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Seventy Year Saturday: 2026, Part One

There’s often a bittersweet undercurrent that is present when listening to great music composed or performed by an artist who died before reaching their forties. Every time I listen to a Jimi Hendrix recording, my enjoyment is always accompanied by the thought of what a tragedy it is that he didn’t live longer.

Most Americans seem aware that Mozart died at a young age: 35. Yes, part of this is due to the popularity of the movie Amadeus. Europeans are generally more aware of 18th and 19th century composers than Americans, but even if Amadeus had never been released, most Americans would know the names of Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart.

A smaller percentage of Americans know who Franz Schubert is, and some who are familiar with his name know it from his “Ave Maria,” which gets played quite a bit during the Christmas season, even today. There are not so many who have heard a full Schubert symphony or can tell you that he composed hundreds of songs, seven completed symphonies, three unfinished symphonies, some amazing string quartets, and a stunningly stylistically diverse range of piano music and piano sonatas before dying at the age of 31. It’s nearly impossible for me to listen to his music without reflecting (perhaps when cueing it up or immediately after its completion) on how tragic his early death was, or wondering what masterpieces would have been available for us if he had lived another thirty or forty years — or even another four years — living at least as long as Mozart. And then sometimes I consider how badly decimated the output of Bach, Beethoven, Brahms or even Mozart would have been if they had not made it to their 32nd birthday. We would still have all but two of Mozart’s 41 or so symphonies, but we would not have his last three, including the great Jupiter symphony, his Requiem, several of his best piano concertos and string quartets, or his four most important and beloved operas. Sadly, if all composers had died at the age of 31, Schubert would be considered the greatest of them all. Fortunately, the great majority lived past 31. That may explain why most Americans have such little knowledge of Schubert — but I suspect it’s just more accurate to assert that most Americans have little knowledge of music prior to the era of the Beatles.

If you approach the average person and ask what they think of the jazz trumpeter Booker Little’s career, and how it might have been different if he had lived a few decades longer, you will just get a blank stare. And even if Booker Little had continued making jazz music until his eighties, most Americans would not recognize his name simply because there is a general ignorance of America’s greatest musical legacy, the canon of recorded jazz music.

So I have to keep that in mind when I consider the magnitude of the loss to music of Clifford Brown at the age of 25, and to a lesser extent, Bud Powell’s younger brother, Richie, a talented pianist, composer and arranger, at the age of 24, both killed as passengers in a car accident when Richie’s 19 year old wife lost control of Clifford Brown’s car late at night on a badly rain-slicked Pennsylvania Turnpike during heavy rain and limited visibility. Neither alcohol nor drug usage was involved; Brown was one of the most notable drug-free players of the 1950s.

The accident occurred during the earliest hours of June 26, 1956. Clifford Brown recorded on two studio albums in 1956, each released in 1956.

Clifford Brown and Max Roach: Clifford Brown and Max Roach at Basin Street

The first album I will cover, Clifford Brown’s last album as a leader, was recorded in January and February of 1956, and it is one of the finest hard bop albums of all time: Clifford Brown and Max Roach at Basin Street. Please note that although the title may imply a live recording, this is a studio album recorded in New York City at Capitol Studios.

Personnel
Max Roach – drums
Clifford Brown – trumpet
Sonny Rollins – tenor saxophone
Richie Powell – pianocelesta
George Morrow – double bass

Track listing
(All tracks arranged by Richie Powell except where noted.
What Is This Thing Called Love?” (Cole Porter) – 7:33
Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” (Sammy FainPaul Francis Webster) – 4:13
I’ll Remember April” (Gene de Paul, Patricia Johnston, Don Raye) – 9:13
“Powell’s Prances” (Richie Powell) – 3:28
“Time” (Richie Powell) – 5:03
“The Scene Is Clean” (Tadd Dameron, arr. Dameron) – 6:04
“Gertrude’s Bounce” (Richie Powell) – 4:09

The album opens with a four-bar Max Roach solo on drums as part of Richie Powell’s 64-bar introductory arrangement for Cole Porter’s “What Is This Thing Called Love?“, followed by an incredibly intense solo by Clifford Brown, followed by a similarly focused solo by Rollins. Now, in some of the recordings I have, Sonny Rollins comes off as remarkably relaxed and melodic, but here we have a very riveting hard-bop statement. This is followed by Powell’s piano solo, more introspective initially, but developing to fit the mood. George Morrow then has his solo, followed by an arranged ensemble section and a Max Roach solo. It’s important to mention how Max Roach stood out from most of his contemporary drummers, first in the forties, and as he developed in the 1950s. He didn’t just support the ensemble and soloists or keep the beat; he intertwined with the ensemble and soloists, often altering the micro-elements of the beat while not disrupting the rhythmic flow. His solos were more than a technical display but a musical narrative, interesting not as just perfunctory or an obligatory contrast with the melody-instrument soloists but as equal engagement with the overall musical effect. The solo here doesn’t break the flow but is both musically intriguing and nicely sets up the alternating exchanges between Clifford Brown and Sonny Rollins that lead into the outro or arranged finish, which mimics the introduction, including the brief Max Roach solo. The engineer fades the track out, which a purist may find objectionable, but which works quite effectively.

Now, both the CD reissue of this and the Complete 11 CD Clifford Brown EmArcy box set provide some alternate takes for this album, with the 11 CD set providing a full alternate take that is even better than the take used for the original album. One can hear some notable differences, including the opening intro where George Morrow plays the last two odd beats of Roach’s solo. Seems to me the Brown solo is more unrestrained and expressive, and the Rollins solo more exploratory and relaxed, with the main benefit being we have two different versions, both exceptional.

The EmArcy box set also gives us two remarkable versions of “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” and “I’ll Remember April.” Once again, the arranged sections are sharp and effective, with the soloing focused and urgent on “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing.” The album contains three compositions by pianist Richie Powell, with “Powell’s Prances” being an exhilarating hard bop number proving an effective fast-paced vehicle for both Brown and Rollins, with a strong solo by Powell and Max Roach providing energetic support and a propulsive thirty-five-second solo. The album includes an additional piece by Tadd Dameron, and the EmArcy box set includes two additional tracks from the January/Februrary sessions.

Sonny Rollins: Sonny Rollins Plus Four

Rollins, a part of the Clifford Brown, Max Roach Quintet since November 1955, joining shortly after his break from jazz due to a period of drug rehab, such as it was in late 1954 and 1955, recorded for Prestige as a leader starting in 1951 through November 1956. In exchange for Rollins playing with Clifford Brown and Max Roach for the EmArcy label, EmArcy agreed to allow Brown, Roach, Powell, and Morrow to join Rollins for this Prestige recording, Sonny Rollins Plus Four, recorded in March 1956, and released in August 1956, a couple of months after the fatal Brown/Powell crash.

