Live From Monterey
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
Were it not for the Monterey Jazz Festival, I would associate the California city with either jack cheese or the song “It Happened in Monterey,” the obscure 1930 waltz that Frank Sinatra once updated to 4/4. It’s something of a shock to realize that the city where John Steinbeck set “Cannery Roe” created and has sustained a jazz festival that has (as of yesterday) produced 50 editions. It was back in 1958 that the disc jockey Jimmy Lyons and the columnist Ralph J. Gleason, taking their cue from the legendary jazz promoter George Wein, mounted the first Monterey Jazz Festival. (The third key founder was the piano superstar Dave Brubeck, who supposedly talked the city into giving its official approval, and who appeared there for the 14th time this weekend.)
I also note with some surprise that the Monterey Jazz Festival has carried on with even more consistency than the granddaddy of all long-running jazz events, the festival formerly known as Newport, which was forced to shut down for a couple of years here and there because of east coast hooliganism and in order to relocate.
Also to its credit, Monterey seems to be offering considerably more ancillary merchandise connected to its 50th than Newport did in 2004; there’s a new picture book (as the late Rosemary Clooney once impressed upon me, that’s the kind most popular in Los Angeles) and five excellent CDs of previously unreleased concerts, all released on MJFRecords label, distributed by Concord.
LOUIS ARMSTRONG
Live at the 1958 Monterey Jazz Festival
It’s probably not a coincidence that three of these new albums feature the greatest trumpet kings in history: Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, and Miles Davis. The Armstrong show, from Monterey’s inaugural year of 1958, is the least “special” by that jazz icon’s Olympian standards — except in the sense that, as Richard Hadlock notes in his annotation, and as Armstrong himself boasted, all his shows were special. He was right, but this particular performance is slightly different from the horde that has already been released.
The most interesting aspect is the presence of the clarinetist Peanuts Hucko, who had recently replaced Edmund Hall and would stay for about a year. Although Hucko and pianist Billy Kyle (a neglected stylist in the Earl Hines mold) are playing especially well, this was not a banner night for stalwart trombonist Trummy Young. The Mighty Man himself is most animated in his blues-based comedy bits with corpulent canary Velma Middleton.
THELONIOUS MONK
Live at the 1964 Monterey Jazz Festival
The shows featuring the only two non-trumpeters, the pianist Thelonious Monk and the vocalist Sarah Vaughan, exemplify what “special” festival presentations should be. Like Armstrong, Monk tended in this period to play the same songs with the basic solo routines in a set pattern, the result being that the concerts didn’t differ much from one to another. What makes this show special — apart from the presence of young bassist Steve Swallow in his only recorded appearance as a member of Monk’s quartet — are the last two tracks, “Think of One” and “Straight, No Chaser.” Here, the foursome is joined by five horns in an orchestration by the multi-reed player Buddy Collette, a Central Avenue and Los Angeles studio veteran who enlarges the quartet into a nonet. The group nevertheless retains the same spacey harmonies and open, percussive rhythms that always distinguished Monk’s compositions and ensembles.
SARAH VAUGHAN
Live at the 1971 Monterey Jazz Festival
The Sarah Vaughan set, from the 14th edition of Monterey, is also deluxe in that it climaxes in a big jam session featuring six allstar guest horns. This is the culmination of an already strong and valuable set by the Divine One, especially since most of her studio recordings in the early ’70s were considerably less than divine. The big number is an extended blues in B-flat in which everybody gets to blow: trumpeters Roy Eldridge and Clark Terry, trombonist Bill Harris, alto saxist Benny Carter, and two colorfully named tenors, Lockjaw Davis and Zoot Sims. But none of these immortals surpass Vaughan, who is truly goddess-like in her combination of chops and musical smarts; she even out-mumbles Mr. Terry in a scat duel at the peak of the piece.
MILES DAVIS
Live at the 1963 Monterey Jazz Festival
Davis’s set, from the 1963 festival, is also essential in that Columbia has to this point only issued two concerts with this particular lineup of the trumpeter’s famous “second quintet,” with tenor saxist George Coleman warming up the seat for Wayne Shorter. On the strength of their performance here (Mr. Coleman especially), this qualifies as one of Davis’s more (comparatively) underappreciated lineups. Working in this somewhat abstract, somewhat modal context, Mr. Coleman sounds more in line with the Coltrane-Shorter lineage of the Davis tenor chair. The group blazes from the first note to the last, thanks largely to Tony Williams, the remarkable drummer who had joined a few months earlier; even the slow ballad, “Stella by Starlight,” sizzles.
DIZZY GILLESPIE
Live at the 1965 Monterey Jazz Festival
Like Davis, Dizzy Gillespie was hardly under-recorded in the mid’60s, but his 1965 set at Monterey is an especially welcome document. It features one of the trumpeter’s greatest groups, co-starring the tenor saxist James Moody and pianist Kenny Barron.
If this is my favorite of the five new releases, it’s because Gillespie, more than anyone, embodies the spirit of the great Armstrong, being not only a groundbreaking musician but a brilliant comic as well. Throughout his set, Gillespie is equal parts Jascha Heifetz and Bill Cosby.
Abetted by the master conguero known only as “Big Black,” Gillespie concentrates on Latin and afro-cuban rhythms. The concert reaches an early peak with Mr. Barron’s driving “Trinidad, Goodbye,” then pulls back for a stunning slow ballad, “The Day After.” The only place to go from there is into comedy, and Gillespie delivers a low-life vignette in calypso form, “Poor Joe.” He comes off exaggeratedly coy and fey in a long verbal exchange with back-talking bassist Chris White, but reverts to being as serious as your life as soon as the horn touches his lips.
In all, it’s an impressive group of new releases. Number one on everyone’s request list for the next batch is the legendary 1961 meeting of John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy, with guitar great Wes Montgomery (find that one if you can!). The series should go a long way toward convincing New Yorkers that Californians are capable of creating something more than smog, traffic jams, and acceptance speeches that go on longer than any of these concerts.
wfriedwald@nysun.com