Jimmy Smith: Groovin’ at Smalls Paradise – 1957

I love the jazz organ. I love Jimmy Smith. But I don’t love Groovin’ at Smalls Paradise.

When Smith burst onto the scene in 1956, he was a genuine phenomenon. Not only was he wildly popular, but also wildly prolific. In just three years, from 1956 to 1958, Smith put out a mind-boggling 23 albums. Blue Note had a bona fide star, and the label sure knew how to milk the craze.

Some of those records were just so-so. Some made you drop your jaw and think, “You can do THAT on an organ?!”

Smith’s first few records fall into the so-so category. They were good, but they were also novelties, and Smith was still figuring out what he could say with this odd jazz instrument. In any case, they were popular.

Groovin’ at Smalls Paradise falls into the jaw-dropping category. It’s loud, bombastic and somewhat experimental. It is Jimmy Smith pulling out all the stops – literally – making music and sounds (and noise) that no one had ever made on a jazz organ.

This is a trio record – Smith on organ, Eddie McFadden on guitar and Donald Bailey on drums – but it’s almost entirely Jimmy’s show. When it cooks, Groovin’ is red hot. Smith is positively on fire on blazingly fast bop tracks like “Indiana” and “The Champ” and “Walkin” Nearly all the songs, including the ballads, start with a one-minute improvised organ intro. This isn’t organ music, in the usual sense, so much as Dizzy Gillespie or Charlie Parker on a new instrument, spitting out notes hard and fast.

McFadden, the guitarist, is generally tasteful and laid back, though he gets a blazing spotlight on “Indiana.” Bailey on drums is solid and dependable, but not flashy.

So what’s not to like? First, there’s the organ sound. On many tracks, Smith has the organ on some crazy staccato setting, where everything sounds too harsh. Then there are the ballads, which are merely so-so. Smith is best when he’s incendiary. At a slow trot, he’s less interesting.

Finally, there’s the blues – as in, not enough. Smith’s best records, just a year or two later, were filled soulful, mind-blowing blues. Think of “Back at the Chicken Shack” and “Midnight Special.” There is one terrific blues-soaked track on Groovin’ – “After Hours” – but it’s not enough. I guess it took 23 records for Smith to finally find his trademark sound.

So Groovin’ at Smalls Paradise (the complete 2-CD set with 13 tracks, most of them longer than 10 minutes) is great when it’s fiery or bluesy. But it’s a step or two away from greatness.

Rating: 3 stars (out of 5)

Availability: Easy to find

Cost: A ridiculous $21 new, but $7 used

Sonny Rollins, Volume Two – 1957

There are no bad records by Sonny Rollins, but some are better than others. This is one of the better ones.

Sonny Rollins Volume Two is, as the name suggests, Rollins’ second recording for Blue Note. It’s uniformly excellent with a fantastic band, especially the great J.J. Johnson on trombone and two tracks with the utterly unique Thelonious Monk.

If only the title were better.

That may be a dumb thing to criticize, but the name actually lowers expectations. Not only is it bland, but it suggests that this record is somehow related to Volume One. It’s not. Though the two albums were recorded only four months apart – the first in December 1956, the second in April 1957 – they are miles apart in quality. Volume One is enjoyable but not memorable. Volume Two is a barn burner with a completely different band.

The main difference? Start with J.J. Johnson, the first truly great bop trombonist. On Volume Two, Johnson and Rollins could be long-lost brothers. They are perfectly simpatico. When they play in unison on opening themes, they are playful and original – clear complements. And when they trade bars at the end of several tunes, sometimes with the wild Art Blakey, they are sublime.

Then there’s Monk. Volume Two features a pair of Monk tunes, with Monk on the keyboards.

“Misterioso” is, to my ears, the highlight of the record – a 9½-minute track with plenty of curves and quirks. It’s a slow-burning blues based on an odd ascending pattern. Rollins proves to be the perfect partner to Monk, exploring blues themes with Thelonious comping behind him in a slightly-less-than-orthodox way, playing unusual chords. It’s powerful enough, but then Monk takes his solo. It’s the usual Monk turn, full of unexpected notes and silences. Then Johnson puts his mark on the tune. And finally, when you expect the solos are over, here comes Horace Silver. Yes, a second piano solo by a different pianist, and so utterly different from the first that you know immediately it’s not Monk. As the song comes to an end, the horns and drums trade bars, each trying out clever, original ideas. It is just about the perfect bop track.

Finally, there is Art Blakey – a force of nature that practically defines 1950s Blue Note hard bop. Here, as in many Jazz Messenger albums, Blakey is the propulsive backbeat that occasionally jumps to the front of the stage, whips the band into a frenzy, then jumps back. It’s like a tornado that abruptly tears up the neighborhood, leaving you to wonder, “Where did THAT come from?” Volume Two is full of such moments.

Sonny Rollins Volume Two tends to get short shrift in the Rollins discography. That’s understandable. Rollins had so many classic records in the 1950s, with so many bands and labels, that it’s easy to lose track of one record, especially with a pedestrian title like Volume Two.

But this is a keeper – not just for Rollins devotees but for anyone who likes bop.

P.S. – Check out the classic Blue Note cover on Volume Two, then check out the cover of Joe Jackson’s 1984 Body and Soul. Imitation really is the sincerest form of flattery.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Availability: Plenty of new and used copies

Cost: Just $2 or $3 used