Another entry in the perpetually listening to every record in my collection alphabetically and blogging unscholarly thoughts project. This installment stars Toshiko Mariano, Wynton Marsalis and Warne Marsh.

Yes, the first record should probably really be a under Toshiko Akioshi, but given the name of the album, Toshiko Mariano Quartet, I’m going to leave it here. It’s also probably obvious that the alto player on this record (Toshiko Akioshi is the pianist) is Charlie Mariano. Also on the album are Gene Cherico, absolutely crushes it on this record (as always), and Eddie Marshall on drums. I had to listen to this one twice before moving on. It’s so awesome. Note to self: Transcribe Mariano’s original, “When You Meet Her”.

Wynton Marsalis

As for Mr. Marsalis, well there’s a lot to say. When I was a kid, I admired him because of the obvious reasons – he was young-ish and he seemed to be everywhere, playing with people I admired. I saw his killer band in (probably) 1990 in Des Moines at the Civic Center. I remember being blown away and wishing I was playing with them. Fast forward several years, and as a student at NEC, I came to dislike him immensely, thanks to his own actions and words at NEC, and to the environment of un-Wynton-ness that was cultivated at NEC at the time. Zoom forward to 2001 and the Ken Burns Jazz series came out, and my friends in Boston (and elsewhere) immediately panned it because of Mr. M’s involvement. Most recently, I was asked by a Boston youth orchestra to do a co-presentation with their conductor on Marsalis’ Swing Symphony, which is cool, but not that innovative.

Today, I’m of a few minds. If I focus on Wynton, the brand, then I find myself disinterested. The brash outspoken youth of the 1980s did damage to his elders steering the conversation about what “jazz” is towards his definition; decades later, I’m still struck by those limitations. On the other hand, limited though his definition was, Wynton (the musician) has demonstrated his ability to see/hear beyond those boundaries and has ventured into some interesting collaborations as a result. If I focus on Wynton, the public figure, then I’m grateful to him. Limited though his definition of jazz appears to still be, he has kept jazz a topic of discussion, and in some cases, provided environments in which it can thrive (Dizzy’s, for example). Finally, I actually like the records I own. I don’t love everything in the Marsalis catalog, but these…these are great.

Wynton Marsalis – With Ron Carter, Herbie Hancock and Tony Williams, this is a post-Miles Davis Quartet V.S.O.P. sort of album. I like that band, and on the whole I like this record. “Father Time” and “Sister Cheryl” are both tunes that I’d love to play, and Ron Carter’s playing on “Hesitation” is a master class on how to play the bass. I don’t love Wynton’s playing on this, but come on(!), he’s 21 years old on this!

Hot House Flowers – Honestly, I’m a sucker for …with strings albums. It’s a beautiful record, and Ron Carter’s playing throughout demonstrates why he’s the most recorded jazz bassist. Kenny Kirkland steals the show with his solo on “I’m Confessin’ (That I Love You)”. And the arranger! Bob Freedman was SUCH a great arranger, and what a nice person! This record owes so much to his writing.

Black Codes (from Underground) – A killer record. With Jeff “Tain” Watts and Kenny Kirkland both stealing the show, just about every time they do anything, it’s exciting from beginning to end. Wynton and Branford sound great, but seriously, Kenny Kirkland! I am also a long-term Charnett Moffett fan, and he’s no joke here – killing it on every track (except the one track that Ron Carter is amazing on). But did I mention Kenny Kirkland and Tain?

Standard Time, Vol. 1 – My favorite. I like Lee Konitz’ viewpoint about new music, which (paraphrasing) asks why we continually write and learn more new music when there are great songs already around with discoveries to be made. I like the arranging on this record, and of course with Robert Leslie Hurst III and Jeff “Tain” Watts, the groove is ferocious. I use Tain’s arrangement of “Autumn Leaves” a lot when working with jazz students.

The Majesty of the Blues – Cool record. This is the one I know the least, and even though I like all of these LPs, it’s the one I like the least. I think this might have been the band I saw, or something like it, back in the day in Des Moines. The dirge at the start of side two is pretty ferocious, although “Premature Autopsies (Sermon)” is a bit much.

Swing Symphony – As mentioned above, I recently was asked to be the jazz person in a series of master classes for a local youth orchestra that was checking out Marsalis’ Swing Symphony. Interesting music, but what the listener’s context really matters in this case. Marsalis is fantastic at orchestrating richness, and at composing time-specific sounding music. Each movement had its own time travel to it, taking the listener from the turn of the 20th century into the middle part of the century. To a classical-only listener, I can only imagine that it was a fascinating composition to experience; to a jazz-only listener, there is not quite enough solo space to keep their attention. I prefer to think of this in relation to the 1950s Third Stream universe, and when compared to that music, this symphony doesn’t quite compete.

It’s not that it’s a bad or boring or uninteresting composition. There is a lot to like, especially if you don’t have much of a jazz background. The string writing and his ability to make the building vibrate with romantic-era orchestration is really fantastic.

