Not a bad day off

A nice, chilled-out Monday got the week rolling along. Working on a couple of radio shows - solo drums is up next and following that, the music of Connie Crothers will be featured and I will definitely be including something of each of the albums here. But Solo serves as a reminder that I need to sort out my lack of turntable situation (but I managed to transfer it before the old turntable bit the dust... the other LPs missed out). I didn't spend as much time on the horn as I would have liked (and it was bugging me a little today), but the fish korma turned out well for a first crack. I'm hoping to get out to a couple of gigs later in the week, I can't remember the last one I got to. If I make it to them, I'll try and get a post up. But for now, it's time for a cuppa tea (that I let brew a little long).

COVID-19 Lockdown: Day 26

There was a little Sal listening over the weekend. Friday night, the duo tracks from Lee Konitz’ 1971 album Spirits had a spin and on Sunday night Jimmy Halperin’s Pslam had a run too. This morning I returned to Ruckus: Live at CJC (Creative Jazz Club Aotearoa) and my mood was such that I could focus in more that last week. I hadn’t heard any of DavidWard’s music in a long time and I really enjoyed re-connecting with it. He brings a slight quirky, fun approach to his music which went down well during the early start on Monday morning. Dave never was one for playing millions of notes, and this still seems to be the case. Not afraid of letting lines breathe is something that I’m aware of but that doesn’t mean it always happens! Nice band too – anything with John Bell (vibes) and Chris O’Connor (drums) is going to interest me. Rui Inaba (bass) was new to me and he slots in well. Nice sounding live recording too.

Following that, I wrapped up Sal Mosca’s Too Marvelous for Words with disc 5, containing the remainder of the Rotterdam concert and the Maastricht concert June 24 1981. In addition to some lines by Sal and Lennie Tristano, unsurprisingly, the repertoire across the five discs is drawn from the great American songbook (“Donna Lee” and “Hot House” get a couple of runs each too). He doesn’t really favour a particular tune “A Family Song” and “You Go To My Head” appear three times each, and plenty appear twice, but the set list stays pretty fresh concert to concert. Do I have a favourite concert? Well, I need to spent more time with the recordings and eventually one may stick with me a bit more than the others. Over the past several years I’ve moved away from playing standards. I still enjoying listening to them though and there’s no guarantee I won’t return to them at some stage. This set of discs serves as a lovely reminder of how much music can be extracted from these gems (and just how great Sal was).

COVID-19 Lockdown: Day 23

I will admit to being a little zoned-out as David Ward’s Ruckus: Live at CJC was playing this morning. End of the week tiredness or hangover from yesterdays kick in the guts? I’m not sure.... perhaps a bit of both? Anyway, it deserves more attention than I gave it, so I will return to it next week.

Along with a very welcome cup of tea, I followed up Ruckus with my daily fix of Too Marvelous For Words - Disc 4: De Doelen Hall, Rotterdam 20 June, 1981. This concert is notable as it features Sal’s own pieces more than the other concerts of the tour. In fact, the first ten pieces are Sal’s lines/compositions. It’s a treat getting to hear them back to back, and it brings a different vibe to the disc. It lifted my spirits somewhat, but it has been a long day.

Something about listening to all these pieces by Sal made me want to bust out Psalm – Jimmy Halperin’s duo album with Sal. It might get a run later tonight unless it is bumped by Sal's duo with Lee - Spirits. We'll see, but I'm sure both will get a run shortly.

Of Sal’s solo recordings (probably my favourite setting for Sal), I have listened to A Concert and Trickle the most. For You and Sal Mosca Music are off limits until I deal with my lack of a turntable situation.

