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Top 10 Jazz Piano Trio Albums

Last month I blogged about my top 10 favorite jazz piano tracks, and this time around I’ll be looking at entire albums. In addition to using the same traditional definition of “piano trio” (e.g. acoustic piano, acoustic bass, drums), I’ll define “album” as something conceived and put together for release as a unified piece of work. So a Bud Powell compilation does not count, for example.

And away we go:

1.Phineas Newborn, Jr.: A World of Piano, with Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones (Side A) and Sam Jones and Louis Hayes (Side B)

Ah yes, back to the days when LP sides actually meant something (I just can’t bring myself to say “tracks 1-4” instead of “Side A”). Anyway, I make no secret of my devotion to Phineas, and Side A of this record is a definitive statement of his artistry (notwithstanding the fact that The Piano Artistry of Phineas Newborn, Jr. is another album entirely). He plays his butt off on “Cheryl” and “Manteca,” and then things really get ridiculous. He plays Lush Life with a Ravel-based intro, great lyricism, and a portion mid-way through where I swear it sounds like he has 3 hands (skillful use of the sostenuto pedal, I’m guessing, but I don’t really know). Following this is “Daahoud,” 4:43 of some of most burnin’ jazz you will ever hear, period. Most amazingly, to me, he somehow imbues soul and blues feeling while playing perfect bop lines and shredding the changes at an extremely fast tempo. That Side B is a slight letdown is no shame, and every track there is fabulous as well, arguably highlighted by and even-faster version of “Oleo.”

2.Papa Jo Jones: Jo Jones Trio, with Ray Bryant and Tommy Bryant

Papa Jo Jones is, of course, best known for his work with Count Basie in the 1930s and ‘40s, but this 1958 session finds him at the top of his game, particularly on the utterly ridiculous drum feature “Old Man River,” a stellar testament to the hipness of the greatest “old-school” musicians. The star here, though (at least to this pianist’s ears), is pianist Ray Bryant. Always a great player, composer and arranger, he is largely responsible for the amazingly tight trio arrangements that provide the basis for the incredibly swinging music here. The trio manages to sound extremely tight and polished but not the least bit sterile.

3.Kenny Barron: the Only One, with Ray Drummond and Ben Riley

This was the first Kenny Barron record I checked out (courtesy of old friend Amanda Monaco, who encouraged me to come to Rutgers to study with him), and I’ll sheepishly admit that I didn’t immediately love it. At the time, my attention was much more easily caught by funkier pianists (Bobby Timmons’ This Here Is Bobby Timmons, which ever-so-narrowly missed making this Top 10 list, was my favorite at the time) and thus Kenny’s conception did not immediately resonate. With the possible exceptions of the funky version of “Love For Sale” and the slow-grind “Blueswatch,” composed by one of his students at the time, the flowing lyricism that is central to Kenny’s style (even on up-tempo numbers like “Surrey With the Fringe On Top” and “All God’s Children”) was a foreign sound. That, of course, was nearly 20 years ago, and my conception has since expanded. Kenny’s flowing phrasing is now one of the hallmarks of my own playing, and this is my favorite among the many examples of his trio work with Ben Riley on drums (Green Chimneys with Buster Williams might be next on the list, for what it’s worth).

4.Bill Evans: Portrait in Jazz, with Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian

This is another instance in which it’s important to distinguish that I’m talking about “favorite” and not “best” or “most important,” in which case I’d be pedagogically obligated to cite Sunday at the Village Vanguard. That one would be a pretty easy choice for a favorite as well, but this one gets me the most excited. Courtesy of a dubbed cassette in high school, Portrait in Jazz was my first exposure to Bill Evans and I can now see that it had a profound impact. Interestingly, while this is still highly interactive music (as on the famous version of “Autumn Leaves”), it is also the most straightforwardly swinging of Evans’ recordings with Paul Motian and Scott LaFaro and as such highly recommended to those who haven’t yet been able to penetrate the “introspective” layers of the Village Vanguard recordings from two years later.

5.Mary Lou Williams: Free Spirits, with Buster Williams and Mickey Roker

The more Mary Lou Williams I listen to, the more I’m reminded of how underappreciated she is. Besides that, there are relatively few musicians with her longevity who just kept getting better, but I would cite this mid-70s recording as evidence of that. Her playing is authoritative, harmonically modern and intensely soulful. The CD reissue includes some great bonus tracks not on the original LP (which I bought years ago, so it was a particular treat to hear these additional tunes). My favorite track is “Baby Man” (which I subsequently arranged for the Playdate album), a bluesy yet modern tune composed by John Stubblefield but never actually recorded by Stubby himself. Every track here is a winner, though, and Buster and Mickey play beautifully as well.

6.Ahmad Jamal: Awakening, with Jamil Nasser and Frank Gant

As addressed in the last top 10 post, I have a particularly strong soft spot for this incarnation of Ahmad’s trio. His earliest trio (with Ray Crawford on guitar) is phenomenal, though “ineligible” for this list due to instrumentation. Of course most folks are familiar with his hugely important trio with Vernell Fournier and Israel Crosby, and But Not For Me: Live at the Pershing is easily one of the most popular piano trio records ever. But this album is a wonder of a different variety. Like a handful of really important records, I remember where I was when I bought it and where I was when I first listened to it. It is some of the moodiest work of Ahmad’s career and some of the most colorful, richly textured piano trio work ever recorded. There are also moments (as on “Wave”) where he shows that he had a lot more chops in his trick bag than he was letting on most of the time.

7.James Williams: Magical Trio 2, with Ray Brown and Elvin Jones

Those who have read a number of these lists have likely encountered this album repeatedly, as it served as a formative influence and is still one of my favorites. The ballads (“You Are Too Beautiful” and “Too Late Now”) are tender and there are some exciting up-tempo moments as well (as on “Bohemia After Dark”). Most of all, though, the incredibly hard-swinging medium tempos that were JW’s bread and butter are on display as well here as they ever were. Elvin and Ray find an amazing pocket together, and James’ soulful yet modern playing takes it all to a stunning level of artistry. This pre-supposes that you’re into that sound, I guess – me, I would be hard-pressed to cite a single album more important in my development than this one.  

8.Sweet Basil Trio: St. Thomas, with Cedar Walton, Ron Carter and Billy Higgins

I had the pleasure of hearing Cedar Walton and Billy Higgins together on a few occasions, and it was a real marvel to behold – on more than one occasion I have cited their work together (along with that of Kenny Barron and Ben Riley) as the epitome of a swinging pocket in the modern era. Billy and Cedar worked together with a number of bassists (Paul Chambers, Sam Jones, Buster Williams, Tony Dumas, David Williams, etc.), but I have the softest soft spot for their astoundingly mature and interactive work with Ron Carter. Each swinging track on this recording (appropriately enough recorded live at Sweet Basil in New York) sounds like an exercise in telepathy among the trio members.

