Recorded September 15, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released November 1957
1
Blue Train
2
Moment’s Notice
3
Locomotion
4
I’m Old Fashioned
5
Lazy Bird
Selections:
“Blue Train” (Coltrane)
“Moment’s Notice” (Coltrane)
For Music Lovers
I’m surprised by how many people recommend this album to jazz novices because I don’t necessarily find it to be an “accessible” listen. Slowly it has become one of my favorite jazz albums but I didn’t like it initially and ignored it for quite some time. I find Coltrane’s solos here challenging, and this next comment may not be something most people can identify with, but I initially found many of the melodies to sound “major” in terms of scale and thus maybe a little old-fashioned (no pun intended) at a time when I was looking for something more edgy and “minor”.
Growing out of my fashionable pessimism phase, I’ve come to appreciate older-sounding jazz numbers. But there’s a sort of hidden darkness looming in between the heads of the songs here. “Moment’s Notice”, an album favorite of mine, is the prime example of this: its happy, soulful theme seems to deceitfully change from major to minor key at the renewal of each chorus.
One by one, I grew to adore every song on this album. “I’m Old Fashioned”, a standard written by songwriting juggernauts Jerome Kern and Johnny Mercer, initially sounded like a cookie-cutter ballad but ultimately won me over. On “Lazy Bird”, trumpeter Lee Morgan’s quiet introductory proclamation of the theme is a welcome break from the sheer power of this all-star sextet. But what hasn’t already been said about the album’s mega-classic title track? The simple 24-bar theme is one of the most famous intros in all of jazz, and Coltrane’s solo has been exhaustively picked apart by scholars. No more than forty seconds after the album’s first notes sound, the leader launches this Molotov cocktail at the listener. It was too intense for me as a jazz newcomer, but over the years I feel I have grown to better understand Coltrane’s music, and today I marvel at the flurry of notes played here. In my view of jazz history this marks the beginning of Coltrane’s revolution: uninspired by what he was hearing at the time, it is the moment when the saxophonist took his instrument and proclaimed to the jazz world, “Enough is enough, it’s time to push this music forward.”
John Coltrane approaching Rudy Van Gelder’s Telefunken U47 microphone
On a side note, two weeks prior to the recording of this album in mid-September 1957, Coltrane was in the studio as a sideman for the recording of Sonny’s Crib (Blue Note 1576). That album’s title track bears a striking resemblance to the minimal, bluesy progression in “Blue Train”. Was Coltrane inspired by Sonny Clark? Had he taken Clark’s idea and ran with it? We may never know if there was a conscious connection between the two songs in Coltrane’s mind (“Sonny’s Crib” was not necessarily written first just because it was recorded first) but I found it worth mentioning.
BLP 1576, Sonny’s Crib
The choice of lineup on Blue Train is interesting. Coltrane was not known to have a regular working relationship with either Kenny Drew or Lee Morgan (he had recorded with each of them once on separate occasions prior to this date), which leaves open the possibility that Drew and Morgan were suggested by Blue Note producer Alfred Lion. This seems more plausible in the case of Morgan, a regular leader with the label. Though the album proved a grand slam for Blue Note in terms of sales, it was ultimately a one-off recording Trane did for them.
Coltrane, Morgan, and Curtis Fuller (off camera) rehearsing before a take
Critics seem split as to the brilliance of Blue Train. Beyond the title track, I have read reviews suggesting that the album amounts to little more than a run-of-the-mill bop date. The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings, while awarding it four stars, also manages to call it “an overvalued record”. I personally find the music jubilant and adventurous. The pairing of Trane with Morgan doesn’t create a seamless fusion to me, but it’s interesting to hear how Morgan responds to being thrown into such a foreign situation.
