Recorded April 21-22, 1961 at the Blackhawk, San Francisco, California
Originally released September 1961
1
Walkin’
2
Bye Bye Blackbird
3
All Of You
4
No Blues
5
Bye Bye (Theme)
6
Love I’ve Found You
7
Well You Needn’t
8
Fran-Dance
9
So What
10
Oleo
11
If I Were a Bell
12
Neo
Selections:
“Walkin'” (Carpenter)
“So What” (Davis)
My Friday Night copy is considered an original pressing by most collectors but my Saturday Night copy is not due to the “CBS” marking on the labels. This is where I diverge from the record collecting consensus. I would agree that the CBS copy is not a first pressing but I would argue that there’s nothing wrong with referring to it as an “original pressing”. Being as specific as possible seems the honorable thing to do when it comes to selling, but my feeling is that in everyday conversation any copy of an album that would have been released in the era the album was originally released can rightfully be called an original (certainly, “in the era” is open to interpretation). Seeing that my CBS copy of Saturday Night was in all likelihood pressed in either the same year or the year after a first pressing, I don’t hesitate to think of this as an “original pressing”.
Live recording is by and large a more challenging endeavor when compared to the higher degree of control typically obtained in a recording studio. That being said, this Miles Davis album is an exceptional example of a live recording. Every instrument has its own space, even in mono, and the level of detail and accuracy here is a welcome break from the smeared, distorted sound of many live albums. Not only does Jimmy Cobb’s drum kit sound incredible here, his playing has a captivating and energetic sense of forward motion that seems to predict Tony Williams’ inclusion in Davis’ lineup shortly after. These albums also present a rare opportunity to hear how tenor saxophonist Hank Mobley, a mainstay of Blue Note records, holds up under the intense scrutiny of the date’s superstar bandleader.
“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.
Since its introduction in the 1950s, the stereo audio format has become an inseparable part of listening to recorded music. This two-channel standard has been implemented on such a universal scale, the terms “stereo” and “audio system” are virtually interchangeable today in everyday language. The original theory of sound recording was a little different though. Mono, short for monaural, is the single-channel format fundamentally connected to the invention of recorded sound. Mono enjoyed an unchallenged half-century reign in the music industry until stereo came along to dominate and drive the senior format to the point of commercial extinction.
For someone who grew up in the stereo age, mono recordings can sound primitive and cramped when compared to the wider, more spacious aspects of stereo sound, and this heightened sense of realism is what ultimately won over the music-buying public back in the 1960s. But not only are some of history’s greatest music performances only available to us as mono recordings today, time has proven that the antiquated format possesses an allure that continues to charm music lovers of all ages. When done right, mono recordings demonstrate a great sense of cohesion and power, and the best of them also do an ample job of establishing a sense of depth and space. Though creating a mono recording that checks all of these boxes is no small technological feat, the great audio engineers of yesteryear have managed to hand down to us a treasure trove of work in mono that is both breathtaking and timeless.
If you’re a vintage jazz record collector, you’re probably aware of the fact that all mono LPs are compatible with today’s stereo audio equipment. While this is true, playing a mono record on a stereo audio system without making the proper adjustments leaves room for improvement. This article is designed to help you get the most out of playing your mono LPs in a modern stereo world.
What Exactly Is a Mono Record?
The answer to this question is potentially quite complicated. The difference between mono recordings and mono masterings of recordings needs clarifying, as does the difference between mono records cut before and after the death of the mono format in the late 1960s. For the purpose of this article though we can settle for a simpler definition of a mono record being a record that is intended to produce the same exact audio signal in both the left and right channels of a stereo audio chain. True, without any fuss a listener will hear roughly the same thing coming from both speakers when they play a clean mono record on a stereo audio system (think reissues), but our goal is to hear the exact same thing from both speakers and in the process lower distortion and improve the signal-to-noise ratio of the overall listening experience. This goal becomes especially important when dealing with original pressings made in the 1950s and 1960s that have accumulated a significant amount of wear from usage.
