Showing posts with label Jerry Dodgion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jerry Dodgion. Show all posts

Sunday, May 7, 2017

50 Years at the Village Vanguard, Part 2






© Gary Carner. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved.

On March 6 I began writing about 50 Years at the Village Vanguard, Dave Lisik and Eric Allen's extraordinary contribution to jazz literature. My tour of Utah intervened. As I told Eric Allen a few weeks ago, I needed cover to take the time to give the book the attention it deserves. On my Utah trip and soon thereafter, I wrote most of four blog posts to do just that. Now, finally, is my chance to discuss the guts of this amazing book.

The book's cover gives a sense of what's to follow. It features a patchwork of more than 100 photos,  mostly of musicians that performed with the orchestra.

Apart from front and end matter, the book is organized into fourteen chapters, summarized as follows:

1: A History of the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra
2. A History of the Mel Lewis Orchestra (after Thad left)
3. A History of the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra (after Mel's death)
4. Thad Jones' Life and Influence
5. Mel Lewis's Life and Influence
6. Portrait of Bob Brookmeyer
7. Portrait of Jim McNeely
8. Life on the Road (what traveling with a big band is like)
9. The Small Group Within (how the band functioned as a small group)
10. Compositional Legacy
11. The 50th Anniversary Celebration (February, 2016)
12. A Brief History of Max Gordon and the Village Vanguard
13. Discography (with solos identified!)
14. Biographies of current VJO members

Although I've read and enjoyed the entire book, and now have renewed appreciation for the contributions of Jim McNeely, Bob Brookmeyer and other musicians that contributed after Adams left the band in mid 1977, I will focus here mostly on what is germane to Pepper Adams' experience. The first three chapters are compelling, well-written histories of the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra and the two successor orchestras that Mel Lewis ran until his death in 1990 and that the trio of Dick Oatts, John Mosca and Douglas Purviance run to this day. It includes a lot of fascinating interview material with band members and it describes the impact on the band of Jones' and Lewis' death. Additionally, there are discussions of the loss of other members, such a bassist Dennis Irwin.

Wanting to know who did what on the book, on Apr 20, 2017 I wrote Allen this email:

I'm two chapters away from finishing the book. It's really a terrific contribution to jazz literature! I congratulate you and Dave for persevering. The division of labor: Please refresh my memory. Was Dave the lead writer, in charge of the text, while your main role was in organizing the pictorial aspect of the book?
Gary Carner

Eric's response:

Gary: Thanks for the compliments! Dave and I co-wrote the entire book, sharing and editing documents online. We both conducted interviews. I took the lead on taking photographs and obtaining vintage photographs and other archival materials, but that’s only because I’m in the US and Dave is in New Zealand.

Best,
Eric

It's exciting for me to learn new things about Thad/Mel as it relates to Pepper Adams. As I've been studying Adams and his role in the band for over thirty years, to learn anything new is thrilling. I learned (or relearned?) that Mel Lewis met both Thad Jones and Pepper Adams for the first time at Detroit's legendary after-hours jam session at the West End Hotel. Only a few hours beforehand, Thad and Mel had met for the first time at a "Battle of the Bands" gig for both Basie and Kenton at the Graystone Ballroom. 

Although the authors weren't precisely sure when this took place, I needed to know for my Pepper biography! I turned to jazz research maestro Mike Fitzgerald. He was able to pin down the actual date of the first meeting of Pepper and Mel Lewis through this newspaper ad:




Accordingly, here's the new 1955 entry in my Pepper Adams Chronology:

Aug 30: Detroit: At the early morning jam session at the West End Hotel, Pepper Adams meets Mel Lewis for the first time. Lewis and Thad Jones, too, had first met a few hours earlier at the Graystone Ballroom "Battle of the Bands" between Count Basie and Stan Kenton. (See http://theconcertdatabase.com/sites/theconcertdatabase.com/files/1955-08-29graystone.jpg.)

What else did I learn? For one thing, that Carol Sloane was one of the very first vocalists with Thad/Mel. Info about her allowed me to further refine the date of Sloane's gig with them.

I learned that Alan Grant took Thad/Mel practice tapes done at A&R Studios so he could play excerpts on his WABC radio program and thereby promote the band for their upcoming opening engagement at the Village Vanguard. Whether any collectors recorded these things off the air, and whether the tapes still exist in the Mel Lewis or Alan Grant Archives is unknown.

