Booker Ervin: The In Between — 1968

There’s a kind of jazz I like to think of as harder bop. It’s a lot like conventional 1950s hard bop, but tougher, more muscular, more cerebral. Booker Ervin’s The In Between is that kind of record.

Ervin has an edgy style. It starts with a John Coltrane feel, then pushes a little further. Not into the crazy, atonal, unapproachable territory that Trane created in his later years, but into music that’s more from the head than the heart.

At least, that’s how The In Between starts. The title cut is fast-paced and challenging. There’s not much melody here – and that’s something that often turns me off. Here, though, it’s simply exhilarating. Ervin and trumpeter Richard Williams go for a wild ride, with drummer Lenny McBrowne bashing the skins like some jazz version of Keith Moon.

The second cut, “The Muse,” is more of the same. It starts with an intriguing two-minute intro that’s gentle and Middle Eastern, with Ervin on flute and Bobby Few on piano playing a soothing melody that sounds like it was lifted from a Beirut marketplace. And just when you think you’ve got the vibe, it changes abruptly into a breakneck, harder bop cooker, then ends with the earlier Mideast feel. It’s exciting.

The rest of the album is just as eclectic. “Mour” and “Sweet Pea” are typical mid-tempo hard bop tunes that could have been done by the 1950s Jazz Messengers. “Largo” is a sweet, lyrical ballad. And the final cut, “Tyra,” is the kind of swirling blues noir that always makes me think of old black-and-white private eye flicks starring Humphrey Bogart. Far from cerebral jazz, this is blues with feeling.

The In Between features six original tunes, all by Ervin. All are captivating. The group may be obscure and the album lesser-known, but it’s a gem.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Availability: They must not have made many copies. There aren’t many around.

Cost: $13 used, $17 new, so I went for the $7 MP3 version

 

Johnny Griffin: The Congregation — 1957

Well, this is a disappointment.

Johnny Griffin is widely regarded as one of the fastest sax players in jazz history. His reputation began with his very first album, Blue Note’s Introducing Johnny Griffin in 1956. He solidified his rep the next year with a frantic three-sax attack on A Blowin’ Session with John Coltrane and Hank Mobley.

So maybe it’s not a huge surprise that Griffin wanted to try something different a few months later, in October 1957. That’s The Congregation, an album of pleasant, mid-tempo tunes. If that sounds like damning with faint praise, well, yeah, it is.

This is not the Johnny Griffin you expect. This is jaunty Griffin, occasionally bluesy Griffin, even melodic Griffin. But there is almost no sign of incendiary Griffin, and that’s disappointing.

The opener, “The Congregation,” is typical. Despite the title, which suggests a gospel number, “The Congregation” is just a conventional tune that sounds vaguely like a 1920s vaudeville/Dixieland piece. It’s all very nice and mannered and not the least bit interesting.

“Latin Quarter” starts intriguingly with a slight Latin beat, then turns into another mid-tempo tune. Griffin takes a couple of speedy solos, but mostly it’s pedestrian stuff. Even “I’m Glad There is You,” a lovely ballad, is taken at an unusual mid-tempo pace. It’s pleasant, but nothing more.

“Main Spring,” is a wonderfully bluesy tune, but Griffin sounds like 1,000 other saxmen of the 1950s.  “It’s You or No One” is the standout – a five-minute workout that is sprightly and bopping, as much for Sonny Clark’s piano as Griffin’s horn. This comes close to the Johnny Griffin we all expect, but it’s the only lively number on the album.

In short, “The Congregation” is nice enough record, but hardly memorable, even after repeated listenings. (Postscript: Check out the Andy Warhol album cover. Very cool.)

Rating: 3 stars (out of 5)

Availability: Easy to find

Cost: $3 used, but there are better Johnny Griffin records out there

Horace Parlan: Up and Down – 1961

I have a new hero: Pianist Horace Parlan. Until recently, I had heard of Parlan, but never really heard him. I certainly never knew his back story. It’s inspirational – and his music is pretty damn good, too.

Parlan had a handicap. As a child, he lost some function in his right hand due to polio. Various bios disagree on the extent of the loss. Some say two fingers, others three. Either way, it’s the kind of injury that makes a career as a piano player sound impossible.

Yet Parlan found a way to compensate — something to do with developing a powerful left hand. In any event, he had a long, successful career as a bop pianist. Of course the music stands on its own, regardless of how it’s made. Handicap or no handicap, if the music weren’t terrific, there would be nothing to talk about. And it is terrific. (For example, catch him on Charles Mingus’ 1959 classic Mingus Ah Um.)

Up and Down, a 1961 bop-and-blues album, is the perfect introduction to Horace Parlan. It features three remarkable solists: Parlan on piano, Booker Ervin on tenor, and Grant Green on guitar. Together, they make wonderful, swinging music that borders on soul-jazz.

While some pianists made their names with jaw-dropping speed and technique – think Art Tatum or Oscar Peterson – Parlan (by necessity or choice) goes the other way. He is wonderfully inventive. At times, he sounds almost Monk-ish, choosing unusual chords and odd notes. On every tune, without exception, he is soulful and bluesy.

Grant Green, of course, is always tasteful. Like Parlan, Green does not amaze with lightning-fast runs. Instead, he wrings the blues for every drop of emotion he can find, including the quiet spaces between notes. He is the perfect complement for Parlan.

Finally, there’s Booker Ervin. Unlike Parlan and Green, Ervin can shred with the best. On Up and Down, he turns it on and off. On the opener, “Books Beat,” Ervin is sassy and aggressive. On the ballad “Lonely One,” he is all swirling smoke. And on the closer, “Light Blue,” Ervin shows off his technique– a toe-tapping, happy blues that sends the listener off with a smile.

Up and Down is a great ensemble album. It’s full of clever, swinging music. I could listen to it all day. And while you don’t need know anything about Parlan’s bum right hand to appreciate the music, it helps. The man is an inspiration.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Availability: Plenty of used copies, but nearly all the new CDs are from overseas

Cost: $4 used, $9 in MP3, more expensive if you get a new Japanese import. Or, if you must, there’s the cheapo European box Seven Classic Albums for just $14.