Knowing If a Record Is Mono
Before we get started, let’s be sure that our records are even mono in the first place (by all means, if this is a no-brainer for you, feel free to skip this section). The easiest way to tell if a record is mono is if there is some indicator on either the front or back of the album jacket. For vintage records (we’re still talking ’50s and ’60s), the absence of the word “stereo” will usually suggest that a record is mono. The next easiest way to tell is simply by listening, and the best way to achieve this goal is with headphones. If the music sounds mono (like it’s in the center of the stereo field) but the surface noise sounds stereo (wider in the stereo field), your record is mono. Note that the loudest parts of a mono record are where you will hear the first signs of distortion from wear, and at those moments the music may sound like it’s stereo (though it shouldn’t), so focus on quieter parts of the music. Finally, to state the obvious, if there are instruments or sounds distinctly positioned to either the left or right side of the stereo spread, your record is stereo. In cases where the stereo positioning of instruments is more extreme — common in our era of the ’50s and ’60s — you can also easily identify a stereo record by turning the panning knob on your amplifier all the way left then all the way right and back again. If some instruments sound very present at one turn then very distant or completely absent at another, then your record is stereo.
What’s Wrong with Listening to a Mono Record in Stereo?
If you’ve been listening to mono records in stereo your whole life, there are two significant ways in which your listening experience can be improved by effectively listening in mono on a stereo system. First, surface noise can be reduced and made less noticeable. Many marks on the surface of a vinyl record manifest as out-of-phase noise on the far left and right of the stereo field. When listening to a mono record on a stereo audio system, these pops and ticks are heard in a very different position than the actual music, which lies directly in the center of the stereo field. By listening in mono though, not only does the out-of-phase nature of this noise lead to its reduction in relation to the volume level of the music, much of whatever surface noise remains will be masked by the music in the center of the would-be stereo field.
Presented here are two audio clips. The first is of a mono record being played in stereo, the second being the same record played in mono. In the second clip, notice how the surface noise has collapsed to the center of the “stereo field” and is more difficult to discern once the music kicks in:
Horace Silver, “Finger Poppin'” (Original 1959 mono pressing of Finger Poppin’ with the Horace Silver Quintet)
Stereo Playback:
Mono Playback:
Second and similar to surface noise, groove wear on vintage mono records also often manifests as out-of-phase (stereo) noise. This distortion can also be reduced by listening in mono, and the fuzzy, smeared sound that would be heard listening in stereo becomes a tighter, more focused central image. The following audio clips emphasize this type of improvement:
Lou Donaldson, “Avalon” (Original 1962 mono pressing of Gravy Train)
Stereo Playback:
Mono Playback:
For a visual account of these improvements, the following two diagrams illustrate how listening to mono records in mono can provide an improved listening experience (the circles represent music and the curved lines represent surface noise):
Stereo playback of a mono vinyl LP
Mono playback of a mono vinyl LP
How Do I Play My Mono Records in Mono on a Stereo System?
Now that we’ve identified the ways in which playback of your mono LPs can be improved, how do we achieve this? Everyone has different equipment situations so there is no one-size-fits-all solution, but surely there is a sensible option for everyone.
If you use a turntable with a tonearm that accepts removable headshells, the most obvious hassle-free solution is to acquire a mono cartridge. Luckily, getting a mono cartridge doesn’t mean you need to hunt down a vintage one. Cartridge manufacturers like Ortofon, Grado, Audio-Technica, and Miyajima all currently provide quality mono cartridge solutions that are compatible with modern stereo turntables.* You may need to adjust your counterweight each time you switch, but when you want to play a mono record, simply swap cartridges. (Click here to visit the Deep Groove Mono Cartridge Database.)
A sampling of mono cartridges currently on the market
If you don’t have a tonearm that uses removable headshells, or if you simply don’t want to fuss with swapping the cartridge and adjusting the counterweight every time, there are other options. While a mono cartridge will produce identical signals in both channels of a stereo system (a duplicated “mono signal”, if you will), simply summing the left and right channels of a stereo cartridge can actually produce comparable results (for more information, see the appendix at the end of this article).