Track Listing

Side one

  1. “Valse Hot” (Sonny Rollins) – 8:36
  2. “Kiss and Run” (Sam Coslow) – 7:08

Side two

  1. “I Feel a Song Coming On” (Dorothy FieldsJimmy McHugh, George Oppenheimer) – 5:13
  2. Count Your Blessings (Instead of Sheep)” (Irving Berlin) – 2:30
  3. “Pent-Up House” (Rollins) – 8:50

Personnel

George Morrow – bass
Sonny Rollins – tenor saxophone
Clifford Brown – trumpet (all tracks except “Count Your Blessings”)
Max Roach – drums
Richie Powell – piano

The album starts with a Rollins composition, a 3/4 jazz tune appropriately named “Valse Hot. Rollins has the first solo, relaxed and melodic. Brown’s solo is effortlessly engaging and lyrical. Powell and Roach both make fine contributions. The session seems more ad hoc, and I suspect the arrangements were a product of the rehearsal process rather than being formally written out by Powell.

Of the remaining numbers, each contains strong solo work and is a treat to listen to. “Count Your Blessings” is a beautiful ballad, showcasing Rollins’ lush, rounded, romantic tone with Brown sitting out. The album ends with the lively Rollins tune “Pent-Up House” with Clifford Brown taking the initial solo, wowing us as always with his ability to craft a composition in mid-flight, starting with stark, economical phrases, and then developing the material as if retelling a condensed plot of a short story. Rollins seems sensitive to the mood and provides a similarly narrative solo. Again, Powell provides a solid piano solo, and Max Roach’s solo provides an effective transition to the recapitulation of the theme.

Sonny Rollins: Work Time

Prestige released two other Sonny Rollins albums in 1956. The first was Work Time, recorded in December 1955, and released sometime in 1956. I love this album! Rollins’ “Paradox,” the second track, is one of those memorable hard-bop originals — not derived from some previous classic, but fresh and clever, including its Latin rhythmic sensibility, disrupted, or rather infused, with Rollins’ sparkling use of accents and the tense, shifting quality of its melodic material. I am a big fan of Billy Strayhorn’s “Raincheck,” so it’s a real treat to get this driving hard-bop rendition of it, which includes a relentlessly swinging Rollins solo and an invigorating Max Roach solo.

Track Listing

  1. There’s No Business Like Show Business” (Irving Berlin) – 6:20
  2. “Paradox” (Sonny Rollins) – 5:00
  3. “Raincheck” (Billy Strayhorn) – 6:00
  4. There Are Such Things” (Stanley Adams, Abel Baer, George W. Meyer) – 9:32
  5. It’s All Right with Me” (Cole Porter) – 6:06

Personnel

Max Roach – drums}
Sonny Rollins – tenor saxophone
Ray Bryant – piano
George Morrow – bass

Sonny Rollins: Tenor Madness

Recorded in May 1956 and released in October 1956, I own one of those audiophile repressings of this, and it’s really tempting to get it out to just listen to the first track, the only recording of Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane playing together; however, the rest of the album is pretty strong.

There’s been a lot written about this first track, so I’ll try to be brief. It’s unusual to have two soloists of the same instrument recording together in a quintet, and it was happenstance that we have this. Coltrane was on the Prestige label, playing with Miles Davis and the exact same rhythm section Rollins was using for his session, and for some reason was in the studio with his tenor saxophone. Rollins, a close friend of Coltrane, didn’t hesitate to encourage him to sit in. Of course, whatever tune they picked to record would have to be a piece Coltrane knew the changes to, and for optimal improvisational ease, it made sense for it to be a blues-based tune. Not sure how they arrived at the selection, but they chose Kenny Clarke’s and Fats Navarro’s 12-bar blues “Royal Roost,” renaming it, appropriately for the session, “Tenor Madness.” Well, the recording was a critical success, with Coltrane and Rollins having both the advantage of long, extended solos in the first few minutes, and then, after a piano solo from Red Garland and a bass solo from Paul Chambers over a minute of exciting four-bar interchanges, followed by some more soloing and then a dozen more choruses of alternating exchanges.

This makes the rest of the album seem a bit anticlimatic, but as mentioned, it’s worth continuing on with, even if one chooses to take a break, sample some more Coltrane, or play Tenor Madness a second time before continuing on. Particularly notable is the contemplative rendition of “When Your Lover Has Gone” and Larry Clinton’s reworking of Debussy’s “My Reverie,” one of those pieces that goes perfectly with a crackling fire in the fireplace, if you happen to have a house that actually has a fireplace.

Track listing
All tracks by Sonny Rollins except where noted.[7]

  1. “Tenor Madness” – 12:16
  2. When Your Lover Has Gone” (Einar Aaron Swan) – 6:11
  3. “Paul’s Pal” – 5:12
  4. My Reverie” (Larry ClintonClaude Debussy) – 6:08
  5. The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” (Richard RodgersLorenz Hart) – 5:37

Personnel
Philly Joe Jones – drums
Sonny Rollins – tenor saxophone
John Coltrane – tenor saxophone (#1 only)
Red Garland – piano
Paul Chambers – double bass

Max Roach: Max Roach Plus Four

Recorded in September 1956 and released the next month, this is an energetic, exciting album, filled with choice tunes and wonderful improvisation. We hear a lively Sonny Rollins on the first track, George Russell’s Ezz-Thetic, making the most of the opportunity, reminding me of the free-wheeling John Coltrane at times as he effortlessly slides through sequences of notes. His solo is followed by a breathy but equally breathless Kenny Dorham solo. Ray Bryant provides top-notch piano throughout the album, and his solo here navigates the tricky chord changes of Ezz-Thetic (based on “Love for Sale”) effortlessly. There are some trading fours (Rollins, Dorham, and Roach alternating four-bar solos) and then Roach and the duo of Rollins and Dorham alternating, this giving way to a tension-driven Roach drum solo, one of the many highlights of the album.

The much briefer “Dr. Free-Zee” showcases Max Roach’s versatility and creativity by overdubbing his timpani lines over the initial recording of the ensemble where Roach is on his standard drum kit. Side One concludes with Cole Porter’s “Just One of Those Things.” I love how Max Roach is featured in the short intro before the exposition of the melody. Rollins is off to the races, again eliding notes and creating drama through his extraordinary control of note placement and emphasis. Dorham’s solo is breathy, agile, and lightning fast. Again, Bryant holds his own, and Max Roach provides an amazing drum solo.

Side Two opens with Roach’s “Mr. X. which includes a strong solo by Rollins, Dorham and Bryant maintaining the energy and mood, some exciting trading fours and a great drum solo by Roach over Bryant’s piano accompaniment. This is followed by “Body and Soul” — I am incapable of hearing any instrumental version of “Body and Soul” without instinctively reflecting on Coleman Hawkins’ historic 1939 recording. Rollins plays beautifully here with some gorgeous low-register legato, and Bryant and Morrow support Dorham’s reflective solo perfectly. There is no drum solo, an appropriate decision.

The album concludes with Dizzy Gillespie’s early bebop tune “Woody ‘n You”, written in 1942, and originally written for Woody Herman and his Orchestra, but first recorded by Coleman Hawkins with Gillespie, Roach and Oscar Pettiford. Dorham provides a particularly inspiring solo here, and there is some incandescent interplay between Rollins and Dorham after a second solo by Rollins. Bryant solos before an apparent recap, which unexpectedly gives way to an engaging Max Roach percussion solo with the theme resolutely returning, followed by brief Rollins and Dorham exchanges concluding one of Max Roach’s finest albums.

