Another in a series of overlooked jazz classics. This time we look at diamonds in the rough by perhaps the single most influential figure in jazz since World War II: Miles Davis. A high profile artist whose work has been picked apart as much as Davis’ won’t have a lot of unturned stones despite some 45+ years of recording history.Read More
Capitol Records tried to drop hints that was, in fact, a record by Paul McCartney. Press information shipped with the advance CDs had a pull-out reproduction of a tabloid, apparently circa 1964: “‘Beatlemania,’” the headline screamed, “sweeps U.S.” But the enclosed news release goes on and on about “an anonymous duo” known as the Fireman. No other details given onRead More
by S. Victor Aaron If someone were to ask me who was the best alto sax player ever, I couldn’t at least not heavily consider Cannonball Adderley, the Miles Davis sideman. He had both technique and soul by the sackful. Adderley churned out some fine ones even without the Prince Of Darkness’ help.
by S. Victor Aaron Recently I revisited an album that wore our my cassette player during late ’86-early ’87: Tutu by Miles Davis. It typically takes a long time to get the right perspective on a Miles record, he was often took a direction in music before his listeners were ready to follow him down the path he was taking.Read More
by Nick DeRiso One of her best Rounder releases, and hilariously named, is “Let Me Play With Your Poodle.” Featured is legendary guitar virtuoso Clarence Holliman, the guy who burned through Bobby “Blue” Bland’s classic 1950s and ’60 sessions. In fact, the old album titles tell it best, when talking about Marcia Ball: “Hot Tamale Baby.” “Gatorhythms.” “Sing It!”
by Nick DeRiso “Sitting on a suitcase, in the Memphis depot – wishing to God I could fly,” sings Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown on my old record. “Catching this train is my way of telling Memphis and Mildred goodbye.” People have actually asked me to bring it to parties. The album – and it is an album, on vinyl pressed inRead More
by Nick DeRiso Rainbow Mist, Coleman Hawkins’ 1944 smoker on Delmark, was a brilliant record borne out of boredom. Hawkins, the tenor saxman, had already made his splash with the song “Body and Soul,” back in 1939. When he returned from living in Europe for five years, he took a chance on updating his by-then decrepit standard — stirring inRead More
Neatly mixing two of our favorite topics, Branford Marsalis pays no empty lip-service to exploring blues through the jazz idiom here. In fact, you don’t have to listen more than once to hear that’s he’s gone off the deep blue end. Any CD with appearances by B.B. King, Linda Hopkins and John Lee Hooker isn’t playing footsie.