Tag Archives: Hackensack

Vinyl Spotlight: Sonny Rollins Quartet (Esquire EP-148) Original 45 RPM 7″ EP

Original 45 RPM 7″ UK pressing circa 1955
Recorded October 25, 1954 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Selection: “I Want to Be Happy” (Caesar-Youmans)

Last spring I got a Columbia GP-3, the workhorse portable record player made in Japan that has been serving beatdiggers and the like for decades. Finances were good at the time and I had been trying to find ways to relax and enjoy life more. Since I had always wanted one of these, I didn’t overthink it and just bought it. Lo and behold, a couple months later a friend visiting from Europe got me back into 45s, and as we hopped from shop to shop in Brooklyn last summer, the GP-3 proved invaluable. It allowed us to easily preview records we were otherwise unfamiliar with all while avoiding the complete takeover of a store listening station.

The Columbia GP-3 portable record player

All the 45s I was buying at that point were doo-wop, rhythm & blues, and rock & roll. Most of the records I proudly consider part of my personal collection, but I was also simultaneously investing in a set of records I could use to get back into DJing. Jazz didn’t necessarily fit into the latter category so I was passing it over when I saw it in the bins. But then I realized how fun it would be to take my GP-3 to the park or bring it along when I travel. To this end, I became more alert to the presence of jazz 45s while shopping both in person and online.

Remember that Esquire Monk ten-inch I posted about a few months ago? While conducting general research on Esquire titles around the time I acquired that record, I decided it might be fun to have some Monk on 45. Then I stumbled upon this title and its glorious cover.

The two songs on this British extended play or “E.P.” first appeared in the U.S. most likely in late 1954 or early 1955 on Prestige catalog number 190, a ten-inch long-play featuring Sonny Rollins and Thelonious Monk. A couple years later the songs would resurface on Prestige 7075, this time a twelve-inch LP that compiled takes from three sessions Rollins and Monk collaborated on in 1953 and ’54. Unfortunately, Rudy Van Gelder is noticeably absent from the mastering process for this E.P., evidenced by the lower signal-to-noise ratio between the music and surface noise.

Prestige catalog numbers 190 and 7075 (photo of 190 courtesy of @jrock1675)

While I’m a big fan of the music and performances here, I’m not the biggest fan of the actual recording. Van Gelder did record this session, though it was recorded during a period in which he seems to have been fascinated with a shiny new toy, a spring reverberation unit. The result is a Rollins unfavorably drenched in artificial-sounding reflections. The truth is it takes away from my enjoyment of the recording a little, but the performances surely make up for it. I enjoy Monk’s especially heavy-handed comping on “I Want to Be Happy”, and I’ve always liked the melody of Jerome Kern’s “The Way You Look Tonight”, where we find Monk a bit tamer behind Rollins.

Lastly, if it makes sense to call any album covers “sexy”, surely this is one of them. The eye-popping contrast of bold yellow with cream and the cover’s deep black typography demands your attention. Esquire, you have done it again with absolutely killer cover design…hats off.

Vinyl Spotlight: Sonny Rollins, Newk’s Time (Blue Note 4001)

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Liberty mono pressing ca. 1966-70
RVG stamped in dead wax

Personnel:

Sonny Rollins, tenor saxophone
Wynton Kelly, piano
Doug Watkins, bass
Philly Joe Jones, drums

Recorded September 22, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released January 1959

1	Tune Up
2	Asiatic Raes
3	Wonderful! Wonderful!
4	Surrey with the Fringe on Top
5	Blues for Philly Joe
6	Namely You

Selection:

“Blues for Philly Joe” (Rollins)

I ignored this album for quite some time for a couple reasons. First, it was primarily comprised of standards and short on originals, but also because the album has rarely been reissued in mono and I kept reading about issues with the consistency of Rollins’ volume level in the stereo mix (apparently caused by the leader’s motion in the studio during recording). Well this is a copy made from the bold, original Van Gelder mono mastering, and to my ears there is no such problem here.

This is not the first time that seeing a good deal on a clean original pressing of an album encouraged me to listen to the music more carefully. On this occasion, I was surprised to unearth an album I really enjoy. First and foremost, “Tune Up” and “Asiatic Raes” are two of my favorite modern jazz standards, and this quartet knocks them out of the park. Prematurely, I never thought anyone could best Kenny Dorham’s version of “Asiatic Raes” on Quiet Kenny (titled “Lotus Blossom” there), but Rollins gives him a run for the money.

