Ornette Coleman's and Horace Silver's "Lonely Woman" — A Disambiguation

Reality is filled with confusion and misunderstandings; some are suggestive or creative, while others are disappointing or, worse, malicious. The jazz world is no stranger to the first type: specific compositions are often confused or misidentified as if they were the same. Usually, this happens because of similar melodies or titles that are sometimes identical. This last case applies to the two themes discussed here, which are homonymous but musically quite different. The first, desolate and raw, is by Ornette Coleman, and the second, nostalgic and reflective, by Horace Silver. Still, there is at least a third in jazz history, written by Benny Carter in 1959, which adds to this involuntary confusion. Despite their formal and stylistic differences, the two songs discussed here are part of a category we might call "dark ballads," reflecting their gloomy, shadowy vibe, which is quite different from the usual romantic motivations associated with that format.

Coleman's disruptive "Lonely Woman" opened his first transcendental album for Atlantic Records. In contrast, Silver's piece, which closed a well-regarded album dedicated to his father, was anchored in a stylistic orthodoxy that was chronologically much earlier than Coleman's. What follows is a journey that will help distinguish them, while also revealing how their disparity dissolves, in specific readings, under a formal mimesis that couples the two themes in an almost inseparable way.

The Original Versions

Ornette Coleman

Ornette Coleman
The Shape Of Jazz To Come
"Lonely Woman" (O. Coleman)
Atlantic Records
1959

Figuring out Coleman is no easy task for the non-enthusiast follower or anyone not moderately captivated by his interpretive arts. Let those who, despite having a significant jazz collection, possess—or have thoroughly listened to—more than three recordings by the Fort Worth-born artist raise their hands. His work seems to slide through the shifting confines of a parallel universe, where the relationship between his place in the tastes and preferences of the average fan is inversely proportional to the clamor of specialized critics and his reputation among many musicians. True, he's not the only figure in this situation, but he's possibly the most notorious. Personalities presumably as distant from his explorations as John Lewis, Gunther Schuller, or Gil Evans dedicated enthusiastic words to him already at the dawn of his career. Others called him a "can opener" (Herbie Hancock) or "a musical movement in himself, like Bird was" (Joe Henderson). At the same time, previous freethinkers, such as Thelonious Monk and Dizzy Gillespie, openly disagreed with him. In any case, Coleman embodied the vindication that a different kind of music was possible—one not only based on formal freedom (especially in harmonic and rhythmic areas), but also on the idea that neither theoretical complexity nor technical mastery of an instrument were necessary to become a complete performer, as long as feeling, ideas and conviction infused his message. Examples of this democratization/desacralization include his humble white plastic alto saxophone, his use—without the usual expertise—of instruments like trumpet and violin, or his son's participation on several recordings, the first—The Empty Foxhole (Blue Note, 1966)—at only ten years old.

Coleman acted as a colossal chisel between two musical tectonic plates, causing seismic shifts in the evolution of what we still mistakenly call 'jazz.' His influence on composition is vast, with many performers from different generations and styles who, more than half a century later, still draw from his creative sparks, especially those from his early days. Perhaps the most well-known, celebrated and frequently covered fragment of his genius is "Lonely Woman," which opened the iconic, haughtily titled The Shape Of Jazz To Come and was received by critics as a new model in the conception and execution of ballads. Its hypnotic rhythmic ostinato, almost processional, by very young Charlie Haden—a figure forever linked with Coleman—and Billy Higgins (aged 21 and 22 at the recording), is nearly as iconic as the unprecedented, piercing, oblique melodic line: a fiercely unsentimental declaration, starkly voiced by both winds, imbued with the nocturnal mood of a session recorded at Radio Recorders studios in Hollywood that lasted until 3:30 am on May 23, 1959.

Horace Silver

Horace Silver
Song For My Father
"Lonely Woman" (H. Silver)
Blue Note Records
1964

Silver is one of those jazz figures who, while widely known, doesn't get the recognition he deserves as a key musician. This consideration isn't without reason: he was, not necessarily in this order, co-founder of the The Jazz Messengers with Art Blakey, a group he would leave in the capable hands of the gifted drummer; a consistent champion of funky/hard-bop piano and later a prominent figure within this core movement; the pianist most associated with Blue Note for nearly thirty years, producing legendary, historic albums; an innovator in creating new forms for jazz compositions; and an influence on many piano players and other instrumentalists he helped develop. Impacted by Teddy Wilson, Art Tatum and Bud Powell, Silver cut his teeth with Stan Getz and, from the mid-'50s onward, became the pianist everyone wanted to record with. His extraordinary talent as an accompanist, composer and arranger has, over time, been somewhat overshadowed by his lack of a spectacular interpretive technique, perhaps 'lesser,' but always at the service of an infectious, easily recognizable style—that propulsive left hand; probably, this has deprived him of the praise that other musicians, not as complete but more instrumentally skilled, have received.