9.Chick Corea: Now He Sings, Now He Sobs, with Miroslav Vitous and Roy Haynes

Perhaps I need to see a therapist about this (once I get through the rest of my psychopathology, I guess), but as with Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea is someone I almost hesitate to cite as an influence, since among modern pianists he’s such an obvious choice. Those musings aside, I remember buying this cassette in high school after being hipped to it by the Colombian bassist Jairo Moreno . . . and I totally didn’t get it. Fast forward maybe 2 ½ years, and at the beginning of my junior year of college I had finally reached a certain level of basic jazz fluency where I was ready to explore more modern stuff without it being built on a shaky foundation. I put this one back in and NOW I got it. Needless to say this album is a classic, with incredibly assertive playing by all three trio-members and a level of effortless fire (is that an oxymoron) that helped bring the expectations for modern jazz pianists up a notch.

10.Hampton Hawes: Spanish Steps (reissued as Blues for Bud), with Jimmy Woode and Art Taylor

I can’t really call Hampton Hawes a “formative influence,” as I was fairly oblivious to his playing until my mid-20s. At that point I began checking out his trio work on the Contemporary label and realizing how underrated and amazing he was, bridging the gap between blues and bop on a level comparable to Wynton Kelly or early Horace Silver. This recording, made in Europe after his long hiatus due to a trumped-up drug incarceration, shows Hawes version 2.0 in a sense. By this point he had absorbed a lot of modern influences in his rhythm and harmonies as well, without sacrificing any of the other elements. The results of this leap in development are particularly appealing on this album, which contains some of the hippest and most swinging piano playing that you’ve probably never heard.

1 Comment by noahjazz on August 24, 2010
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Beetkes (Beet Latkes)

Everyone likes latkes, right? Based on my appearance and mannerisms (and in some cases my last name, which comes from the gentile side, ironically enough), folks assume I’m Jewish, and given that my mother is a Jew, that’s technically true (by the laws of Israel or whatever). From a faith-and-upbringing standpoint I’m really not, but there are some things that I guess I inherited. A case could be made that a knack for latkes (grated potato pancakes) is one, but I beg to differ, as I’ve seldom met anyone who doesn’t dig ‘em. C’mon, salty potatoes with onions fried greasily into a pancake?

Rather than give a traditional recipe, though (something I associate more with winter, when fresh veggies are harder to come by and thus we eat more potatoes), here’s an adaptation using beets. Maybe this is me running from my heritage? I think not, I think it’s just that there were some really awesome beets available and it was a day for a special brunch with Kate.

Beetkes ready to eat

Beetkes ready to eat with a side of cucumber/avocado salad

If you’re looking for structural integrity, this is probably not the recipe to try, but it’s damn tasty. A solution to the delicacy issue is to simply put the batter in a long, oiled baking pan and bake it (roughly 35 minutes at 350), serving it more as a casserole. If you want to go the pancake route (as I prefer) a few tricks to keep in mind. One, it’s really important to drain the beets and onion well after grating – press the grated stuff into the colander hard enough to squeeze out the juice. Two, while it’s possible to cook some kinds of pancakes with minimal oil (or with non-stick spray or whatever) this would be a less ideal context for doing that. Three, resist the temptation to make them large, as when you flip, you’ll encounter trouble. The good news is that they still taste great if they fall apart!

-          3 large beets

-          1 medium onion

-          2 large eggs

-          1/2 cup whole wheat flour

-          2 tsp salt

-          Freshly-ground pepper

-          Oil for frying

1) Grate the beets and onion and drain thoroughly. Place in a large-ish bowl.

2) Add the eggs and mix “wet” ingredients together thoroughly, beating the eggs somewhat in the process.

3) Add the dry ingredients and stir again.

4) Heat up a frying pan or skillet (medium-hot) and add oil (again, see above). When the pan is hot, put the batter on the skillet with a relatively small (say, 2-3 Tbsp) amount per pancake. Press down with a spatula and let cook until the bottom is crispy. Flip over VERY carefully and cook on the other side. Transfer to a serving bowl (lined with paper towel if you want to lessen the grease-quotient), and if you like, put that bowl into an oven set to “warm” until ready to serve.

5) Serve as-is or with a dollop of yogurt or sour cream. With traditional latkes, applesauce and sour cream (in tandem) are the typical condiments, but in this case the beets add a sweetness that would render applesauce fairly redundant.

No Comments by noahjazz on August 17, 2010
filed in Recipes

Personal Art

As I prepare for the first performance of Know Thyself since last November (August 14, New Haven Jazz Festival), I find myself reflecting on what it entails to present music that is deeply personal, something that this piece does on a level far beyond anything I have ever written. I’m proud of the music in the suite, but I’m perhaps even more proud of its sincerity in representing my own quest for self-knowledge. If you did not attend one of the initial performances, you can scroll to the bottom of the post to see the program notes, which discuss this in greater depth.

I realize now that Know Thyself represents the first time in my career as a “recording artist” that I have put myself out in quite this way. The Patch Kit album has something of a narrative, but a fairly loose one – and to be honest, my headspace was centered largely on working to make the most of (and not freak out about) being in the studio with Ron Carter and Ben Riley. Soul Force has some very sincere and emotionally intimate writing, but writing about Martin Luther King is not an entirely “personal” endeavor, regardless of how personally resonant and relevant I find his life and message to be. Some of the tracks on Bliss are very personal (particularly “Second Sunrise,” written about my daughter Rebecca, and “Bliss,” which was the processional for my wedding), but still focusing on other people as inspiration. Before Know Thyself, I think the closest I ever came to publicly presenting work this personal was in the mid-1990s (my early 20s), when I was into writing poetry and set a number of poems (some of them almost painfully personal/honest) to music with spoken-word recitation. I spent a little less than two years working on this mostly-undocumented (save for “private” tapes) body of work and I think there was some good stuff in there. However, my own experience presenting the work ranged from vaguely unsatisfying at best to profoundly difficult at worst. With about 15 years of hindsight, I can see that the biggest problem was that there was so much of me in the pieces that I was extremely raw and vulnerable in performance and as yet far from the point in my personal growth where I could handle that. A bad solo on “Ornithology” might be disappointing or embarrassing, but a sub-par performance of one of these spoken-word pieces felt like an unflattering depiction of the depths of my personhood, and if the audience reaction was lukewarm, I felt deeply and disproportionately invalidated.

My dear friend Rachel Green, herself a performing artist for years (now a brilliant and successful mental health professional) introduced me years ago to the notion of “therapy art.” The term refers to creations that are first and foremost vehicles for processing raw emotions. The therapeutic benefits can be substantial, but one can debate whether something in this mold is fit for public consumption, given the inherent lack of mental clarity that generally corresponds with such a purely emotional state. But how can we identify “therapy art?” Most of us have heard music that we have dismissed as self-indulgent . . . and most of us have also been deeply moved by music that is this raw and unfiltered. With Know Thyself I like to think that I managed the best of both worlds in this regard – at least that was my goal. I went back and forth between raw emotion and aesthetic objectivity often throughout the compositional process. I came up with ideas from an emotional place, switched headspaces to evaluate the content and do the extensive grunt-work of putting the piece together, and then switched back again to see if the emotions were still equally resonant as the music became more refined.