I didn't know that Thad/Mel got a 10-record deal with Solid State (a brand new subsidiary of United Artists), beginning so soon after their opening at the Vanguard. What were the ten recordings? It's a trick question because in 1969 United Artists (Solid State's parent) merged with Liberty Records (Blue Note's parent). As the authors point out, "Executives felt that one jazz label under the United Artists umbrella was enough and Solid State was soon absorbed by Blue Note Records. This reorganization voided the remainder of the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra's contract with Solid State (p. 17)."

Ultimately, six Solid State dated were released, though the band did record one date, Consummation, for Blue Note after the contract was null and void.

1. Presenting Thad Jones/Mel Lewis and the Jazz Orchestra 
2. Presenting Joe Williams and Thad Jones/Mel Lewis and the Jazz Orchestra 
3. Live at the Village Vanguard
4. The Big Band Sound of Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Featuring Miss Ruth Brown 
5. Monday Night
6. Central Park North

There are many things in the book that tickled me. About Pepper Adams' solos on "Once Around," "Balanced Scales = Justice," and "Three and One," Down Beat reviewer Don DeMichael wrote (p. 17), "His work, as always, churns with heated intensity."

Eddie Daniels, about that first reed section, said about Pepper, "Nobody had a voice like Pepper's. He was the only one who could ever play the baritone like that. Pepper was great as a person. He was very warm and friendly. I loved watching him with his eyebrows shooting up when he played a high note."

As for some of the Pepper photos in the book, there's a great shot on page 9 of the band that shows Pepper's Princeton haircut, a wonderful shot of Pepper and Thad in Denmark (p. 16), and a shot of Pepper playing clarinet in 1972 (p. 27). It wasn't long after that date that his clarinet was stolen and he never played clarinet again.

The authors have done an extraordinary job of pulling together from disparate sources important anecdotes about Thad/Mel that contextualize the band. I especially love Jerry Dodgion's comment about A&R engineer Phil Ramone (p 13):

"I must have known hundreds of engineers over the last fifty years but he had something special. We used to rehearse at A&R Studios on 48th Street with Thad and Mel and it turned out to be one of the places we started recording. At the first session, Thad was rehearsing the band and Phil was in the control room. Then Phil came out into the room and said, 'I know how we're hearing it in the control room. Play something for me out here in the studio.' He was the only engineer who did this. . . He would take the time to get the sound he was hearing from the band in the studio identical to what he was getting in the booth. That set Phil Ramone apart from all the other engineers." 

As many of you know, I've done five recordings of Pepper's music. Perhaps technology has changed some but I haven't seen that practice among engineers either.

I love the pictorial range of the book, with all sorts of different documents, such as a page of 45s that the band released, Down Beat Readers Poll results, ads, record reviews, etc. The authors really strived for breadth, to break up what is the general monotony seen in many picture books. In their pictorial of 45 rpm singles released by Thad/Mel, I learned of three new ones: "A' That's Freedom," "Don't Git Sassy" and "Night Time is the Right Time." From David Demsey I learned that "Night Time's" flip side is "Evil Man Blues," not included in the book due to space limitations. Yet another update to my Pepper discography!

While the book was being readied for publication, I was happy to send the authors numerous photos and documents from my archive, all noted by "Courtesy of the Estate of Pepper Adams." Particularly iconic is the shot of Pepper soloing on p. 22 with Thad looking on in the shadows.

I learned for the first time about Pepper Adams' farewell party. That led me to email Allen, Ed Xiques and Dick Oatts about its whereabouts. I assume it took place after their final gig of the 1977 tour, Restaurant Victoria, in Stockholm. Allen wrote me that he learned about it in Will Campbell's Ph.D. dissertation of Dick Oatts. I've written Will for more info and Oatts, who thinks it took place just prior to their flight back to the US. He's been asking around for confirmation.

I like this quote from the book's Introduction (viii): 

"Despite being one of the music's best writers and improvisers, Thad Jones demonstrated great humility and selflessness. Thad was a people person. His insight and genuine interest in his musicians drew their love, loyalty and admiration, and made him one of the most effective bandleaders in jazz history. He encouraged his musicians to write and, rather than using the band to showcase himself exclusively, routinely gave his soloing opportunities to other musicians instead."

