By Robert Spencer
Since I first profiled Steve Lacy as an Unsung Hero a couple of years
ago, he has continued — with a steady stream of concerts, reissues, and
new releases — to cement his reputation as one of the foremost jazz
composers and instrumentalists of the last fifty years.
I mentioned recently, while reviewing Hooky for AAJ, that Lacy
“has never gotten his due.” A reviewer whose opinion I respect took
issue with this, saying that Lacy gets his props all over. And that’s
true. So to clear things up, this is what I mean: despite exposure in
Jazz Times, Down Beat, and even the mighty All About
Jazz, however, Lacy’s reputation has not become street knowledge.
Lacy is not numbered among the pantheon with his own hero Monk, Trane,
Miles, and all the rest. Did Ken Burns mention him? Did Ken Burns devote
a reverent segment to him and his multifarious straight horn?
He did not, friends. And all that is why it’s time to revisit Steve
Lacy.
There has been a string of notable reissues of solo material from the
Seventies: Jim Eigo’s glorious recording of Lacy’s appearance at Environ
in New York City in 1976; Hooky, a graceful Montreal performance
from the same year brought to us by the superb label Emanem; and
Clinkers, a 1977 performance from Switzerland from the equally
superb hatOLOGY series from Hat Hut Records. Each of these shares in the
Lacy solo atmosphere of shimmering beauty, graceful gestures, and
controlled chaos. Each is a look back at a pre-Burns, pre-Marsalis time
when jazz was in its doldrums, and only men like Lacy were soldiering
on, refusing to compromise their art to the commercial demands of the
moment, and producing some magnificent music in the process. Music that
lasts. Music that sounds fresh today, 25 years later. Music that will be
fresh and beautiful in a hundred years, if they have the sense to take a
break from the Mariah Carey Seminar and go searching in the archives.
Lacy proves on these discs, again and again, that the saxophone is
viable as a solo instrument. That it can sustain forward motion and
symphonic fullness by itself. That some of the best music comes now and
always has come from a willingness to explore the edges of form.
Then there’s the small group work. Not only did we see the release a
year or two ago of the marvelous document of the current Lacy group
(Jean-Jacques Avenel, bass, and John Betsch, drums), The Rent,
but also an incandescent quartet with Roswell Rudd (Monk’s Mood)
and a 1979 trio featuring Ronnie Boykins (the bassist from Saturn) and
the late great Dennis Charles on drums. How these groups manage to be so
tight and so loose is beyond me, but it’s there.
The versatility and might of his horn. The tremendous range of his
music, and the huge variety of settings he has constructed for it, from
solo to full orchestra. The tensile strength and lasting power of his
compositions. Even the influence he has had on younger players. All
these should count to induct Mr. Lacy into the palace of the giants. Get
with it, Ken Burns.
The Steve Lacy Trio, a group of seasoned professionals who can read
each other’s thoughts and produce some of the greatest small-group jazz
the planet has ever heard, will be playing in assorted venues around the
United States between February 20 and March 8. If you really love jazz,
maybe I’ll see you at one of them.
Familiar with Steve Lacy's work? We welcome your comments.
