One Track Mind: Hal Russell, "Kenny G" (1992)

by Pico

Exploring the wonderful world of whack jazz can be both frustrating and fun. Frustrating because even some of the more influential artists of this genre lack good publicists---through no fault of their own---and fun because when you finally stumble across one of these important figures it's like you found a treasure trove of music that sounds nothing like what your preconceptions tell you music should be like. Whack jazz is pretty much like that by definition.

That's the best excuse I can offer as to why I'm relatively late to the Hal Russell party; a full sixteen years too late to have claimed I knew about him during his lifetime. Oh sure, I'm aware of the joyfully kinetic NRG Ensemble and even have a few of their records, but it never occurred to me that its leader was an important figure in free jazz, especially during those lean years of the seventies and eighties. Inexplicably, he didn't record until he was in his fifties, and even then it was within the context of a band. That goes a long way toward explaining how Russell's influence can escape the notice of many. But suddenly, there is a wealth of material to dive into and that's where the real fun begins.

Actually, there isn't. Covering Hal Russell the Solo Artist has taken less than an hour, because just months after this multi-instrumentalist pioneer of avant garde finally got around to recording a proper solo album (right before one last go around with NRG), he passed away at age 66. Nevertheless, the ECM release Hal's Bells gives us plenty to ponder.

Hal's Bells is a wonderful display of Russell putting together his diverse talants in percussion, trumpet, saxes, marimba and other instruments. The songs range from the spooky Albert Ayler mysticism of "Buddhi" to the organic African trance of "Strangest Kiss." Throughout this diverse set it never loses it's rhythmic center and each song posseses unique character, something that's often hard to accomplish in a collection of abstract recordings.

I will readily confess that the "whim" that compelled me to select this particular track this time around is the title. The music contained within this cut couldn't be any more sardonically at odds with it's name. That should be a warning to those who happened upon this article by Googling "Kenny G" and expecting to find a celebration of Gorelick's smooth jazz genius. Hey, I might pimp even disco on this site every so often, but we do have standards around here.

"Kenny G," like all the other tracks here, is entirely performed by Russell. This time his weapons of choice are a tenor sax and a vibraphone, anchored loosely by some tom-tom and cymbal shadings. The melody is free flowing, going in whatever direction seems to fancy the artist at the moment. Almost harmolodic. And yet, Russell's saxophone or vibes never gets abrasive; the song is both sweet and dissonant at the same time.

Whack jazz is always best served up with humor and irony. Russell understood that better than any other purveyor of the avant garde. If he had lived longer, he surely would have written a tune entitled "Boney James." It would have been yet another damned fine song, too.

Sample: Hal Russell "Kenny G"

Purchase: Hal Russell - Hal's Bells


"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.

Freddie Krc and The Shakin' Apostles, "Medicine Show" (1997)

NICK DERISO: The title cut of "Medicine Show" is a room-clearing-brawl type of song: It forces you to pay close attention from there on out.

Freddie "Steady" Krc and the Shakin' Apostles reaffirm, and right from the start, their neat amalgamation of mop-top whimsy and Hill Country picking. They make room for this weird modernity, too, allowing at times for a foreboding ethos in the style of the Band.

That lends a magical mystery to "Medicine Show" - this terrific find that's centered, oddly enough, by the group's initial try at a cover song. The Shakin' Apostles completely inhabit Moby Grape's "Fall on You," one of those sweet pop confections with a darkly cynical lyric.

The Jack Kerouac-inspired "Crazy Flowers" then signals a rattling ride of creativity that doesn't stop until we get to this otherworldly rag that closes the album. This Austin-based band boasts more jangle (as they say) than a Woolworth's cash register, but no patience for leaving it at that.

"I dare not use the word 'sophisticated,'" Krc (that's him at right) is telling me. "But it's more melodic - and certainly not slick."

If, when the album is done, you've finally come to the conclusion that the Shakin' Apostles could be favorably compared to the Byrds - in all of their many incarnations - well, that's fine with Freddie, too.

"They are a textbook example of the classic American group," Krc says. "One thing that was stable throughout was really quality songs. There's not a stinker in there - whether you listen to their pop, psychedelic or country songs."

And the Moby Grape thing? "Well, actually I've been so adamant about not doing cover stuff," Freddie says, "but we finally got some covers that we really enjoyed doing. 'Fall on You' is not such a huge departure from what we do normally, either."