COVID-19 Lockdown: Day 21

The morning kicked off with Steve Cournane’s Dancing Queen. The album is comprised of three trio sessions from September 2006, with Cournane joined by Roger Manins (ts) & Tom Callwood (b), Jonathan Crayford (keys) & Patrick Bleakly (b), and Joe Callwood (g) & Tom Callwood. Plenty of variety helped the morning cruise along - reggae grooves (“Plesmograph”), standards (“Alone Together”, “Evidence”) some calypso-type tunes of Steve’s (“There Will Always Be Rain”, “Toot & Repollo”), dark ballad (“John Karaitiana”) and even some ABBA (“Dancing Queen”.... and it actually works). Looking forward to giving this more air time.

Then it was onto disc 2 of Too Marvelous for Words – Sal at Concertgebouw, Amsterdam 21 June, 1981. I like that Sal’s friends/associates write the liner notes - Dick Hyman, Jimmy Halperin, Connie Crothers, Larry Bluth and Kazzrie Jaxen take one disc each. And Don Messina’s passion for the project comes through in the introduction (great work putting this together Don – thanks!). As usual, I listen to the disc at least once before reading the notes. At lunch I read Kazzrie’s notes and the first thing she mentions is Sal’s opening line on “I Never Knew” (which opens the disc) – something that leapt out at me too (and I'm sure it would grab anyone's attention). Of course there’s the influence of Tristano and the Sal’s early influence, Art Tatum, but I also hear some of the quirky, surprising twists and turners of Earl Hines’ solo work. That said, Sal is his own man and Too Marvelous for Words is distinctly Sal Mosca.

COVID-19 Lockdown: Day 20

Root 70 kept me company as I toured their discography during the start of the lockdown. Now I’m on tour with Sal Mosca, a disc a day from Too Marvelous for Words – a 5-CD set documenting solo concerts in the Netherlands during June, 1981. This was spurred on by our listening group. Unable to meet this month due to the pandemic lockdown, we are exchanging emails. One of the topics was artists born in April. I picked Sal (27 April, 1927-28 July, 2007) and as I hadn’t listened to his work in a little while.... here we are. 

Box sets can pose a problem, as you can easily overload or skim over things. I tried to stretch it out to a disc a week when I first got hold of the set back in 2016. And I think that helps. This week is the condensed version, and as I’m working these recordings definitely won’t receive the attention they deserve but I’m enjoying having Sal in the room nonetheless. Anyway, I kicked things off with disc 1: The Hague, 19 June, 1981.

NZ Jazz: Jann Rutherford - Discovery

Jann Rutherford: Discovery (Tall Poppies) 1998

I picked this out of the pile on the spare of the moment as I was about to head out the door on the first of the month. Sometimes the fit is just right for a particular moment. And having this keep me company whilst driving through the Horowhenua fog.... it just felt right.

The album contains 14 solo piano pieces – original compositions and some improvised pieces too. Overall it's warm and intimate with nice amount of introspection (with a sombre edge). Some pieces are quite joyful (yet slightly restrained), while others are searching deep. There are some shades of Mike Nock on the more up beat tunes (“Expectations” “Eve” "Weird Blue Lady”), but rhythmically Rutherford is different. Forceful is not the right word, but Mike is more rhythmically pronounced or percussive. As a bonus, listening to Discovery led me to giving both Talisman and Piano Solos a spin too.

Although the more introspective pieces may have led to some naval gazing, they are my favourite parts of the album – particularly those that I'm assuming are free improvisations such as the 2-part “Flights of Fancy” and 3-part “Adventure” (I finally checked the liner notes... they are free improvisations).

I noticed that this album would often lead my mind wander off and ponder things beyond the music at hand. Was it the music or just my general state of mind in this month? It seemed to happen often enough that I feel the music was setting the wheels in motion - just zoning out with it but not in it. I may have felt a bit zoned-out at times, but the music was going in. And as the month passed I was catching myself singing along with bits and pieces across the album – no doubt due to the lyrical, melodically memorable aspects of her playing.