For Collectors
My experiences with vinyl versions of this album began many years ago with the 2005 Classic Records mono reissue. Though visually near mint, that copy had significant surface noise (a problem I’ve sadly run into again and again with Classic reissues — not all, but most). After ditching that copy, I spent several years getting more familiar with the material by listening to the 2003 stereo RVG Edition CD before I acquired the 2014 Music Matters mono reissue. I’m not nearly as fanatical about Music Matters as most jazz fans, but the fact that they released this as a single 33 R.P.M. disc in mono got my attention. Mastered by Kevin Gray, it is sonically astonishing. Through all this, I’ve always kept my eye on auctions for the rarer “NEW YORK USA” mono reissues of this with the RVG stamp and ear. These pressings sell for much less than copies displaying some form of the “West 63rd NYC” address on the labels, but I was always outbid.
Speaking of pressings, there is a hotly-contested debate over what constitutes a “first pressing” of this album. While fundamentalists will insist that only copies brandishing the “NEW YORK 23” address on one side should be considered first pressings, these copies are so rare that many collectors are left to conclude that “WEST 63RD” copes without the “INC” or registered trademark “R” must have also been part of that initial run. I side with the latter camp, considering all of these copies firsts, which would make this copy a second pressing (notice my quotes around the word “second” in the description above). Some collectors, including the venerable Larry Cohn, even go as far as suspecting that the New York 23 copies are second pressings. Semantics aside, this is an absolutely stunning copy of this classic and one of the cleanest vintage jazz records in my collection.
The elusive “NEW YORK 23” label
I’m not usually one to sweat the details when it comes to various runs of album jackets, but through a bit of recent research I have come to realize that there is a small difference between the first and second pressings of this jacket despite the “West 63rd Street” address appearing on both: while second jackets have black printing artifacts on the photo of Curtis Fuller, first jackets do not.
Original (left) and second edition (right) jackets
Though engineer Rudy Van Gelder is famous for his high level of sonic consistency, careful inspection will expose a multitude of different approaches both he and producer Alfred Lion took to the recording and mixing processes. Blue Train is an ideal example of this. The dead-black background depicted on the cover compliments the “nighttime” vibe of this recording exceedingly well. This is partly due to the fact that the album was laid to tape not long after Van Gelder acquired his new EMT plate reverb unit. This replaced his old (and frankly, cheap-sounding) “spring” reverb unit, which to the dismay of many jazz fans plagues numerous earlier Hackensack recordings by saturating the soundstage with choppy echoes of horns and drums. And while stereo versions of Blue Train present a rather disjointed soundstage (instruments on the far left and right with the reverb alone in the center), the unified mono presentation of the music here coupled with the roomy decay of the mono EMT plate succeeds at creating a spacious, dark soundstage that’s as far as one might imagine from the natural characteristics of a makeshift living room studio. And while the true-to-life sonic character of that room has appeared on countless jazz recordings and been celebrated for decades, this is a shining example of a time when Van Gelder and Lion decided that the music and temperaments of the artists required a fresh approach.
EMT reverb plate
It really doesn’t get any better than this when it comes to a vintage jazz listening experience: a clean copy of a classic album with a star-studded, exceptionally recorded cast being presented in monophonic fidelity as originally intended. It’s a time machine back to that cool autumn day in 1957 when jazz giants roamed Rudy Van Gelder’s New Jersey living room, expressing themselves the best way they knew how. This is an album I will cherish when I’m old and grey, and it is sure to get lots and lots of plays from now until then.
Plastylite “P” etched and “RVG” stamped in dead wax
Personnel:
Lee Morgan, trumpet
Sonny Clark, piano
Doug Watkins, bass
Art Taylor, drums
Recorded November 18, 1957 and February 2, 1958 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released September 1958
Selections:
“CTA” (Heath)
“Since I Fell for You” (Johnson)
It appears that along with a recent change in my philosophy of collecting has also come a change in my luck. I recently decided to go all in on creating the most authentic vintage mono jazz LP listening experience I could. This meant a new turntable (a gorgeous Garrard 301 which I have already secured), a separate component tonearm fitted to a plinth, and the Ortofon CG 25 mono cartridge. But before I could gather all the components for this new rig, an opportunity presented itself to me that I would have been a fool to ignore.