That helped forge a new partnership, too, and yet another new direction. Krc got close with Peter Lewis, the guy who wrote "Fall on You," and the first thing they started talking about doing was a cover of an old Buddy Holly track, called "Wishing."

"It was a song that he wrote in hopes that the Everly Brothers would cut it, as a duet," Krc says. "You know, the Beatles played it early on."

Buddy Holly? The Everlys? The Beatles? What in the wide, wide world of sports is going on around here?

It's true that Krc made his name as part of a cadre of country outlaws that includes ex-boss Jerry Jeff Walker, Gary P. Nunn, Guy Clark and others. But Krc will gently remind you that his Texas Music Hall of Fame resume also includes an early 1980s power-pop band, the Explosives.

It's probably for the best. The problem with county music these days is on both ends.

The establishment has capitulated to pop and the newest young thing. Then, on the other hand, too much of the rest of it got to be too cute by half - all wink-wink, nudge-nudge and no heart.

Freddie "Steady" Krc and the Shakin' Apostles thread the needle, showing off just the right reverence for country-rock and boomer-pop ghost bands while staying true to their own frisky individuality.



Purchase: Freddie Krc and The Shakin' Apostles - Medicine Show

One Track Mind: "Guess Who I Saw Today," Nancy Wilson (1961)

NICK DERISO: "Guess Who I Saw Today," from Nancy Wilson's second Capitol Records recording "Something Wonderful," always stops me in my tracks.

"You're so late getting home from the office," she begins. "Did you miss your train? Were you caught in the rain? No, don't bother to explain."

And so begins a delicate yet devastating theme of betrayal and comeuppance, told in the story-song style of a great blues -- and delivered with elegant, breathy defiance by this ageless but underappreciated jazz singer. The guitar, perfectly circular, delivering sharp rebukes and knowing winks, is by Jack Marshall.

Wilson continues, in a darkening tone: "Can I fix you a quick martini?," she sings, capturing the role of dutiful wife now scorned. "As a matter of fact, I'll have one with you. For to tell you the truth, I've had quite a day, too."

Wilson goes on to take us through a day of shopping, then to a charming street cafe where she stopped on a whim for a bite. There, she notices a flirty, happy couple -- "they were so in love, even I could spot it, clear across the room" -- only to discover, in a line delivered like a velvet fist, that it's her own husband with another woman.

"Guess Who I Saw Today" remains Wilson's most requested in-concert song -- she once was showered with letters of complaint when she left it out back in the 1990s -- and I get that.

This old Murray Grand-Elisse Boyd composition is, even four decades later, a sophisticated masterpiece of old-fashioned glamour and purring danger. And a high-water mark in a period awash with terrific efforts.

In fact, so popular was Wilson at that time that Capitol issued five of her albums between April 1960 and July 1962 -- including her brilliant collaborations with Julian "Cannonball" Adderly (1962) and George Shearing (1961). The label only had one other band who sold more records in 1964.

If you never knew why, this tune -- or more precisely, its final moment -- is all the reason you'll ever need.

"I've never been so shocked before," Wilson adds, her voice rising ever so slightly. "I headed blindly to the door. They didn't see me passing through."

Up to this point, though, Wilson has never answered the title's central question, which is repeated again as the tension continues to build.

Finally, on the song's last chilling line -- she does:

"I saw ... you."

"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.



Purchase: Nancy Wilson - Guess Who I Saw Today? (reissued in 2005 after a digital remaster the year before).

Quickies: Ben Allison, Ronnie Earl, Nick Moss & The Fliptops, Erik Friedlander

This go around of Quickies includes some records promoted by my illustrious Blogcritics colleagues Josh Hathaway, Mark Saleski and Michael J. West. Since they were causing a major (well, in Saleski's case, minor) ruckus over these recent releases, I of course had to go find out what the big danged deal was about them. Much to my surprise (not really), it turned out that these guys know what the hell they're talking about. Blues fans should find something in it for them this go around, as two of these recommendations include records right down their alley.

But first, I want to wax lyrical on something I found all on my own:

Ben Allison & Man Size Safe Little Things Run The World

Whenever I listen to a Ben Allison album I usually forget he's a bass player, because the group interplay and his compositions are the things that stand out on his records. I even sometimes think I'm listening to a Dave Douglas recording.

That's not just because Ron Horton's trumpet roughly resembles the same tonality and pitch as Douglas', but more because of how Allison crafts his compositions: with much care taken to harmonic development, incorporating as many non-jazz element as jazz elements. And with a keen ear for finding nuance in even the more popular forms of music, as evidenced by his slowly syncopated version of John Lennon's "Jealous Guy."