Track Listing
All compositions by Max Roach except as indicated

  1. “Ezz-Thetic” (George Russell) – 9:18
  2. “Dr. Free-Zee” – 2:06
  3. Just One of Those Things” (Cole Porter) – 7:18
  4. “Mr X.” – 5:15
  5. Body and Soul” (Edward HeymanRobert SourFrank EytonJohnny Green) – 6:50
  6. Woody ‘n’ You” (Dizzy Gillespie) – 6:51
  7. It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” (Duke EllingtonIrving Mills) – 4:45 Bonus track on CD reissue
  8. Love Letters” (Edward HeymanVictor Young) – 8:57 Bonus track on CD reissue
  9. “Minor Trouble” (Ray Bryant) – 6:58 Bonus track on CD reissue

Personnel

Fifty Year Friday: August 1976; Return to Forever: Romantic Warrior

It is my pleasure to announce that this month’s Fifty Year Friday is provided by guest author Leo the Deacon.

Return to Forever: Romantic Warrior


Ask the average person, a regular Joe, what the signature music of the 1970s was, and dollars to doughnuts, the answer you will get is disco. And to be sure, it was a phenomenon—the inevitable populist backlash to progressive rock, the best of which (think Gentle Giant,  King Crimson, or Emerson, Lake, & Palmer), challenged its listeners to do just that: listen.  Just listen.  But, as Pascal declared,  “All of man’s misfortune comes from one thing, which is not knowing how to sit quietly in a room.”  Too many of my generation just wanted to dance, and disco’s Dionysian impulse trumped the Apollonian appeal of prog rock.  Full transparency here:  as disco came to dominate the college social scene in the late ‘70s, I was put at a distinct disadvantage.  I like to think that I have some redeeming virtues, but physical grace would not be one of them. Diffident with the ladies,  all I had to offer was a fondness for words and a sense of humor, neither of which was easy to deploy in the thumpa-thumpa of a disco club, where one was expected to strut and flex and display his plumage like some desperate bird of paradise in the New Guinea jungle.  Yes, I’m still bitter…

Disco may have gotten all the attention, but at the risk of being accused of looking for a pony in a dung heap,  I would argue that the 1970s produced another signature sound:  the amalgam of jazz and progressive rock known as jazz fusion.  Pioneered by vibraphonist Gary Burton with his Duster album in 1967 and legitimated in 1969 by Miles Davis’ In a Silent Way, fusion grew in prominence and popularity in the 1970s as jazz musicians sought a way forward from the esoteric wilderness of avant-garde and free jazz, seeking a style that would attract an audience.  The result was a body of excellent jazz that held musical sway for a decade until a wave of talented young jazz musicians such as Wynton Marsalis and Terence Blanchard revived and modernized hard bop and post-bop jazz.  (Yes, I am aware that Marsalis also championed “neo-bop” although I am not convinced that neo-bop differs significantly from post-bop; it is as much an attitude as it is a musical genre.)

The topic today, though, is  1970s fusion and, from my eccentric point of view, three albums in particular stand out as emblematic of that time and style:  The Mahavishnu Orchestra’s Visions of the Emerald Beyond, Jean-Luc Ponty’s Aurora, and Return to Forever’s Romantic Warrior.   I can already hear the outraged cries of “What? No Weather Report? No Pat Metheny or Herbie Hancock?”  Cool down, take a deep breath. They are all worthy. I freely confess that my trinity of iconic fusion albums is subjective and idiosyncratic.   It is heavily weighted toward the context in which I encountered the music and the associations it retains in memory.   For me, the opening notes of any one of Visions of the Emerald Beyond, Aurora, or Romantic Warrior transport me to 1976. In those days, I and my roommate—we called him Wildman—would lounge around the backyard firepit immolating hot dogs while the sun set and we listened to the latest jazz cascade from the speakers propped up in the windows of my garage apartment.  We lived in the easy penury of college kids, feasting on hot dogs and box macaroni and cheese, dreaming of the days when we would have real jobs and real money—not recognizing how good we already had it.

Romantic Warrior was one of Wildman’s albums; we played it to death. Representing the full ripening of Chick Corea’s fusion project called Return to Forever, Romantic Warrior was probably the best of the three iconic albums.  It features Corea on keyboards, both electronic and acoustic; Al DiMeola, a newcomer to the band, on guitars; Stanley Clarke brandishes the various basses employed, and Lenny White commands a range of drums.  Most of the compositions, and the longest ones, are by Corea, but each of the other three band members contributes one composition apiece.  Too many cooks spoil the broth goes the old adage, but not this time:  the six discrete compositions of Romantic Warrior fit each other like the tesserae of a mosaic.  Had it been indifferently executed, Romantic Warrior could have been just an anthology of loosely similar pieces, but instead they achieve a synergy that makes it greater than the sum of its parts.

The album opens with Corea’s “Medieval Overture,” but this is no Hildegard von Bingen antiphon. Instead, it acts as a kind of framing device, establishing a mood or atmosphere for the album.  Corea’s electronic keyboards burst energetically, like the atoms popping in the core of a reactor, and are soon joined by Di Meola’s guitar,  and White’s driving drum work. The energetic opening gradually morphs into a more languid, mysterious passage—this is medieval the way Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings is medieval, emphasizing the mystical and the fantastic, where dragons lurk in the blank spaces of maps and demons seek your soul.   Soon enough, though, Corea’s popping keyboards bring us back into the light, preparing us for the next adventure.

That adventure would be Lenny White’s funky “Sorceress,” in which DiMeola’s guitar tends to come to the forefront, frequently using Corea’s keyboards as a stable platform for guitar riffs as well as for Clarke’s insistent bass. Di Meola’s guitar keens and soars even more prominently—as one might expect—in “Majestic Dance” which is Di Meola’s contribution to this musical chanson de geste.  Those who lean more to the “rock” side of jazz-rock, will gravitate to “Majestic Dance” and “Sorceress,”  and perhaps to “The Magician” as well, Stanley Clarke’s piece in which he demonstrates what can be done with an electric bass.

The center of gravity of the album, though, is the title cut, another of Corea’s compositions and the second longest on the album.  My traditional biases are showing here, but the genius of “Romantic Warrior,” the third of six compositions on the album, is that it is acoustic, and Corea’s piano playing is turned loose.  This acoustic gem, held fast in an electronic setting, shows Corea mastering the essence of fusion without plugging into the power grid.

The album Romantic Warrior is brought to a dénouement with Corea’s “Duel of the Jester and the Tyrant (Parts I and II).”  This cut does not bring the album to a full circle musically, but it provides a climax or resolution to it.  Like the opening “Medieval Overture, ” “Duel” helps to frame the whole album and brings it to a satisfying conclusion.  Again, Corea’s keyboards stand out to me; in “Part I” of this last cut one can detect, I think, a subtle Latin flavor infused in his playing, a faint foreshadowing, perhaps, of his more explicit My Spanish Heart, which he would release under his own name in October of 1976.