As a result of my change in philosophy, I have worked to put myself in a position where original pressings of my favorite jazz albums are more within my reach financially. Not too long after making this decision, this copy of Lee Morgan’s Candy popped up in a friend’s Instagram feed. “That seems like a very fair price for that Morgan,” was my first text to my friend, sent without any serious intent to buy. But 24 hours later the record was still on my mind, so I worked on my financials and decided I could make it work — if the record checked out — and two days later I made the 90-minute trip upstate on the Metro North railroad to look at the record first-hand and give it a listen.
Once I had it in my hands, the jacket was indeed a strong VG+ with no splits, and the labels were clean with the assumed deep grooves, “47 West 63rd NYC” address, and lack of registered trademark “R”. I listened to the record in its entirety before making a decision. Overall I would have play graded it VG+ with light surface noise that could be heard more during some of the quieter passages, but no loud or repetitive clicks and no distortion from wear. The record came from the original owner, an Upper West Side native who, according to my friend, remembered it as the first record he ever bought.
After making payment, I got on the train home with reserved excitement. I was honestly banking on the noise quieting down after running it through my Spin Clean (one of the greatest dollar-to-value purchases a collector can make, in my humble opinion). After one cleaning the surface noise settled down and I was quite pleased. But after a few plays I wondered if the simple act of playing the LP may have loosened some of the dirt, so why not run it through the machine one more time and see what happens? And I was happy to find that the surface noise had virtually disappeared in many places.
As for holy grails, I’d say Quiet Kenny, Jutta Hipp with Zoot Sims, and Overseas are near the top of my wish list, but Candy is really my number one, mainly because I find the entire program to be so great. When I first got into jazz, the atypical arrangement of trumpet quartet stood out to me. I love how playful sounding the music is, and the ballads are some of my favorites of all time.
I think Candy is marginalized by jazz critics for its lack of original compositions, but I could care less when the songs are played with such beauty and brilliant execution. It turns out that most of the songs have their origins in the mid-1940s when Morgan was between the ripe ages of seven and eight. The title track was first recorded by Johnny Mercer and Jo Stafford for Capitol Records and reached number 2 on Billboard’s Best Seller chart in 1945. That same year, “Since I Fell for You” was written and recorded by Buddy Johnson for Decca Records. “Who Do You Love I Hope” is a lesser known song written by Irving Berlin for Annie Get Your Gun in 1946, and “Personality”, penned by Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke for the play Road to Utopia, also premiered in 1946 with a film starring Dorothy Lamour to follow in 1950.
The remaining two songs completing the tracklist would have been more readily recognized by their respective audiences in 1958. “C.T.A”, the only cut on the album with modern jazz origins, was written by saxophonist Jimmy Heath and first recorded by Miles Davis with Heath on sax for Blue Note in 1953 (according to Miles, “C.T.A.” were the initials of Heath’s then-girlfriend Connie Theresa Ann). “All the Way”, the 1957 Academy Award winner for Best Original Song, was written by Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn for The Joker Is Wild, a film about the life of comedian/singer Joe E. Lewis starring Frank Sinatra. Scroll down to hear a Spotify playlist featuring the original recordings of all of these great songs.
Top: Johnny Mercer, Jo Stafford, Buddy Johnson, Irving Berlin, Jimmy Van Heusen, Johnny Burke Bottom: Dorothy Lamour, Jimmy Heath, Miles Davis, Sammy Cahn, Frank Sinatra
Candy immortalizes the legend of Rudy Van Gelder’s Hackensack home studio, with the album’s sparse arrangement leaving plenty of room for the sound of the engineer’s living room to make its mark on the recording. Sonny Clark’s piano playing takes center stage here and can be heard with startling clarity, and Art Taylor’s drum kit embodies the gorgeous drum sound Van Gelder would regularly get at Hackensack in the 1950s: a slightly roomy, unified sound with soft cymbals and lifelike accuracy in the bass, snare, and tom toms (for this session, perhaps a little too accurate at times: most collectors are aware of Taylor’s infamous squeaky hi-hat pedal during Clark’s leading solo on the title track).
