Young is a perfect manifestation of a metaphor coined by Jimi Hendrix- “A musician, if he is a messenger, is like a child who hasn't been handled too many times by man, hasn't had too many fingerprints across his brain.” The purity and panache of his swinging tone as developed in the Kansas City bands of Count Basie remains a matter of record. Likewise his influence on countless saxophonists, as one of the messengers bearing the seeds of the modern tenor sound, has long been canonized in the history books. Regrettably by the late 1950s Young had been handled by many, and in several crucial instances, handled roughly. His sad-eyed countenance and soft features mirrored the vulnerability of the man beneath, but his playing during this twilight time suggested a survivor exorcising the weight of worldly demons, at least for the moment, through the burnished bell of his horn. The case against the habitual nature of his faltering powers is made even more convincing with the consideration of the inherent poise and stateliness he never seemed to loose and which regularly carried through, even on his off nights.

The story behind these valuable D.C. heirlooms is one of fortunate circumstance coupled with the opportune fortitude of one man. Bill Potts was leader of the house piano trio at Olivia Davis’ Patio Lounge, a regular stop in the nation’s capital for touring jazzmen. When word spread of Young’s impending visit Potts and his partners were conscripted to provide accompaniment. Star struck by the momentous nature of the occasion Potts suggested to Young that they tape the proceedings for posterity. But Pres, under strict contract with Norman Granz’s Verve label at the time, politely declined the idea. Fortunately for jazz history all it took was a friendly offering of a bottle of fine cognac to allay his initial reservations (a somewhat suspect action considering the saxophonist’s ongoing bouts with alcohol). Potts set up his modest array of professional recording equipment ringside and the tapes rolled capturing hours of the nascent quartet’s music.

While spotty and a shade muffled in sections the sound of the tapes is overall remarkably clean with each of the instruments quite audible and Young’s horn in particular well miked and preserved. Drummer Jim Lucht struggles with a slightly brittle sound (especially on cymbals) in the mix, but the minor sonic blemishes pale in importance to the music. Stage and audience banter is a regular factor, but far from being a distraction it instead adds to the ambience of the dates. Discographical specifics in terms of which tracks are taken from which sets are largely lost to time, but Potts and others including Dan Morgenstern and Nat Hentoff provide detailed breakdowns of most tunes in the various liners to each volume. Norman Granz also supplies commentary, but of his usual self-aggrandizing sort.

Dispelling a mist of audience chitchat the quartet starts Volume 1 with an easy going reading of “A Foggy Day.” Young shows his youthful partners an amicable amount of deference laying out for solos from each in a trend that carries through on the other volumes of the series. Even Williams is allowed room for a short statement on the opener and turns in an elastic walking improvisation. Lucht has his time on the “D.B. Blues” sandwiched between two locutions from Lester. Other highlights of this inaugural volume include lush lyricism of the leader’s solo on “I Can’t Get Started” and jackrabbit speed of the succinctly titled “Fast B-flat Blues” where Lucht’s traps light a fire under his rhythm mates and Young’s unflappable horn.

Volume 2 is filled with a full retinue of tunes from Young’s signature songbook. Classics like “Lester Leaps In” and “Jumpin’ with Symphony Sid” share ranks beside a small battery of standards and the quartet feasts heartily on them all. The pieces are also a vibrant reflection of Young’s ability to continually tailor timeworn material to his own devices. Clipping a melodic phrase here, bolstering another there, his solos are a uniform source of clever resourcefulness and economy. Potts and company do their best to keep stride crafting support that ranges from the hard swinging rigor of the signature opener to the facile rhythmic cushion woven on “I’m Confessin.” Young responds in kind to the flexibility measuring his lines to the letter and tempo of the rhythmic sentences his partners construct beneath him. Strangely, but by no means lamentably the audience seems more subdued and attentive on several of the numbers lessening the level of extraneous noise considerably.

The reprieve carries over into the initial minutes of Volume 3, but the audience is soon back to their garrulous self. The band seems to pay their renewed prattle no mind strolling through a willowy version of “Just You, Just Me,” in which Young punctuates his airy phrases by a sudden dilations in volume and a general thickening of inflection. Potts sounds a little shaky in sections, but his slips are never egregious and Williams and Lucht tighten the group’s rhythmic belt in response. Peaks arise in the grainy rasp Young affects on “Sometimes I’m Happy” and the jovial humor of the closing improvisatory coda “G’s, If You Please” where Potts responds to the leader’s entreaty with a custom-crafted ‘blues’ backdrop in the key of G.

