Blue Lester

In Penang to see Jackie perform at Short + Sweet Theatre 2013, I phoned journalist-cum-harpist Kim Gooi and asked him to come watch the show at Penang Performing Arts Centre. Kim came down and we talked music of course; blues, blues, and more blues. Kim had the idea to invite guitarist Joe Goh up from KL for one of our epic jams. The Penang Blues Brothers ride again.

The Penang Blues Brothers jump and wail: Joe Goh, Kim Gooi, Ron Ashkin

Joe caught the Katy up from Kuala Lumpur last Friday. I dropped by Kim’s and the three of us spent the afternoon working out on only three tunes – T-Bone Shuffle, Kidney Stew, and Blue Lester – all from the mid-to-late-1940s. I was on a roll a couple of weeks ago in Lagos and transcribed T-Bone Shuffle and Blue Lester from the original records and this was my chance to play them with others.

I particularly have had an ear worm for Blue Lester and I just can’t get that 1944 slow F-blues out of my head, Count Basie on piano backing Lester Young just prior to his military nightmare. I had first admired the tune on Von Freeman’s The Great Divide, where he calls it Blue Pres, and had half-transcribed it at the time – Vonski plays it at an even slower pace than Pres. A few weeks back I pulled up the original on my iTunes and re-discovered 10 choruses of pure bliss – Pres blows two choruses on the head, a single solo chorus, back to the head again, then Basie enters for three and Pres takes it out with three more, not bothering to return to the theme. Freddie Green anchors the proceedings with his steady rhythm guitar. Not a sound wasted. Nobody plays like that these days, when apparently both pianists and saxophonists are paid by the note. I can’t get the theme and Lester’s first solo chorus out of my head. I've transcribed that chorus and find Lester’s note choices deceptively simple, making me feel like I've been over-thinking my own improvisations.

PPAC echoes (literally) with the sound of 1944.

Unfortunately I left my trusty Zoom recorder back in Lagos and couldn't catch our version on tape. But on Saturday night, the three of us were invited to play for the cast party after Short + Sweet closed and we had a chance to perform Blue Lester in public for the first time. The tempo was set a bit fast and a young crowd more attuned to hip-hop got up and danced. Lester Young’s 16 bars connected with 2013 ears in Malaysia just as they had almost 70 years earlier in WWII-era America. It was not just me with the ear worm.

As Kim is fond of saying, if blues was money, I’d be millionaire.

Tribute to Von Freeman

I wrote this "note to self" after a conversation with tenor sax master Von Freeman at Andy’s, 11 E. Hubbard St., Chicago, on Sunday morning, August 12, 2007, from 1:30 – 2:30 AM. It is an apt tribute to the recently departed soul and one of my favorite pieces.

Setup: Von played a Selmer Mark VII tenor (complete with rubber bands) with an Otto Link 9 mouthpiece and Vandoren V16 #4 reeds, in a flight case. No stand; he put his horn under the piano during breaks.

Von played 3 Saturday night sets at Andy’s with his quintet, the (white) piano-bass-drums rhythm section including 25 year old Philly pianist Ben Paterson along with vocalist Bettye Reynolds. Very short breaks – these guys like to play. I had an interesting conversation with Ben during the break when he accidentally picked up and drank my drink – ended up buying me a Macallans and stayed and talked for a while. Ben is making it as a jazz pianist in Chicago and has an organ trio playing at Andy’s on Monday. Says he has avoided making a living playing weddings so far, lucky him. He said that playing with Von is great, Von really listens to him, and Von will be playing something totally modern and outside one minute and then a lick straight from 1942 the next. 

Von was playing Lester Leaps In when I arrived about 10:15. The highlight of the second set was Jumpin’ with Symphony Sid (which I was playing earlier in the day at PM Woodwinds in Evanston when I was trying out horns earlier in the day – I call my version Jumpin’ with Uncle Sid). I really felt like Von was channelling Pres. I had been reading about Pres in a book called But Beautiful in a bookstore that morning. The third set started with a long (~15 minute) rap followed by Robbin’s Nest. He concluded with April in Paris. Von likes playing long acapella obbligati. He had a good rapport going with Ben and was guiding Ben verbally as he comped and soloed. His playing was absolutely effortless. His edgy, acid tone is instantly recognizable. 

After the 3rd set ended I had a long and fascinating conversation with Von (“Vonski” as he likes to be called; he called me “Ronski”). Von is nearing 85 years of age, and as Ben said as we left the place at 2:30, he is maybe one of a dozen people remaining on the planet who have shared the experience of Pres, Bird, Dexter, etc. Roy Haynes is another. Von is white haired and walks a bit slowly, but his wits are totally about him. 

