Showing posts with label Herbie Hancock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Herbie Hancock. Show all posts

Friday, 22 July 2022

Jaco Pastorius - s/t (1976)

This album came up in the comments recently on the last Weather Report post, so here it is.  Just over 40 minutes of smoking grooves, deft arrangements and a stellar cast of guests, all wrapped around the elastic basslines of a 25-year-old virtuoso who would cast jazz fusion in his image for years to come.

Announcing itself with bass up front, and no accompaniment but Don Alias' congas on the opening version of the standard Donna Lee, Pastorius' self-titled album features only one other tune he hadn't written or co-written, a medley setting of Herbie Hancock's Speak Like A Child.  Hancock himself is heavily featured on keys throughout the album, which is heavily percussive in places, has sumptuous arrangements in others, and gives guest spotlights to everyone from Hubert Laws to Sam & Dave.  Essential summer listening.

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Jaco Pastorius at SGTG:

Friday, 27 May 2022

Joni Mitchell - Mingus (1979)

Writing collaboration between an ailing Mingus, who died shortly before its completion, and Joni Mitchell at the height of her jazz era.  The stellar cast of musicians, based around Weather Report plus Herbie Hancock, is the perfect lineup to back Joni's vocals and minimalist, percussive acoustic guitar.

Out of six tunes Mingus sang into a tape recorder for Joni, three made the album, and a fourth is her sterling setting of Goodbye Pork Pie Hat.  The remaining two are credited solely to Mitchell, but carry the spark of inspiration from the collaboration, especially God Must Be A Boogie Man.  Interspersed between the songs are audio verité recordings provided by Mingus' wife Sue, providing an intimate window into the final years of his life.  One of the most underrated albums in the Joni Mitchell canon, and a fine tribute to a jazz legend.

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Joni Mitchell at SGTG:

Friday, 30 July 2021

Miles Davis - Live-Evil (1971)

First in a three-Friday look at some of the many double-live albums released by Miles Davis in the 1970s (already posted: Agharta, see list below).  This one does actually include short tracks of studio material, three of them by Brazilian composer Hermeto Pascoal and recorded in June 1970; Pascoal also contributes vocals, percussion and electric piano to those pieces.  All the rest are live recordings from The Cellar Door in Washington DC, 19 December 1970.  Joining Miles on stage were Gary Bartz, John McLaughlin (a quick end-of-residency addition), a rare electrified Keith Jarrett before he swore off amplified keyboards, and a cracking rhythm section of Michael Henderson, Jack DeJohnette and Aitro Moreira.

The album title, and a couple of the track titles, come from the mirror-text effect on the vinyl gatefold: MILES DAVIS LIVE = SELIM SIVAD EVIL.  Sivad is the first lengthy live jam - might that be Jarrett's (in)famous vocalising halfway through? Could be Airto.  What I Say turns up the tempo for an even funkier exploration - Jarrett sounds like he's about to play LA Woman in the intro there.  The brief studio tracks by Pascoal are mellow, drifting drones, and completing Record 1/CD1 is a studio take of Gemini/Double Image by Davis/Zawinul, which actually dates back to February 1970.  That last one adds Khalil Balakrishna on electric sitar, and all the studio material adds Chick & Herbie to the keyboard section.
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Over on Disc 2, Selim provides a quick overture in the form of a Pascoal piece sounding similar to the other two, then it's Live Evil all the way in the two remaining long tracks.  Funky Tonk does what it says on the tin, with plenty of Jarrett grooves, McLaughlin solos and storming percussion.  To close, Inamorata is a great straight-ahead funk jam, with the "Narration By Conrad Roberts" being a brief voice-over poem near the end by the titular actor, for reasons I've never quite seen explained.

Disc 1 link
Disc 2 link
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Wednesday, 9 June 2021

Miles Davis - A Tribute To Jack Johnson (1971)

Soundtrack to a 1970 documentary about heavyweight champion boxer Jack Johnson (1878-1946), and also just an incredible electric-period Miles Davis album; perhaps an even better John McLaughlin album, given the guitarist's starring role.  First released as simply "Jack Johnson", with the LP cover below, all subsequent releases switched to the monochrome image of Miles (which apparently should've been the proper front cover in the first place), and added "A Tribute To" to the title.

Most of the music on the album's two side-long tracks was recorded on 7th April 1970, with inserts from earlier sessions.  Wanting to put together "the greatest rock 'n' roll band you've ever heard", Davis chose McLaughlin, Michael Henderson on bass guitar, Billy Cobham on drums and Steve Grossman on soprano sax to tear through the spontaneous rock groove of Right Off.  Eventually they were joined by Herbie Hancock, who happened to be passing through the studios and was plonked in front of a grungy organ to further electrify the groove at its midpoint.

