One Track Mind: McCoy Tyner "Once I Loved"

by Pico

Back when I was a young man in my twenties, I had frequent cravings for testosterone-driven jams---just like any young man does. But while some of my buds got their fix through the likes of Van Halen, AC/DC or Metallica, I often turned to McCoy Tyner.

McCoy Tyner? Absolutely, why not. He's brash, in-your-face, and percussive, just like Angus Young. McCoy just doesn't need stacks of Marshall amps, that's all.

To be sure, the famed piano player from John Coltrane's sixties quartet plays with a lot of complexity and subtlety. But his right hand is scary fast and he can stuff as many notes in a chords that his old boss used to. In fact, the one criticism often leveled at him is that he plays too many notes. The way I look at it, there's a time when Bill Evans is right and then there's time for Tyner. Besides, no one ever minded Art Tatum's lack of economy.

So back around the time Triumph was the favored man-music I picked up Trident, McCoy's Tyner 1975 release that was his first all-trio album in over a decade. No brass, no solo piano; just a power group consisting of former Trane cohort Elvin Jones on drums and Ron Carter on bass.

With this crew, McCoy assembled a trio of such instrumental prowess as to be the Rush of jazz, and this album largely brings forth the promise. For some odd reason, however, Tyner doubled on celeste and harpsichord on some of the tracks, bringing a strangely baroque flavor to the songs. But then once he switches over to piano, you soon forget about that unnecessary diversion.

The song where Tyner goes balls to the wall more than any of the others is Jobim's "Once I Loved." We already discussed the great Brazilian composer Antonio Carlos Jobim just the day before, and Jobim's songs are among Tyner's favorites to cover. But Tyner's idea of bossa nova jazz emphasize the "jazz" part a lot more; jazz of the more frenetic, hard bop variety.

McCoy inserts an intro to the song which he performs on the celeste, over Jones' hastened 8/4 signature and Carter's high end circular bass line. As Tyner swings over from the celeste to the piano at the 35 second mark, Carter signals his impending arrival with one of his trademark rides down and back up the neck, and before you know it Tyner is off to the races.

There's really nothing complicated at all to this arrangement of the song; Tyner just plays the chorus over and over again. So to sustain a listener's interest for nearly eight minutes he has to keep coming up with new ideas on each go around of the chorus. And that's where the leader's prowess really shines. Even though it's bossa, it's one bossa you want to crank up on your stereo as Tyner lays to waste the notion that piano players are wimpy.

While there's no solo space for niether the bassist nor drummer, both of these guys are offering maximal support. Jones' rimshots get accentuated with his thunderous fills while Carter keeps the song anchored in it's gorgeous melody, while McCoy is cascading notes like Niagra Falls. The outro goes just as the intro did, with Tyner briefly back on celeste. Here, it serves as a soft landing after a wild flight.

These days, I take more time to enjoy the softer music like Evans than I used to. But inside every old man is a young man sometimes wanting to get out. In my case, he still likes him some McCoy Tyner.

Listen: McCoy Tyner "Once I Loved"

Purchase: McCoy Tyner Trident


"One Track Mind" is a more-or-less weekly drool over a single song selected on a whim and a short thesis on why you should be drooling over it, too.

Julie Dexter/Khari Simmons Moon Bossa (2007)

by Pico

Ever since Stan Getz, João Gilberto and Charlie Byrd have introduced American audiences to the Brazilian-flavored cool-jazz sounds of Antonio Carlos Jobim, bossa nova has assumed a permanent and prominent place in jazz history. For generations now, people have danced, swayed and just chilled out to the distinctive, 8/4 time and romantic vibe. But the sub-genre has been modernized quite a bit since "The Girl From Ipanema" first became a hit back in 1963, starting with Sergio Mendes And Brasil '66 up through Polish vocalist Basia and her "Basia nova" version of the music in the nineties.

More recently, musicians like Khari Simmons have been proponents of a branch of bossa that combines it with neo soul and dance music called, appropriately, soul bossa. Simmons has even headed up his own soul bossa group, Jiva, for a number of years. When Khari is not playing his music of preference, he is performing as India.Arie's bass player.

Birmingham, England native Julie Dexter has achieved international renown as a singer/songwriter who can also arrange and produce. Julie points to Abbey Lincoln, Billie Holiday, Nancy Wilson, Omar and Sade as influences. Her style of music ranges from jazz, to soul to bossa nova.

Dexter possesses a malleable voice that ranges from Diana Ross to Sade to Swing Out Sister's Corinne Drewery, but is always light and sweet. It's a perfect fit for the gentle grooves of soul bossa.

Simmons may not sing on this record, but he's hardly a hanger-on, either. He naturally handles the bass duties, but also contributes keyboards and has written or co-written four of the compositions featured on this album (Dexter contributes one whole song and one co-write).

Dexter and Simmons, also serving as the main producers, added five well chosen covers to their five originals, and all but one of them are fairly obscure. Contributions come from Jobim and Mendes, natch, but also from Everything But The Girl, Swing Out Sister and Basia. They eschew early 21st century markers like sampling and hip hop beats in favor of a more seventies feel, replete with Moog and ARP synthesizers. Mix in that bossa beat and an acoustic guitar and the soup is ready.