Morgan dressed to impress while recording Candy in February 1958 at Hackensack
The mono presentation of the music, while not exclusively found on the original LP, is less than common. In stereo the music sounds as full as primitive stereo can with Lee’s regular presence on the far left of the spread, but the sparse arrangement here never leaves me feeling that the mono presentation of the band is “crammed into the center image”, as critics of the format often object. What’s more, there does appear to be some tape degradation on my stereo 1987 Capitol/Manhattan CD during “Who Do You Love I Hope”, though this is a nonstarter on all mono issues of the album. Apparently Music Matters did find some sort of a two-track “safety tape” of Candy that was in better condition than the old master, and as a result decided to release the album in stereo for their 33 1/3 R.P.M. series after releasing it in mono for their original 45 R.P.M. campaign.
Other interesting variations in the mono and stereo releases of this album include different piano lines played by Sonny Clark for the intro of “All the Way”. The intro of a different take must have been preferred by the team and thus spliced into the full-track master reel by Rudy Van Gelder. Why the two-track reel did not receive similar treatment is testament to the fact that Candy was only released in mono originally, with stereo being a mere afterthought for Blue Note producer Alfred Lion in early 1958. Additionally, the 1987 stereo CD boasts a reading of “All at Once You Love Her” that is noticeably absent from the original tracklist, which I have to believe was a decision made solely as a consequence of the temporal limitations of the LP format.
Intro to “All the Way”, Mono Version:
Intro to “All the Way”, Stereo Version:
Finally, I admit that I understand when collectors express their distaste for this album cover, but I can’t help but love it. As Lee mischievously glances upward at his name hovering above, the young trumpeter’s boyish innocence conveys a sense of awe toward his newfound fame (side note: though it appears to be a shot from the same sequence of photos as the original, Music Matters used a slightly different photo of Morgan for their reissues). Not being sure why Reid Miles opted to neutralize the potentially explosive rainbow of colored candy pieces depicted here with a black-and-white overlay — perhaps he felt it would be too much of a departure from Blue Note’s two-tone theme — it is a juxtaposition that nonetheless succeeds, with the help of Morgan’s presence, at communicating the playful nature of the musical themes within.
Photos used for the original release (left) and Music Matters reissue (right) of Candy
When I first started collecting, I gawked at the prices original pressings of this album would fetch, and I would have never guessed I’d be in possession of a copy so early on in my collecting years. So the collector saying goes, music comes first. I have always cherished the gorgeous music presented here, but I can’t deny that listening to an original mono pressing has caused my ears to perk up and listen more intently, specifically to the charming solos of all the instrumentalists. I couldn’t be more satisfied with this acquisition, and this copy of Candy is now, obviously and without question, the crown jewel of my collection.
Recorded October 25, 1953 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in December 1953
1
Timepiece
2
Lover Man
3
Gingersnap
4
A Lion Lives Here
5
Spellbound
6
Transition
Selections:
“Gingersnap” (Melle)
“A Lion Lives Here” (Melle)
Ed. Note: I have since upgraded the original copy; photos and audio clips have been updated.
On a day trip to an out-of-town record store that has always treated me good, I had no idea what to expect. When I got there I was surprised to find a dozen or so original 5000-series Blue Note ten-inch LPs. They weren’t in great shape but that certainly brought the prices down into my range. Many of them I was unfamiliar with as numerous 5000-series titles never made it to twelve-inch LP or any other reissue format. Some were too beat up to justify a purchase and the music just didn’t grab me with others, but I was determined to leave the store with one of these rare gems.