Little Things Run The World is a strong record from start to finish. It's high time Allison gets more recognition.

Ronnie Earl & The Broadcasters Hope Radio

This is one I saw Saleski pimping to Josh over on Josh's Confessions Of A Fanboy site. I already knew about Ronnie Earl but he's one of those guys who I should be listening to a whole lot more than I do. After all, he's a blues guitar slinger with some jazzy inclinations and is way more than merely good. The Santana-like organ-anchored grooves are good for the soul, while Earl's guitar playing a derivative of Otis Rush and Buddy Guy pleases the heart. And there's no lyrics disturbing the flow; it's 100% instrumental.

Hope Radio is a standout in Earl's discography because it's the best culled from two live performances. Even though it sags a bit in the middle, the electricity overall from the stage is undeniable and the backing band does a great job of just laying back and letting Earl rip when it's shredding time. "Blues For The West Side" in particular sizzles. But Earl won't go Satriani on anybody; that's not what the blues is about. However, if you're going to do all your talking on the guitar, you better speak fluently. Ronnie Earl still can, and remains one of the best guitar speakers in the blues world.

Nick Moss & The Fliptops Play It 'Til Tomorrow

Nick Moss' latest is the blues release Josh himself has been making such a fuss about that I had to see for myself what this fuss was all about. Well, now I know. Moss and his crew of heavy hitters are electric blues, but with it's an early electric feel, not the blues-rock favored by so many of the current crop of blues guitar players.

But Nick isn't just a damned fine guitar player, he plays a backwoods harmonica that evokes Sonny Terry every time he blows. And his relaxed voice is not too unlike that of another harp player: Charlie Musselwhite. His band stays rooted with piano provided by the aptly named Barrelhouse Chuck and Gerry Hundt providing extra support on guitar as well as mandolin. But the energy level is a match for any highly amplified band.

This is one record you buy not because you like the current state of the blues, but because of how the blues got to become so popular in the first place.

Erik Friedlander Block Ice and Propane

Mr. West made this cellist's Block Ice and Propane his #6 best jazz album for all of 2007. But Friedlander's product is probably put in the jazz bucket by default, because it doesn't neatly fit in any pail. It sounds much like folk music, sometimes more Americana, sometimes more Celtic. And on the brief "A Thousand Unpieced Suns," blissfully whack.

But as Michael aptly pointed out, Friedlander is playing mostly a plucked cello in a languorous, reflective manner, like an heavy-stringed acoustic guitar and sometimes even simulates a Japanese koto. On "Airstream Envy," he pulls out the bow and turns his instrument into a deeper sounding bluegrass fiddle.

Tom Cora used to coax the most amazing sounds out of his bowed bass with the help of technology. Friedlander doesn't need no stinkin' help.


Purchase: Ben Allison - Little Things Run The World

Purchase: Ronnie Earl & The Broadcasters - Hope Radio

Purchase: Nick Moss & The Fliptops - Play It 'Til Tomorrow

Purchase: Erik Friedlander - Block Ice and Propane


"Quickies" are mini-record reviews of new or upcoming releases. Some albums are just that much more fun to listen to than to write about.

Swamp Cabbage - Squeal (2008)

Photo by Leslie Lyons

by Pico

Out of the thickets and marshes northeast Florida from which Lynyrd Skynyrd and Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers were spawned comes another group bringing a different take on the great music of the South: the trio that calls itself Swamp Cabbage.

Swamp Cabbage is the creation of Richie Haven sideman Walter Parks. Parks, who still gigs with Havens as his lead guitarist, formed this nimble little threesome to fill up his downtime when his folk-rock legend boss isn't touring. He formed his diversion with the help of only two others; Matt Lindsey on bass and Jagoda---yup, that's a one word name---on drums.

But make no mistake, Swamp Cabbage is no toss-off idea. Sure, they possess all the looseness of guys getting together on their wind-down time, but they are also very serious about spreading the gospel of blues, vintage jazz and country. While The Drive-By Truckers owe much to the more famous Jacksonville-born acts, Swamp Cabbage prefers to go further back and farther out in their roots.

And so even though Swamp Cabbage is nominally a "rock" band, this is a band that embraces a wider variety of Southern music: from the organic blues/rock of early ZZ Top to the New Orleans funk of the Meters and even a slice of Dixieland jazz. And it's all done with a dash of humor and an enticement to a wood-slatted dance floor. As Parks describes it, "Northeast Florida-style, fatback, boogaloo blues stirred into a gumbo of Louisiana ragtime.” Anybody's who's ever heard Papa Mali And The Instagators knows what we're talking about.