Von was extremely kind and engaging, not the least bit standoffish and arrogant. I mentioned that my Dad had just passed and Von started talking about how he was at the end of his time. He talked about his life and how when he was younger he was involved with gangs, drank heavily, etc., but luckily changed his ways and survived. He said at one time he felt a lot of self pity about not “making it” and I told him he has made it and is considered one of the living masters, how he is recognized all around the world, and how one writer even called him the greatest living tenor player (even better than Rollins!). He was flattered by this and didn’t seem to know. He is very Chicago-centered. He said that luckily he has had good health whereas Sonny has had some health problems. 

I mentioned that I felt he was channeling Lester and he said he had met Lester Young, and Lester was a very kind man. He said that Lester told a story, that playing that style was very difficult as most horn players followed Hawk and just played a lot of notes. He pointed to the keys of his horn and said the saxophone is built to play a lot of notes. Lester got beyond that. Von mentioned that Stan Getz, probably the best known direct Pres disciple, used to come and hear him play. 

I mentioned that I had the chance to hear and meet Dexter Gordon in the Village about 25 years ago and that Dexter was a real gentleman and I would remember him fondly forever, in the same way I would remember my conversation with Von. Von loved Dexter. He reminisced about a recording session he once did with Dexter on Joe Siegel’s label, with Jodie Christian, Red Rodney and Roy Haynes. Siegel told everyone to keep their solos short so Von as the first soloist did 4 choruses on a blues and then sat down. After the piano player, Dexter cut loose and played for about half an hour. Dexter told Von not to listen to the producer, just to play what he felt. Von said he listened to his four choruses later and couldn’t believe how well he played, said it didn’t sound like himself. It was someone else (God) playing. 

When he mentioned Bird he said that it wasn’t Bird playing the horn. Said that Bird had a really bad drug problem, and all the women loved Bird. 

Von said that music is not mathematics (i.e., you can’t play just by memorizing intervals and patterns), that it is something spiritual and from the soul. I said that was a function of the high level he played at – maybe much less skilled musicians have to play by the numbers. He agreed and laughed. He referred to his 3rd set rap about not letting the devil get between you and the sound. He said that he doesn’t practice any more – he doesn’t need to, his embouchure is like a rock after all these years and he used to play an 11 mouthpiece – but he used to practice 25 hours a day when younger. Music to him is way beyond conscious thought. Ben seconded this in a separate conversation. 

At the end of our conversation, as I was saying farewell, Von grabbed my hands, rubbed them, and held my hands in his for a long time. He said he was passing the gift on to me.

Vonski Is Gone

I found out last night from Sax On The Web that my very favorite saxophonist, Chicago's Von Freeman, passed away last week at the age of 88. I'm not feeling too happy today as it seems like all my remaining saxophone heroes are leaving us. Last year ended with Sam Rivers' death, the previous year Fred Anderson, now Vonski.

I loved Vonski's acid sound, which has been described as "out of tune" or "playing the wrong notes", but the only thing that proves is that some people's ears are out of tune. Vonski never played a bad note in his life. 

Some of the reasons I loved to hear him play: He loved playing. Toward the end of his life he could barely walk but he played with boundless energy. He was a living link to Charlie Parker and can be found on a recording of Bird from the Pershing Ballroom in the late 1940's. He only played tenor, no stylish dalliance with whiny soprano or wimpy flute to try and sell records. Not a single disco-soul album in the 70's. He played blues, bop, and standards, very few "original compositions" that can't hold a candle to Night in Tunisia in order to cash in on publishing rights. He never recorded an album with strings, never composed a suite for symphony orchestra. Just fiery, original, genuine, from the heart blowing that spanned bebop to outside with everything in between. He recorded tenor battles with his son Chico (a great saxophonist in his own right), Willis Jackson, and fellow Chicagoan Ed Petersen; all these guys can blow like crazy but when Vonski came on...SHUT UP! 

Here is a well-written obit in the Chicago Tribune. And here is a great streaming broadcast of Vonski and Ed Petersen on NPR. 

I'll post my own tribute tomorrow, a note to self written back in 2007 after a long conversation with Vonski.

State of the Horn, One Player's View

Playing sax is a never ending learning process. Most of the players I like are way older than me – the recently passed Sam Rivers was close to 90, Fred Anderson was in his late 70’s when he left, Ornette and Sonny are now 80, Vonski is about 88 now and still going.