One way to do this is with a mono button on an amplifier. Many vintage stereo amplifiers have mono buttons. If you don’t have access to one of these vintage amps, you can also sum with a stereo-mono switch, though these can be hard to find and are usually custom-built (members of the Steve Hoffman Forum can purchase one here). Another summing option is using a “double Y-cable” configuration, which involves placing a pair of RCA adapters in the signal chain, though the obvious drawback of this option is that you need to remove the adapters every time you switch between mono and stereo (the method is outlined here in this Steve Hoffman Music Forum thread).
Will either using a mono cartridge or summing provide more favorable results? Though the answer to this question certainly depends on which cartridges you are using, here we offer up one of these comparisons. The first is the result of playing a vintage mono record with a Grado MC+ mono cartridge and the second is a clip of the same record being played with a Shure M44-7 stereo cartridge and the mono button engaged on an integrated amplifier:
Johnny Coles, “Jano” (Original 1964 mono pressing of Little Johnny C.)
Grado MC+ mono cartridge:
Shure M44-7 stereo cartridge with channels summed:
A final, less popular option is to use a “left channel only” or “right channel only” setting on an amplifier. Unlike a mono setting that sums the channels, these settings will duplicate one of the two stereo channels in both signal paths. While this method typically fails to improve the signal-to-noise ratio of the signal, it is preferable in some rare instances. For example, if a record was played many times on a turntable with severe anti-skate problems, one groove wall may be in much better shape than the other, and listening to one channel or the other may prove more desirable than summing.
McIntosh MA6200 integrated amplifier with mono, L-to-L&R, and R-to-L&R settings
Vintage vs. Modern Mono Records & Stylus Size: Is Bigger Always Better?
The only other variable that modern mono lovers need to consider is stylus size. Today’s stereo (and mono) LPs are cut with a groove width optimized for playback with a modern stylus tip measuring approximately 0.7 mils at its longest radius (1 mil equals 0.001 inches or one-thousandth of an inch; in the metric system, 0.7 mils is equivalent to about 18 “microns” or micrometers, where 1 micron equals 0.001 millimeters or one-millionth of a meter). However, vintage mono LPs mastered prior to 1970 were actually cut with the intention of being played back with a larger 1-mil (25-micron) stylus.
For mono LPs mastered after 1970, a 0.7-mil stylus is the only sensible option. Fortunately, this is the spec for virtually all modern cartridges, mono and stereo alike (a few exceptions to this rule are the Ortofon OM cartridge with optional D25M stylus, the Ortofon CG 25, and the Miyajima Zero, all which sport 1-mil styli). As for playback of vintage mono LPs mastered before 1970, while it’s true that these discs were cut to be played with a 1-mil stylus, a 0.7-mil stylus will also fit these grooves. What’s more, there’s an attractive theory that a narrower 0.7-mil profile might avoid areas of wear higher up on the groove wall created by repeated plays back when 1 mil was the standard. In a perfect world, collectors would have both options at their disposal and make their choices on a case-by-case basis. But in the event that you must choose one stylus for playback of all mono and stereo LPs from all eras, a 0.7-mil stylus should suit you just fine.
(L to R) Ortofon OM with D25M stylus, Ortofon CG 25, Miyajima Zero
Once more, we have two audio clips to offer up for comparison. The first is a vintage mono LP from 1959 being played with the previously mentioned Ortofon OM cartridge and D25M 1-mil conical stylus, and the second clip is the same record being played with a Shure M44-G cartridge with a 0.7-mil conical stylus (both cartridges are stereo and channels are summed for both clips):
Donald Byrd, “Lover, Come Back to Me” (Original 1959 mono pressing of Off to the Races)
Ortofon OM cartridge with D25M 1-mil stylus:
Shure M44-G cartridge with stock 0.7-mil stylus:
Note that stylus size in and of itself has no bearing on whether a record will play mono or stereo; the inner workings of the cartridge are what ultimately determine this.
Conclusion
Despite stereo’s current reign as the industry’s standard format, mono sound has certain qualities that distinguish it from stereo and make it special. When done right, mono can be a highly enjoyable listening experience. Mono recordings have a simplicity that give them character. Their “punch” is intrinsically tied to the limitations of the format, and the same can be said of the way the elements of a mono mix meld together into one cohesive whole. My hope is that this article has explained how to get the most out of your mono records and has also provided you with a practical, affordable solution in your quest to obtain the finest mono vinyl playback possible.