For me the question of whether to be completely personal with my work is not so much a question of success vs. failure (judged on a scale by which more personal = better) but rather a question of cost vs. benefit. I think that even in the current low-attention-span era (don’t get me wrong, I love a good ringtone as much as the next guy) there is still plenty of relevance for art that provides an emotional journey, maybe even more so for those needing an antidote to things that are shallow and disposable. But does the world want (or benefit from) this sort of intensely personal music to an extent that outweighs the strain of creating it? I’m in a much better place than I was at age 23 when I said “no mas” to the spoken-word/music work, but working in this way is still exhausting and, frankly, kind of scary.

This is not to imply that creating and presenting “Know Thyself” has been a negative experience, mind you. Quite the contrary, it has been profound on multiple levels. The audience responses to the concerts at Wesleyan and at the Jazz Gallery were very consistent with the kind of emotional journey I tried to create. That was extremely gratifying artistically and extremely validating to the emotional parts (the “damaged inner children,” if you will) who were given voice through much of the suite. That said, it would be difficult to make this sort of public emotional vulnerability a daily occurrence and still remain centered. As I reach the final stages of producing the recording of the suite (to be released before the close of 2010), I am also quite conscious of the unusual challenges. A recording can be a great way to share a piece of music, to allow people to re-experience it and perceive layers of sound and meaning that were missed in live performance and so on. It can also be put on in the background at a dinner party or “listened to” while having a conversation or reading a book. Objectively speaking, all of that is fine, and objectively speaking I am conscious that it is a lot to ask in this day and age to request that people sit for an hour and devote their attention exclusively to an emotionally intense piece of music. But objectivity is a lot easier to come by when we are discussing my interpretation of “Sweet and Lovely” than it is for this suite.

So where do I go next with all of this? Honestly, I don’t know yet. Some of the music that is most important to me is that which affords me a glimpse of the artist’s innermost emotions and experiences, and I know I am not alone in that regard. On the other hand, I am also moved by Phineas Newborn, Jr. and Joao Gilberto and Eddie Harris and the Four Tops and many other artists for whom being “personal” is less relevant and/or means something different. I do know that I will invariably cycle back and forth in this way, just as my recording projects over the last 10 years or so have tended to bounce between “concept albums” and collections of tunes that I simply think sound good, each filling a role that the other is not fully capable of filling. So I’ll take some time to focus on arranging and on the piano, but when I next return to the realm of conceptually-unified work, I already know it will amp up the inner debate I’ve written about here. Hopefully in the meantime Know Thyself will reach some more ears and hearts and further reinforce that part of why I took this on in the first place.

PROGRAM NOTES:

 The “Know Thyself” suite began as a proposal for Chamber Music America’s New Works grant program. Through the good fortune of receiving this grant, I have had the opportunity to explore the development of themes over an extended piece, something to which I have been drawn in works ranging from Beethoven’s Fifth to Charles Mingus’s The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady to the Who’s Quadrophenia. There are eleven themes, each one with a meaning beyond notes and rhythms, and they evolve and interact over the course of thirteen movements. I have deliberately strived for emotional resonance and sincerity, rather than shielding myself with the protective barriers of abstraction implicit to instrumental jazz.

When I took on the project, I intended for it to be a fairly conceptual examination of the human search for self-knowledge. I have always valued introspection, and through the years I have observed the impact of looking inward (or not) on people around me. I draw inspiration from people who have the courage to honestly re-examine themselves throughout adulthood, and on the other end I have seen sad and damaging patterns perpetuated by those who turn away from their inner truth. What I did not anticipate was that in between drafting the grant proposal and composing the music, my own life would be turned upside down several times over. I found myself having to dig deep to manage the present moment, while also needing to deal with some unaddressed baggage from my own past.

As a result, this suite’s initial goal of examining the generalized notion of seeking to know oneself necessarily gave way to a highly personal exploration of my own quest. I say “necessarily” because, having taken on this task in life, any other approach to this music would have been disingenuous. Having six fabulous musical collaborators at my disposal has afforded me the opportunity to explore a variety of textures, grooves and harmonic landscapes. More resonantly for me, though, they have given voice to this wordless narrative that explores a journey through suffering, fear, determination, faith and, ultimately, transcendence and wholeness. 

 

1 Comment by noahjazz on August 8, 2010
filed in NB's activities and experiences, Philosophizing

Broiled Black Beans with Sage

Sage is a tricky herb – it’s tasty, but kind of strong. As such, there are few applications (especially for vegetarians like us who thus don’t use it for ham stuffing or whatever) where you can use copious amounts, as one might turning a large pile of basil into pesto or a large pile of parsley into tabouleh. But at least in our garden the sage plants come on strong, so the question arises of what to do with all that sage? That was my jumping-off point for this experiment, which ultimately turned out quite well, allowing the sage to split the difference between fresh and dried, blending well with the beans without being overpowering.

yum, beans with sage

It was also really easy – about 15 minutes start to finish. Serve it with rice or as a protein-rich side dish with salads (cucumber salad is particularly great this time of year if you have access to local cucumbers). The optional tomato (though it maybe adds 2 minutes of chopping to the estimate above) adds flavor and, perhaps more importantly, moisture. Otherwise it winds up being a pretty dry dish – that’s how I made it and it wasn’t problematic because it was being served alongside a moist salad. Also, I imagine that other fresh herbs would work well here, but since the point for me was to find a use for an otherwise vaguely-useful herb I haven’t tried that.

- 1 large (25 ounce) can black beans

- ¼ cup chopped fresh sage

- 1 tsp salt

- pepper to taste

- optional: 1 large tomato, chopped and/or 1 large clove garlic, chopped or crushed

- a little oil for the pan

1) Preheat broiler or set oven to broil. Lightly coat a baking pan (with sides) with oil.

2) drain the beans, chop the sage, throw all the stuff in the pan

3) when the broiler is hot, put the pan in and broil for about 10 minutes, removing to stir once or twice along the way.

No Comments by noahjazz on July 30, 2010
filed in Recipes

Top 10 Piano Trio Tracks

Top 10 Piano Trio Tracks

Given my line of work, this is a particularly tough one to narrow down. If you look at my other top 10 lists, you’ll see that there are also lists for piano trio albums and for piano solos. This is for standout individual tracks (yes, Now He Sings, Now He Sobs is an exceptional album, forgive me for not selecting any of the individual tracks) and takes the whole performance into account (hence no Bud Powell, with all due respect to his rhythm sections). I’ve also limited it to piano/bass/drums trios – on one level this is semi-arbitrary, on another it’s because I feel like comparing the King Cole trio to these is apples and oranges (or at least pears).

Without any further ado . . .