This, the authors point out, was the antithesis of the situation for both Thad and Mel in the Gerry Mulligan Concert Jazz Band in 1963. The authors point out that "Mulligan's tendency to keep solo space scarce" was a frustration for them as well as the others in the band.

The highlight of the book is Chapter Four, "Thad." Rightfully so, I think, because Thad Jones--his playing, his writing, his conducting, his personality, his spirit-- is central to the band's essence even to this day. Go to the Vanguard on a Monday night and you will always hear Thad's music. 

Apart from Charles Mingus' famous letter to Down Beat gushing about Thad's genius (and about his brother Elvin, too), there are several wonderful quotes from band members that stand out amidst the discussion of Thad's career and his great contribution to jazz. Here's lead trombonist John Mosca's take on Thad's big band arrangements:

"The rhythmic content of his writing is unique and very sophisticated, just as it was in his playing. It all works together and it's hard to isolate one thing. It's melodic, and, at the same time, so dense harmonically. And it all happens in this matrix of great swing and rhythm. He also writes a lot of 'drum work' for the horns; so much of what we play is like drum fills."

"Sanctified" is the way trombonist Benny Powell once described Thad's music and the utter joy it conveys. Pianist and arranger Jim McNeely said (p. 90), "Thad's music has a sense of joy and a sense of swing first of all. . . There was a built-in swing in his writing that, to me, was just overpowering and incredible." As others have recognized, and as I can attest to, Thad's music makes you want to dance. Just listen to "Low Down" and tell me you're not moved.

Then there's Thad Jones' shout choruses, those amazing moments for full ensemble that he writes to conclude his works, such as his utterly brilliant and utterly overwhelming conclusion to "My Centennial" (begin at the 9 minute mark). Says McNeely (p. 92), "The shout choruses get applause from the audience the same way a soloist gets applause. It's remarkable. I've never heard that with anyone else's music. It's because they swing so hard." Baritone saxophonist Gary Smulyan said playing them (p. 92), even after many times over the years, still "make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. . . It's indescribable if you've never had a chance to sit in the middle of all that sound." 

The authors give a wonderful sense of what it was like to play Thad's music, with Thad leading the band, and why it was such an amazing experience for the audience. As trumpeter Marvin Stamm said, "Watching Thad lead the band, whether you were playing or in the audience, was just amazing! It was like watching a sculptor; he would mold the music with his hands. Watching him conduct was as much fun as playing the music. He was such as presence--something quite special." 

Says Dick Oatts (p. 92), "There was something magical when he was leading the band. The music was in front of us but anything could change at any moment. . . When he would count off the band, he was as much an improviser as when he was playing. . . . What he had on the page was just an example. He would take it each night and make it something different." Said bassist Rufus Reid about Thad, "He was very dynamic--an imposing figure in front of the band and visually very exciting. The band would roar and his hands would reach to the heavens."

As the authors point out, Thad Jones' magical alchemy--as a soloist, as a composer and conductor, as a leader and inspirational figure, and as a spirit--moved everyone in the band. Says saxophonist Jerry Dodgion (p. 92), "I know that I played over my head for him more than I did with anybody else."

The story (p. 96) told by Dick Oatts about how Thad Jones inspired the band to play an incredible set after a ten-hour exhausting bus ride by getting everyone in the band to first scat to a blues in F is magical. (Gosh, to hear Pepper scat would be incredible, wouldn't it?) The authors really capture Thad's true essence as a leader.

Trumpeter Scott Wendholt's anecdote about Thad inspiring Jerry Dodgion to write arrangements is yet another aspect of Thad's influence:

"When he told Jerry Dodgion, "I want you to write for the band," and Jerry said, 'Oh, but I don't write,' Thad responded with, 'No, I don't accept that. I want you to write for the band.' With anybody else, it would have been easy for Jerry to stick with, 'I don't do that.' But when someone like Thad, with that kind of presence, said it . . . I believe what he was saying was, 'I see something in you that I want to investigate. I want you to write, so I'm not taking no for an answer.'

Jerry Dodgion would go on to write several arrangements for the orchestra, some that the band would record.

The story of how Thad Jones got trombonist Quentin "Butter" Jackson back into playing again after his stroke is just one more amazing example of Thad's profundity as an inspirational figure. As Jerry Dodgion said to the Village Vanguard audience in 2016 during its 50th Anniversary celebration (p. 96), "Thad could get people to do things that they didn't think they could do. He was a giving person, he was a good person and I never saw ego involved in anything he did." 