Song For My Father is a transitional work recorded in two sessions (three in later reissues), separated by a year (October '63 and '64) and performed with two different groups, yet it maintains an indistinguishable musical coherence. It's a widely acclaimed album featuring some of his most successful compositions, such as the eponymous tribute to his father and the final, seemingly modest track—performed as a trio (with Blue Mitchell and Junior Cook absent, both of whom were playing in that session). It embodies hard-bop in its purest form: melodic simplification—wisely arranged and harmonized—derived from bebop's innovations; a profound sense of blues and gospel; and an elegant, contained and captivating solo discourse, all permeated by an evocative twilight atmosphere. These elements define the essence of this fundamental, inspired and inescapable performance.

Sing a Song of Sorrow

Chris Connor

Chris Connor
Free Spirits
"Lonely Woman" (O. Coleman)
Atlantic Records
1962

Being considered by many as the "official voice of cool" hasn't been enough for Chris Connor to come to mind for the average fan—the more mature crowd—when the collective of mid-20th century jazz vocalists is invoked. Current mentions of her are rare, whether in media or tributes, apart from isolated exceptions like the one made a decade ago by Ran Blake, in his Cocktails At Dusk (A Noir Tribute To Chris Connor) (Impulse!, 2014). However, the Kansas City native should probably be regarded alongside other renowned colleagues such as Anita O'Day or Helen Merrill . Admittedly, her stylistic choices or interpretive quirks on stage may not have won the favor of many critics and fans. Nonetheless, discovering or re-listening to her albums from the '50s and early '60s with Bethlehem Records and Atlantic proves to be as rewarding as it is enlightening, especially for those interested in the history and development of jazz vocals.

In Free Spirits, the vocalist was accompanied by an impressive octet / nonet, with arrangements that subtly echo the styles of Claude Thornhill and Gil Evans. Notable musicians include Al Cohn, Phil Woods, Clark Terry and Oliver Nelson, though the entire group is dedicated to supporting the singer and the structure and arrangement of the songs rather than showcasing solos, present but brief. Another remarkable aspect of this version is that it features the first interpretation of the saxophonist's theme with lyrics, written by songwriter, singer, and lyricist Margo Guryan, who imbues the subject with at least a questionable sentimental tone. This makes Connor's version the first in a long line of poeticized reinterpretations. Among these, notable examples include those by Merrill, Karin Krog and Tessa Souter—the last much more recent but sharing noticeable similarities with Krog's version, which was recorded more than forty years earlier.

Tiziana Ghiglioni

Tiziana Ghiglioni
SONB
"Lonely Woman" (H. Silver)
Splasc(H) Records
1992

Tiziana Ghiglioni's voice might not be widely recognized outside Italy and certain European jazz circles, but her over thirty years of activity have led her to collaborate with notable figures from diverse musical streams, especially in the avant-garde. Her versatile discography includes, on its more experimental side, artists like Paul Bley, Chico Freeman and Tony Oxley, but also features as singular luminaries as Lee Konitz, Chet Baker or Mal Waldron. Additionally, she has worked with nearly all the prominent figures in transalpine jazz. The Savona-born began her recording career in the early '80s with a record whose title and opening track reference Coleman's "Lonely Woman," although our choice is for an excellent reinterpretation of Silver's original piece. In 1992, Ghiglioni included it in an album accompanied by a stellar ensemble featuring Enrico Rava, Gianluigi Trovesi, Tiziano Tononi and other leading Italian jazz musicians.

Nevertheless, the presence of Steve Lacy dominates the scene; he plays and signs most of the tracks on an album that also includes a couple of works by Silver and Coleman, respectively. Despite her evident inclination towards experimentation, the vocalist's interpretation of the pianist's classic is entirely respectful, relying on a loose rhythmic framework skillfully crafted by Attilio Zanchi 's bass and Tononi's delicate drumming. Ghiglioni explores the highest registers of a melody that seems poised to break at any moment, almost whispering lyrics that differ from those of other versions, like the later one by Dee Dee Bridgewater. Lacy supports and underpins the ethereal structure with a magnificent solo, characterized by that sober mastery, free from artifices and showiness, which made him a discreet giant in form, but of unfathomable and respected power. The leader reenters for the extended finale, where her smooth articulation blends seamlessly with Lacy's soprano, sharply contrasting with another, much more frequent vocal collaboration by the New York City saxophonist. Her subtle, complex gaze rhythmically inhales and exhales, as if it were a pulsating, fragile living organism.