In Romantic Warrior, Return to Forever reached its apogee; it is hard to point to another RTF album, good though they were, that achieves quite the same level of musical craftsmanship and creative symbiosis.  At the time, though, Wildman and I did not think in such grandiose terms.  Cash-strapped and barely fledged as we were, Romantic Warrior was a small, accessible luxury.  To us, it was simply a tasty album, perfect for kicking back while a stealthy chill permeated the dusk, and a fitting soundtrack for charring hot dogs and boasting of all the great things we would do. 

— Leo the Deacon

Dexter Gordon: Lullaby for a Monster, Bouncin’ With Dex, Brand X: Unorthodox Behavior; Fifty Year Friday: June 1976

Dexter Gordon: Lullaby for a Monster

Recorded on June 15, 1976 in Copenhagen, Denmark, Lullaby for a Monster provides maximum Gordon Dexter in a trio format with two of Europe’s finest jazz artists: Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen on bass and Alex Riel on drums. The album was not released in 1976, or even the 1970s, seeing the light of day for the first time in the early 1980s. I would like to claim I was a Dexter Gordon fan in the 1970s, but my first encounter with either him or his music was in 1986, while I was in England. I wish I could say I saw him in person, but the reality is very different.

I lived in West Sussex and often would catch a movie on Saturday, usually in Brighton, East Grinstead, or Royal Tunbridge Wells. I was a big fan of Thelonious Monk, and was instantly attracted by the title of one particular movie, “Round Midnight” and figuring out from the movie poster that it was indeed a jazz-related story, I eagerly bought a ticket, and entered the modest, but mostly empty theater. Without taking a complete detour from Fifty Year Friday — hopefully I will be around in 2036 to include this in a future post — this was a great movie, and Dexter Gordon’s music making and acting were both of the highest caliber. Two years later, back in America, I purchased an album that contained the famous “The Chase” with Wardell Grey and Dexter Gordon, and I have been a big Dexter Gordon Fan since.

What makes Lullaby for a Monster a perfect starting place for someone wanting to explore one of the greatest tenor saxophonists of all time, is it showcases Gordon’s humor (from the very start with his own composition, a clever bluesy treatment of the nursery song “Ah! vous dirai-je, maman,” also known to us as “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” or “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep), his musical inventiveness and his lyricism.

Dexter Gordon: Bouncin’ with Dex

Bouncin’ with Dex, recorded on September 14, 1975, in Copenhagen, Denmark, was likely released in 1976; however, it is worth discussing now within the broader context of Dexter Gordon’s career. The lineup here is top-notch: Dexter Gordon, bassist Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen, the virtuosic and rhythmically and harmonically adventurous Barcelonian Tete Montoliu on piano, and one of the most musically responsive drummers on record, American Billy Higgins. Despite Dexter’s extended time in Europe, this remains the only studio recording partnering him and Montoliu. That is just one of many reasons to check out this album; the session represents a pinnacle of Gordon’s mid-1970s SteepleChase output, showcasing the quartet’s seamless interaction on a set of quintessential bebop standards, alongside Gordon’s own “Benji’s Bounce,” a skillfully faithful contrafact based on the harmonic structure of Thelonious Monk’s “Rhythm-a-Ning” showcasing both Gordon’s and Montoliu’s inventiveness and their deep understanding of Monk’s musical essence. The original LP contained an amazingly lyrical rendition of “Easy Living,” with the CD version topping that by including a luxuriously longer alternate take.

Brand X: Unorthodox Behavior

Released June 18, 1976, Unorthodox Behavior is the first and finest Brand X studio album; tight, cohesive, proficient and musically engaging, this is exemplary English progressive-rock jazz fusion. Phil CollinsJohn GoodsallRobin Lumley and Percy Jones blend into one musical force, sounding as if they had played in small venues for many months before recording this debut album. Rock fans, and even some progressive rock fans, may be disappointed in the lack of lyrical or infectious melody, but the energy and creativity are undeniable and make this an important and distinct landmark of the mid-70s fusion movement and an indispensible document of Phil Collins’ impressive technical capabilities on percussion.


For additional posts related to Gentle Giant, please check these out:
https://zumpoems.com/2025/07/25/fifty-year-friday-july-and-august-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2026/04/17/fifty-year-friday-april-1976/
https://zumpoems.com/2021/07/23/fifty-year-friday-july-1971/
https://zumpoems.com/2023/09/01/fifty-year-friday-september-1973/
https://zumpoems.com/2022/04/01/fifty-year-friday-april-1970-2/
https://zumpoems.com/2022/12/16/fifty-year-friday-december-1972/
https://zumpoems.com/2017/08/25/fifty-year-friday-aretha-franklin-simon-dupree-the-big-sound-and-pink-floyd/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/11/20/fifty-year-friday-november-1970/

For Must Listen To Gentle Giant and Prog Rock albums, please check out:
https://zumpoems.com/must-listen-to-music/

For additional posts that mention Gentle Giant, please check these out:
https://zumpoems.com/2017/12/30/seventy-year-saturday-1947/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/07/19/fifty-year-friday-men-on-the-moon-yes-larry-coryell/
https://zumpoems.com/2022/05/27/fifty-year-friday-may-1972/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/05/31/fifty-year-friday-power-to-the-people-the-giant-awakens-empty-sky-at-san-quentin-and-charisma/
https://zumpoems.com/2024/03/15/fifty-year-friday-march-1974/
https://zumpoems.com/2024/06/07/fifty-year-friday-june-1974/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/01/04/fifty-year-friday-the-canterbury-scene-soft-machine-and-caravan-first-albums/
https://zumpoems.com/2025/06/20/fifty-year-friday-june-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/06/14/fifty-year-friday-trout-mask-replica-brave-new-world/
https://zumpoems.com/2023/08/04/fifty-year-friday-august-1973/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/02/14/fifty-year-friday-february-1970/
https://zumpoems.com/2018/08/10/fifty-year-friday-ultimate-spinach/
https://zumpoems.com/2018/06/22/fifty-year-friday-british-folk-rock/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/09/25/fifty-year-friday-september-1970/
https://zumpoems.com/2025/11/14/fifty-year-friday-november-and-december-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/03/20/fifty-year-friday-march-2020/
https://zumpoems.com/2025/09/26/fifty-year-friday-september-and-october-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2021/11/26/fifty-year-friday-november-1971/
https://zumpoems.com/2026/06/12/dexter-gordon-lullaby-for-a-monster-bouncin-with-dex-brand-x-unorthodox-behavior-fifty-year-friday-june-1976/

Century Sunday: April 1926

One hundred years ago, the end of the silent film era was approaching, and the music and culture of the Jazz Age were still in full force. Below are some notable highlights for April 1926.