Since my school days the music in many ways has transformed from a vibrant, free, expressive art form to a stodgy, academic, ossified craft you learn in class by studying method books based on John Coltrane’s 1959 approach, an approach he himself rapidly advanced away from. So-called jazz can now be “graded” and there are “jazz competitions” with monetary prizes awarded. I've never understood how an art form founded in self expression could be treated as a competition like weight lifting or horse racing.

Ornette is back to being considered radical again more than 50 years after he established the mainstream. Learning jazz is now mostly “take a random mathematical pattern like 1-3-6-5, memorize it in every key, then play it as fast as you can”. Harmonic complexity is treated as the only value worth striving for; formulaically twiddling up and down chords at high speed is what makes you a good horn player. The more complicated the better. Memorizing solos, other people’s solos, is mandatory (but only those that slavishly follow chord changes, the kind of music the pioneers abandoned in the late 50’s, mainly because formulas can be replicated but creativity cannot). The conventional wisdom after 30 years of musical Reaganomics is that music is like speech – you imitate your mother to learn to speak, so you must imitate other musicians to play jazz. An inaccurate analogy – I learned to speak from my mother but my voice sounds nothing like hers, I never needed to ape her voice pitch, emphasis, and inflection to speak, and I never had to copy her exact words, grammar, and syntax to be understood. There is still a pocket of creativity in the music today but it is small and the giants are leaving us one by one. Much of what I hear labelled “jazz” is corporate pap and the word is close to becoming meaningless since many uncritical listeners confuse lounge music that incorporates a bit of syncopation and a blue note or two with the creative storm that stems from the tradition of Pops, Pres, Bird, Miles, Trane, and Ornette. Where I live it is difficult to hear a horn at all.

My Musical Biography, Part 3

The 1970’s were the height of the New York loft scene; a live show costs just a couple of bucks in those days and most places did not clear the floor between sets. I used to take the train frequently to NYC, where my Lab School best friend Gilbert lived. Gilbert loved music and had the world’s largest record collection but he never had any musical talent himself (his amazing talents lie elsewhere - he is now a world-renowned artist, see http://www.gilberthsiao.blogspot.com/). I guess we have that in common, no innate musical talent. I used to go hear live music all the time – Studio Rivbea and the Tin Palace come to mind. Once I walked across lower Manhattan blowing my alto in the street the whole way; when we walked in front of Ali’s Alley, Rashied Ali himself came out to see what the commotion was – can you imagine doing that in post-Giuliani NYC? Probably get locked up.

Some of the greats I’ve had the fortune to see and hear live: Miles Davis (his pre-retirement electric band with Sonny Fortune and Pete Cosey), Charles Mingus (with George Adams and Danny Rich-man; Mingus cussed me out with some racial epithets when I naively tried to say hello between sets in Montreal), Dexter Gordon (once with Woody Shaw on trumpet; Dexter was a real gentleman), Dizzy Gillespie (who was interested in my wife and not the least bit in me), Sam Rivers (at Rivbea), Sonny Rollins (in Philly where I sat so close I could’ve shined his shoes), Leroy Jenkins (at the recording session for his JCOA album), Clark Terry (I interviewed him for WHRB), Archie Shepp (I interviewed him for WHRB and got to hang out with him and Dave Burrell in their hotel; he certainly never showed any hostility towards white people to me), James Moody (in Terre Haute!), McCoy Tyner (maybe his best band with Junie Booth and Azar Lawrence), Kalaparusha (I had, and still have, a real taste for the AACM), Muhal Richard Abrams, Ornette Coleman with Prime Time, towering Randy Weston, Max Roach (with the fabulous Billy Harper on tenor), Dewey Redman (whose music puts his much more highly touted son to shame), Julius Hemphill (Tim Berne was his manager at the time and sent me some unreleased cassettes of Julius), David Murray (the saxophone prodigy of the day, not much older than me), Jimmy McGriff, Lou Donaldson, Ray Charles, Pepper Adams (in Munich’s famed Domocile), Chicago’s great Fred Anderson, Joe Henderson (whose introverted style I never really understood until I saw him in person), Jackie McLean (one of his last concerts), Cecil Taylor (who plays the piano like he has three hands), Paul Quinichette at the West End, Art Blakey (not one of his best bands unfortunately) and Sun Ra and James Brown multiple times…JB twice with Wilson Pickett on the bill. My favorite is Vonski Von Freeman who instructed me that “Music is not mathematics.”

Someone I didn’t see…Rahsaan…one of the dumbest things I ever did in my life. Big Dave called me to come down to Bloomington and see Rahsaan at the Bluebird and I was too lazy to make the hour drive by myself. Rahsaan died that night after the concert. Big Dave is gone now too.