I decided on this Gil Melle album. It sounded decent in spots and that bold purple on the cover was really speaking to me. I was pretty sure this was an early Hackensack recording, so I consulted with the Deep Groove Mono Rudy Van Gelder Collector’s Discography and sure enough, the October 25, 1953 session that produced this LP was just the fifth Blue Note recording date ever at Hackensack, which made sense in light of the well-known fact that Gil Melle was responsible for introducing Van Gelder to Blue Note owner/producer Alfred Lion.
Knowing this made for an even more exciting listen. One might guess that it took a while for Van Gelder to build up his recording chops from the time he began taking commercial clients in the early ‘50s, but this album is evidence that he was a gifted engineer from the jump. The instruments sit in perfect balance, and as an added bonus there is little to none of the notorious Van Gelder spring reverb (I’m not sure when he acquired that unit and it’s possible that it’s not even used on this album).
An interesting note is that Van Gelder’s initials do not appear in the dead wax. Everyone knows that Van Gelder always insisted he master his own recordings, but did he master his earliest work? According to Frederick Cohen’s Blue Note guide, the earliest Blue Note recording to have Van Gelder’s initials etched into the dead wax was Here Comes Frank Foster (BLP 5043), recorded May 5, 1954. Indeed, 5033 embodies the bold sound, sharp treble roll-off and mid-high EQ bump characteristic of Van Gelder’s masters in the mid-fifties, though it’s certainly possible he had not yet acquired his Scully mastering lathe by the end of 1953, with the duty of mastering accordingly handed off to a third party.
The music itself is favorably characteristic of Gil Melle’s cool mid-fifties fashioning, the intro track “Timepiece” being the album’s most upbeat number. I acquired this copy in the summer, and there’s something about Melle’s baritone and Tal Farlow’s guitar that instantly made those dog days feel a little cooler. If you’re fortunate enough to own a copy of this album in any format, the next time there’s a scorcher I encourage you to close the blinds, turn the fan on, and kick back in the shade with this unsung classic.
West 63rd address on both labels without registered trademark “R”
Deep groove on both sides
Plastylite “P” etched and “RVG” stamped in dead wax
“47 West 63st St., New York 23” address on jacket
Personnel:
Blue Mitchell, trumpet
Junior Cook, tenor saxophone
Horace Silver, piano
Eugene Taylor, bass
Louis Hayes, drums
Recorded January 31, 1959 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released February 1959
1
Finger Poppin’
2
Juicy Lucy
3
Swingin’ The Samba
4
Sweet Stuff
5
Cookin’ at the Continental
6
Come on Home
7
You Happened My Way
8
Mellow D
Selection: “You Happened My Way” (Silver)
For those of you who have read my first essay on this site about how I got into vintage jazz record collecting, you may recall that the first Blue Note original I ever owned was a copy of this album. That copy was not in great shape and has since been replaced with the copy being presented here (the first copy I found has sentimental value and I’ve decided to hang on to it regardless). So the story goes, I was in a dusty, creaky New Orleans record store when I found a vintage copy of this album in a horizontally-stacked pile of random LPs. I had no idea what I was doing at that time and accordingly overpaid for it but I was really excited about what I had found. It was pretty beat up though; upon listening, the record got so bad in one spot that it would skip depending on what mood it was in.
After doing a little research, a controversial Music Matters online article led me to the incorrect conclusion that Blue Note albums recorded after Halloween 1958 were intended for stereo release despite their mono counterparts being more valuable. So I found an original stereo copy via eBay Buy It Now (this was one of the earliest Blue Note stereo albums with the rectangular gold “STEREO” sticker). This copy was overpriced, over-graded, and didn’t sound much better than my mono copy.
A couple years went by without my giving much thought to vintage jazz records when I decided to give the hobby another go. Around this time I got lucky winning an auction that ended on a weekday morning for a very fair price, and that record is being presented here. It has its fair share of pops and ticks but it’s managed to remain in my collection because it’s wear-free, it’s a first pressing, and the cover and labels are both in great shape.