One of the most historic nights of opera or concert hall music occurred on April 25, 1926. Giacomo Puccini’s final, unfinished opera, Turandot, premiered at La Scala in Milan. Puccini had died of throat cancer before completing the final act. The performance was conducted by the legendary Arturo Toscanini. When the orchestra reached the final notes Puccini had actually written (the death of the emotional focus of the opera, the young female slave Liù), Toscanini abruptly stopped the orchestra, laid down his baton, faced the audience, and announced: “Here the opera ends, because at this point the maestro died.” The curtain was lowered to complete silence.

In 1926, Jelly Roll Morton recorded “The Pearls” as a piano solo for the Brunswick label. It’s often described as one of the most intricate and carefully constructed pieces in early jazz. Morton himself said it was among the hardest jazz works ever written. In the performance, his left hand keeps a rock-solid, steady stride rhythm, while his right hand weaves in detailed and expressive melodic variations.

Fletcher Henderson’s orchestra, recording under the pseudonym The Dixie Stompers for contractual reasons, released “Static Strut” and “Dynamite.”

Van Der Graaf Generator, Gentle Giant, Woody Shaw, Klaus Schulze, Camel, Caravan; Fifty Year Friday: April 1976

Van Der Graaf Generator: Still Life

If ever there was one album in the history of rock to hold up and proclaim, “Even Schubert would praise this work for its seamless blend of music and lyrics,” it has to be this one.

I can only stumble in trying to describe the artfulness of Hammill’s compositions, or how perfectly his music supports his well-crafted lyrics, or how seamlessly the lyrics are part of the music. Released on April 16, 1976, Still Life is the best-recorded Van Der Graaf Generator album up to that point. Hammill’s broad range of vocals is effectively captured, and the organ passages, the bass, and David Jackson’s flute and sax contributions are all clear and distinctly independent elements in the colorful palette of sound.

All five tracks of the original LP are exceptional, but “La Rossa,” the final track of side one, is one of the masterpieces of 20th-century music. The work begins with an evocative organ introduction that contains the seeds of later material. Hammill enters with a matter-of-fact delivery of the first lines:

Lacking sleep and food and vision
Here I am again, encamped upon your floor
Craving sanctuary and nourishment
Encouragement and sanctity and more

The intensity picks up as more lyrics follow:
The streets seem very crowded
I put on my brave disguise
I know you know that I am acting
I can see it in your eyes


And it is at this point that the music shifts into high gear with another verse:

In the harsh light of freedom
I know that I cannot deny that I have wasted time
Have been a little away in idle boasts
Of my freedom and fidelity
When simple words have never profited me most
It isn’t enough in the end when I’m looking for hope


This is followed by the “organ monkey” chorus, performed at moderate intensity, leaving ample runway for the intensity to follow. After two more verses, the chorus returns, intensity further heightened by the percussion imitating the movements of the hopping organ monkey. A reflective bridge-like section intervenes, providing musical pathos to effectively set up new melodic and harmonic material. The percussion and saxophone increase their intensity to transition to a short, active organ/sax instrumental that breaks back into previous melodic material, with vocals at even greater intensity:

All bridges burning behind me
All safety beyond reach
The monkey fears its chains and runs blindly
Only to find himself released


After “released,” new musical material is briefly interjected with the immediate incorporation of earlier melodic material as we proceed to an unbridled coda with sizzling percussion, heavy organ, a soaring saxophone, and a final, no-frills, and uncompromisingly definitive cadence.

Side Two starts with the melodically addictive “My Room” with its unforgettable opening line, “Searching for diamonds in the sulphur mine.” Hammill effectively captures the poignancy and heartbreak of abandonment and isolation through musical pacing, melodic phrasing, and overall mood.

The album ends with the longest track, “Childlike Faith in Childhood’s End,” which neatly ties together the lyrics and music of the first track, “Pilgrims,” with the reflection of life’s purpose expressed in “Still Life,” and reuses, transformed, musical material of the chorus from “La Rossa.” Hammill effectively leverages Arthur C. Clarke’s novel, Childhood’s End, and its theme of humanity transmuting into a collective, cosmic consciousness, and provides a philosophical finale, with the music relentlessly driving towards its transformative climax, the destruction of the individual for the ascension of humanity, the musical cadence taking us to the highest peak, where there is no air left to breathe.

Gentle Giant: Interview

A year before Interview was released in April 1976, Gentle Giant had recorded their seventh studio album, Free Hand, one of the pinnacles of progressive rock, and their most successful album up to that point, released in August of 1975 and soon climbing to the 48th position of the Billboard 200. Gentle Giant finally headlined decent-sized venues and were establishing themselves as a recognizable name in popular music. Two factors would work against them. The first: progressive rock had reached its peak and was now declining in popularity. This was out of their control.

The second factor that worked against them was their eighth studio album. Free Hand had a hard rock edge, was accessible, and was based on an easily relatable concept: reflections on the breakup of a relationship. Specifically, it addressed their breakup with a non-supportive record label, but the lyrics were written with enough ambiguity to effectively apply to romantic breakups. “Just the Same” was about defiance and authenticity, “On Reflection,” with interwoven counterpoint, represented the complexity of looking back at a break-up, and “Free Hand” was about the relief of finally being free, along with lingering bitterness associated with a bad relationship. Like Free Hand, Interview‘s concept and lyrics dealt with the music business, but it lacked a more universal message. Instead, it focused on the mundane elements of an interview with a touring band, highlighting their general dissatisfaction with touring, promotion, and the inane, banal questions of the generally clueless musical press. There was no ambiguity in the lyrics that allowed any other interpretation to a more universally relatable concept, and for those fans who aspired to or envied the fame of a rock band member, an album complaining about the drawbacks of being famous was not naturally resonant.

But if the lyrics fell short of universality, how did the music of Interview fare? Unlike Free Hand, where all tracks were focused, finished, and created a unified musical statement, Interview was their first album since, well, their first album, that lacked musical cohesion. Each track seemed a separate invention, completely independent of the other tracks. In addition, the music was more exploratory than Free Hand, containing the largest number of meandering, though interesting, musical sections since their first album. Where Free Hand had broken the top 50 of the Billboard Chart, Interview never made it past position 137.

And yet, Interview is a masterpiece compared to the three studio albums that would follow. There is cleverness in the music and a range of styles that make it a very engaging listening experience. The first track, the title track, is strong and indicates that here might be another album to rival the previous three in terms of intensity and merit. But the second track, “Give It Back,” takes a detour, mimicking reggae to create a musical parody — effective, but less musically interesting than what the band was capable of. The third track starts as a beautiful ballad, with Minnear on lead vocals. It begins a cappella with the band providing effective backing vocals before breaking into a fragmented, pointillistic display of vocal counterpoint and imaginative percussive counterpoint, ending with a return of the original melodic theme followed by a coda formed from the second theme. Brilliant but far from commercially mainstream.

Side Two starts with “Another Show” about the chaos and financial challenges of touring. The music is exuberant and accurately reflects the tumult of being on the road and playing a string of varying venues. Once again, we have adventurous musical instrumental incursions of high merit and unmistakably pure Gentle Giant, but not instinctively organic. Irresistibly enjoyable, even well-integrated, but not an inevitable outcome of the initial theme. That’s a high bar, but one effectively cleared in their previous five albums.