There are several comical moments from the leader here, and on “Tune Up” we find Rollins at his funniest. His descending staccato riff beginning on the seventh chorus of his solo literally sounds like laughing, and its refrain is a welcome break from the saxophonist’s inventive genius. For someone who is among the most imaginative soloists ever, this less-than-cerebral moment demonstrates Rollins’ sharp wit and special talent for expressing his sense of humor through his music. The lighthearted theme persists throughout the album, but what makes Newk’s Time special is how laid back it feels all while the musicians execute with consistent precision.

Philly Joe Jones shows up for this date and crushes it. His duet with Rollins on “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” is a must-listen. As if the album’s quartet arrangement wasn’t good enough for a minimalist like myself, this pairing of drummer and saxophonist takes it a step further. Although “Surrey” makes it most obvious that engineer Rudy Van Gelder was perhaps a little too heavy-handed with the reverb on Rollins that day, Philly still sounds dry and snappy.

“Blues for Philly” is probably my favorite cut on the album (and for all we know invented on the spot at the session). When the entire band comes back in after “Surrey”, it sounds like an explosion. The low end of Doug Watkins’ bass drops and Wyton Kelly fills the rest of the space with chords. Kelly is especially aggressive and percussive on this album, perhaps rising to match Rollins’ intensity. Everyone is in a good mood and you can hear it.

This sure is one in-your-face album. The entire band is in full attack mode and it makes for an exciting listen.

Vinyl Spotlight: Curtis Fuller Volume 3 (Blue Note 1583)

Earless mono pressing circa 1966
West 63rd INC/R labels on both sides; no deep groove
RVG stamped in dead wax

Personnel:

Art Farmer, trumpet
Curtis Fuller, trombone
Sonny Clark, piano
George Tucker, bass
Louis Hayes, drums

Recorded December 1, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released December 1960

Selection:

“Two Quarters of a Mile” (Fuller)

My first interaction with Curtis Fuller Volume 3 came when I bought a Japanese reissue at a local record store on a whim. The lineup looked good and I knew it was fairly rare in any format so I decided to take a chance. After an initial round of unfocused listens, I prematurely dismissed the album and sold it locally. Then about a year later, an original pressing popped up in a different local shop, which inspired me to go home and give it another listen online. This time, the album’s infectious melodies stood out, and upon more critical listening I eventually fell in love, start to finish. At that time I didn’t quite understand where this recording fit into Fuller’s history, though I knew I liked him a lot on other Blue Note albums like Cliff Jordan Sextet, Sonny’s Crib, and Blue Train.

At the time of its recording, Fuller had just hit the New York scene, and his talents as a writer were apparent immediately. Not only did he demonstrate that by contributing four of this album’s six compositions, the dark, brassy harmonies created by Fuller’s trombone and Art Farmer’s trumpet are a testament to his imagination and pursuit of fresh tonalities as an arranger.

Album titles had a tendency to be a little ambiguous in the dawn of the long-play. While the front and back of this jacket simply read, “Curtis Fuller”, the record’s labels suggest Volume 3 as a title (Fuller had led two Blue Note sessions prior to this: The Opener and Bone & Bari). The responsibility of naming an album probably fell squarely in the label’s lap back then, but in all fairness this was par for the course, as many jazz albums of the day had names that either simply echoed a song title or spelled out some cliché play-on-words involving the artist’s name.

Semantics aside, this album is a diamond in the rough. Perhaps because it was released three years after it was recorded, perhaps because it has not been reissued all that much, but also maybe because it does not come across as one of Blue Note’s more sincere branding moments. The cover’s rather basic presentation has a bit of a manufactured feel, and the aforementioned lack of a catchy title may also contribute something to the album’s deceptive front.

Volume 3 begins with a bang. The band explodes out of the gate with a rush of cymbals and a powerful blast from the frontline’s horns on “Little Messenger”. Fuller then proves he can write with latin flavor on “Quantrale”, and drummer Louis Hayes knows how to pepper the rhythm accordingly. Rounding out side one is “Jeanie”, one of several uplifting moments in this moody set. (I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for songs named after women.)

Side two opens with “Carvon”, a somber ballad that eventually gives way to a more optimistic and uptempo mid-section. Bassist George Tucker’s bow work complements the composition’s downtrodden mood quite well and is reminiscent of Paul Chambers’ reading of “Yesterdays”, recorded earlier that year. But my favorite track is the happy-go-lucky “Two Quarters of a Mile”, which showcases yet another one of Fuller’s catchy melodies. Volume 3 closes with “It’s Too Late Now”, a ballad that opens with glorious unison between the leader and Farmer. Fuller then stretches into one of his patented sweet solos, the likes of which can also be heard on other ballads like “A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening” and “Come Rain or Come Shine”.