Thad's willingness to not solo that much, and offer solo space to those in his band, was another way he gave selflessly to his band and drove loyalty. As a soloist, Thad Jones is still vastly undervalued. Pepper Adams told me Thad was his favorite trumpet player because he surprised him the most. Mingus said Thad was the greatest in history, at least up until that point in time. Miles Davis famously said, "I'd rather hear Thad miss a note than Freddie Hubbard hit twelve." Mel Lewis told me in 1988 that Pepper and Thad were the greatest soloists in the band. Said Marvin Stamm (p. 98), "Everyone waited for Thad to pick up his horn, because when he did, he humbled everyone in the room. It wasn't like he was trying to do this; he was just so musically creative that hearing him create these solos made your jaw drop in amazement."

Yet, for some reason Thad wasn't as sure about his trumpet playing as were his peers. The extraordinary story the authors capture of Jerry Dodgion speaking with Thad Jones after a lackluster performance in San Jose (p. 98) is fascinating in this regard:

"Thad came by my room and he said, 'Dodge, we didn't sound so good tonight.' I said, 'Yeah, I know. And I know why, too.' He said, 'Do ya? Tell me.' I said, 'You hardly played any solos tonight. You don't think that's important, but it's very important. You don't see this but I see it and I hear it. When you play, everyone in the band listens. After you play, we sound better.' He said, 'No, that's not possible. .'
Ask anybody who played in the band. When we sounded good, it was because Thad played. Thad was the true improviser in the band. He had the magic and we were his followers. It was unbelievable that he didn't realize he was so good."

Scott Wendholt's story of Jerry Dodgion in tears talking to him on a plane ride about how important Thad Jones was to him is another beautiful moment in this chapter. It puts into perspective the "almost mystical regard," as Wendhold put it, that musicians have for Jones. 

One of the wonderful things about this book, especially in this chapter, is that it conveys Thad Jones' greatness and, in retrospect, how greatly overlooked Thad's profound contribution to jazz has been in the history of this great music. As I've found with Pepper Adams, sometimes one's legacy is so profound that it takes several generations to catch up to it. Thankfully, with this book, Thad Jones scholarship is just beginning to emerge. I hope one day it fills a bookshelf! Lisik and Allen deserve much credit for bringing Thad Jones' amazing legacy to life and elevating it to the exalted place where it belongs.

Just as Thad Jones is underrated as a soloist, so too has Mel Lewis been underrated as a drummer. With Chris Smith's book, The View From the Back of the Band: The Life and Music of Mel Lewis, that status is also beginning to change. The portrait of Mel Lewis in Chapter 5 gives a real sense of his stature. Did you know that Count Basie offered Lewis a gig in 1948, when Mel was nineteen? Because the band was touring the Deep South, Mel was advised not to take the trip. Did you know that Lewis turned down a gig with Basie two years later because he was getting paid more playing with Tex Beneke? Did you know that Duke Ellington tried to hire Lewis in 1960 to temporarily replace Sam Woodyard? Lewis declined because he was already committted to Mulligan's Concert Jazz Band. How about Ellington hiring Mel Lewis permanently in 1963? He was to begin with a State Department tour of Africa that was cancelled due to the assassination of John F. Kennedy.


I spent a very memorable day with Mel Lewis in 1988. I took him out for an al fresco lunch on Broadway near his house on a beautiful, crisp, sunny day. I found him to be forthcoming, gracious and a wonderful raconteur. Although we met to discuss Pepper Adams, his observations ranged all over the place. I plan to blog about that experience, sharing with you his many insights. At one point, in the living room of his West End Avenue apartment, Mel told me, after eating more than a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, "I know I'm one of the best guys out there. There's me, Art and Max." It seemed a little brash at the time, yet no argument from me, now that I'm fully aware of his playing.

I didn't get it the first time I saw Mel Lewis, when he played a quartet gig at the 1369 Club in Cambridge MA in the mid 1980s. It was Joe Lovano's gig, way before he was famous. Just Lovano and the Mel Lewis Orchestra rhythm section (Werner, Irwin and Lewis.) Mel's playing was so subtle and understated. It was something I didn't quite get at the time: A guy so acclaimed yet his playing is so subtle. As Gary Smulyan said in the book about Mel, "The only thing that would move were his arms. There was no excess motion in his playing" (109). That was part of it that fooled me.