Yesternow is an altogether weirder listen, with Teo Macero wielding the tape blade for a concoction that even has a brief excerpt of Shhh/Peaceful from In A Silent Way in the mix.  The first thirteen minutes are a much more slow-burning piece a la Ife on Big Fun, then post-Shhh the track jumps to another completely different session from February 1970.  The lineup here includes Sonny Sharrock on second guitar (not sure if it's him or McLaughlin doing that volley of laser-blast effects in the right channel), Chick Corea, Bennie Maupin, Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette.  At the very end, a calm orchestral outro features a Jack Johnson voiceover performed by actor Brock Peters.  Altogether, A Tribute To Jack Johnson is one of Miles' most scorching electric records, and one that deserves to be just as well appraised as the better known classics like Bitches Brew/Silent Way.
Original LP cover
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Monday, 25 June 2018

Miles Davis - On The Corner (1972)

Someone mentioned late 60s-70s Miles in the comments recently, which made me dig this one out.  When On The Corner got its Columbia Legacy reissue in 2000, it became my introduction to Miles Davis' electric period - and holy crap, what a choice for diving into his post '68 journey to the outer limits of jazz fusion.  Already getting a hammering from establishment jazz critics for setting his sights light years farther than theirs, by 1972 the James Brown/Sly Stone-influenced Davis cared less than zero with On The Corner, its straightahead funk cacophony and its cartoon cover by illustrator Corky McCoy (Miles' idea being to appeal to a younger African-American audience).

If On The Corner was meant to be a record to groove to, that's not exactly easy at the outset, as the odd rhythm (the sixteenth-notes on the hi-hat are the key to following it) cuts in mid flow.  The title track - the first three minutes of the opening suite - is the kind of full-on fury that would lead to scorching live documents like Dark Magus and Agharta a few years later, with John McLaughlin's guitar and Collin Walcott's sitar wah-wahing like fighting lions.  Even as the larger 20-minute track opens up to give a bit more space, the subsequent sections deftly spliced by Teo Macero (wonder if he was ever aware of Tago Mago?), the groove doesn't calm down until the very end.

The head-shaking of the jazz critics continued as the rest of the album - that's 34 minutes - proceeded to hinge around one single bassline.  I must admit on early listens this did make me tune out, particularly on the 23 minute Helen Butte/Mr Freedom X - big mistake.  To follow these tracks closely is to hear infinite variations from the assembled players (Miles himself sticks mostly to electric organ, in his Fela-like lead shaman role), and an abundance of clever editing and other studio trickery, influenced by both Stockhausen and Paul Buckmaster  Essential, life-affirming deep groove music that the rest of the world is still catching up to.

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Friday, 8 June 2018

Wayne Shorter feat. Milton Nascimento - Native Dancer (1975)

For Wayne Shorter's first solo album since the takeoff of Weather Report, it was perhaps inevitable that the great saxman would continue in a similar fusion groove - and Native Dancer is certainly that.  What lifts it into another dimension entirely though is that Shorter didn't just follow through on his desire to make a Brazilian-influenced album, he got Airto Moreira in on percussion and the gorgeous voice of Milton Nascimento up front and centre.

The result was a damn fine album that sounds almost as authentically Brazilian as it does mid-70s jazz fusion.  On the four non-Nascimento tracks, Shorter breezes through the grooves with Herbie Hancock acting as the perfect foil (and composer of closing track Joanna's Theme) on piano.  And with summer officially kicking off, copious amounts of Fender Rhodes are mandatory, at least in my ears - the main electric pianist here is another Brazilian, Wagner Tiso.

Brazilian music in general from the 60s onwards is another summer must-have in my book, as longtime readers will be aware (more in the coming weeks naturally), and the star of Native Dancer has to be Milton Nascimento - this album was my introduction to his unique, soaring voice.  The remaining five compositions on the album are Nascimento's, picking from the cream of his catalogue up til then.  Milagre Dos Peixes gets anglicized to Miracle Of The Fishes here (but still with the Portuguese lyrics) and gets a fine MPB-jazz fusion makeover, as do Ponta De Areia, Lilia and more.  From The Lonely Afternoons actually reminds me of late 80s Pat Metheny Group sans guitar solos.  Grab a caipirinha and download.

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Friday, 18 May 2018

Herbie Hancock - The Piano (1979)

How 'bout a proper, old-school-SGTG jazz piano Friday, courtesy of an old master who I don't listen to nearly enough these days, especially not in pure, acoustic-jazz format.  At the end of the 70s, as his funky fusion era was beginning to dip in quality, and his proto hip-hop future shocks were still a few years away, Herbie Hancock got right back to his roots in this Japan-only solo piano LP.

Recording for a famously audiophile, tech-savvy market, Hancock made his second foray into the then state-of-the-art Direct to Disc recording technique.  A one-shot deal for each 16 minutes max album side, Herbie got the nod from the engineer that they'd started cutting direct to the master that would be pressed straight to vinyl, and started to play each of these two suites.  The first was three jazz standards associated with his career-making time in Miles Davis' band - masterful renditions of My Funny Valentine, On Green Dolphin Street and Someday My Prince Will Come.

The second was a gorgeous run of four originals - the sweet and lovely Harvest Time, the more groovy Sonrisa, then a similar variation in mood between the perfect closing pair Manhattan Island and Blue Otani.  As perfect an album as this was, the wider world wouldn't get to hear it for over 20 years, unless prepared to fork out for an import copy.  Thankfully though, The Piano is now much more accessible and remains ageless and fresh sounding, much of which will be thanks to the live-in-the-studio, against the clock limitations of the original recording.  This is quite possibly my favourite Herbie Hancock album, full stop.

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