The main reason I adore this album is because the musicians, led by Fuller and his heartfelt writing, seem to communicate emotions ranging from happy to sad so genuinely at each and every turn here. Indeed, this was a magical day of synergy for this group of talented musicians, and I’m grateful that its beauty has been preserved all these years.

Vinyl Spotlight: The Randy Weston Trio (Riverside 2515) Original 10″ Pressing

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Personnel:

Randy Weston, piano
Sam Gill, bass
Art Blakey, drums

Recorded January 25, 1955 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

1	Zulu
2	Pam’s Waltz
3	Solemn Meditation
4	Again
5	If You Could See Me Now
6	Sweet Sue

Selection:

“Zulu” (Weston)

About a year ago when I first sat down to work on my Rudy Van Gelder presentation, I compiled a playlist on Spotify of albums the engineer recorded that I had yet to hear. Among those were about a dozen recordings done between 1953 and 1955. Unlike other Van Gelder dates from around this time that are drenched in spring reverb, these recordings feature the dry room sound of Van Gelder’s Hackensack living room, an entirely unique sonic signature that you won’t hear coming out of any other recording studio at that time.

Among those albums was this set by Brooklyn pianist Randy Weston, a giant of the keyboard and, standing six-foot-seven, a giant in real life too. In a way, this is “the poor man’s Herbie Nichols”. I don’t mean to discredit Weston in any way when I say that, nor to make any sort of pseudo-scholarly comparison of the two, but while this LP costed a fraction of what an original Nichols ten-inch on Blue Note would (catalog numbers 5068/9), it boasts the same smokey sound, which surely has much to do with the fact that the albums were only recorded four months apart in 1955 and both are Hackensack trio dates featuring Art Blakey on drums.

These early Riverside ten-inches weren’t mastered very hot, so I was lucky to find a clean and quiet copy. And while Van Gelder did not master this album, he manages to make himself heard as the date’s recording engineer nonetheless.

I recently finished Robin Kelley’s Thelonious Monk biography and was delighted to learn of Monk’s close relationship with Weston. I don’t necessarily hear an influence of one on the other, but I’m not a jazz scholar either. My favorite tracks here are the more upbeat ones where Blakey favors sticks over brushes (“Zulu”, “Sweet Sue”, “Solemn Meditation”). Hopefully as I continue to expand my modern jazz palette I will find more gems like this from the early to mid ’50s, an era in the music’s recorded history that has perhaps been somewhat overlooked due to the fact that the classic twelve-inch LP format hadn’t yet arrived as the industry standard.

Vinyl Spotlight: Sonny Clark, Cool Struttin’ (Blue Note 1588) Liberty Mono Pressing

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Liberty mono pressing circa 1966-1970
“RVG” stamped in dead wax

Personnel:

Jackie McLean, alto saxophone
Art Farmer, trumpet
Sonny Clark, piano
Paul Chambers, bass
Philly Joe Jones, drums

Recorded January 5, 1958 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released August 1958

1	Cool Struttin’
2	Blue Minor
3	Sippin’ at Bells
4	Deep Night

Selection:

“Deep Night” (Henderson-Vallee)

For Collectors

When I first began collecting vintage jazz records, I quickly noticed that Sonny Clark’s Cool Struttin’ is a very in-demand album and considered by many to be a classic. Additionally, I noticed that original pressings fetched in the upwards of two thousand dollars. At some point I became aware that this third/fourth Liberty pressing with original mono Rudy Van Gelder mastering existed, but it still fetched substantial sums of money despite being at least eight years removed from the initial release. Since this isn’t one of my favorite jazz albums, I didn’t foresee myself owning a copy with the Van Gelder stamp any time soon.

Then this copy popped up in a friend’s list of records for sale. Graded highly and priced very fairly, I replied to my friend’s email the instant I saw it, beating out any other potential buyers who also received my friend’s list that evening. Despite this not being a personal favorite, I still fancy the music, the price was right, and it is a great recording that, after finally hearing an authentic mono copy, revealed itself to be even more outstanding than I had already known it to be in stereo.

The stereo version of Cool Struttin’ has been vastly favored over the mono in reissue programs down through the decades, and I have owned the stereo RVG Edition CD for quite some time. Coincidentally, just before I acquired this copy, I was considering either a 2004 Classic Records mono reissue or the 2011 Japanese Disk Union “DBLP” mono reissue. Blue Note albums like this recorded between May 1957 and October 1958 are especially intriguing in mono because they were recorded to both full-track and two-track tape, so mono versions aren’t (shouldn’t be) a “50/50” summation of the two-track tape, as all Blue Note mono LPs following this period are. So while in theory you may not hear a huge difference between an authentic mono version and a stereo version with the channels summed, at least in principle the two versions came from two different master tapes.