I can tell you that Pepper Adams loved Mel's playing. Who else did? Thad, many members of the big band, and countless others. Why? Because he was selfless and supported the soloists and the band, a quality Pepper Adams really prized. I like Jim McNeeley's comment about Mel: "Mel played with a full  sound and with energy, but I could always hear myself well, which often wasn't the case when I played with other drumers. And Mel was always a master of doing so little with the band and playing the perfect fill or set up. He was the Count Basie of the drums. He always knew how to do the most simple thing that was the perfect set up for what was going to happen" (p 113). Marvin Stamm's quote about Mel's playing is on target too: "He was not playing the drums so much as he was playing the music" (p. 109). All this is something that took me years of listening to Thad/Mel recordings and audience recordings to fully appreciate.

Perhaps Ed Neumeister put it best: "It was really kind of like riding on a magic carpet. You could say he was handing the figures to us on a silver platter. Never overplaying and just laying down the foundation of a groove and setting up what the big band needs without any flash whatsoever. It was really an amazing experience. I didn't truly realize how great he was until he was gone and there was that vacuum there."  

One of his great attributes was his ability to set up figures and always indicate where in the arrangement the band was at the time. I was struck by the comment in the book that Mel would read a chart once, then have it. The charts Thad/Mel, etc played were extremely complex, yet he knew all the parts and how to accentuate each one and set up figures for the band. Ed Neumeister said, "Mel was a great reader but he rarely read. He would normally only read something the first time through" (p. 109)." That possibly suggests a photographic memory. 

I'm pleased that the authors have a chapter dedicated to Thad and Mel's small group concept. It shows that they fully understand how the band was conceptualized. Pianist Kenny Werner's quote about the band's uniqueness as a small group vehicle really puts this in perspective. While he echoes others, who say that the ability for musicians to stretch out in Thad/Mel was totally unique, Werner goes further: "It didn't happen before Thad and Mel and it really didn't happen after Mel. So you'd have to say that type of small group play is unique to this particular band" (p. 198). 

Also in this chapter, Gary Smulyan describes how satisfying the Thad/Mel book is for baritone saxophone, unlike most bands, where "the tenor players play, the alto players play, and, once in awhile, the baritone player gets thrown a bone":

"There's a lot of opportunity to play in this band. Thad framed a lot of his arrangements around Pepper's sound and Pepper's concept of harmony. As a baritone player, I feel very fortunate to be able to play this music because we do get a chance to stretch out and there are a lot of tunes written that feature the baritone. In that sense, it's an unusual situation."

In Chapter 12, musicians and fans remark about how unchanged the Village Vanguard is, how as a jazz shrine it evokes in its sameness the essence and aura it had when Rollins, Coltrane, Bill Evans and so many others recorded there. That's true. I feel the same when I go there. At the risk of quibbling, though, there are two things I would point out that have changed. One is trivial, actually. There used to be a kitchen. You used to be able to order hamburgers. If I recall, Elton was the guy in charge. That was phased out I believe in the 1970s or 80s. I don't care that much about it. I don't go to the Vanguard to eat! 

The thing that is a change that I don't like is amplification. In a small room with great acoustics, why amplfy a big band? Perhaps it's necessary for a small group but a big band doesn't make sense. Some of my greatest moments as a listener was sitting on the banquet next to the pole where Pepper Adams sat all those years. Whether it was for the VJO or a small group, I was three feet from the band. Now, due to the volume level, I sit in back. The banquet now, with amplification, would cause hearing loss.

Ch. 12 also reminds me that there's no photo on the Vanguard walls of Pepper Adams. I wrote to Dick Oatts about it. He pointed out that, while Pepper is certainly worthy, there are hundreds of musicians that don't have framed photographs at the Vanguard. Moreover, it's not something he can suggest. It's decided on by management. Better for me to focus my energies on a more worthwhile pursuit, like the Pepper biography.

This from Eric Allen: "Since we are self-publishing the book, would you please mention our website as the only place it can be purchased?": ThadMelVJOBook.com

My advice?: BUY IT!



Saturday, August 15, 2015

On the Trail . . . in August



© Gary Carner. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved.