1.     Red Garland: “Billy Boy” from Milestones by Miles Davis – with Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones

I’ll admit, somewhat sheepishly, that Red Garland is not one of my personal favorite pianists (of course, that’s not a particularly damning insult, considering how crowded my list of favorites is). His playing and the full-trio unity and groove on this classic track, however, are about as perfect as perfect could be. If you’re reading this and not familiar with this track, STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND LISTEN TO IT NOW and then you may return to reading.

2.    Ahmad Jamal: “Poinciana” from At the Top: Poinciana Revisited, with Jamil Nasser and Frank Gant

To some, this might be utter heresy once they look and notice that, while I chose “Poinciana,” it is not as played by the classic Crosby/Fournier trio (if you’re not familiar with that one, it’s an important point of reference, so check that out to on the But Not For Me: Live at the Pershing album). Fact is that I’m a huge devotee of his less heralded trio (save for the Awakenings record) with Frank Gant and the recently-departed Jamil Nasser. They groove like crazy on this track and Ahmad’s own playing is revelatory, with stunningly modern harmonies and runs mixed in with the playful riffs.

3.    Bill Evans: “Gloria’s Step” from Sunday at the Village Vanguard, with Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian

Not much to say about this that hasn’t already said. My favorite track from one of the most important trio recordings in modern jazz history, with wonderfully interactive and creative playing and an underrated sense of swing.

4.    Ray Bryant: “Cubano Chant” from Con Alma, with Bill Lee and Mickey Roker

I love Ray Bryant’s trio conception, which is soulful, fun, harmonically clever and manages to make a trio sound huge. This song is one of his best-loved (not just by me) and Lee (Spike’s pop) and Roker are super-tight as they play the head and super-swinging beyond.

5.    Horace Silver: “Opus de Funk” from Horace Silver Trio, with Percy Heath and Art Blakey

Folks tend to think of Horace Silver in the context of his many great quintet recordings, as well they should. His early trio work with Art Blakey, however, is a wonderful display of his early piano style, which had a profound influence on the shape of modern jazz piano that folks seem to have largely forgotten nowadays. Before the modern innovations of Bill Evans’, Cecil Taylor and McCoy Tyner and the soulful directions of Bobby Timmons and Wynton Kelly, Silver was arguably the first to take Bud Powell’s style and add a personal touch to it, and every hard bop pianist who has come since has stood on his shoulders, whether they realize it or not. This track, with great work by Blakey, shows him at a fascinating crossroads where he is incorporating the blues and gospel devices with which he is now most closely identified, but is still using the long, Powell-derived bop lines with which he began.

6.    Duke Ellington: “Fleurette African” from Money Jungle, with Charles Mingus and Max Roach

This is truly a full-trio track (as opposed to a piano solo with accompaniment) with Mingus especially taking a prominent role on this achingly moody latter-day Ellington composition. Ellington himself offers up one of his most lyrical and nuanced piano performances here.

7.    Herbie Hancock: “Sorcerer” from Speak Like a Child, with Ron Carter and Mickey Roker

Another “confession,” and my understanding of psychology is perhaps not adequate to explain this phenomenon, but part of me resists loving Herbie. I’m pretty sure it’s because I came up in a time when he was so uniformly idolized by my peers that I felt inclined to distance from that and identify more with others among the pianists I dug. But let’s be real here, Herbie is super-bad and has been for a long time. This particular track (note Mickey Roker on drums yet again) is to my ears the perfect example of Herbie’s irresistible blend of swinging, bluesy touch, bop-informed phrasing and harmonic innovation.

8.    Kenny Barron: “You Don’t Know What Love Is” from The Perfect Set, with Ray Drummond and Ben Riley

This is my list, so I’m entitled to be partial to Kenny Barron. In my book, his trio with Ray and Ben ranks atop the many he has led, and I’ve enjoyed all of the many shows I’ve seen with this group, especially those that took place in the Village at Bradley’s (as is the case with this recording). This is quintessential KB trio from the rubato intro to the slow, measured development and ridiculously tight and swinging group work (and great solos) as the groove and dynamics ebb and flow.

9.    Roy Haynes: “After Hours” from We Three, with Phineas Newborn, Jr. and Paul Chambers

At some point I’ll elaborate/blog on my Phineas-only list (maybe I’ll even make another), but as for full-trio tracks, I had to go for this epic slow blues. P.C. plays wonderfully and Roy Haynes manages the dynamic development with characteristic mastery. Newborn himself is, of course, soulful, melodic and technically stunning.

10.  James Williams: “In the Open Court” from Magical Trio 2, with Ray Brown and Elvin Jones

This was a somewhat tough call, in that it meant leaving out any number of hard swinging trio tracks by Bobby Timmons, a choice for which JW himself would have likely given me a polite scolding. Nonetheless, this track swings so hard and is so soulful and was so important to my own musical development that I had to “follow my gut” here. When I heard this album, and particularly this track (dedicated to some of JW’s favorite basketball players) it was so soulful and grooving that it literally made me think “oh, you mean jazz can sound this good?” Given their seemingly opposite rhythmic conceptions, Ray Brown and Elvin Jones make for an odd pairing, though they worked well together with Phineas Newborn and Cedar Walton in years past, and this wonderfully displays their blues-informed common ground.

1 Comment by noahjazz on July 5, 2010
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Vegan Cream of Spinach Soup

(I would have called it “Cream” of Spinach Soup, but wasn’t sure if the subject line could handle quotes)

bowl o' soup

This past weekend I had the pleasure of hosting the great pianist/composer Sunna Gunnlaugs and her band (check her out here) for a double-bill gig at the Buttonwood Tree, and I offered to provide the pre-gig meal as well. Sunna is dealing with a significant range of food intolerances, so my task (which I chose to take on, as Sunna herself said she was content to essentially fend for herself) was to come up with a meal that was satisfying for a van full of hungry musicians while avoiding (among other things) wheat, gluten, soy, dairy, fruit and vinegar. I came up with a 3-course meal that was well-received (whether due to quality or musicianly politeness I’ll leave you to speculate). There was a chilled brown rice salad with vegetables (garden snow and snap peas, garden garlic scapes, corn, cherry tomatoes) and nuts (toasted pecans and almonds) with a simple salt/olive oil/lemon juice dressing. The “main course” was a baked lentil “loaf” (although it didn’t hold its shape too well) which was basically cooked brown lentils mixed with a “sofritó” of sautéed onion, red pepper, garlic and tomatoes) and some salt, pepper, oregano and cumin, with a couple eggs to bind it all together.

The biggest hit, though, was ironically the simplest dish. I had been planning a mushroom soup when I found out that fungi were off limits as well. Only moderately daunted I had a rare moment of fairly comprehensive culinary inspiration (as opposed to being inspired to change 1 or 2 ingredients in an otherwise reliable dish, or doing something from the seat of my pants and having it turn out not so well). This dish was tasty and REALLY EASY – I dare say that it might even be worth trying even by folks who aren’t looking for dairy alternatives (UNLESS those folks have nut allergies – sorry). If you already have a bulb of roasted garlic, we’re looking at 15 minutes total. If not, that’s super easy (see notes) but will require an additional 45 minutes of mostly waiting around, which ideally can be done in advance when you’re using the oven anyway. See the notes after the recipe for more info on that.