Another factor enticing me to bite on this copy was the album’s iconic cover, which is perhaps the most famous jazz album cover of all time. The presentation of both the graphic and typography remain sharp with this issue, though after Liberty Records acquired Blue Note in 1966 they felt obligated to brandish their name on the front and in the process tarnish Reid Miles’ original artistic vision. The typography he chose for the words “Blue Note 1588” have been replaced with a less attractive outlined version of the label’s note logo complete with the phrase “A Product of Liberty Records” in fine print. While this is the type of thing a detail-oriented collector like myself often takes notice of, it ultimately only amounts to a subtle disappointment that is easy to overlook upon hearing the vinyl’s playback.

Differences in the original and Liberty reissue album covers

For Audio Engineering Nerds

The several stereo versions of this album I have heard no doubt have accurate representations of each instrument (save Rudy Van Gelder’s less-than-ideal piano sound, of course), yet the overall presentation has typically been a little on the bright side in stereo, and, as per usual with pre-seventies stereo, sounds disjoint. Surely some jazz lovers prefer the added detail of these stereo mixes; personally I prefer the cohesion of the mono.

I don’t know if my mind is playing tricks on me as a result of this being such a high-profile album, but the mono presentation of Cool Struttin’ seems especially balanced in relation to other mono-stereo comparisons from the same time period. This original Van Gelder mono mastering is on the darker side — especially good here since it sounds like the cymbals were recorded with a lot of high-frequency energy — but everything really locks into place in mono here.

For example, where stereo issues arguably give an added sense of depth by placing the reverb for Art Farmer’s trumpet in the center of the stereo spread with Farmer flanked to the left, on the mono version the same plate reverb melds with Farmer’s tone in a unique and satisfying way. What’s more, the mono seems to emphasize producer Alfred Lion’s artistic sensibilities and engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s ability to give each musician their own sound. As pointed out by my honorable collecting friend Clifford (Instagram’s @tallswami), in contrast to Farmer, Jackie McLean is presented front and center with drier immediacy. These choices emphasize each soloist’s unique character and helps each find their own voice on the recording.

For Music Lovers

Many jazz fans adore Cool Struttin’. While collectors stereotypically have a special fetish for the album that is perhaps in some way informed by its killer album art, a drummer friend who is deeply rooted in the jazz tradition and entirely unfamiliar with the world of collecting has identified this as his favorite jazz album of all time. Paraphrasing him, “It just swings so hard”.

I don’t deny that, but hard bop is my thing and I hear a lot of hard swinging in my day-to-day listening. As a result then, I can’t say that I hold Cool Struttin’ in such high regard. I would never deny that it embodies quality performances by world-class musicians but it’s a bit off-base from my typical taste. I’ve never been a big fan of bluesy walking tunes like the title track; they have always seemed kind of “jammy” to me and hence a bit lacking in purpose. The song’s artistic statements could have probably been made in about two minutes’ less time as well. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with two solos from a great pianist, but Clark solos twice, and the band seems to be in miscommunication when Chambers comes out of his solo, which leads to an additional chorus of meandering.

I dig the intro of “Blue Minor”, and though the bridge has a cheesy, swanky quality to it, perhaps it creates interesting contrast with the song’s hipper A-section. McLean’s solo here is in the Monkian tradition of sticking close to the melody, but at the same time it sounds out of character for the saxophonist, who is typically quite adventurous harmonically. Ironically, this paints McLean as being somewhat unfamiliar with the tune at the time of recording.

“Sippin’ at Bells” is a Miles Davis composition dating back to 1947, the melody of which has firm roots in the bebop tradition. Regular readers of Deep Groove Mono may be aware that compositions with more complex melodies like this generally aren’t my favorite. True, many Monk compositions I adore have challenging structures (“Four in One”, for example), though there’s something about Monk’s melodies that make them fun to hum regardless (which I believe is a very important aspect of his genius). A lot of bebop melodies make me think of tangled string and thus I have a hard time finding something to latch on to. That said, I don’t feel that “Sippin’ at Bells” squarely falls into this category, and I enjoy both Clark’s take and Miles’ original version with Charlie Parker.