Some music can change your mood, other (or at other times) music can reinforce it. But in this case I feel I’m projecting my own feelings into the music (we always do that though, don't we). Had recent times not been what they were, how differently would I hear this music? Would I be projecting something else entirely on this music? Would listening to this album in a years time change my perception of it - or perhaps my impression is now ingrained in me. Revisiting this album down the track could be an interesting experience.

Why is this on my mind this month and what is it about this recording that made me think about it? Would I have thought about it had I been listening to something else? Further, why am I doing this series on New Zealand jazz recordings? Why not just listen to music I really love? Two years in and I’ve found it interesting and quite rewarding at times. But how much of the music has touched me on a truly deep level? Not much really. I started this series at a time when things were getting tough, and probably more than anything else it was a way to reconnect with home. The struggle continues but for now, at least, I feel like things have run their course. Maybe it’s time for a break and step back from this before it becomes a drag.

Across the month moments change but none quite fit like that first listen. It’s funny, you sit down to write about an album and something else comes out.

Afternoon listening: Mike Nock Piano Solos

Mike Nock's 1978 album Piano Solos (Timeless) has been keeping me company this afternoon. I've been listening to this one on a fairly regular basis since I picked it up at the start of the year (or was it the end of last year?). There are some reflective moments, but it general this album has a dynamic, up-beat feel with the eight tunes from Nock and Herbie Hancock's "Dolphin Dance" providing plenty of variety. Well worth checking out.

Recently Listening: A bunch of Mike Nock

There was plenty of Mike Nock on the apartment airways during 2015 and I’m only just starting to catch up on things now. It was exciting to stumble upon reissues of The 3 Out at Dusty Groove a couple of months ago (they are available on vinyl too). 
Move was recorded in 1960 shortly after Mike Nock (p) Freddy Logan (b) Chris Karan (d) formed The 3 Out. The focus here is on standard tunes (there are 3 originals – 2 from Logan and a slow blues credited to the trio).

The trio’s follow up, Sittin’ In, is split in two. The first side features the trio and the second half of the album is augmented with Erroll Buddle (ts) Don Burrows (as/bs) Ron Falson and Colin Jones (trpt) and features four original tunes (one each from Burrows, Nock, Falson and Logan).

I remember hearing Mike mention that this is the group people ask him about the most. Perhaps now that Move and Sittin’ In are more easily available the questions will ease up. These two albums are essential listening for Nock fans and those interested in the rise of modern jazz in Australasia. Now we just need reissues of The Fourth Way.

Another nice surprise from Dusty Groove was a Japanese reissue of Piano Solos (Timeless). Recorded in NYC in September 1978, this solo outing provides plenty of variety in tempo and mood.

Recorded during a fertile period for Nock - In Out and Around, Talisman, The Opal Heart, Climbing and Ondas are all from this era - Piano Solos has been on regular rotation of late. “Break Time” stood out on my first couple of listens and there will be some interesting follow-up listening. “Break Time” and “Jacanori” appear other Nock albums, and “Fallen Angel” alludes to “Forgotten Love” - from In Out and Around (recorded a couple of months earlier) and Ondas. Back-to-back listens of these tracks is on the cards sometime soon. Then I'll need to give Talisman another spin too, as both solo albums were recorded in 1978. 

Two-Out (FWM Records) pairs Nock with saxophonist Roger Manins for a set of eleven standards. Taking a quick look at the Nock discography, this album appears to be the first time he has recorded an album entirely devoted to standard tunes. The cover photo really captures the essence of the album - a relaxed, fun and warm meeting of friends. I can't recall hearing Manins sound so relaxed and, at times, vocal (a new dimension seems to have appeared in his tone) and it leaves me wanting to hear more..... how about a follow-up featuring Mike's tunes spanning his career?! I'm adding Two-Out to the list of his fine duo outings including The Waiting Game (with Marty Ehrlich), Duologue (with David Liebman), Open Door (with Frank Gibson Jr.), Kindred (with Laurenz Pike)... more on the latter, later.

Mike's albums on FWM Records are available via Bandcamp.