-          1 cup cashew butter

-          1 head/bulb roasted garlic (see notes)

-          6 cups hot water

-          1 Tbsp salt

-          10-16 ounces frozen or fresh chopped spinach

-          ¼ cup chopped mixed fresh herbs (parsley, basil, etc.)

1) Heat up the water in a pot or kettle. Measure out the cashew butter.

2) Scoop the roasted garlic guts (I just spear them with a small paring knife) into a small/medium bowl (even a soup/cereal bowl is fine) and mash with a fork. Plop on top of the pile of cashew butter and scrape the pile of glop into a medium to large saucepan or soup pot.

3) When the water is hot, turn the heat under the soup pot up to medium and pour about a cup of hot water in along with the salt, whisking vigorously to keep the mixture smooth. Over the course of the next 5 minutes or so, add a cup of water at a time, continuing to whisk.

4) Once all the water is in there and you have a nice, thick broth, whisk in the herbs. Immediately thereafter, discard the whisk and switch to a wooden (or plastic) stirring spoon and add the spinach.

5) Stir/cook until the spinach is just soft (will be very quick if using fresh, a little longer if frozen) and then you’re done.

NOTES:

-          To roast garlic, first preheat an oven to 375 (or thereabouts – if you’re already baking something at 350 or 400, just adjust your timing a little). Peel off the outer layer of papery stuff, leaving the bulb intact (e.g. the cloves still attached). Chop off the very outer bit of the pointy side, exposing a little bit of each clove. Spoon or brush a little bit of olive oil over the now-exposed part and wrap loosely in foil. Throw in the oven for about 40 minutes, until the garlic guts have become quite soft. Voila!

-          If you don’t have access to fresh herbs, you could substitute about 2-3 tsp of dried ones (basil or oregano used liberally, thyme, tarragon or dill used a bit more cautiously, etc.)

-          If you like the basic broth part, many other lightly-cooked vegetables could be substituted – had we had them in the fridge (and/or had we not been using them for other dishes), I might have been inclined to use red pepper, Swiss chard, beet greens, broccoli or Vidalia onion.

1 Comment by noahjazz on June 21, 2010
filed in Recipes

Top 10 Los Lobos Tracks

Do you have any bands or artists who you just love even though they’re not very popular (thus requiring some effort to get and stay hip to their music) or even particularly cool (so, for example, your friends won’t laud your sophisticated tastes as a result)? I have a few of those and Los Lobos is high on the list.

The group began in the late 1970s, a quartet of Mexican-Americans Cesar Rosas, David Hidalgo (both guitarists and vocalists, though Hidalgo also plays violin, accordion, lap steel and other things), bassist Conrad Lozano and drummer Louie Perez. Saxophonist and keyboardist Steve Berlin, the one gringo in the band, was gradually brought into the fold, becoming a full member in the mid-1980s. Aside from Perez transitioning gradually away from drums to being a rhythm guitarist and backing vocalist (replaced behind the kit for touring/recording, most significantly by “unofficial band member” Cougar Estrada), there have been no real personnel changes. Having that kind of stability and longevity is unusual, especially for a group (unlike U2, for example) that is not making gobs of money. For example, although the bulk of their songs are co-written by Hidalgo and Perez (with Rosas writing a significant number as well) all five take equal shares of the publishing proceeds.

That is only appropriate, since songwriting is the foundation of their sound. Stylistically they’re all over the map from rock to folk (American and Mexican) to rockabilly to country to Texano to blues to R&B and various combinations thereof. What’s remarkable, though, is that their songs are consistently excellent. There are a lot of bands I love who, truth be told, are pretty inconsistent with their songcraft and/or who lose steam over time (I love Paul Simon and Stevie Wonder, for example, but I think few would argue that their recent work is on par with what they did in the 1970s and they now put out records approximately every 23 years). These guys have managed to churn out dozens and dozens of excellent songs over a long period of time. I can’t necessarily claim that many of their songs or albums would make it to my “desert island” lists (and I’m not sure whether I put more value on frequent excellence or occasional brilliance) but being excellent often over a sustained period of time is nothing to sneeze at.

I don’t know what this says about them (brilliantly conscious of the need to preserve and acknowledge their true status as self-directed “cult” band? just poor at capitalizing on a big opportunity?), but I also find it kind of remarkable that they followed up their one brief moment in the sun as mainstream rock stars (singing Richie Valens songs on the La Bamba soundtrack) was followed up by La Pistola y el Corazon, an acoustic album of traditional Mexican songs (a very nice album, though it and the La Bamba stuff are both absent from this very exclusive list).

Note that, unlike most of my Top 10 lists, this one is in chronological order as opposed to descending order of preference. Without any further ado . . .

1 ) “Will the Wolf Survive” from How Will the Wolf Survive?

This was my first Los Lobos album (and their first to be widely released, and their first mostly sung in English). I had heard (and really enjoyed) this track on the radio, but with no follow-up or heavy MTV airplay I filed it away for possible future reference and only bought the record several years later (after the whole La Bamba thing) when I read a glowing review in a “best of the decade” feature in Rolling Stone. And holy crap, what a record! Every tune is solid and many are great (to paraphrase Robert Christgau’s review of the record in 1984, one keeps looking to see who wrote the songs only to discover they’re all originals). This beautiful and topical song (based on an article about their namesake-animal in National Geographic) features a soaring vocal from David Hidalgo, a nice, subtle rockabilly guitar solo from Cesar Rosas and a guest spot from Alex Acuna on percussion.   

2 ) “Set Me Free (Rosa Lee)” from By the Light of the Moon

I remember hearing this a lot in 1987 (the follow-up to “Shakin’ Shakin’ Shakes”) and being struck that a) I loved it, b) it had a really propulsive groove and c) this meant that maybe they weren’t one-hit-wonders (though I now realize that none of their songs up to this point were really hits anyway). Cesar Rosas takes the lead on this one (songwriter, lead vocals), though also featured is Steve Berlin on a wicked saxophone solo, having recently gone from being a guest contributor to How Will the Wolf Survive? to becoming the 5th (and last) full-fledged member of the band.

3 ) “I Wan’na Be Like You (the Monkey Song)” from the Stay Awake multi-artist Disney compilation.

For this compilation, Los Lobos was tapped by Hal Wilner to perform a song from The Jungle Book, which they do irresistibly. It’s an acoustic number featuring Rosas’ vocals, Hidalgo’s burning acoustic guitar and Berlin’s baritone sax.