Concluding the album is “Deep Night”, a song originally recorded by Rudy Vallee in 1929 and my favorite track on Cool Struttin’. I love the opening two-minute trio vamp. Philly’s brush work and Clark’s delicate, lyrical style complement each other so well, and Philly’s solo at the end is airtight percussive perfection. I probably would have preferred that the trio finish out the song unaccompanied, but when Farmer and McLean eventually enter they deliver quality solos nonetheless.

Vinyl Spotlight: Tal Farlow Quartet (Blue Note 5042) Original 10″ Pressing

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Personnel:

Tal Farlow, guitar
Don Amone, guitar
Clyde Lombardi, bass
Joe Morello, drums

Recorded May 11, 1954 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released August 1954

1	Lover
2	Flamingo
3	Splash
4	Rock ‘n’ Rye
5	All Through the Night
6	Tina

Selection:

“Rock ‘N’ Rye” (Farlow)

For Collectors

I don’t exactly remember what piqued my interest in this LP. I think it started when I came across a copy of Gil Melle Quintet, Volume 2. Tal Farlow is on that LP. I also think I was just getting into ten-inch LPs and Rudy Van Gelder’s earliest Hackensack recordings. This album is rare in any format. On Spotify there’s only one track buried in an obscure Farlow compilation, and only two tracks are readily available on YouTube. But the tracks I was able to preview sounded good so I sought the album out. White guys playing jazz guitar may have originally steered me clear of a record like this back when I was an ignorant novice collector, but I’m glad I got over my preconceptions and gave this album a chance.

I originally bid on a vinyl-only (no jacket) copy of this last summer on eBay. Though it was described EX, once I got it I only graded it strong VG. But I got such a good deal it didn’t matter (I did, however, politely share my opinion of the seller’s grading with them). Then last month, I caught the collecting bug (yet again), and in the midst of doing some virtual shopping I searched Discogs for a copy that might have a nice jacket. It turned out that the only copy for sale on there had VG vinyl and a VG+ jacket, and not only that, the seller’s store was a 20-minute bus ride away from me in Queens. So I headed out to Ridgewood that weekend and got the record at a discount. A couple weeks later I sold the vinyl from that copy to break even on what I originally paid for the first record, and universal balance had once again been restored.

I’d only grade this vinyl, the original vinyl, strong VG visually, and it has a few pops here and there but nothing repetitive so it is indeed a very strong VG; playback is VG+ for the most part — groove wear is rarer on records like these with quieter arrangements — and I’m very happy to have this record for the price I paid.

For Music Lovers

This is a gorgeous early Hackensack living room recording from April 1954, and additionally a unique quartet combo of two guitars, bass, and drums. It is also one of those rare records that I genuinely enjoy listening to from start to finish. The Farlow compositions (“Splash”, “Rock ‘N’ Rye”, “Tina”) are buoyant bits of songwriting. “Rock ‘N’ Rye” listens like a jazz song with a hook, and employs fun use of artificial reverb at the end to make it sound like Farlow and co-guitarist Don Amone are retreating to a cave to jam the night away whilst never abandoning their instruments. “Flamingo”, the record’s ballad, is a sweet tune where Farlow puts his virtuous playing down for a take, opting for some pretty, minimalist plucking. The album is cool and quiet but manages to remain generally upbeat and thus makes for good listening in a multitude of settings.

If you’re interested in owning a copy, a relatively rare United Artists ten-inch pressing from the ‘70s exists. Perhaps it will be a bit easier to acquire one of the Japanese Toshiba reissues from the ‘90s, either the twelve-inch or ten-inch version. Japan also reissued the album on CD. Unfortunately, my understanding is that all of these reissues embody some measure of master tape issues, but options are obviously limited to listen to this great music.

Vinyl Spotlight: Workin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet (Prestige 7166) Original Pressing

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Original 1959 pressing
“Bergenfield, N.J.” address on both labels
Deep groove both sides
“RVG” stamped in dead wax

Personnel:

Miles Davis, trumpet
John Coltrane, tenor saxophone
Red Garland, piano
Paul Chambers, bass
Philly Joe Jones, drums

All tracks except “Half Nelson” recorded May 11, 1956
“Half Nelson” recorded October 26, 1956
All tracks recorded at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released December 1959

1	It Never Entered My Mind
2	Four
3	In Your Own Sweet Way
4	The Theme [Take 1]
5	Trane’s Blues
6	Ahmad’s Blues
7	Half Nelson
8	The Theme [Take 2]

Selections:

“It Never Entered My Mind” (Rodgers-Hart)

“Four” (Davis)