Today, their long-awaited followup to the 2004 debut Honk hits the streets and Squeal shows no letdown in this erstwhile combo's ability to deliver feel-good music.

The first couple of tracks do create the impression that this is going to be a collection of lost cuts from Tres Hombres. "Jesus Tone" introduces Parks' slurred growl that sounds like a dead knockoff of Billy Gibbons, along with Gibbons' fat-tone guitar. Even the lyrics could have easily been something dreamed up by the Three Wise Men of Texas:

I can't play the guitar without Jesus Tone
I don't even wanna bother strappin' it on
Without the Jesus Tone I might as well go home
The preacher got a pulpit and his microphone
I just need my guitar and my Jesus Tone

"Dixieland" is about a Southern boy whose handyman skills is his only chance at getting a Northern city girl to even notice him. Parks' growling guitar paces this bluesy stomper. From there, Swamp Cabbage continue their light-hearted observations of all things Dixie, but the musical inspirations leave Texas and tours the rest of the region.

A similar theme to "Dixieland" is found on the WC Handy styled "Neck Tie Man," where Lindsey's electric bass honks with such a boom it approximates a tuba run through a Marshall amp, giving this old-timey ditty a touch of that Tom Waits creepiness.

Since religion is a big part of the South, it's a theme also found on several cuts on Squeal. Besides "Jesus Tone" there's the lengthy reworking of Dr. John's "I Walk On Guilded Splinters " called "Poontang." It's about a man coaxed to buying a rhinestoned bible and attending church by the allure of two D-cupped "halleluiahs."

On the other hand, "Delegation" pokes fun at people whose faith leads them to believe that all their problems will be solved by sitting idly by and wait for the Good Lord to care take of them. The joyful New Orleans stomp backdrop and country-picked guitar provide the perfect backdrop.

"Sopchoppy" is the first of three instrumentals, and the best. It's a virtual re-write of "Sissy Strut", right down to Jagoda's impressive Ziggy Modeliste impersonation. "Purdy Mouth" sounds like the Allman Brothers rocking to a Mardi Gras rhythm, while "Softshoe" is more of the threesome's irresistible combination of blues, rock and New Orleans jazz.

"New Voodoo Boogaloo" is nothing but a rump-shakin' funk workout the Park uses as an excuse to salute his cohorts on the bass ("The Apostle") and drums ("The Beat Pimp").

Squeal offers listeners a rockin' good time the deeply-rooted, organic way. Swamp Cabbage may not be destined to follow fellow Jacksonville native Petty to a Super Bowl halftime show, but they still do their hometown proud all the same.

Purchase: Swamp Cabbage - Squeal

Rerun: Speaking of Herbie Hancock

DaSLOB BROTHERS: Now that the shock of Herbie Hancock's Grammy win for album of the year has worn off -- has anyone checked on Kanye West this morning? -- you might want to dig back into his towering legacy of work.

Here's a look at some of Hancock's best stuff from before the newly celebrated "River: The Joni Letters" -- click through the album titles for the rest of our reviews:

Hancock first came to wide fame, of course, as a sideman with Miles Davis in the 1960s and early 1970s -- and makes appearances in DaSlob reviews for "In A Silent Way," "On the Corner," and "A Tribute to Jack Johnson."

Elsewhere ...

One Track Mind: "Elegy," (1994): A trill from Herbie Hancock, moving up and down on an acoustic piano might have been surprise enough. But next comes a persistent, oh-so distinctive tapping that could only be drummer Tony Williams, and then a nimble, casually funky bass line from Ron Carter. Like a dream made real, Miles Davis' second great group -- with Wallace Roney stepping in for the fallen trumpeter -- steps out of the shadows to pay tribute to Davis in the tune "Elegy," from 1994's "A Tribute to Miles" on Qwest.

"Mr. Hands" (1980): The seventies began very creatively for HH, first with the space funk Mwandishi albums followed by the better-known Head Hunters period that firmly eastablished Herbie's pre-eminance in synthesized instrumental funk. But as the decade wore on, the music got less and less creative until it devolved into generic disco. Right at the end of this era, though, Hancock re-asserts control to generate an electric jazz album with every song distinguishable and original.