Acoustic Strings

John Lewis & Svend Asmussen

John Lewis & Svend Asmussen
European Encounter
"Lonely Woman" (O. Coleman)
Atlantic Records
1962

Violinist, composer, singer and occasional actor, Svend Asmussen's music ranged between jazz, TV and movie soundtracks and ballroom dance music. Another outstanding European musician, largely unknown outside his native Copenhagen, not for lack of effort: Benny Goodman tried several times in the '50s to include him in his band, but US immigration laws prevented it. Nonetheless, he toured with his Swe-Danes trio across the United States and recorded occasionally with great masters like Fats Waller, Duke Ellington and Lionel Hampton. One of these collaborations, which was very well received, took place in Stockholm with John Lewis.

The Illinois pianist, composer and arranger uses his adaptation of Coleman's "Lonely Woman," which was previously employed a few months earlier on the album of the same name with the Modern Jazz Quartet. It's fascinating to see how Lewis deciphers and softens the elusive melody, relying on a harmonic system that refines the original theme's edges and grants it a certain classical quality—inevitably, because it's him—yet without losing its somber, discouraged look. In both versions—the MJQ's and this one—he repeatedly uses a blues-inspired riff, derived from one of the final phrases of the melody, to emphasize the main essence of the piece; its effectiveness in the quartet version is questionable, while in Asmussen's take, where it is used more sparingly, it functions as a background for Lewis's solo and as a final touch sentence. Still, it's Asmussen who truly shines, delivering a well-conceived performance marked by a sweet, nostalgic tone that never becomes cloying: more than sixty years later, it could easily be integrated into many contemporary post-modern works.

Pat Metheny

Pat Metheny
Rejoicing
"Lonely Woman" (H. Silver)
ECM Records
1984

Time and enough distance are needed to properly assess the musical scope of Pat Metheny's large, versatile and intentionally uneven body of work. One of his early surprising moves happened in fall 1983, when he stepped out of the comfort zone of his highly stimulating Pat Metheny Group of the '80s to collaborate with the rhythm section of Coleman's historic quartet—Haden and Higgins—to create a polyhedral homage to them. In fact, a few years before, he had already surprised much of his audience with the unexpected 80/81 (ECM Records, 1980), where he also expressed his magnetic attraction to the subversive music of the alto saxophonist. Rejoicing draws attention not only for the choice of his partners but also because it includes three Coleman themes, one by Haden—a character highly compatible stylistically—and three of Metheny's harvest. Among them, "The Calling" directly connects to the saxophonist's approach in the '80s—something that becomes even clearer three years later in Song X (Geffen Records, 1986), a direct collaboration between the two. Nonetheless, the guitarist begins the album with a dense acoustic rendition of Silver's "Lonely Woman": given the significant Coleman influence on this record, it's undeniably an unexpected choice, somewhat parallel to Ghiglioni's in SONB, which was reviewed earlier. But the outcome is so sublime that any speculation is pointless, and indeed, it becomes the track everyone will remember from a somewhat inconsistent album, according to Metheny's own words. The leader's interpretation magnifies the original's natural charm, blending elegance with harmonic insight. Jan Erik Kongshaug's expert mixing enhances the qualities of all three instruments to the max, giving the ensemble a stunning, steely brilliance: one can almost nick oneself with the sharp definition of the treble strings, shudder at the immediacy of the creaks against the neck, bristle at the caressing presence of Higgins's brushes... and, of course, there are those final suspended harmonics, sparkling like St. Elmo's fires from the upper frets of the Missouri master's guitar.

The infallibility of the quartet

Quest

Quest
Quest
"Lonely Woman" (O. Coleman)
Palo Alto
1983

Despite the imposing presence of Dave Liebman, we must consider Quest an important collaborative group, discographically unproductive since 2012; however, when active, they demonstrated a high level of interpretive and compositional connection among the four members. The musical bond between the Brooklynite and Richie Beirach has long been established, with Ron McClure and Billy Hart joining later, replacing the original members George Mraz and Al Foster. This led to a musical empathy that inspired them to compose collectively and proclaim their uniqueness in titles like Of One Mind, one of their most exploratory recordings. Their field of action is vast, ranging from post-bop regions to more abstract and disturbing adventures, though without fully entering those free territories marked by pure atonality.