Shortly after acquiring this copy through the mail, I debated on whether I preferred the stereo or mono version of this album. I remember liking how I could hear all of the nuances of Louis Hayes’ drum kit on the stereo copy, but I also didn’t like the way Horace Silver was crammed in the left-hand corner of the mix along with the trumpet. Both mixes had their pluses and minuses, but after doing a lot of research I came to the conclusion that this album was meant to be heard in mono so I sold my stereo copy largely on principle. (Someday I might buy another original stereo copy, though. The spread was super-wide and it was a real treat to hear Louis Hayes’ drumming in such isolation.)
It’s fun to reminisce about the early days of my collecting, back when it was all so new and fresh to me, back when I had as much first-hand experience with mono Blue Note originals as I had with unicorns, back when I would marvel at the value of mono Blue Note originals in the Goldmine price guide. It’s crazy to think about how far removed I am from that place today both in terms of knowledge and experience. I’m a wiser collector with the collection to prove it but I do miss that sense of wonder.
This isn’t one of my favorite Horace Silver albums but it does include some of my favorite songs. I played the title track over and over again when I was auditioning my various copies of this album and it stuck with me. To this day, the opener’s frantic bebop is an exhilarating listen and has ultimately served as my introduction to the legendary, bold mono sound of original Blue Note pressings. “Sweet Stuff” is in the Silver tradition of syrupy ballads like “Shirl” and “Lonely Woman”, though that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable of a listen. And despite it not standing out initially, “You Happened My Way” is a beautiful melancholy number that has since become a favorite Silver composition.
Someday I’d love to own a clean first pressing of this album, which in all likelihood wouldn’t cost me an arm and a leg. Luckily, Silver was a very popular artist in his day so I reckon that the chances of this happening are pretty good.
Recorded November 25, 1956 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released January 1957
Selection: “Touch and Go” (Mobley)
Selection: “Double Whammy” (Mobley)
It’s been a while since I first discovered this album but I’m pretty sure I first heard it on Spotify back when they had that cool Blue Note app that allowed you to sift through the albums like actual records. This album mesmerized me instantly; the thunderous chorus of horns that introduces the album alerts the listener to the arrival of jazz royalty.
There was something different about this sound, though. The horns had a tremendous sonic impact. The unique arrangement of two trumpets and one tenor saxophone was certainly playing a role, but recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder had clearly found a rare synergy with his equipment that day and I have yet to hear this horn sound topped by any other jazz recording. It is intense, smooth, and cohesive all at once. Van Gelder was getting a similar sound on other albums in late 1956 but perhaps the particular combination of Mobley, Byrd, and Morgan sets this album apart. The engineer’s choices regarding microphone positioning, preamplifier gain, compression, and instrument balance certainly played a role in the creation of this monumental sound as well.
The album’s compositions, all written by leader Hank Mobley, are consistently menacing. The haunting harmonies of “Touch and Go” and “Double Whammy” carry a sense of foreboding, and while “Barrel of Funk” has a rather upbeat “A” section, the tune ultimately transforms into an intriguing progression of minor-key origins at its bridge. Even the album’s most upbeat tune, “Mobleymania”, manages to keep listeners on the edge of their seats with harmonic tension.
Blue Note catalog number 1540 features Mobley’s characteristic sweet, smooth tone throughout. As a youthful pair of trumpeters, Donald Byrd and Lee Morgan are difficult to tell apart. Horace Silver does little to detract from this star-studded frontline, and the forefather of bop humbly yet tastefully blends into the background for much of the program. Silver’s comping is never boastful here, but at the same time it falls short of embodying the pianist’s big musical personality and signature funk (it wouldn’t be long before Silver would ditch sideman work for good and become the leader of his own legendary quintet). To round things out, drummer Charlie Persip sits at the throne behind his drum kit in the far corner of Rudy Van Gelder’s living room studio. I cannot get enough of the beautiful simplicity of Van Gelder’s mono drum sound at Hackensack in the late ’50s. Persip sounds just as good as anyone in that room and his straight-ahead timekeeping compliments Van Gelder’s technique exceedingly well.
