Ornette Coleman at the Golden Circle – 1965

Let’s start with a disclaimer: I ‘m not a fan of free jazz. So why would I even bother with an album I was pretty sure I’d dislike?

There’s a practical answer: It was on sale. I was in a record store recently that was having a buy-one-get-one-for-$1 sale. So I got a CD I knew I’d like and then saw Ornette Coleman at the Golden Circle, Volume One. Did I mention I collect Blue Note CDs? It’s the name of the blog.

I knew I probably wouldn’t like it. But for $1, I can be a sport.

So I listened to it three times all the way through. Hey, I try to have an open mind for all kinds of music. Tastes changes over time. I thought maybe if it became familiar, I might like it better.

Not so much.

So what is it about Ornette Coleman generally and this CD in particular that turns me off? Let’s start with the tone. The alto sax can be kind of shrill. Of course, it can also be sublime. Consider John Coltrane’s My Favorite Things, or almost anything by Charlie Parker. Suffice to say Ornette Coleman is not Bird. It doesn’t help when you go out of your way to make the alto screech and squawk. This is one harsh-sounding album.

Then there’s the trio format. To my mind, it’s hard to make a sax-bass-drums trio interesting. Not impossible, mind you. Sonny Rollins’ Way Out West is pretty fantastic. But by its very nature, a sax with no piano, guitar, horn or other melody maker can be pretty monotonous – just one long, long uninterrupted solo. (I sometimes wonder what I would have thought had I heard Sonny Rollins on the Williamsburg Bridge in 1960, playing all by himself for hours on end. I like to think I would have said, “Wow, that’s amazing!” More likely I would have walked on by and thought, “Interesting sax. Call me when you find a band.”)

Finally, there’s the whole notion of free jazz. The idea of “music” with no underlying chords or melody or rhythm leaves me cold. Can a bunch of guys playing together, with no preconceived ideas, eventually hit on an interesting tune or cohesion, just by long improvisation? Sure, I guess. I’m just not patient enough to wait for it to happen.

I like melodies, including improvised melodies. As I listened to At the Golden Circle, I occasionally heard ideas and snippets that sounded interesting. I would think, “OK, now we’re getting somewhere.” But inevitably the improvisation would move on and I’d feel lost again. Most jazz doesn’t feel that way. Ornette Coleman does – at least to these ears.

As a Blue Note collector, I’m glad I have this CD. But it’s not one I’ll return to very often, and maybe never again.

Dexter Gordon: Our Man in Paris – 1963

For some reason, Dexter Gordon doesn’t immediately leap to my mind when I think of A-list bop saxmen. He should. Our Man in Paris is all the evidence you need.

Gordon made a bunch of terrific records for Blue Note from 1961 to 1964. Some say Go! from 1962, with pianist Sonny Clark, is the best of the bunch, and I can’t really argue with that. But Our Man in Paris is every bit its equal, based largely on the strength of three songs and the presence of seminal bebop pianist Bud Powell.

As the title implies, Our Man in Paris was recorded in the City of Lights. It’s a simple bop quartet with Gordon on sax, Powell on piano, American Kenny Clarke on drums and Frenchman Pierre Michelot on bass. It’s a simple lineup, but powerful.

The album kicks off with a wild rendition of the Charlie Parker classic “Scrapple From the Apple.” Gordon is on fire, and Powell is sublime. This is no mere imitation. It’s full of original ideas and endless energy, using the Parker tune as a jumping-off point for inspired solos.

Next up is another jazz chestnut, “Willow Weep for Me.” It’s been recorded a million times by a million artists, and my favorite version is still Art Tatum on solo piano. But the Gordon-Powell version is a close second, full of smoky noir flavor and, again, clever soloing that makes this more than a mere blues.

A couple more standards follow: “Broadway,” which sounds suspiciously like Fats Waller’s “Lounging at the Waldorf,” and the ballad “Stairway to the Stars.”

And then the highlight of the CD, and the closer of the original LP, a fantastic, crazy, original take on Dizzy Gillespie’s “A Night in Tunisia,” perhaps my all-time favorite jazz composition. Again, it’s a tune that’s been covered by hundreds of jazz musicians – definitively by both Diz himself and Charlie Parker in the 1940s. This is a more modern interpretation, and Gordon is positively exuberant, blowing line after line after line of original ideas, followed by Powell with some nice noodling on the keyboard.

The CD adds two more cuts to the LP, neither essential: a pleasant mid-tempo version of “Our Love is Here to Stay” and a sax-less take of “Like Someone in Love,” featuring Bud Powell sounding very un-Powell-like. No clever bop-istries here, just nice, unremarkable melodies.

Funny thing about Our Man in Paris. I’ve owned the record (and now the CD) for decades, but it’s not one I go to often. And yet once I do play the album, I wind up listening to it over and over. If it’s not in your collection, it should be. Gordon is one of the all-time best boppers, and Paris is arguably his best recording.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Availability: Many copies on Amazon, new and used

Cost: Just $2 or $3 used

Charlie Rouse: Bossa Nova Bacchanal – 1962

What a happy record! And what a delightful change from the usual 1960s Blue Note formula.

You know the drill. In the 1960s, Blue Note was the go-to label for two kinds of jazz: hard bop and soul-jazz.  But Blue Note was never the reigning bossa nova label. When the Brazilian phenomenon swept the jazz world in the early 1960s, Verve was the capital of bossa nova, and Stan Getz was its main disciple.

So it must have seemed a trifle disingenuous – a little bit opportunistic – for Blue Note and Charlie Rouse to make a bossa nova album in 1962.

Earlier that year, Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd practically created the category with their monster album Jazz Samba on Verve. It was a quiet record, gentle and beguiling. It’s impossible not to like Jazz Samba. And so, as the bossa nova craze exploded across America, it was inevitable that other artists and labels would try to copy it.

Thus, Bossa Nova Bacchanal was born – recorded in November 1962, just eight months after Jazz Samba was released.

It’s true, Blue Note and Rouse were riding a wave that someone else created. But they also made it their own. Bossa Nova Baccahanal is a cross between bossa nova, calypso and hard bop. Not exactly a giant leap from Jazz Samba, but not a slavish copy either.

For starters, the title is misleading on two counts. First, there is no bacchanal in Bossa Nova Bacchanal, at least in the sense of a wild, drunken orgy. This is a tame record, a little laid back, but definitely a party – a warm, happy affair filled with joyful music.

Second, Bossa Nova Bacchanal isn’t even pure bossa nova. It starts and ends with two Caribbean numbers: the opener “Back to the Tropics” and the ender “In Martinique.” In between are five bouncy Latin-ish numbers, heavy with unusual rhythms, thanks to three guys on drums, conga and chekere.

Rouse is an odd choice to lead the band. From 1959 to 1970, he was a member of the Thelonious Monk quartet, a band that played very serious, complex and interesting music. Here, Rouse plays lighter and more joyfully. Joining him are two guitarists, Kenny Burrell and Chauncey “Lord” Westbrook, playing mostly acoustic, Spanish-style guitars. It works. It’s fun.

Bossa Nova Bacchanal was a one-off. While Getz continued the bossa nova craze for years, Rouse and Blue Note moved on. Still, for any fan of happy, infectious, Latin-tinged jazz, Bossa Nova Bacchanal is a must have.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Availability: Not rare, but not common either

Cost: $10 or $11 used – and a ridiculous $90 if you’re looking for vinyl