Heavenlyif not very far outsextet sides are Planet Jazz's saucer of well-steeped black tea. Just the bracing tonic one might expect from Sharp Nine, purveyor of intelligence and taste in small-band jazz for a decade.
From the first tightly scored, three-voiced chorus, which swings smoothly through drum breaks on a tune waggishly entitled "Mommy, Mommy No!, you can tell there's some underlying story here, and it happens to go beyond the weird titles. In this case, the group is a band formed by and playing in memory of its original founder, drummer Johnny Ellis. Ellis' original charts manifest a blend of creative tension with forward drive. Three relaxed tracks are well-borrowed from various erasa melodic Latin-esque groove by trumpeter Charlie Shavers ("Dawn on the Desert ), written for the similarly provocative chamber-jazz John Kirby Sextet; pianist Hampton Hawes' pleasing chromatic waltz "Sonora ; and the closing easygoing blues collaboration by Ellington/Hodges ("Dual Highway ).
These delicately filigreed ensembles spin out with the brilliant tensile strength of platinum wire; solos are succinct and retro (read: timeless, not faceless), yet informed and impassioned. Planet Jazz is foremost a well-oiled ensemble, secondarily a vehicle for soloists, who do their level best to buoy and sustain the admirably crafted pieces. Why not? The sextet has been a unit since 1991the lone replacement being drummer Joe Strasser for Ellis, who died too young at 44 in 1999.
This release smacks not of "memorial": the playing is blithe and upbeat, and Ellis' zoomorphic preoccupation with quadrupeds underlines the wacky, carefree moods evoked in his dreamy yet grounded charts. Beautifully done!
Track Listing: Mommy, Mommy No!; Buttermouse; The Cow Is Now; The Lemur is a Dreamer; Dawn on the Desert; The Squirrel is a Girl; Sonora; Dual Highway.
Personnel: Grant Stewart: tenor saxophone; Joe Magnarelli: trumpet, flugelhorn; Peter Bernstein: guitar; Spike Wilner: piano; Neal Miner: bass; Joe Strasser: drums.
Jazz and the blues--because together this musical brother and sister speak from our nation's days of the current cultural affairs and the authenticity and truth of a place where the rhythms held the pulse and the drums the heartbeat, representing every step closer the meat on the bone
Jazz and the blues--because together this musical brother and sister speak from our nation's days of the current cultural affairs and the authenticity and truth of a place where the rhythms held the pulse and the drums the heartbeat, representing every step closer the meat on the bone. Feet in the dirt, or barefoot on a stage with sequins--it's soul beats in my chest.
I was first exposed to jazz while others listened to surf music in the '50s and '60s, it was Monk, Miles, Satchmo and Ella, Rosemary Clooney and Julie London followed. Margaret Whiting, Les McCann, Willie Bobo, Andy Simpkins, Snooky Young, Bill Basie and Helen Humes. The first time I heard Topsy, Take 2, I about passed out at the age of ten.
I've hung with Les McCann who more than 30 years after our first meeting became my duet partner on my CD, Don't Go To Strangers. Karen Hernandez from the start, Jack Le Compte on drums, Lou Shoch on bass, Steve Rawlins as my arranger and pianist, Grant Geissman - guitar genius, Nolan Shaheed, Richard Simon, and more. The big boys. My Red Hot Papas. The best show I ever attended was...
I met Helen Humes first back in 1981 and helped turn one Playboy Jazz Festival night into her tribute, bring the Basie Band to stage, her joy boys. Before she took the stage for the last time to sing, If I could Be With You One Hour Tonight thousands of copies of the newspaper I wrote for carried her story. It was kismet, her being held by Joe Williams backstage. Soon in my life were the great Linda Hopkins who told me I sang the song she wrote better than her, which floored me of course, the energizing Barbara Morrison and the stellar Marilyn Maye who guided me professionally.
My advice to new listeners... let your backbone slip and feel your body stripping back the barriers that prevent us from being one with the music.
Remember none of us are strangers, we just haven't met yet.