Liebman is, alongside Lacy, the leading soprano saxophonist of recent decades. He also plays other instruments: lately, he seems to prefer a masterfully controlled tenor sax, but he has always been fond of the flute. If Ghiglioni's view of Silver's song suggested a gentle awakening after a peaceful countryside nap, the saxophonist's on Coleman's seems instead to place us in the 'prelude to the nightmare of a faun.' Liebman rescues the melody from its hopeless beauty, entering with the last lights of an uncertain sunset into a remote, dark forest mass. There, he transforms into a magician, armed only with an ethnic alto flute, summoning merciless mythological gods. An effective Beirach helps him with the initiation task, coloring the musical canvas while creating terrifying atmospheres, similar to Mraz and Foster, who craft moments that seem inspired by Japanese Shinto imagination. The flutist shows no interest in solo digressions and focuses on modulating the initial and central parts of the tune, ignoring the bridge and aligning his invocations with the mysterious and chilling treatment the entire band imparts.

Alan Barnes

Alan Barnes
Yeah!
"Lonely Woman" (H. Silver)
Specific Jazz
2005

If the previous was a collaborative entity, this new choice presents us with a quartet serving a solo voice that, once again, captures our attention beyond its local sphere. Alan Barnes is a British multisaxophonist and clarinetist who operates within the realms of swing, mainstream and relaxed post-bop. His credentials include collaborations with British jazz icons such as Humphrey Lyttelton, Stan Tracey and Tony Coe, as well as with American stars including Conte Candoli, Scott Hamilton and Ken Peplowski. His alto style borrows from legendary masters like Paul Desmond or Art Pepper, and occasionally, even Johnny Hodges's breath can be sensed in his attack. But the cool essence of tenors like Getz, Warne Marsh and Zoot Sims also influences his playing. All of this helps his sound and phrasing be wrapped in timeless, classic purity, yet not outdated; additionally, he is often incisive and, at times, strikingly lethal. This is evident in his gaze on Silver's "Lonely Woman," included in a tribute album dedicated entirely to the pianist's compositions. Barnes uses the alto to craft a restrained yet deeply emotional—though not sugary—reworking of the theme, which he strips with utmost delicacy before our somewhat surprised ears. He and his talented bandmates—especially John Donaldson on piano—remind us once again that you don't have to be a 'first figure' in the media, audience, or critics' eyes to reveal a humble yet undeniable gem.

Let's put that piano on the forefront

Joachim Kühn

Joachim Kühn
Melodic Ornette Coleman: Piano Works XIII
"Lonely Woman" (O. Coleman)
ACT Music
2019

There seems to be no time limit for Joachim Kuhn's mastering of arrangement and interpretation, making him one of the great jazz pianists still active. Already in his eighties, the historic Leipzig musician, now based in Ibiza, Balearic Islands, continues to increase his recording activity as he ages. He is constantly expanding an already extensive discography that features many leading figures of European avant-garde, as well as some from the United States: Kühn is among the few who can claim to have accompanied Coleman on piano (others include Paul Bley, Bill Evans and Geri Allen). As is well known, the piano was not highly regarded by the saxophonist, due to its invasive harmonic dominance. Kühn's approach is centered around a solo piano album that is part of a seemingly incomplete series dedicated to piano works from various genres. The record is dedicated to Coleman's more melodic side and features previously unpublished themes written by the saxophonist during his long collaboration with Kühn, from the late 1990s to the 2000s. The only exception is "Lonely Woman" (a piece Kühn also recorded in 2010 as a duet with Archie Shepp), which is interpreted on this occasion from two perspectives: one in a ballad style and the other in a 'rambling' mode, as indicated by the track's subtitle. In the latter, Kühn picks up Haden and Higgins' rhythmic ostinato with his left hand, creating a graceful harmonic pathway over which the—already familiar—melody gently unfolds. His pleasant wanderings are of timid exquisiteness, mostly lacking tension or an abstract atmosphere. Through them, the pianist manages to mitigate the raw severity of the original without losing its painful determination. So, we are still facing a hurtful, almost accusatory sadness that questions us while casting a blurry face on thousands of everyday injustices and miseries—falsely argued as necessary or unavoidable.