“Empty City,” the fifth track, is an amazing ballad with a stark contrasting B theme that invokes Gentle Giant’s trademark stride style (see Fifty Year Friday: July 1971 with additional examples mentioned in Fifty Year Friday: July and August 1975Fifty Year Friday: September 1973, Fifty Year Friday: December 1972Fifty Year Friday: April 1972Fifty Year Friday: November 1970.) This is followed by “Timing,” which, like “Another Show” and “Design,” is a strong track with a compelling musical excursion: one with a strong Gary Green guitar solo and some fascinating off-kilter “timing” effects.

The album ends as strongly as it started with “I Lost My Head,” a classic Gentle Giant track that weaves beautiful ballad material with a contrasting heavy rock section. All in all, this album is far above most material from 1976, but for me, back in April 1976 when I bought the album, it failed to meet the expectations set by the previously released “Free Hand” and “Power and the Glory.” I have listened to Interview many times since then, but it still falls short of the greatest classics of progressive rock. It doesn’t comfort me to reflect that even if Gentle Giant had released their best album ever after Free Hand, it wouldn’t have made the difference needed to even momentarily slow the ensuing popularity decline of this musically amazing band or of progressive rock in general.

Klaus Schulze: Moondawn

If you are a fan of Klaus Schulze, the Berlin prog rock electronic school, or, like me, just an easy mark for sequencer-driven bass pulses, Moondawn, released on April 16, 1976, is a rewarding, immersive experience at over 52 minutes on the original LP or over 73 minutes on CD with the inclusion of an alternate version of the first track.

The first track, “Floating,” is aptly named—the music slowly gathers momentum until around the five-minute mark. Here, the crescendoing, from nothing to a fully noticeable isochronal ratcheting (the sequenced ostinato of sub-beats so prevalent in the electronic music of the mid-seventies Berlin school), provides the rhythmic currents to figuratively lift the music airborne. The music gathers intensity slowly, dramatically, immersing the listener until, a little bit after the twenty-six-minute mark, it decrescendos to its gentle conclusion.

Side two of the original LP is also a single track: “Mindphaser.” It begins with the introspective and calming sounds of the sea, interspersed with some hints of stormy weather. It remains uplifting until the second part takes off with drums (Harald Grosskopf) and organ-like droning, culminating in the eventual inclusion of that famously pulsing ostinato, driving it to its conclusion.

Camel: Moon Madness

Camel released one of their finest albums, Moonmadness, on March 26, 1976. Word has it that the label exerted pressure on Camel to produce more commercially accessible material than their previous album. This seemed to have some slight influence, as the album has a bit of a Pink Floyd sound, particularly on “Song Within a Song” and parts of “Another Night.” However, the music is unmistakably Andrew Latimer/Peter Bardens material, whether upbeat and heavily synthesized as with the opening tracks, “Aristillus” and “Chord Change,” or evocative and wistful as with “Song Within a Song,” “Spirit of the Water,” or “Airborne.” Also notable is the closing instrumental track, “Lunar Side,” which starts off wistful but then leans heavily into the synthesizer in its middle section, and then turns into a lively jazz-fusion-influenced piece with a strong guitar solo from Latimer. Though this album was released domestically in the States, it was rare to spot a copy in most record stores, and my first exposure was on the KPFK-FM program “The Import Show.” The show featured a rotating musical intro that once highlighted a section from “Aristillus,” and on a couple of occasions used excerpts from “Song Within a Song” (once the instrumental passage at the 4:25 mark, and another time starting at 3:07)—a perfect opening for a record show dedicated to the best releases in progressive music.

Caravan: Blind Dog at St Dunstans’

This seventh studio album by Caravan is a blend of progressive and quirky pop, but its Canterbury prog-rock roots are unmistakable. With the departure of Dave Sinclair, Pye Hastings does all of the writing for this album, with the exception of one track, which he co-writes. This album often gets overlooked, but it shouldn’t, as it is full of pleasurable, highly enjoyable music with their new keyboardist, Jan Russell Schelhaas, performing admirably. Don’t be dissuaded by the one-and-a-half-star rating at allmusic.com; this is a four-star album.

Woody Shaw: Love Dance

My best guess is that this album was released on the Muse label around April 1976, though not sure. I have it as part of the Mosaic Records set of Woody Shaw’s complete Muse sessions, and it occupies CD 2 of the seven-CD set. As far as I know, the Love Dance album is the only time Billy Harper and Woody Shaw recorded together. That alone would be enough to require one to check out the music; however, the material also establishes itself independently as must-listen modal bop jazz.

“Love Dance,” written as the title track by the album’s pianist, Joe Bonner, is a modal work that would not be stylistically out of place in the catalogue of Coltrane/Tyner, even though written a generation later. Besides Bonner, Harper, and Shaw, the album includes René McLean (Jackie Mac’s son), Steve Turre on trombone (and as a nice treat, particularly on “Sun Bath,” bass trombone), Cecil McBee on bass, Victor Lewis on drums, Guilherme Franco on percussion, and Tony Waters on congas.

Shaw is one of the most amazing trumpeters to listen to. He is an improvisational architect, working through interval and harmonic relationships with a relentless ear for logical connection and abstract melodic appeal. And I love his tone — never wispy or uncertain, but strong, focused, and direct, yet beautifully evocative when appropriate. And I love how Billy Harper understands the musical ethos of a great master like John Coltrane, yet uses that as a starting point and not an end objective. All of this comes together perfectly on my favorite track of the album, “Zoltan,” a tribute to Hungarian composer Zoltan Kodaly, most famous for his Hary Janos suite compiled from music of his opera of that name. The opening melody of Woody Shaw’s “Zoltan,” which first appeared as the opening track on the classic Larry Young Blue Note Unity album, is derived from the march theme of “Entrance of the Emperor and his Court” from Kodaly’s Hary Janos opera and suite, or maybe more accurately derived from Shaw’s earlier version, as he drops out the direct quote of the march intro from the original Kodaly work, and launches into his abstraction of the main theme. Overall, this version is even more intense, compelling, and musically imaginative than its earlier appearance on the Young album. Listen to both and let me know.

And let me know your thoughts on this album. How does it compare to his previous masterpiece, The Moontrane? Or the two classic albums that follow? How does it compare to contemporary jazz albums of its time?