Beyond a repress in the late ’60s after Blue Note had been sold to Liberty Records (the proof of which lies in the existence of copies with “RVG” etchings but no “ear”), this album has never been reissued in the United States, not even on compact disc (it has, however, appeared on numerous compilations including Mosaic’s box set of Mobley’s ’50s Blue Note recordings). The Japanese almost never left a Blue Note stone unturned though and this album is no exception, having been reissued by Toshiba-EMI five times in various formats. I was also considering the King reissue from the same year when I bought this 1983 Toshiba copy on eBay from a Japanese seller but ultimately chose the Toshiba not only because it was cheaper but I also noticed that the fonts used on the Toshiba cover more accurately portrayed those of the original artwork (King album covers also often admit an unnaturally high level of contrast). This was my first Japanese Blue Note vinyl reissue venture and I remember being stunned by how dead-quiet this pressing was.
My dream is to someday own a vintage copy of this album with RVG etchings. Until then, this Toshiba reissue is sure to get lots of turntable time in my house.
Original Jazz Classics reissue circa 1983 (OJC-063)
“GH” etched in dead wax (side 2 only)
Personnel:
Steve Lacy, soprano saxophone
Mal Waldron, piano
Buell Neidlinger, bass
Elvin Jones, drums
Recorded October 17, 1958 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in 1959
Selection:
“Reflections” (Monk)
My discovery of this album came as a pleasant surprise. A record-dealing friend had recently pulled a mammoth score including a dozen or so cardboard boxes packed with jazz reissues. Sifting through the boxes, the bold lime green of this cover caught my eye as most modern, mid-century cover designs do. I knew nothing about Steve Lacy, and even though I had seen the album cover once or twice online, for the first time I noticed the words “plays Thelonious Monk” (unbeknownst to me at the time, “Reflections” is the title of a lesser-known Monk composition). I turned the cover over to glance at the arrangement. It was then that I realized that Steve Lacy was not one to follow trends. An album of Monk compositions played with soprano sax? I had long been a fan of John Coltrane’s work with the then-out-of-fashion instrument so I was intrigued.
On this expedition I had the luxury of being able to preview records as I dug, and when I put this record on I was surprised by how much I liked what I was hearing. I quickly realized that Lacy had chosen more obscure, challenging Monk tunes for the album. Wynton Marsalis did something similar when I saw the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra pay tribute to Monk at Town Hall in New York City in 2016 and I admire the bravery that goes into making this kind of choice.
Not to discredit Lacy’s chops (of which he has plenty), just the combination of Monk’s music being played with soprano sax is a treat in and of itself. Lacy and session pianist Mal Waldron are clearly big fans of Monk’s, each having recorded Monk tunes numerous times throughout their careers. Considering how much I enjoy this album on top of its condition and the price I paid, this has become one of my favorite records in my collection.
Rudy Van Gelder is one of the most recognized audio engineers to have ever lived. He has recorded hundreds of the most celebrated jazz albums the world has ever heard. His recordings are so characteristic, “the Van Gelder sound” has become a catchphrase known to jazz fans the world over. But under the umbrella of this moniker, Rudy Van Gelder’s recording technique, philosophy, and logistics went through numerous changes over his career. Perhaps the change that affected this sonic signature most was when he moved his studio from his parents’ living room in Hackensack, New Jersey to a custom-built, cathedral-like structure in nearby Englewood Cliffs. The following playlists should make clear the distinct sonic characteristics of each studio and the way each space left its mark on recordings:
Hackensack Mono: This playlist embodies the immediate, up-front sound of Van Gelder’s Hackensack home studio. Additionally, since mono was the singular focus here, this playlist consists entirely of mono recordings and thus embodies Van Gelder’s legendary mono sound from start to finish.