4 ) “Someday” issued on the compilation Just Another Band from East L.A. (out-take from sessions for The Neighborhood)

I think The Neighborhood (their first album of original music after the whole “La Bamba” thing) is my second-favorite Los Lobos record behind the wicked-awesome-and-I-love-it-too-much-to-be-entirely-objective How Will the Wolf Survive? and a testament to the top-to-bottom strength of the songs on the album is that “Someday” was left on the cutting room floor for years. It’s a beautiful, brooding, soulful neo-gospel song featuring Hidalgo’s passionate vocals and searing lead guitar. My favorite of his bluesy guitar solos is on a tune called “Just A Man” from Kiko, but among the songs on this list this is the best example of what I love about his guitar solo style. Interestingly they re-recorded this song in 2004 with Mavis Staples on vocals – also killer, though I prefer this version.

5 ) “Be Still” from The Neighborhood

This song shows some of the group’s acoustic, “folkloric” vibe that they explored in a more authentic context on their previous album La Pistola y el Corazon, here in the context of a touching, tender and supremely catchy original song (in English). In addition to his vocals, Hidalgo contributes some emotionally intense and melodic work on violin.

6 ) “Reva’s House” from Kiko

Los Lobos had begun working with keyboardist/producer Mitchell Froom and engineer Tchad Blake before this, but the remarkable Kiko album is the one on which this collaboration began having a really noticeable sonic impact – sometimes dreamy, sometimes edgy. This unsettling yet catchy song, which tastefully takes on the topic of rape, has elements of both.

 7 ) “Maricela” from Colossal Head

Colossal Head is debatably the sonic pinnacle of the band’s work with the Froom/Blake team. I remember buying this one in college (in an ironic moment that perhaps symbolizes my relationship with the group) using a Borders gift certificate I’d been given. The songs are great, but perhaps more than on any of their other albums (for me, anyway) they function noticeably better in the context of the album as a whole. The one exception is “Maricela,” an irresistible Spanish-language cumbia-meets-grunge track by Rosas.

8 ) “This Time” from This Time

This album is not one of the band’s strongest, but the opening track is a great example of their affinity for (and skill with) catchy neo-soul songs. Hidalgo sings lead and Rosas gets in a little bit of tasty lead guitar, while there is an extra fullness of textures thanks to the keyboards of Mitchell Froom (on board as producer again).

9 ) “Rita” from The Ride

I can only speculate on the back story here, as this song (written by Hidalgo and Perez) is about being mentally and emotionally overwhelmed and comes on the heels of the kidnapping and murder of Rosas’ wife, Rita. Whether or not the connection is as direct as it would seem, it is a beautiful, moody, haunting and emotionally intense piece of music.  

10 ) “The Road to Gila Bend” from The Town and the City

This is a good song to end with as it shows some of the seeming contradictions in Los Lobos’ music that are really just examples of their eclecticism and versatility. Like much of their music through the years, this song depicts the plight of immigrants, in this case a man trying to make his way to safety. The music, though, is not folkloric or in any way Mexican – quite the contrary, it’s a grungy rock song that sounds as if it could have been recorded by Neil Young with Crazy Horse or during the Freedom era. While the contrast is interesting, the bigger point is that once again, the song itself is fabulous.

No Comments by noahjazz on June 9, 2010
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EDS Awareness Month 2010: Belonging

So picture this. You’re at an early summer barbecue, and a couple you haven’t met before arrives. They’ve got a large cooler, but the woman is the one carrying it. You give the man a firm handshake and he pulls his hand back as it crumples in yours, but he’s still smiling. After he declines the beer you offer him and does the same to the iced tea (“no thanks, water’s good”), he sits down . . .  and then soon stands back up, repeating this a couple times until the host of the barbecue appears with a cushion. Then he sits for real and you ask what he does; he says he plays the piano and it just so happens there’s a piano inside. When you ask him to play something, he demurs with a vague-sounding excuse of being “not warmed up.” At that point a call comes from the patio outside asking for the men to come help move the grill; this guy doesn’t get up, but his wife goes out to help instead. As the food comes off the grill, someone gives a little speech thanking the hosts; as folks applaud, you notice he’s doing so silently. Later on he does play the piano, but only after disappearing to a private corner of the yard to do bizarre-looking gestures with his arms, and in the meantime he’s put rings on all his fingers.

If you had this encounter, you would likely have left with a sense (even if unconscious) that there’s something weird about this guy (if you have no such biases, take a bow). And that doesn’t count the things you didn’t even notice. Like the bruise on his arm from when you tapped your fist on it to punctuate the punch line of that great joke (at that point he determined it would derail the conversation to ask you not to do that, so he just backed away). Or the way he always kept at least 15 feet away from your exuberant dog, in spite of assurances that “he’s friendly.” Or that he was calculating whether you were likely to “get it” if he explained the reason behind his impaired manliness, possibly concluding that it wasn’t worth the attempt.

Fact is, it’s human nature to experience some confusion (and quite possibly limited tolerance) when someone is not meeting expectations and there is no obvious explanation. Why isn’t this seemingly normal person behaving normally? As much as I’d love to see that aspect of human nature evolve, in the meantime it sure does help when people ARE aware of the root cause of the otherwise inexplicable circumstances. I sure do long for the day when I . . . er, I mean the fictional character described in the previous paragraphs, can simply say “I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome” and know that the corresponding quirks will then be understood and tolerated. The conversation about baseball is still welcome, just go easy on the punch on the arm (and if you’ve ever been the purveyor of such a punch, I assure you that you are 100% forgiven, just don’t do it again, please).

……………………..

May is EDS Awareness Month, and as many (but not all) reading this know, I was born with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), a genetic disorder of the connective tissue that leads to faulty collagen production (in my case largely resulting in fragile skin, loose, vulnerable joints and sensitive internal organs). As I try to do each year, I knew I wanted to address life with EDS, but this time I hoped to do so not from the angles of lifestyle compromises or living with chronic pain – I’ve talked plenty about that stuff before, so you can wait for another year or read the liner notes to my Patch Kit record if you have a Jones for that. What I instead want to discuss is how one’s ability to “belong” is impacted by having a “rare disease” (Never mind that EDS is a syndrome, not a disease – at this point I’ll take “in the ballpark” over total ignorance any day – even with doctors, it’s sometimes the best I can hope for).

As such, my “chosen topic” is the tenuous balance between disability and belonging. Let me make the important point, first, that we have all felt what it’s like to have a compromised sense of belonging, even if it is a fleeting circumstance. Maybe you don’t make the team or get the job. Maybe the cool kids don’t want to play with you or maybe you aren’t allowed to play with them because you didn’t finish your homework. Maybe you arrive at the dinner party to discover that the featured dish revolves around an ingredient to which you’re allergic, or maybe you weren’t even invited. Maybe someone doesn’t realize what your religion or ethnicity is and makes a crude joke about it and people laugh. Maybe you injured your knee skiing and now you can’t go on the trip to Aspen with your friends. And if nothing like this has ever happened, you’re probably struggling with isolation due to being one of the 4 or 5 people in the world so perfect as to be immune from such experiences. The point is that we can all relate to (and most of us can feel compassion for) the experience of being left out or otherwise unable to fully belong. The disabled by no means have exclusive domain over this struggle.