For additional posts related to Gentle Giant, please check these out:
https://zumpoems.com/2025/07/25/fifty-year-friday-july-and-august-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2026/04/17/fifty-year-friday-april-1976/
https://zumpoems.com/2021/07/23/fifty-year-friday-july-1971/
https://zumpoems.com/2023/09/01/fifty-year-friday-september-1973/
https://zumpoems.com/2022/04/01/fifty-year-friday-april-1970-2/
https://zumpoems.com/2022/12/16/fifty-year-friday-december-1972/
https://zumpoems.com/2017/08/25/fifty-year-friday-aretha-franklin-simon-dupree-the-big-sound-and-pink-floyd/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/11/20/fifty-year-friday-november-1970/

For Must Listen To Gentle Giant and Prog Rock albums, please check out:
https://zumpoems.com/must-listen-to-music/

For additional posts that mention Gentle Giant, please check these out:
https://zumpoems.com/2017/12/30/seventy-year-saturday-1947/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/07/19/fifty-year-friday-men-on-the-moon-yes-larry-coryell/
https://zumpoems.com/2022/05/27/fifty-year-friday-may-1972/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/05/31/fifty-year-friday-power-to-the-people-the-giant-awakens-empty-sky-at-san-quentin-and-charisma/
https://zumpoems.com/2024/03/15/fifty-year-friday-march-1974/
https://zumpoems.com/2024/06/07/fifty-year-friday-june-1974/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/01/04/fifty-year-friday-the-canterbury-scene-soft-machine-and-caravan-first-albums/
https://zumpoems.com/2025/06/20/fifty-year-friday-june-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2019/06/14/fifty-year-friday-trout-mask-replica-brave-new-world/
https://zumpoems.com/2023/08/04/fifty-year-friday-august-1973/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/02/14/fifty-year-friday-february-1970/
https://zumpoems.com/2018/08/10/fifty-year-friday-ultimate-spinach/
https://zumpoems.com/2018/06/22/fifty-year-friday-british-folk-rock/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/09/25/fifty-year-friday-september-1970/
https://zumpoems.com/2025/11/14/fifty-year-friday-november-and-december-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2020/03/20/fifty-year-friday-march-2020/
https://zumpoems.com/2025/09/26/fifty-year-friday-september-and-october-1975/
https://zumpoems.com/2021/11/26/fifty-year-friday-november-1971/
https://zumpoems.com/2026/06/12/dexter-gordon-lullaby-for-a-monster-bouncin-with-dex-brand-x-unorthodox-behavior-fifty-year-friday-june-1976/

Century Sunday: March 1926

100 years ago this month here are some notable musical events!

First Electrical Recording of Beethoven’s 9th: On March 16–17, 1926, conductor Felix Weingartner recorded Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 “Choral” at Columbia Studios in London. This was a massive technical and historical milestone, functioning as the first complete electrical recording of the Ninth Symphony.

Electrical Recordings continue to take the world by storm including Argentina: On March 1, 1926, the Victor company cut its first electrical recording master in Buenos Aires. Tango singer Rosita Quiroga recorded “La musa mistonga.” Interestingly, Victor kept the new technological capability quiet at first to continue selling their acoustic back catalog.


If you are resident of the United States, there is a good chance a recording of “Bye, Bye, Blackbird” was owned by one of your ancestors in the 1920s. Here is the first recording made of it:



Duke Ellington’s Washingtonians recorded Parlor Social Stomp here:

And across the pond, England was spinning their own sides of American Jazz:

King Oliver and his Dixie Syncopaters recorded “Snag It” on March 11, 1926.

Fifty Year Friday: March 1976; Collin Walcott: Cloud Dance

If you are in the market for flashy, aggressive 1976 rock or fusion, then it’s best to search elsewhere. Generally, this is a relaxing, reflective, introspective album. The musicianship is stellar: Collin Walcott on sitar, John Abercrombie on guitar, Dave Holland on bass and Jack DeJohnette on drums — and the music has a high level of intensity. But rather than being compelled to dance on top of the table, I think it is more likely you will find yourself listening to this cross-legged on the floor, immersed in the music as opposed to immersed by the music: one is absorbed with this music and not appropriated by it.

For the most part tracks alternate between contemplative and more extroverted. The first track, “Margueritte,” starts off softly, gathers intensity and then drifts back into a calmer, more exploratory mood, making use of repeated melodic fragments to provide continuity. This is followed by the lively, syncopated “Prancing,” which features Dave Holland, and is likely to be a favorite of listeners more comfortable with hard bop or progressive rock. Night Glider, aptly named, takes us back inward; tracks continue to alternate in this fashion until the final track, “Cloud Dance,” an energetic number that comes closer than any of the preceding tracks to approaching the current fusion aesthetics of its time, providing a strong finish to the album.

The sonic detail makes this perfect for detailed listening — instrument voices are always clear and distinct. This album nicely avoids being an “East meets West” excursion or a trendy passing nod to Indian musical tradition. It is a musical presentation with its own rules and expressive objectives — exploring new soundscapes — breathing, not rushed, with each piece providing a different refreshing and substantial experience.

Century Sunday: January 1926

With the start of 1926, the Jazz Age, the Roaring Twenties, and the Fox Trot rage continued.

Jazz records were often given the default label of “Fox Trot.” I had the good fortune to be able to listen to several of my grandfather’s jazz 78s, with the majority of them labelled “Fox Trot” — a catch-all label for popular music that de-emphasized the more scurrilous connotations some associated with “hot jazz.”

Two such “Fox Trot” recordings of merit were of the popular song “Dinah,” written in 1925, and recorded a few times in late 1925.

This first Jan. 1926 recording, is by one of my favorite jazz ensembles, The Fletcher Henderson Orchestra:

Another notable recording of “Dinah” features the first recording of the slap bass technique (bassist Steve Brown) at around the 2:20 mark:

And here are some visuals of Fox Trot dancing captured on film — spanning the 1920s and possibly early 1930s:

And speaking of films, The Sea Beast, starring John Barrymore, had its New York City premiere on January 15, 1926. This was the first film adaptation of one of the great American novels, Moby Dick, with the additional modification to the plot to, of course, include a love interest for Captain Ahab! Enough said.

And since we are on films, we have to mention that John Logie Baird gave the first public demonstration of a true television system in London. It wasn’t just shadows; it was a greyscale image with moving details.

Also in January 1926, physicist Erwin Schrödinger published his famous paper (Quantisierung als Eigenwertproblem) containing the foundation of the Schrödinger equation: iℏ (∂Ψ/∂t) = ĤΨ. This birth of wave mechanics replaced the idea that particles revolve around the atom like sub-microscopic planets. Instead, it revealed that they behave as waves — what we now understand as clouds of probability. No one can say where an electron is; we can only calculate the likelihood of finding it at some given location as alluded to in Zumwalt’s 2011 poem, Particle Show.

Of course, I need to mention progressive rock whenever I can: George Martin, the so-called fifth Beatle, and a pivotal contributor to the Beatles’ progressive sound, and by extension, to progressive rock in general, was born on January 3, 1926.

Picchio dal Pozzo, Eberhard Weber, Nektar, Druid; Fifty Year Friday: January 1976

Picchio dal Pozzo: Picchio dal Pozzo

By the start of 1976 the commercial demand for progressive rock was still at its peak, but many of the established English bands were creatively past their peak. In Italy, even before 1976, the top progressive rock band, PFM, started modifying their sound to increase their appeal to English-speaking audiences, releasing albums with English lyrics, a decided artistic and musical misstep, and arguably a commercial mistake as well, as the move did not result in greater American sales and negatively impacted both sales and their image within Italy.