The issue I have is this: when you combine 19th century orchestration with a big band, and then the big band writing is little more than 1940s commercial writing – and I mean that both in arranging and the fact that virtually every solo is on a standard progression – the result is not that interesting to someone who has heard Third Stream records like John Lewis Presents Jazz Abstractions, or even Joe Lovano’s great album Rush Hour. Having studied at NEC, the home to Third Stream (thanks to Gunther Schuller, George Russell and Ran Blake), having studied with George and others in the Jazz Department, as well as Lee Hyla and John Heiss on the other side, and having played Schuller’s last great commission with similar orchestration, it really is difficult to hear the Marsalis symphony as anything other than derivative. I hate saying that, but it’s true. It’s not that he isn’t gifted, it’s just that the structure of this doesn’t do much of anything new and much/most of the arranging/orchestration itself can be found in the work of great artists of ~100 years ago.

I haven’t done any key analysis or, well I don’t have the score so I haven’t done any other analysis other than to react using my ears. Here are my thoughts:

• Movement I: St. Louis to New Orleans – This is one of a couple perfect spots for Marsalis and his music. He knows infinitely more about the New Orleans scene and tradition than I do, and so the dirge is spot on and the later improvisation (role based, not choruses) is exactly what you would expect. I do think that the use of #9 in the melody is fascinating to listen to as it gets passed around from instrument to instrument. The tuning systems are so different. The version of this recording that I checked out the most comes from Europe, where this phenomenon is even more exaggerated. Also, throughout this symphony, the presence of Carl Stalling is…well, to my ears, Stalling is here the whole time. I’m sure Marsalis didn’t intend this, but quick shifts in mood and pervasive use of mallets playing Americana-esque ideas sounds like Stalling to me.
• Movement II: All-American Pep – After a “peppy” introduction, we get to an Ellingtonian ballad with a Harry Carney-styled baritone saxophone solo. Much of this section is more like stock commercial writing from the late 1940s through mid 1950s than it is like Duke, but I love it. I love that sound, especially the string writing.
• Movement III: Midwestern Moods – This is where Third Stream starts to come in. The strings versus big band approach reminds me of Jimmy Lunceford more than Gunther Schuller, but that’s probably because of the swing-era styled performance. The rhythm section has an especially ’40s beat. This leads to a ballad section that has a solo on the changes to “Body and Soul”, which then turns into a Cuban extravaganza. It’s “City of Glass” by Bob Graettinger meets “Cubana Be, Cubana Bop” from George Russell and Dizzy Gillespie.
• Movement IV: Manhattan to LA – Right out of the gate, this is to the changes of “Bebop”, and then it takes a left turn to a wholehearted homage to Cachao’s amazing classic “Mambo”…sometimes it feels like a bit more than a homage. It ends with a Johnny Hodges oriented ballad.
• Movement V: Modern Modes and the Midnight Moan – The most Third Stream yet, especially with the call and response at the beginning making a balance between hocket and fugue. The solos are to the changes of “So What,” with a healthy dose of quartal voicings thrown in.
• Movement VI: Think-Space Theory – This movement has elements of Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” and Hubbard’s “Little Sunflower”. Later in the movement there is an effect that reminds me of switching radio stations; something found in Mingus.
• Movement VII: The Low Down (Up on High) – This slow B flat blues eventually takes us back to Duke. There is an arranger’s chorus in the mix, which moves the listener back in time.

I’m happy I heard it; I’m happy he wrote it; I hope people check it out. I don’t think it rises to the level of artistry of the Third Stream recordings I mentioned, but if this is an introduction to jazz for “classical” listeners, it might be a good gateway drug.

Warne Marsh

Music for Prancing – A cool 1957 session for Marsh with Ronnie Ball, Red Mitchell and Stan Levey. It sits nicely in the greater Tristano universe, although except for “It’s Alright with Me”, and “Playa del Rey”, it was too cool for school, or maybe was so steeped in Tristano school that it was too cool, or something. I don’t love this record, but it is my second favorite of these records; second to…

Jazz Exchange, Volume One; Live at Montmartre Club – This album is ridiculous. It’s ferocious. There is hardly a dull moment on this thing. Lee Konitz and Niels Henning Orsted Pedersen are on fire, as is Marsh, and the other cats, Alex Riel or Svend Erik Norrgard and Ole Kock Hansen, are all killing it. This was the standout session of the following Marsh records.

All Music – I didn’t love this one so much. I think Lou Levy had better days, and although Jake Hanna and Fred Atwood are also great on other dates, this just didn’t do it for me. The heads to “Background Music” and “Subconscious-Lee” were nice, though.

How Deep, How High – This record is half amazing; the second half. Sal Mosca is such an interesting pianist, but the duo session on side one just does not excite me. Side two, on the other hand, with Sam Jones and Roy Haynes, is burning. “Background Music” and “She’s Funny that Way” are both super exciting. I remember this being a lot of money at the time (maybe $7.99 or something, used), and feeling a little like…it could have been more exciting.

A Ballad Album should not be exciting, but this one is. Each tune is gorgeous, and the playing by all of the musicians is exemplary. I always liked Jesper Lundgaard, and I think that if I had to pick a Lou Levy record from these, this is the one. He sounds great. So does Warne. Nice record.