This hobby is all about patience. Several years back, a friend of mine who is almost exclusively a collector of rock and disco twelve-inches randomly scored an EX original pressing of this album for 30 bucks at a shop in Troy, New York, just a 15-minute drive up the Hudson from my native Albany. Try as I have to pry it from his hands over the years, he’s never budged. A pinch of jealousy toward his steal may have then influenced me in the coming years to pass up countless copies of this album that I felt weren’t the right combination of condition and price (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a copy of this album for $30 in any condition). Recently I finally found a VG+ copy that, while priced over double what my friend paid, was still fair nonetheless. Upon previewing playback at the store, I found a passage of very light ticks in one spot, but after running the record through my Spin Clean, I was astonished to find that the ticks went away. (As much as I adore the Spin Clean, this was a first!)

Being one of four legendary albums Miles and company recorded for Prestige in 1956 in order to quickly fulfill his contract with the label before moving over to Columbia, this copy of Workin’ now complements my copy of Cookin’ (Relaxin’ and Steamin’ I can take or leave). These recordings represent a “sweet spot” in engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s tenure at his Hackensack, New Jersey home recording studio: lifelike mono sound that creates a natural sense of space with instruments balanced to perfection. “It Never Entered My Mind”, a patented, gorgeous Miles ballad complete with the sweet sounds of the leader’s muted trumpet, will perk up the ears of just about any music lover (my rock-and-disco-collecting friend included), and “Four” has all the ingredients of a hard bop classic. As with Cookin’, Philly Joe Jones’ drums sound incredibly natural at times and thunderous at others, and I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of the more structured style of improvisation John Coltrane sported in 1956. This combination of world-class musicianship paired with a charming, minimalist monophonic presentation firmly places these sessions near the top of my list of favorites.

Vinyl Spotlight: Horace Silver and the Jazz Messengers (Blue Note 1518) West 63rd “No INC/R” Pressing

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“Third” pressing circa 1957-1959
“47 WEST 63rd NYC” address on both labels without registered trademark “R”
Deep groove both sides
“RVG” and Plastylite “P” (ear) etched in dead wax

Personnel:

Kenny Dorham, trumpet
Hank Mobley, tenor saxophone
Horace Silver, piano
Doug Watkins, bass
Art Blakey, drums

Recorded November 13, 1954 and February 6, 1955 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released as two 10″ LPs: BLP 5058 (March 1955) and BLP 5062 (September 1955)
BLP 1518 originally released July 1956

1	Room 608
2	Creepin’ In
3	Stop Time
4	To Whom It May Concern
5	Hippy
6	The Preacher
7	Hankerin’
8	Doodlin’

Selection:

“Creepin’ In” (Silver)

Not only is Horace Silver a favorite jazz composer and musician of mine, this is one of my favorite albums of his. If I had to guess, Silver was given the title of leader on this early Jazz Messengers effort since, unlike the Birdland and Bohemia Messenger LPs of the same era, the majority of the selections here (all but one) were written by Silver, who only penned three of the nine original Birdland tracks and nothing on the original Bohemia LPs. But while many jazz newcomers will, as I did, think of this effort as a single body of work encased in the minimal, baby-blue cover we have all come to know through various reissues (a cover that, by the way, sports a horrible photo of Silver with a shadow covering half his face), these sides actually numbered four in total originally, spanning across two 10″ albums both released in 1955 (BLP 5058 and BLP 5062). In some instances I prefer to own the original 10″ pressings of albums that would later resurface in a 12″ configuration — if I can even find the original 10″ LPs — but for this album, it’s so solid start to finish that I actually prefer the 12″ pressing over the two 10″ “originals”. Why not have all the great music on the 10″ LPs in one place? That’s two less times I need to get up to turn the record over!

A Night at Birdland, Vol. 1 (BLP 5037) and The Jazz Messengers at the Cafe Bohemia, Vol. 1 (BLP 1507)

The sound of this record is characteristic of that coming out of Rudy Van Gelder’s Hackensack home studio in the mid 1950s: clear, warm mono with shimmering cymbals, a slightly metallic sound to the trumpet, and a touch (less than normal) of Van Gelder’s menacing spring reverb. This is actually my second vintage copy of this LP. The first had “NEW YORK 23” on one side and “West 63rd” on the other and was acquired at an outdoor Brooklyn record fair several years ago. I recall making the decision to sell it in part because there was a tinge of distortion on Kenny Dorham’s loudest notes (which actually improved somewhat after a good cleaning) but I also sold it because I decidedly preferred the mastering of the 1987 Capitol-Manhattan CD reissue. But when this near mint copy with “West 63rd” on both sides appeared at another Brooklyn record fair recently, I simply could not pass it up.