January 1976 was the release month of Picchio dal Pozzo’s first album. Their lyrics, though limited, were exclusively in Italian, and their style didn’t resemble or remind one of Yes, Genesis or ELP. There are certainly traces of the techniques and chamber music approach of the English Canterbury scene, but the album has a solidly Italian and Continental identity with the musical playfulness more in line with the earlier sounds of PFM, RDM and Banco than the bloat and pomposity of some of the late 1970s symphonic rock movement — I won’t mention names, including some of the American groups that were guilty of this.

This Picchio dal Pozzo album starts off with a minimalist, repetitive opening, crescendoing with added Italian vocals. The second track, “Cocomelastico,” is heavily Zappa influenced, with the lightness and musical seriousness of tracks like Hot Rats‘ “Peaches en Regalia,” as well as recalling instrumental passages from Caravan and other Canterbury groups.

The music gets wilder with the longest track of the album, “Seppia,” getting into territory closer to the music of Robert Wyatt, Gong and Soft Machine with even hints of Area in the middle and ending with a softer Caravan-like sound.

The first side ends with the brief instrumental “Bofonchia” (Italian for “grumble”) and side two starts with the adventurous “Napier” (perhaps after the Scottish mathematician who invented logarithms). The track is the longest of the second side, and includes some magical vocals and a range of moods and instrumentation.

The second side continues, adventurous and musically eclectic, with “La Floricoltura Di Tschincinnata,” meditatively with “La Bolla” and its shimmering, post-impressionistic flute and piano, and the final track, “Off,” continuing that mood, more consistently with flute and piano joined with some ethereal vocal work — effectively wrapping up an adventurous, musically compelling album with a beautifully melodic, introspective ending.

Eberhard Weber: Yellow Fields

Released in early 1976, Yellow Fields is led by German bassist and composer, Eberhard Weber, who delivers one of the finest and most distinctive jazz albums of the year, avoiding any hints of the more commercial and more prevalent fusion jazz of that year, yet still delivering an album that was equally contemporary and accessible.

Like Charles Mingus before him, Weber was classically trained on cello, switched to bass, and integrated his use of the bass to further his musical vision, often using the bass in a more melodic role, utilizing the upper register to create a singing quality, weaving musical tapestries that are foundational to the music.

Now here is the real treat for me: We have Charlie Mariano being an indispensable part of this album’s appeal. I am a big fan of the nagaswaram, sometimes immersing myself in old recordings (from the 78 era) of Indian Classical Music to soak in its magical sounds. The nagaswaram is similar to the more commonly heard shehnai, which Mariano also features on this album, except it is significantly larger, longer, lower in pitch range, and louder. It requires athlete-level lung power and a musical sensitivity to its capabilities to bend pitch and hit the notes between the notes — play those non-Western tones, those micropitches, opening up the full range of musical vocabulary just as the shehnai does. Mariano further extends his timbral and range options on this album with the soprano sax.

Adding to the wide range of colors on this album is classically-trained German jazz pianist, Rainer Brüninghaus, who adds depth to the album but never subverts its mood or flow, playing both acoustic piano and synthesizer.

If you wish to check out an excellent example of 1970s jazz, here is an intense, cohesive, and immersive album that avoids the more prevalent fusion and free-jazz styles of that era and provides a wealth of musical color. Please give it a listen if you haven’t and let me know your thoughts: how would you place it in the diverse range of jazz albums of the 1970s?


Druid: Fluid Druid

There were several albums I considered including in this month’s Fifty Year Friday, albums that I have enjoyed listening to, and one of particular musical significance, but ultimately, I thought best to let other fans of such albums write their own reflections, thoughts or retrospective reviews on those albums. In the case of Druid’s Fluid Druid, released sometime in the first half of 1976, this is an album that was pretty much under the radar in 1976 and pretty much unknown today. (Note: after further research it appears the album was released on April 30th, 1976, but let’s keep this entry here for now, with plans to move it to April if I am still writing these retrospectives at that point.)

This is an English band, consisting of four musicians: the keyboard player and principal composer, Andrew McCrorie-Shand, the bass guitarist, Neil Brewer, the drummer, Cedric Sharpley, and the guitarist, Dane Stevens, who provides the vocals. Now sometimes his vocals, which can be overly affected, annoy me a bit, and sometimes they are quite good. The instrumental passages are quite enjoyable, and overall the music sounds heavily influenced by Yes and, to a lesser degree, Genesis. What matters, though, aren’t the influences, as apparent as they are, but the overall quality. Though this varies a bit, overall this is a strong album. Check out the instrumental track “FM 145,” a bit reminiscent of Greenslade, or “Nothing but Morning,” which sounds like part Yes and part Queen, and where Dane, credited on this album with just his first name, even sounds a bit like Freddie Mercury. If you are a fan of that portion of the Yes catalog and/or the Genesis catalog from the early and mid 1970s, there should be enough attractive material here, as well as in their first album, to make it worth your while to stream or purchase.

Century Sunday: 1925; Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five; Berg: Wozzeck

Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five, Duke Ellington, and a wealth of other great music.

In 1925, recording technology continued to improve with jazz bands across the USA making their first recordings, even if it was only one double-sided 78 record.

1925 was the year Armstrong transitioned from being the greatest 1920s jazz sideman to a leader of his own group. He began the year in New York with Fletcher Henderson and ended it in Chicago recording the first “Hot Five” tracks starting in November — some of my favorite jazz recordings of all time, and generally recognized as highly treasured musical landmarks.

Other notable names made recordings this year: the trumpeter Bix Beiderbecke, Fats Waller, Duke Ellington with his group The Washingtonians, Bessie Smith, and Ethel Waters. The sides they recorded are still musical gems a hundred years later.

Lesser names recorded, of course. Some had big hits, including Ben Bernie and His Hotel Roosevelt Orchestra’s original hit recording of “Sweet Georgia Brown” and Paul Whiteman’s symphonic jazz version of James P. Johnson’s “Charleston,” which became a popular representation of the vitality and character of the “Roaring Twenties.”

There were many lesser names with less known recordings that are worth checking out including the Original Crescent City Jazzers recording “Christine” and The Halfway House Orchestra’s “Pussy Cat Rag.” Yes, we still had rags being featured in both jazz and in written concert hall music, but ragtime was now a historical style, and most pieces titled rags in 1925 were jazz and not ragtime.

1925 was a diverse and productive year for concert hall music including George Gershwin‘s Piano Concerto in F, Edgard Varèse‘s Intégrales ,and Alban Berg‘s masterpiece, the opera Wozzeck.

Even rock fans will find 1925 abundant with gems that they would likely appreciate: “Cow Cow Blues” by Dora Carr and Cow Cow Davenport which is a blues recording enlivened with early elements of boogie woogie as well as Blind Lemon Jeffersons first recordings including “Black Horse Blues.” At the same time, many recordings of “pre-bluegrass” and “pre-country” music were recorded including Charlie Poole’s unrelenting, banjo-driven “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down Blues” with traditional fiddle and rhythmic acoustic guitar.

All in all, 1925 had a wealth of music that any music lover can spend a few weeks, if not a full year, exploring.