I'm closing up some lose ends with my Pepper Adams tape and CD collection. I'm doing this because I have stuff scattered about and my co-author, John Vana, is digitizing all my Pepper material for posterity--and so he can study it for our Pepper book. Here's a rather typical Saturday-in-the-life-of-Gary-Carner.

The first mystery tape I encountered this morning is a very well-recorded quintet date for trumpet/flugelhorn, baritone and rhythm section with the following tunes itemized on the tape box:

Side 1:
Mean What You Say
In a Sentimental Mood
Witchcraft
'Tis 

Side 2: 
On the Trail
I Can't Get Started

From the bass sound, I can assess it's a post-'60s audience tape or broadcast, due to the slightly nasal pickup sound with low action. The band is really excellent and Pepper is brilliant and harmonically daring. What is this?

The drums sound like plastic heads, further supporting the 1970s or 1980s timeline. It sounds like a broadcast because it's so well recorded. The flugelhorn solo on "I Can't Get Started" is masterful. I wonder if it's Tom Harrell or Denny Christianson? Well, fortunately, it's a broadcast and Pepper stepped in to announce the first two tracks on Side 2. Then, the announcer cited in Swedish that the brass player is Jan Allan! What is this? Off to the Chronology? No, not necessary because the announcer cited the band: Pepper and Allan with Steffan Abeleen, Palle Danielsson and Alex Riel. Oh, OK, it's Pepper at Restaurant Guldhattan in Stockholm on 6 November 1972. Pepper's "On The Trail" solo is breathtaking, and, in his usually understated and amusing style, Pepper's announcement after the applause is as follows: 

"Thank you very much. We assume that you recognize the first two songs. They were 'On the Trail,' from the Grand Canyon Suite of Ferde Grofe. We're not going to play the rest of the Grand Canyon Suite this evening, however (chuckles), and that was 'I Can't Get Started.'" 

I went on to listen to the entire broadcast. Nothing else from Pepper equates to the sheer brilliance of his "On the Trail" solo. It's simply one of his greatest performances from that period. I suspect he was very happy as a newly traveling solo artist in Europe. He only started three years prior--in mid December, 1969 in Copenhagen, for a gig at Montmartre. 

Another amusing Pepper quip from the Stockholm broadcast: After playing "'Tis," (Thad Jones' tune that Pepper customarily played as a theme to end his sets), Pepper says: "So you know in the future, that means 'intermission' (chuckles)."

My second mystery tape sounds to me like the Shorty Rogers Big Band from the late 1950s. There's plenty of flugelhorn features and solos for various members of the band. This is a live thing, but possibly not from the Bobby Troup TV show from California, because it doesn't sounds like a polite TV audience. Two bari solos in it were definitely not Pepper. "Mountain Greenery" was part of his book back then and they play that. Then again, with some of the small group things, it does feel like a TV show.

Now to a few CDs that have been knocking around. From Dave Schiff I received Pepper and Roland Hanna at the Wilmington Music School. Here's the entry:

New Entry
PEPPER ADAMS
740621
21 June 1974, audience recording, Wilmington Music School, Wilmington DE: Wayne Andre, Steve Koontz tb; Dave Schiff fl, ts; Pepper Adams bs; Roland Hanna p; Don Schiff b; possibly Gary Griswold or Newman Barker dm.

a Quiet Lady
b Civilization and Its Discontents
c Straight, No Chaser
d Royal Garden Blues

On -c and -d, Andre and Koontz only. Schiff on ts.


From Thomas Hustad, the Ruby Braff historian, I received the following. Pepper is dazzling!:

New Entry:
RUBY BRAFF
19 July 1972, audience recording, Half Note, New York: Ruby Braff cornet; Pepper Adams bs; Dill Jones p; George Mraz b; Dottie Dodgion dm.

a Blues in A-Flat

This recording was discussed in Michael Steinman's blog "Jazz Lives" (http://jazzlives.wordpress.com/author/jazzlives), published on 5 August 2014: I will close with my single Pepper Adams sighting. In 1972, several friends and I followed Ruby Braff to gigs.  Although Ruby was unpredictable and unreasonably given to rage, he was always pleasant to us and allowed us to tape-record him. On July 19 of that year, my friend Stu and I came to the Half Note to record Ruby with the Welsh pianist Dill Jones, bassist George Mraz (then working with Pepper in the Thad Jones–Mel Lewis ensemble, and Dottie Dodgion on drums. About two-thirds through the evening, where the music had been very sweet, with Ruby’s characteristic leaps through the repertoire of Louis, Duke and Billie, a tall man ascended the stand with a baritone saxophone, was greeted warmly by the players, and the quintet launched into an extended blues in A-flat. I remember Dottie Dodgion being particularly enthusiastic about the unnamed musician’s playing, who packed his horn and went off into the warm Greenwich Village night. Who was that unmasked man? The subject of Carner’s book, and, yes, the tape exists, although not in my possession."


