing chords which wouldn't sound out of place in Stravinsky.

Variationally, developmentally, and texturally constructed solos. Of course, each solo has elements of the other approaches. Tyner's solo is not without thematic development, nor is Dorhams' or Hendersons' without textural signposts. But the overriding building block of each, the large scale approach taken by each player in turn, contrast and compliment the others. The bass solo which follows is quite similar to the bass line which has been played throughout the tune. There is some nice re-use of a rhythmic/melodic figure, and a nice use of harmonics towards the end of the solo. It's a brief statement which helps make way for the "shout" chorus. This shout chorus provides a nice way to wrap up the soloing, but gives a little elbow room rather than jumping right back into the melody. We then get the one chorus "re-introduction", for bass and drums alone (a new texture, something we haven't heard up until this point) And finally, climactically, the restatement of the theme proper. We have a complete, and completely interesting, completely satisfying, arch. This tune, so elegant in its' simplicity, led these great players to produce a performance of lasting value, infinite, intricate beauties. So much from so little, a perfect example of the jazz musicians art. Give it a listen, and have a happy Independence Day!

Visit Victor Magnani's website at www.crookedmusic.com.