There is an interesting dynamic, though, that surrounds a little-known medical condition, especially an “invisible” one like EDS (e.g. I “look normal” save for the ring splints and the scars, and people can usually explain those away by assuming I’m a jewelry-loving guy who survived some kind of intense car accident). Some people are, of course, fundamentally intolerant or just plain mean, but there are many folks who might be more inclined to adapt to something they can see or comprehend or put into an existing mental category (arm in a sling = don’t ask to carry things; vegetarian = don’t serve meat; elderly and using a cane = suggest an activity other than tackle football), Those folks don’t have anything to wrap their brains around when they see me. This is not to say that a wheelchair-bound person does not feel isolated or excluded (and I am certainly not claiming that it’s somehow preferable to have a more severe but better-known condition), but it’s interesting to notice how that person generally doesn’t need to explain his need for an elevator key. A kid who takes out an inhaler on a soccer field is not a strange sight (and I’m sure most of you thought of the word “asthma” before I said it). Even certain formerly “strange” dietary issues (lactose intolerance, wheat allergies, etc.) have become common enough that most civilized folks will have some capacity to adapt and will do so without shaming the person with the restricted diet.

I am really fortunate to have a couple things going for me that limit my own vulnerability to potentially insidious feelings of not belonging. One, for whatever combination of reasons, I’ve developed the strength to compartmentalize those feelings (e.g. it feels bad to not stand out in that way, but I can look objectively at the situation and shift focus to what I can practically do about a given situation). As such I’ve learned how to explain my condition to others and I’ve learned how to protect myself emotionally in the event that I’m not met with compassion or understanding. I suspect this trait has helped me, beyond the realm of EDS, to make some of my most important outside-the-box life decisions (becoming a musician, becoming a foster parent, etc.).

The second coping mechanism is that with some frequency I get to be around folks who understand, whether they’ve thoroughly educated themselves about EDS or whether they simply care about me enough to adapt to my limitations. Close friends are conscious of what they ask me to do physically or what they feed me, current, former students help out with yard work, and long-time musical colleagues have realistic expectations for my physical endurance (including my limited capacity to travel or to haul equipment without consequences) plus compassion when circumstances force me to push beyond it. In those situations it’s perfectly “normal” that I need a cushion before I sit on a hard chair or that I have to do weird-looking tai chi stretches before I can play the piano or can’t go out for a beer after the gig. The greater proportion of my time spent in those circles, the more I feel “normal.” And frankly, I like it that way; however open I may be to talking about this stuff, that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t prefer to just fit in

Disability and childhood trauma (and I’ve had both) are both high on the list of things that can challenge one’s ability to belong or even learn how to, – I don’t know why I developed the ability to persevere through this (aside from the fact that I’ve spent 30-plus years working on it really hard), but for all intents and purposes, I’ve done so. As such, you can spare me your worry or pity (beyond cutting me some slack when I need a cushion when I come to your house, wouldn’t be able to handle the caffeine in the coffee you offer me and that sort of thing). You can also forgive yourself if you fear that you’ve ever inadvertently contributed to the dynamic I’m describing (if, on the other hand, you’ve done so on purpose, then you can do the other thing to yourself that begins with f).

That said, I also know that misunderstood physical fragility can lead to a whole host of experiences that foster emotional fragility. Another way in which I’m fortunate is that I was diagnosed with EDS young (age 8-ish), so I didn’t have to spend a lot of time wondering what was wrong with me physically. But I have many friends diagnosed in their twenties or thirties, having spent years being misunderstood by doctors and civilians alike. Many of them (props to my posse, the Western CT EDS Support Group) are immensely strong and inspiring. But just imagine for a moment the impact being inexplicably “abnormal” throughout one’s formative years. This post is not for my own sake, it is for all the people who have struggled or are about to struggle with the emotional fallout of being misunderstood and may not have the resources to come through it with their spirits fully intact. Even if a cure is never found, I believe that important change can happen in this way and that the inevitable pain and struggles attached to EDS needn’t result in unnecessary and preventable emotional distress.

If you find yourself with a bleeding heart and a surplus of cash, I certainly encourage you to donate to the Ehlers-Danlos National Foundation (http://www.ednf.org/), but really my intention here is to just spread the word, which shouldn’t cost you anything. Pass along a link to this post or talk to a friend about it – anything that raises awareness now just may save somebody from isolation down the road. Thank you.

20 Comments by noahjazz on May 28, 2010
filed in NB's activities and experiences, Philosophizing

Top 10 Jazz Albums for Piano Comping

To the uninitiated, comping (etymologically derived from “accompanying” or “complementing,” depending on who you ask) is the rhythmic, improvised playing of chords to accompany a melody or solo. There are some all-time great compers missing from this list simply because a) 10 is not a lot and b) there may not be a single album of theirs that made me feel like bumping any of these folks off. Remember these are favorites (not “best” necessarily) and I hope that fans of Chick Corea, Bill Evans, Bobby Timmons, Tommy Flanagan, Cecil Taylor, Thelonious Monk and others will accept my apologies.

1. Oscar Peterson on Louis Armstrong Meets Oscar Peterson

How many albums can you think of on which Oscar Peterson is a featured artist yet doesn’t take a single solo? Me either. This is the one – his entire contribution revolves around providing tasteful and often quite swinging (e.g. except for the ballads, which are lush and fabulous) support to Armstrong’s vocals and occasional trumpet. Sometimes he throws in prominent, bluesy fills, as on “Blues in the Night” and “Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall In Love),” and other times he steps back to give Louis the full limelight (the duo “What’s New” is particularly notable in that regard). Elegance personified.

2. Wynton Kelly on Someday My Prince Will Come by Miles Davis

Kelly was one of the all-time great compers, adding tremendous swing to virtually every recording in which he participated. There are plenty of other examples, particularly his fairly extensive work with Dinah Washington and great albums by Wes Montgomery (Smokin’ at the Half Note and Full House) and Sonny Rollins (Newk’s Time), just to name a few, but his name will forever be linked to Miles. “Freddie Freeloader” from Kind of Blue was the first that brought this relationship to wider attention (though technically it was preceded by some tracks on Miles Ahead), and this album is in a sense the consummation of the promise evident there.  The finger-popping feeling he creates on the swingers and the elegance of the ballads are both stunning on this album.

3. McCoy Tyner on A Love Supreme by John Coltrane

What can be said about A Love Supreme that hasn’t already been said? I’ll admit that I often overlook the comping on this, my all-time favorite album, because Coltrane’s and Elvin Jones’ contributions are so overwhelmingly powerful. But it doesn’t take much in the way of focus-shifting to notice how McCoy is there every step of the way adding to the rhythmic and harmonic intensity of the album. Unlike some other (especially earlier) examples of Coltrane’s “classic quartet,” where McCoy would often lay out on the climactically intense parts, here he is an integral part of the development of each movement.