Now, a real mystery, or so it seemed at the time. I acquired a CD that said "Pepper Adams in San Remo, 1981." Pepper wrote the opening tune on the CD, Conjuration, in 1979 but the second tune, Dobbin', was written in 1983. Already, the recording date on the CD is suspect. Fortunately, Pepper announced pianist Ricardo Zegna and bassist Dodo Goya. That pins it down some. But before a search, first the other tunes. Doctor Deep was written in 1982. No real help there. The drumming is very pronounced and aggressive in an American kind of brash way. I'm starting to suspect drummer Ronnie Burrage. And, sure enough, it's listed in my Joy Road thusly, just poorly marked on my CD:

PEPPER ADAMS
851015
c15 October 1985, RAI TV broadcast, Salon delle Feste, San Remo Jazz Festival, San Remo, Italy: Pepper Adams bs*; Ricardo Zegna p; Dodo Goya b; Ronnie Burrage dm.

a Conjuration*
b Dobbin'*
c unknown waltz
d unknown blues
e Doctor Deep*


One last thing I recorded in my Pepper book but didn't identify very well is a Thad-Mel thing from Scandinavia in August, 1977. All the tempos are faster than usual, particularly "Low Down." This was the first tour for Richard Perry and Dick Oatts (who plays tenor). Jerry Dodgion and Ed Xiques were still in the band in the alto chairs. Dodgion's chart on "Oregon Grinder" gets a great workout.






                                                                 (Jan Allan)


Saturday, June 6, 2015

Pepper and Fish

© Gary Carner. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved.



My interview last Sunday with Delaware tenor saxophonist Dave Schiff was absolutely groundbreaking! Much of it will be included in my forthcoming Pepper Adams biography because Schiff goes into great detail about Pepper's approach to playing. Apart from Curtis Fuller and others that Pepper may have mentored in Detroit, it turns out that Schiff was very likely Pepper's only student after Pepper moved to New York at age 29. How Schiff knows so much about Pepper is that his memory is razor-sharp about many of the important things that Pepper taught him when he was an aspiring teenage saxophonist.

Schiff was fifteen when Pepper, Thad Jones, Roland Hanna, Tom McIntosh and a few other top New York-based jazz musicians came to Wilmington, Delaware, beginning in 1968, to do five-day workshops with young students from the area. Pepper was an instructor at the Wilmington Music School each June from 1968 to 1970, then again one last time in 1974. At the School, directed by Schiff's father, Hal Schiff, Pepper had a chance to work with small ensembles and individually with students. Some were very promising inner-city students who couldn't afford tuition. For them, Schiff's father arranged scholarship money, underwritten by the Dupont and Hercules corporations. Dave Schiff was one of the lucky students who studied individually with Pepper.

One year, in the late '60s, after Pepper finished teaching at the Wilmington Music School, he invited Dave Schiff (whom he regarded as a very promising instrumentalist) to New York to study with him for a day. By then, according to Schiff, he had become quite close with Pepper. Schiff and his dad (also a tenor player) took the train early on a Monday morning from Wilmington and were greeted by Pepper at either Penn or Grand Central Station. Pepper assured Hal that he would look after him and all would be fine. Hal went home on the train. Pepper and Dave went back to Pepper's one-bedroom apartment at 84 Jane Street, and they studied together for much of the day. 