Louis Hayes

Louis Hayes
Serenade for Horace
"Lonely Woman" (H. Silver)
Blue Note Records
2017

True, this is mostly a piano-focused view, although it might seem otherwise given this cut's leadership. However, it's hard to pass up a better opportunity to write about Louis Hayes, which is essentially writing about living jazz history, and this is said without any exaggeration. His résumé is stunning, with Silver, Cannonball Adderley, Oscar Peterson and McCoy Tyner among some of his employers during long periods; other more or less stable partnerships include names of the caliber of Dexter Gordon, Jackie McLean, Joe Henderson and Freddie Hubbard, to name a few. Less known perhaps is his role as leader or co-leader of various groups, with which, from the late '60s to the present, he has produced a significant recording output under his name. This includes some illustrious names previously mentioned, but as sidemen.

Stylistically, Hayes is a protector of hard-bop essences, characterized by an elegant, airy touch and proverbial discretion, distant from the spotlight, as well as by unquestionable wisdom in selecting both old and new collaborators successfully: this is the case with the excellent pianist David Bryant, who accompanies him in one of his most recent works—a remarkable tribute to Silver, with whom Hayes collaborated on several Blue Note albums between 1956 and 1959. The Brooklyn pianist has worked with personalities as diverse as Steve Coleman or Henry Threadgill, and emerges as the clear star of the cut, along with Hayes' subtle brushes and seductive cymbal work. Bryant exudes sophistication and demonstrates an inventive approach rooted in tradition, allowing him to explore new melodic ideas without getting bogged down in currently well-trodden paths. In his placid but lucid walk, he enhances the most cantabile aspect of a solo, alludes to some of the Silver's usual signatures and incisively underlines that blues vein that pervades the song.

The Shape of jazz that has come

Graham Doby

Graham Doby
Weathered Crown
"Lonely Woman" (O. Coleman)
Self Produced
2022

There are several renditions of Coleman's "Lonely Woman" led by drummers. To the ancestral-like version by Kahil El'Zabar and the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, we should at least add the ones by the early-mentioned Tononi along with his Italian group The Ornettians (which again features Ghiglioni on vocals), or Kendrick Scott's interpretation in his remarkable Reverence (Criss Cross, 2009). All are notable and quite different, as is this one by Graham Doby, a New York drummer who, after his first release in 2022, appears to have stepped back from studios and stages, aside from occasional collaborations. His gaze carries an attractive neo-noir vibe, reminiscent of a cinematic or police series—also reflected, in very different ways, in John Zorn's version included in Naked City (Elektra Nonesuch, 1990). Guesting is the consistently interesting and distinctive Mike Moreno, who stands out in the brilliant melody presentation and a breathtaking solo, which, as it develops, takes on an early George Benson feel. He's followed by an effective Kristian Baarsvik on tenor sax, who benefits from the engaging interjections provided by Doby's drumming and John Lander's piano. Then a vamp appears, allowing for a brief yet somewhat congested solo by the leader, followed by the final, skillfully arranged exposition of the piece, with its hypnotic bass lines by Dylan Kaminkow.

SFJAZZ Collective

SFJAZZ Collective
Live 2010: 7th Annual Concert Tour
"Lonely Woman" (H. Silver)
SFJAZZ
2010

Well known are the tributes that the SFJAZZ Collective offers periodically to figures—jazz and non-jazz—linked to the African American sphere. This laudable nonprofit organization, established in 2004, regularly tours the San Francisco Jazz Festival and other jazz events worldwide. Over the years, they have featured big names as Bobby Hutcherson, Joshua Redman, Renee Rosnes or Brian Blade. As a result, their thematic and stylistic range is broad and multifaceted. This selection concludes with them, through the most perverse version of what is presented here, featuring a sensational arrangement by Miguel Zenon. It begins with a confusing bass ostinato by Matt Penman, accompanied by the alto saxophonist who introduces Silver's melody, but... beware: all this is delivered with the desperate and pleading tone of Coleman's "Lonely Woman." This ostinato is maintained throughout almost the entire performance, delaying the ejection of the original 4/4 until the appearance of the second, joyful bridge, with the whole band—and the audience—celebrating the happy final culmination of the melody. After such an intense climax, the theme is caressed by Stefon Harris and Edward Simon, on vibraphone and piano respectively, leading the piece toward a relaxed, almost drowsy conclusion. Regarding the solos, Zenón (initially on the right), followed later by Mark Turner (center of the mix), shows up with ambiguous subtlety the former, and with rabid, profoundly logical vehemence the latter.

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