The proceedings kick off on a decidedly soft number with Simmons' Moon Bossa. It's not the strongest song of the set but it's got a soulful melody that grows on you. The tempo picks up considerably with "My Baby Don't Love Me," which sounds almost disco. "Salt Sea", the Sergio Mendes cover, reminds me a lot of another Brasil '66 song, "Perfect World", and features a nicely arranged small horn section. The heavily percussive "Venusian" is followed by another original, "The Dove", which is perhaps the jazziest of the tunes with saxes prominent in the arrangement.

"Sea And Sky" is a short instrumental while "Fooled By A Smile" is a mellower (and superior) version of Swing Out Sister's original, highlighted by some nifty backup vocals and Simmons bass work. Dexter and Simmons also bests Basia's "Promises" with a more subdued touch that features an accordion(!) but somehow it works in this setting. "What Do I Do" has a moderately blues feel, and the Jobim standard "Wave" is reverently treated with Dexter's vocal backed by only an acoustic guitar and Alex Lattimore's flugel horn (Lattimore also shares lead vocals).

The remainder of the CD is what I'd call the "bonus" section: remakes or remixes of four of the prior tracks. The best of these are the first two. "Fooled By A Smile" is done up Incognito style, and sure enough, it sounds a lot like the British acid jazz group's signature seventies-meets-aughts soul-jazz groove. Since I like Incognito, I dig this track. The "Aquariana Mix" (whatever the heck that means) of "Venusian" is a nice one too, because a tenor sax is added and allowed to stretch out a bit, as well as the Fender Rhodes.

The record doesn't come without a few drawbacks, however. The vintage synths often give the songs a warm feel but occasionally cross over into cheesy territory. The off-key whistling on the otherwise congenial "Sea And Sky" is just not a joy to listen to. The Jiva remix of "The Dove" might sound great in a dance club, but sounds tired and repetitious in any other setting. And Dexter's lead vocal throughout could have stood to be a little more up front in the mix, too.

All that said, none of these quibbles do much to diminish the easy going groove of this record. If Julie Dexter and Khari Simmons set out inject some new life in the branch of jazz introduced by Jobim some fifty years ago, I'd say they've largely succeeded.

Sample tracks:
"Moon Bossa"
"My Baby Don't Love Me"
"Salt Sea"
"Venusian"
"The Dove"
"Sea And Sky"
"Fooled By A Smile"
"Promises"
"What Do I Do"
"Wave"
"Fooled By A Smile (Incognito Remix)"
"Venusian (Aquariana Remix)"
"The Dove (Jiva Remix)"
"Moon Bossa (Piano Outro)"

Purchase: Julie Dexter/Khari Simmons Moon Bossa

One Track Mind: The Beatles, "Revolution No. 9" (1968)

NICK DERISO: The complete realization of tape-loop experimentation that began on several earlier songs - including "Tomorrow Never Knows," from 1966's "Revolver"; and (more famously) in the outros for "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "I am The Walrus."

John Lennon never gave any complete explanation for orchestrating an extended composition with noises and loops. He also dabbled extensively with ambient sounds in a trio of solo recordings -- famously calling back and forth with Yoko over a range of emotions (and their own pulses) during the entirety of side one of 1969's "The Wedding Album."

But it is here that we find the high-water mark in a period for Lennon lasting until 1972 in which he staged, along with wife Yoko, a series of outsider art exhibits, books, recordings and stunts.

Each sound on the convoluted, but fascinating "Revolution No. 9" appears to represent an instrument or group of instruments. The rising emotions have a power that suggests the dying of a life, or the end of time.

Throughout, a recurring theme is found in the words "number nine," and no small amount of mythology has built up around it. Lennon considered 9 to be of great significance. And, perhaps it was.

He was born on the 9th of October, as was second son Sean. He lived at 9 Newcastle Road in Liverpool, then later lived at the Dakota in New York City. That's on 72nd Street; the digits add up to ... 9.

One of his earliest compositions was a train song "One After 909" - which later appeared in a live version on "Let It Be." He also had a hit in the 1970s with a tune called "No. 9 Dream."

He was shot, too, on 72nd Street, and declared dead at 11:07 (again, digits add up to 9) in the Roosevelt Hospital on 9th Avenue. Although, this all took place in New York on Dec. 8, in Lennon's birthplace Liverpool (five hours ahead), it was the morning of ... the 9th.

Maybe all that means something, maybe not. It's weirdly interesting, though. Like "Revolution No. 9."

Lennon spent weeks on this recording, which was originally written as an extended coda to what would become the song called "Revolution 1" on "The White Album."

He wasn't finished with the concept, and continued fiddling with it for years. But the Beatles' core fanbase never really connected with Lennon's experiment. His first, most famous, attempt remains the most realized, anyway.

Still, seen as avant-garde then, it can now be hailed as the first flowerings of punk. Husker Du, here we come.

Lennon stumbled upon some other things that were frighteningly prescient along the way. "Every one of them knew," a voice intones on this track, "that as time went by they'd get a little bit older and a little bit slower."

The remaining Beatles certainly did. (After all, we later learned that McCartney was capable of a series of too-precious disasters like "Spies Like Us" or, say, "Say, Say, Say.")

But "Revolution No. 9" -- not necessarily listenable, yet a still-powerful argument for his frisky genius -- ensures that Lennon never will.