That night Pepper brought Dave with him to the Village Vanguard, ostensibly to hear the band. Pepper told Schiff to bring his horn. For the last tune of the last set Pepper asked Schiff to sit in on Back Bone. Schiff was petrified, but Pepper assured him it would be OK. Schiff would only play two choruses after Pepper's solo, he'd first sit next to Pepper on the bandstand and play the chart with him, and he'd do fine. Schiff already knew Thad from his Wilmington experience, but that hardly calmed his nerves. Schiff told me, "I was so scared I thought I was going to vomit." Before they played the tune, Pepper introduced Schiff to Jerry Dodgion, who, as always, was very warm and welcoming. "Very nice meeting you," said Dodgion to Schiff. "I'm looking forward to hearing you play." As it turned out, Schiff got through the experience. Another challenge for the young player was overcome and Pepper's lesson was learned. That is, always play when you're invited.

Schiff, nicknamed "Fish" by Pepper, thought he might move to New York and become a professional musician. He certainly had an important ally in Pepper, he thought, and he would seek out other players his own age and develop that way. But the Vietnam War changed his plans. His father, worried that his son would be drafted and would have to fight overseas, got his son enlisted in the Navy Band in 1972. 

Not entirely unlike Pepper's Korean War experience, I still don't know if Schiff had a tour of duty or, instead, if he stayed mostly at the base at Annapolis, Maryland. Schiff did stay with the Navy's Commodores band for about 20 years and later was also a member of Bill Potts' Big Band that had a long residency two weeks a month at Blues Alley in Washington, D.C. Interestingly, Schiff was in Potts' band on 11 October 1979, the night Pepper came in, as a guest soloist, at Frankie Condon's Supper Club in Rockville Maryland. Schiff made corrections to that entry in Pepper Adams' Joy Road (pages 384-85). The changes will be posted in the next few months at "Discographical Updates" at pepperadams.com.

Obviously, I look forward to transcribing the Schiff interview and following up. Schiff was the first person to describe the inside of Pepper's apartment on Jane Street. Most importantly, of course, was Schiff's extremely important observations about Pepper's approach to playing. Although I've done more than 100 interviews, no one has presented these kinds of insights. 

Why "Fish?" Pepper was a voracious crossword puzzle enthusiast. When Pepper was dying at home, he passed the time doing New York Times crossword puzzles and reading the Flashman Papers, a series of twelve novels written by George MacDonald Fraser. Moreover, as Curtis Fuller put it about Pepper's playing, "Pepper was a speller." My theory is that Pepper heard "Schiff" and amused himself by reversing Schiff's surname as a kind of pseudo- reverse homonym.

So far, I only know of two other summer music camps for whom Pepper taught. One was the National Band Camps, based at Millikin University in Decatur IL and the University of Connecticut in Stoors CT. As such, he was in the forefront of jazz education in the U.S. He enjoyed working with young players, and I understand the compensation for clinicians was quite good. Additionally, Adams enjoyed doing college workshops, where the pay was even better. Two such programs he did late in life were at Eastman in March, 1978 and the University of North Texas in November, 1982. At one National Band Camps residency, one of his young students was Boston-based guitarist Jon Wheatley. In the Eastman jazz program was pianist Dave Loeb (see Joy Road, page 324 and "Discographical Updates.") At UNT was tenor saxophonist Chip McNeill.

About Pepper's disinterest in having private students, I think Pepper really prized his time alone, reading fiction, listening to Ellington and classical music, and nurturing his other hobbies, such as reading about fine art or watching sports on televsion, particularly football and hockey. For the most part, Pepper was busy enough to support himself by playing, and his mother's inheritance allowed him a measure of comfort. He bought his house in Canarsie with cash from her estate, acquired some furniture (his dad's kitchen table, mom's spinet, etc), and he freed up the rent money that he was paying for his flat in Greenwich Village. 

The only other time I know of that Pepper had a private student was when he was already quite ill with cancer. Montreal-based baritone saxophonist Charles Papasoff got a grant from the Province of Quebec to study with Pepper. Unlike with Schiff, the situation was quite different. Pepper needed the subsidy because his medical benefits were dwindling and, with his cancer treatments, he wasn't able to work as much as he needed to support himself. Although I interviewed Papasoff years ago, I don't recall the nature of their interaction. That's just one of many interviews I need to review. I do know they became friends. I can't imagine Papasoff not asking Pepper a million questions about technique and his life in jazz but my recollection is that he and Pepper mostly hung out, and Pepper might not have even pulled out his instrument. Papasoff did help Pepper on his last visit to Montreal--a very poignant experience for all. Check out pages 505-507 of Joy Road regarding Adams' very last performance, with Papasoff and Denny Christianson's commentary.




                                            (Dave Schiff)