Max Roach: Deeds, Not Words

Sometimes, someone listens to a recording mostly for one track. This is such a recording. Quite naturally, it involves drummer Max Roach. If he had to stake his reputation on one extended solo, some might say Roach on "Conversation" is the one. Not all drummers, suffice it to say, are melodic. But a first-time listener can be pardoned for being slightly overwhelmed by "Conversation"—and, perhaps, slightly underwhelmed by the remainder of the recording.

In a way, this should not have been surprising. Roach, the leader, was the senior member of the band and in his early 30s. The others, Booker Little, George Coleman, Art Davis were in their 20s. Ray Draper, who played bop tuba, was 17. Little and Coleman, at least, were still finding themselves on their instruments. Little, another outstanding trumpet player who died all too soon, was really all technique and not much of a story on this recording, mechanically superb, but basically a lot of notes strung together. Coleman, who would go on to great things, still sounded a lot like Stan Getz, which in effect meant he was coming out of Lester Young too. Davis sounds great, another tuba player turned bassist. The tuba player who stayed with tuba was Ray Draper—because switching from tuba to string bass was a common move for many. While Draper stirred up a lot of excitement at the time, he struggles with some of the tempos that Roach wanted. Executing bop lines on a tuba at that age was probably more than anyone could reasonably expect, but there Draper was. So, for all the talk of his becoming to the tuba what JJ Johnson was to the trombone, Draper was hardly there yet. And the tuba never ended up as a mainstream horn in jazz groups, obviously.

Then there was Max. Roach was, of course, a pivotal figure in the genesis of bop. Kenny Clarke may have been the pioneer bop drummer, but he was never given to displays of virtuosity. However important his innovations on the kit were, he moved to Europe and stayed there. It was a case of out of sight, out of mind. Roach really succeeded him in the public eye in the United States.

It is difficult to say what Max's state of mind was in 1958, when this recording was made. He had been previously playing with Clifford Brown, making some justly celebrated recordings and firmly establishing Brownie as the leading voice on modern trumpet. And then Clifford was gone, killed in a horrific accident on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in mid-1956 in which Brown was thrown from the car, sending shock waves through the jazz community. Roach, it is said, was deeply affected by the tragedy and however promising Booker Little was, he was not Clifford Brown. How one pieces this narrative together is one of the more remarkable stories of modern jazz, and if not done already, then someone should. Coming in the upheaval of the first stages of desegregation and the Civil Rights movement, it does not lack for all the elements of Greek tragedy.

Professional drummers may have different opinions about Roach's solo on "Conversation," but it is one of the most melodic extended drum solos to be heard at somewhat less than four minutes. The only comparison that comes readily to mind is Joe Morello's "Far More Drums" on Time Further Out (Columbia, 1961), if not Roach's own "For Big Sid" on Drums Unlimited(Atlantic, 1965). Talking to a friendly drummer about the two solos was enlightening: "For clean, almost lyrical overall sound, I'd say Morello...For variety and cleverness of melodic motifs, I'd say Roach. Both master melodists on an instrument that doesn't have many." If there is a better summing up of Roach (and Morello), it would be interesting to hear it.

The recording is in monaural, part of the Craft audiophile series, with lacquers cut from the original master tapes by Kevin Gray at Cohearant Audio. There are seven tracks, ranging from standards ("You Stepped Out of a Dream") to originals ("Jordie's Cha-Cha"). On balance, a significant recording with one track deserving the label "classic."

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