The Horace Silver Quintet, Volumes 1 & 2 (BLP 5058 & BLP 5062)

Above all, the highest of frequencies, usually dominated by cymbals, sound more “accurate” (detailed and present) on the Manhattan CD and hence, I would assume, on the original master tape. After hearing numerous original Van Gelder LP masters from the years of approximately 1955 to 1957, it’s clear that Van Gelder was making the deliberate and regular choice to dampen the high frequencies a bit when mastering for vinyl. This could have been a precaution against mistracking that the young engineer opted for at the time, which could in theory allow the signal-to-noise ratio-obsessed Van Gelder to achieve even greater volume on his LPs. It could have also been a deliberate aesthetic choice, but we hear Van Gelder leaving more high-frequency detail on his records in 1958. I still prefer the sound of the Manhattan CD, but I’ve come to appreciate Rudy Van Gelder’s earliest LPs as an embodiment of a sonic signature representative of the time they were originally released in.

The Capitol-Manhattan CD reissue of BLP 1518

This is a solid program. Though there are plenty of uptempo tunes with unorthodox melodies written more in the tradition of hard bop’s immediate ancestor, bebop (“Room 608”, “Stop Time”, “Hippy”), Silver penned a jukebox hit with “The Preacher”. Making its debut here (technically on BLP 5062), its corny, gospel-drenched melody is undeniably fun, though I prefer Jimmy Smith’s humorous demolishing of it on Volume 1 of the Club Baby Grand LPs.

Jimmy Smith at Club Baby Grand, Vol. 1 (BLP 1528)

But the real jewels of this album are the quieter tunes. “Doodlin'” is the kind of bluesy jazz you might imagine a 1950s sleuth playing on his car’s AM radio while cruising the streets looking for clues. “Creepin’ In” is perfect for a lazy afternoon indoors sipping tea. Mobley and Dorham set the mood here, and they also set the stage for a story-like solo from Silver. Always a clear and spontaneous communicator of his musical ideas, around the twenty-first measure of his solo, Silver begins a descent toward the middle of the keyboard. He then plays with an idea for a couple measures before unearthing a simple yet highly memorable melody that he plays twice before handing things back over to the band. I also dig how often Silver changes things up from the traditional “AABA” bop writing formula, sometimes throwing in an additional “C” section after all the solos, and the “A” section of “To Whom It May Concern” embodies some of the most original writing by Silver on this great album.

Vinyl Spotlight: Olio (Prestige 7084) Original Pressing

Original 1957 pressing
“446 W. 50th ST., N.Y.C.” on both labels
Deep grooves on both sides
“RVG” stamped in dead wax

Personnel:

Thad Jones, trumpet
Frank Wess, flute & tenor saxophone
Teddy Charles, vibraphone
Mal Waldron, piano
Doug Watkins, bass
Elvin Jones, drums

Recorded February 16, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in 1957

Selection:

“Blues Without Woe” (Charles)

It’s rare that I hang on to a record in VG condition, but this record has a couple things working for it: 1. Despite the pops and ticks, it has no groove wear, 2. I got it for (the vintage jazz record collecting equivalent of) a dollar bin price, and 3. The music and performances are both spectacular. Like my copies of Saxophone Colossus and Coltrane Live at Birdland, this was a “jazz genre section” find. Unfamiliar with the music, the price tag made me walk it over to the listening station to give it a try, and I wasn’t expecting such great performances and such a sweet sound.

For several months I grappled with the choice of keeping it or selling it, and lately I decided it’s here to stay. The compositions are all top-notch, mostly written by the tag team of Teddy Charles and Mal Waldron. The sound of the recording hearkens back to the days of lo-fi recording, drums softly set back in the mix (although the bass is maybe a little too low) and the soloists are loud and clear up front, providing a unique take on late 1950s jazz recordings. And the solos are fantastic, from “leader” Thad Jones (the leader of these Prestige “jam sessions” is never clear, save their name being first on the cover) to Charles to Waldron to the most gifted Frank Wess, who plays with a breathiness undeniably reminiscent of Lester Young. Thad Jones had a unique tone and was inventive on the level of Sonny Rollins, and Frank Wess plays with unbeatable swing (this record made me realize what I miss with the avant-garde: swing). We also get to hear a young, swinging Elvin Jones on drums, a rare occasion considering the splashy, liberated rhythmic style he would develop and own in the post bop era of the ’60s. Everyone is on point when it’s their time to shine, and though these Prestige dates often get a bad rep for lacking the care and preparation that went into sessions on labels like Blue Note, one can’t help but conclude that this group knew what they were doing when they stepped into the studio that day.