4.Horace Silver on Blowin’ the Blues Away by Horace Silver

Horace Silver’s 1950s and 1960s work displays his unique approach to comping, which is inseparable from his bandleading concept (a phenomenon that Ralph Bowen hipped me to when I was a freshman at Rutgers). Most compers are responsible to support and follow the bandleader and soloists; in this case Silver is the bandleader and uses comping boldly as a tool to shape the in-the-moment direction of the music as a whole. Listen to “Sister Saide” on this album for a particularly potent example.

5. Cedar Walton on Mosaic by Art Blakey

I find Cedar to be pretty underrated across the board, as a composer, soloist and comper. There are plenty of great examples of his touch in an ensemble (It was difficult, for example, not to pick the In Sound by Eddie Harris or Mode For Joe by Joe Henderson), but his association with Blakey’s Jazz Messengers will probably always stand out for its historical significance and the music they produced together is beyond words.

6. Red Garland on Round About Midnight by Miles Davis

Miles could pick ‘em, for sure. There are many of his classic 1950s quintet (plus Milestones with the addition of Cannonball Adderley) recordings that feature Garland’s crisp, swinging touch. This one, their first recording on Columbia, is where I direct people (students and others) to begin when checking out Red’s contributions to the group.

7. Herbie Hancock on Speak No Evil by Wayne Shorter

Some would call it heresy that I’m not citing a Miles Davis album as the example of Herbie’s comping. Sorry, but the interplay on this album is just ridiculous. Herbie’s playing is always inventive and swinging, and I just love listening to the constant state of dialogue among the rhythm section (Ron Carter and Elvin Jones) and between them and the soloists, Wayne and Freddie Hubbard. In that context, the comping here is an organic masterpiece.

8. Hank Jones on Presenting Thad Jones/Mel Lewis and the Jazz Orchestra

One of the most amazing things about Thad and Mel’s band (aside from the generally great playing and writing) was that they let the rhythm section really play, with Mel and Richard Davis really encouraged to stir the pot. Sir Roland Hanna was most often the pianist, but on their first recording Thad’s big brother Hank sat in the piano chair, and his playing on this record is simultaneously elegant and assertive.

9. Charles Mingus on Oh Yeah

Bassist, composer, bandleader . . . one does not immediately think “piano and vocals” when one thinks of Charles Mingus. During this period in 1961, though, he hired a series of bassists (in this case Doug Watkins) so he could take over the piano chair in his group. This could be likened to the description of Horace Silver above in that his comping is inseparable from his bandleading. That alone is interesting, but the way he plays is fascinating in its rhythmic inventiveness and bluesy angularity, often evocative of Duke Ellington.

10. Count Basie on Complete Decca Recordings of Count Basie, 1937-1939

This is so low on the list because as a compilation, I can’t in clear conscience really call it an “album.” Basie’s sparse, bluesy piano is arguably (and it’s an argument I’d make) the most important and most effective comping on record before Oscar Peterson began accompanying everybody and their mother in the 1950s. Basie’s playing is indescribably swinging – in fact I often start there when I get tongue-tied in trying to explain what swing is.

1 Comment by noahjazz on May 15, 2010
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Hummus: basic and with variations

Kate’s open studio happened yesterday (and quite successfully I must say, attempting to temper my husbandly pride) and among my jobs was being on hummus duty, not a bad job to have. If you want to cut to the chase of the recipe, feel free to skip the next paragraph.

My relationship with hummus began as a high school student. These days it seems like hummus is pretty ubiquitous – they have multiple brands at any supermarket, it seems to be an option at any place that sells wraps and so on. In the early 90s it was not so, but I was fortunate to grow up near Mamoun’s Falafel Palace. When I got to Rutgers, I was delighted to see how many places (including the “Grease Trucks”) served Middle Eastern food . . . until I tasted it and realized that not all hummus is good. That remains true, as I find most supermarket hummus (Cedar’s, Tribe of Two Sheiks, etc.) to be virtually inedible, probably because they make it so acidic to prevent spoilage. Sabra is decent, the Middlesex Fruitery sells another pretty good brand called Lenny and Joe’s, and there’s a great Israeli deli in New Haven (Westville Kosher Deli) that makes some real-deal hummus. But aside from being a little messy, it’s really not that hard to make your own, something I began doing not long after I began learning to cook as a college student. I did some rather unsuccessful experimenting (note: if you’re thinking of replacing the chickpeas with black beans and replacing lemon juice with orange juice, I suggest you reconsider and learn from others’ mistakes), but in the process learned what was essential and what was negotiable.

Assuming you have a food processor (in college I used to mash it with a fork – no joke), hummus can be made pretty quickly. It’s a little messy, but the actual making of it is fast. There are a few steps that can take a little more time – they make a significant qualitative difference, but even the quickie-shortcuts will still result in better hummus than you can generally get in a store, at a deli and so on. The biggest of these is the chickpeas. We have a pressure cooker and use it to cook them from dried. If you think ahead and pre-soak, this is actually a pretty quick process; without a pressure cooker it’s more time consuming (though it’s one of those things that can mostly be going on in the background while you do other things). If you must use canned, that’s okay too, though the higher the quality the better the hummus.

Our basic recipe (for about 4 cups of hummus) follows, with much wiggle room allowed with pretty much all of the ingredient amounts. Suggested variations follow.

……………………………………………..

HUMMUS

-  2 medium/large cloves garlic

- about 3 cups of chickpeas (either 2 15 ounce cans, drained and rinsed, or 1 cup dried chickpeas, soaked and fully cooked)

- 1 cup tahini (ground sesame seed “butter,” easiest to find at health food stores or Middle Eastern groceries)

- juice of 2 lemons (between 1/4-1/3 cup, good-quality bottled will get the job done if necessary)  

-  ¼ cup good olive oil (up to ½ cup if you like it really rich)

- ½ cup water

- 1 ½ tsp salt

- pepper and/or other herbs (see below) to taste

1) Either crush the garlic or throw it in the food processor and pulse for 10-15 seconds.

2) add the remaining ingredients and blend that sucker up for anywhere from 1-5 minutes depending on how creamy you like it. Likewise, add more water if you like it thinner/creamier.

3) taste for seasoning and eat up.

……………………………………………..

Yep, that’s pretty much it, and once you get a little experience with the basics, there are lots of ways to vary it. A few ideas include:

-          Dried herbs (anything vaguely Mediterranean – oregano, basil, cumin, though you can be creative)

-          Fresh herbs (whatever you like, really – mint is good, if it’s a “savory” mint and not a mint better suited for iced tea; cilantro is great if you and your other diners lack the “cilantro tastes like soap” gene; for Kate’s open studio I used chives, garlic chives, sage, thyme and oregano, all from her garden)

-          More or less garlic depending on your tastes, or replace with (a larger amount of) roasted garlic.

-          Sun-dried tomatoes, roasted peppers or olives. If it’s something tough (like many sun-dried tomatoes), add with the garlic in step one to ensure even distribution.

1 Comment by noahjazz on May 5, 2010
filed in Recipes
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