Volume 4 retreads several tunes from earlier volumes, but casts each one in a slightly different light. A velvety version of “Talk of the Town” with Young in full aromatic bloom begins the set. Potts comps with his customary level of sympathy picking out bright chords for the leader to step blithely across before indulging in a solo of his own. The indigo hued reading of “I Cover the Waterfront” invokes tender reminiscences of Pres’ time with Lady Day, the instances the pair performed the piece together and the reciprocal relationship of admiration they shared. Potts support is a shade clunky spots, but the gilded grace of Young’s horn wins out. Williams and Lucht are less prominent as soloists than on previous volumes, though each man still finds occasional space to stretch out. The drummer’s breaks at the close of “Pennies From Heaven,” are one example, but Potts appears reluctant to allow Williams to stand-alone. The pianist frequently fills in the cracks around the bassist’s figures with buttressing accents and only allows him breathing room on the closing “D.B. Blues.”

Gathering a final smattering of outtakes from Potts’ tape cache Volume 5 is in actuality far from the dregs of Young’s D.C. dates. All of the tracks can be found in different manifestations on earlier volumes, but several included here carry one very notable addition. Swing trombonist Earl Swope, a veteran of Woody Herman Second Herd, sits in on the final four cuts. “Oh, Lady Be Good” and “Up ‘n’ Adam” feature some fluid harmonies and exchanges between the horns, but neither man really challenges the other. Instead the pair seems content to coast leisurely on the changes, especially on the latter tune. Potts picks up the tempo on each of the pieces and the swell in speed nudges Swope into some ebullient solos, but Young sounds mostly unmoved. Lucht takes his usual drum spot on another pass through “D.B. Blues” and Williams fills his allotted time on “Pennies from Heaven,” but again with Potts in close tow. Suitably relaxed and even-tempered the set is a fitting bookend to the series.

Young’s diminishing health in the years surrounding his short D.C. sojourn is a situation of verifiable truth. Less than two years later he would succumb to the problems that plagued him leaving a legacy of everlasting influence on jazz. Thanks to determination of Bill Potts artifacts exist that indicate his compromised constitution did not always carry over into his musical persona. And while the President heard on these discs isn’t the same one that shined with first term promise in the ranks of the Kansas City Basie Band, the core attributes of diplomacy, improvisatory authority and genteel intellect remain intact. As a vital and illuminating entry in the final chapter of Young’s career this series is as invaluable as it is instructive and belongs in any serious collection of the man’s work.

Volume 1

Tracks: A Foggy Day (5:26)/ When You’re Smiling (5:58)/ I Can’t Get Started (3:32)/ Fast B-Flat Blues (5:49)/ D.B. Blues (7:49)/ Tea for Two (5:41)/ Jeepers Creepers (6:13).

Volume 2

Tracks: Lester Leaps In (5:33)/ These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You) (3:20)/ I’m Confessin’ (That I Love You) (6:06)/ Three Little Words (5:22)/ Jumpin’ with Symphony Sid (5:24)/ Almost Like Being in Love (6:37)/ Lullabye of Birdland (5:46).

Volume 3

Tracks: Just You, Just Me (7:01)/ Sometimes I’m Happy (5:51)/ Indiana (Back Home Again In) (5:37)/ Up’n Adam (6:30)/ There Will Never Be Another You (5:13)/ G’s, If You Please (6:44).

Volume 4

Tracks: Talk of the Town (7:00)/ I Cover the Waterfront (3:47)/ Pennies From Heaven (6:19)/ G’s If You Please (5:57)/ Almost Like Being In Love (7:42)/ I’m Confessin’ That I Love You (5:47)/ D.B. Blues (6:32).

Volume 5

Tracks: D.B. Blues (5:10)/ Three Little Words (4:42)/ Pennies from Heaven (4:32)/ When You’re Smiling (The Whole World Smiles with You) (3:43)/ Oh Lady, Be Good (7:13)*/ Up’n Adam (7:48)*/ Jumpin’ with Symphony Sid (7:25)*/ Lullaby of Birdland (1:31)*.

Players: Lester Young- tenor saxophone; Bill Potts- piano; Norman Williams – bass; Jim Lucht- drums; Earl Swope- trombone*.

Recorded: December 1956, Washington, D.C.

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