The album maintains a high quality of writing and musicianship throughout. Opening with “Potpourri”, which features Frank Wess on flute, the group then shifts to “Blues Without Woe”, an uptempo hard bop masterpiece. The first side concludes with “Touché”, a lazy summer jazz walk most exemplified by the harmony of Charles’ vibes and Wess’ flute. Side two opens with “Dakar”, a Charles composition with harmonic chaos in the spirit of Thelonious Monk’s “Evidence”. From there the band slows things down with a reading of the Gershwin standard “Embraceable You”. Thad Jones is his usual ballad-sweet self, and Wess plays a resonating, breathy solo. The album’s final cut, Charles’ “Hello Frisco”, ends things without exclamation, though we still get an inspired solo from Waldron, a pianist who we hear tirelessly working out ideas record after record.

At the end of the day, a cheap original pressing that plays without groove wear or skips is a record worth listening to, especially if the music and performances are as captivating as they are here.

Vinyl Spotlight: Sonny Rollins, Saxophone Colossus (Prestige 7079/7326) “Gold Label” RVG Mono Pressing

Mono Prestige reissue circa 1964-1971
“RVG” etched in dead wax

Personnel:

Sonny Rollins, saxophone
Tommy Flanagan, piano
Doug Watkins, bass
Max Roach, drums

Recorded June 22, 1956 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Selection: “Blue 7” (Rollins)

Well it pays to give the jazz sections in record stores a quick flip on each visit. Though usually less than mediocre, I’ve found that jazz LPs often skip the new arrivals bins — a longstanding staple of record stores — and go straight to the genre section. My method is usually to flip quickly through each of my favorite players’ sections and the beginning of each “lettered” section. This effort usually ends up fruitless but every now and then something slips through the cracks.

That surely was the case when I found this copy of Saxophone Colossus. On the surface, this pressing seems harmless. It serves as evidence of Prestige Records being up to their old capitalist tricks, updating artwork and catalog numbers in a shameless effort to rebrand previously issued material. Prior to this I had seen fake stereo copies of this reissue a few times but this was the first time I failed to see the “stereo” moniker anywhere on the cover. As I examined the front and back of the jacket I thought, “Could this be mono, and better yet, could it possibly be made from the original 1956 RVG metalwork??” And when I slid the LP out of the jacket, I was overjoyed to find the initials “RVG” handwritten there in the dead wax. To sweeten the pot, the record looked near mint and the price tag was in no way suggestive of the colossal sound laying dormant in these grooves. (See what I did there?)

I promptly paid my fare at the counter, and on this hot, sunny Manhattan day, I posted up at a nearby burger joint to grab lunch as I researched the record’s obscure gold labels. While London Jazz Collector places this label run in the rather wide range of 1964-1971, VinylBeat.com makes a narrower yet less specific claim of “mid-1960s”. Discogs has the pressing year pegged down to 1964 (I have no idea what the source of that info is), but to be honest, the vinyl’s lighter weight and thinner, more bendable material makes me suspicious that it would have been released sometime in the ‘70s. The RVG etching and bold sound of this copy nonetheless remain, a fact made even more astounding when one considers that the original metal factory master disks could have been over 15 years old when this record was made.

Although I usually post favorite albums of mine on here, to be honest Saxophone Colossus is a classic that does not resonate with me as much as it does with most jazz fans. The melody and rhythm of “Saint Thomas” is a bit too corny to find its way into my regular rotation, though the jerky rhythm and brisk pace of “Strode Rode” has always appealed to me. But the real allure for a drummer-minded jazz fan such as myself is Max Roach’s pair of solos on side two. Roach’s hands get quite busy at times during “Moritat” (a renaming of the 1928 Weill-Brecht composition “Mack the Knife”, made for the German play Die Dreigroschenoper; “Moritat” roughly translates to “murder ballad”), but Roach plays with tasteful restraint during his solo on “Blue 7”. Engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s recording of drums was always second to none, even in 1956 as demonstrated here. Roach’s consistent striking of the ride cymbal during his solo on “Blue 7” shimmers with glowing resonance and his tom-toms ring with air-tight clarity and precision.

Though Sonny Rollins’ unique character and humor as a soloist became apparent to me many years ago, I can’t say that I’ve studied the breadth of his catalog with the careful attention it most certainly deserves. But with the addition of this record to my collection, Sonny is sure to get more play on my turntable in the future.