Englewood Cliffs: The stereo presentation of each recording here helps to emphasize the open, spacious sound of this studio.
Click the links below to listen to the playlists on Spotify, or shuffle through the playlists right here!
Note: If you are not logged in to Spotify on your web browser, clicking one of the “play” icons above will only play 30-second clips of the songs. Click any of the embedded links to sign in, open Spotify in your browser, or launch the app on your computer.
“A DIVISION OF UNITED ARTISTS RECORDS, INC.” on both labels
Personnel:
Lee Morgan, trumpet
Curtis Fuller, trombone
John Jenkins, alto saxophone
Cliff Jordan, tenor saxophone
Ray Bryant, piano
Paul Chambers, bass
Art Taylor, drums
Recorded June 2, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released October 1957
Selection:
“Blue Shoes” (Fuller)
Truth be told, these United Artists mono pressings from the early to mid ’70s are hit and miss, having heard more than one that suffered from significant non-fill problems. But this particular copy made it through that inconsistent manufacturing process unscathed. United Artists pressings also seem to have a gentler top end than a lot of modern audiophile reissues, which to some collectors makes them worth seeking out despite the difficulty in finding a quality copy.
This particular Cliff Jordan album also seems difficult to find in any format, which is why I jumped at the chance to buy it when it popped up on eBay. Discogs indicates that it has only been issued in the US twice on vinyl (originally in 1957 and this copy in the early ’70s) and never on CD. Though it has been reissued by Toshiba EMI in Japan once as an LP in 1984 (undocumented by Discogs) and three more times on compact disc there, these copies are hard to find in the states. And try you may, but you will not find these sides in any shape or form on iTunes or Spotify, making this a rare and special listen indeed.
Second pressing circa 1958-1964 (mono) with small Abbey pressing ring
“Bergenfield, N.J.” on both labels
Deep groove on 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
Recorded October 26, 1956 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in 1957
1
My Funny Valentine
2
Blues by Five
3
Airegin
4
Tune Up/When the Lights Are Low
Selections:
“My Funny Valentine” (Rodgers)
“Tune Up” (Davis) / “When the Lights are Low” (Carter)
I found this record several years back at the first WFMU record fair I ever attended in New York City. It’s not an “original original” pressing in the sense that it lacks the “NYC” address on the labels, but it’s still made from original Van Gelder mastering. On the ballad “My Funny Valentine” especially, you should be able to hear that this is a very clean copy I was fortunate to find for the price I paid.
Much of what I might say about the history of this album I’ve already said in my review of Davis’ ‘Round About Midnight, which shares the same lineup. I originally bought this record mainly because it was a vintage copy in great shape and because I love this version of “My Funny Valentine”, but I eventually came to appreciate the entire second side of the album just as much (“Blues by Five” remains a ho-hum listen for me). Philly Joe Jones’ drum kit sounds thunderous here, and overall we get a glimpse of engineer Rudy Van Gelder in one of his finest hours at his Hackensack studio.
It would appear that this album and Relaxin’ (Prestige 7129) are the two most popular LPs of the four that Davis’ First Great Quintet recorded for Prestige, the others being Workin’ (Prestige 7166) and Steamin’ (Prestige 7200). I find something to like in all of them, but Cookin’, the first of the four to be released, is definitely my favorite. All four albums were recorded on just two dates in 1956. Renowned audiophile mastering engineer Steve Hoffman has claimed in his online forum that Van Gelder did a better job of recording the second date (which just so happened to produce all the takes present on Cookin’), claiming that Van Gelder made excessive use of spring reverb on the earlier of the two dates; I can’t say I agree. I think Cookin’ has the best program start to finish but I think all four albums are representative of how brilliant Van Gelder was under the restrictions of the mono format.