"The Herbie Hancock Trio" (1977): A hidden gem from three decades ago. And why, pray tell, is it hidden? Because Columbia Records didn't see a market for acoustic Herbie back then when his electric funk-jazz Headhunters albums were selling more records than many rock stars. That's still no excuse to make this available only as an import even today, though.

"Fat Albert Rotunda: (1969): The period in Herbie Hancock's work between the landmark Maiden Voyage of 1965 and the funk-jazz classic Head Hunters eight years later contains some of Hancock's least understood and most overlooked recordings of his career. It took quite a voyage to get from "Dolphin Dance" to "Chameleon" and as is often said, the journey itself is often more interesting than the destination. Smack dab in the middle of Hancock's evolution from a premier post-bop stylist to a funk wunderkind, comes a soundtrack of sorts that he composed for Bill Cosby's then-fledgling cartoon series "Fat Albert," punningly called The Fat Albert Rotunda.

"Takin' Off" (1962): The debut record by one of jazz's most important keyboardists since 1960. While later Blue Note releases such as Maiden Voyage and Empyrean Isles get all the accolades, the first time out finds Hancock always fully formed as both a classically-influenced jazz pianist and a serious composer. This is where the much-covered "Watermelon Man" first appeared. The bonus is having a horn section of Dexter Gordon and Freddie Hubbard, during a period when they were both recording excellent albums themselves.

Finally, Hancock also had notable turns alongside Wayne Shorter on 1967's "Tom Thumb," Joe Henderson on "Power to the People" in 1969, Hubbard on 1970's "Red Clay," and Michael Brecker on "Pilgrimage" from 2007, among many others.

"Young at Heart," James Moody (1996)

NICK DERISO: A weighty recording from a player who should have been long gone, on a subject that shouldn't afford such texture.

Saxophonist James Moody's "Young at Heart," aptly titled, is a shower of invention from out of the clear blue, this burst of romanticism from an aging bebopper that stands as the best-ever instrumental album featuring songs associated with Frank Sinatra.

As arranged by coproducer Gil Goldstein (who expanded Gil Evans' charts for Miles Davis' timeless final album, "Miles and Quincy: Live at Montreux"), these are intimate yet swinging sessions. The orchestra moves with the sophistication and verve of Ol' Blue Eyes' best collaborators, Nelson Riddle and Billy May.

But it's Moody, playing in front of these pleasantly nostalgia-free charts, who adds a passion that Sinatra's 1950s-era sessions guys would never have been allowed. There is a modernity, a directness, in the soloing that makes it all brand new again.

A wartime Air Force veteran, Moody returned to join Dizzy Gillespie's late 1940s bebop orchestra -- sparking a life-long association. He later rejoined Dizzy's mid-1960s group to much fanfare. In between, Moody worked with Davis and Max Roach, found some of his own fame through a 1949 version of "I'm in the Mood for Love," then again with a 1952 reworking with a lyric provided by Eddie Jefferson called "Moody's Mood for Love," and still later alongside his own septet.

Over the years, Moody would become a complete musician, ever ebullient but with the technique to go with that personality. He later recorded extensively on alto, notably on "I'm in the Mood"; then began exploring the flute with his seven-piece group, which had a pleasant infusion of R&B; and finally added soprano to his arsenal during a 1970s stint in Las Vegas.

Moody, then, had no trouble putting out so complete a record as "Young at Heart," even at age 71 -- five decades after bursting on the New York scene as a tenor man with Gillespie's big band.

He is just as impressive with an appropriately meloncholy turn on the soprano during "It Was a Very Good Year" as he is on a darker alto solo for "Only the Lonely." He then tears through a steep, sharp chorus of flute improvisations on "Nightingale on Berkeley Square" -- made complete by a sly reference to "I'm in the Mood" by the appropriately named bassist Todd Coolman.

There is a depth of logic, a deep-seated passion, in the choice of notes -- and choice of horns -- that continues to provide surprises and meaning. Romantic, but (importantly) also effervescent, "Young at Heart" is one of those records you wear out, then buy again.

Now, Moody sings on the opening cut, and that's an acquired taste -- since he talks as much as he croons, something shocking when talking about Sinatra. But Moody's effort comes so clearly from an emotional place that he can be forgiven even that small misstep.

This was just the second time Moody had performed with strings. He appears with the contemporary trombonist Slide Hampton, who later sat in with Moody during a 75th birthday celebration with the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra under the direction of Wynton Marsalis in 2000.

Purchase: James Moody - Young at Heart