* Advanced collectors will appreciate a note regarding the difference between single-coil and dual-coil mono cartridge design. In theory, a single-coil design will provide an even higher signal-to-noise ratio than a dual-coil design. Known single-coil models include the Ortofon CG 25, Miyajima Zero, and Denon DL-102. Additionally, mono carts with no vertical compliance (the CG 25 and Zero) may also produce superior results, though newcomers should be aware that the lower compliance of these cartridges requires a special high-mass tonearm to achieve the appropriate resonant frequency for the system.
Appendix
“Stereo information” in a stereo record is information that is not equally present in the left and right channels of a stereo signal, and it is determined by the unique vertical modulations cut into each groove wall. “Mono (centered) information” is equally present in both channels and is determined by horizontal modulations in the groove only. Since surface marks on a record generate both horizontal and vertical motions of a stylus, playing a mono record with a stereo cartridge will not only reproduce noise related to the vertical motions of the stylus, that noise will usually be more noticeable because it will be in a very different position than the music in the stereo field. Using a modern mono cartridge will certainly cure this ailment, but summing a stereo signal from a stereo cartridge will produce noticeable improvements as well. The reason for this is because much vertical noise in a record’s groove is “out-of-phase”, meaning that the voltages produced by the cartridge’s left and right channels are to some extent polar opposites of each other, so when they are summed together, not only is the volume of this (stereo) noise reduced, the relative volume of the mono information i.e. the music is slightly boosted as well.
To illustrate this, the screenshots below show various waveforms in a digital audio workstation. The first shows the left and right channels of a mono record being played in stereo, while the second shows the same record played with the left and right channels summed using the mono button on an amplifier (both clips use the same stereo cartridge):
Lead-in groove of a mono record being played in stereo
Lead-in groove of the same mono record being played with channels summed to mono
Plastylite “P” etched and “VAN GELDER” stamped in dead wax
“43 West 61st St., New York 23” address on jacket without “Printed in U.S.A.”
Personnel:
Blue Mitchell, trumpet
Junior Cook, tenor saxophone
Horace Silver, piano
Gene Taylor, bass
John Harris, Jr., drums
Recorded July 13-14, 1962 at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey
Originally released November 1962
1
Too Much Sake
2
Sayonara Blues
3
The Tokyo Blues
4
Cherry Blossom
5
Ah! So
Selection: “Sayonara Blues” (Silver)
This record is one of the finest examples of engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s original mono mastering work in my entire collection. Granted, I only own a handful of these, but I’ve had dozens more pass through my hands over the years and this is definitely one of the good ones. What makes it one of the best? Condition. Since so many original Blue Notes seem to have suffered groove damage at the hands of primitive playback equipment, I have found that the key ingredient in a stellar-sounding original is the extent to which past usage has left its mark on the record. Not only does this record look amazing 55 years after it would have been taken home from the store, the sound is still fresh and vivid — the way you might expect it to have sounded back in 1962.
It’s possible that bandleader Horace Silver’s choice of a Far Eastern theme influenced drummer John Harris Jr.’s choice of a more minimal, sparse style of playing throughout, which gives each instrument plenty of room to breathe and cut through. (Less percussive energy also provides less of a challenge when getting the music onto tape and into the grooves of the wax.) The standout moment here is Silver’s four-and-a-half-minute romp on the keys in “Sayonara Blues”, a solo with trance-like qualities reinforced by a two-chord, left-hand mantra.
All but “Alabama”, “Your Lady” recorded October 8, 1963 at Birdland, New York, New York
“Alabama”, “Your Lady” recorded November 18, 1963 at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ
Originally released April 1964
Selection: “Afro Blue” (Coltrane)
Generally speaking, I don’t know the Impulse catalog very well, and accordingly I have a harder time keeping track of the ‘first-first pressing’ melee associated with the label. Thus I’m not really sure if this is a ‘first-first pressing’ or just a ‘first pressing’, but it has the Van Gelder stamp of approval and, more importantly, it plays through without the hideous artifacts of groove wear so I’m a happy camper. This copy had a lot of light scuffs when I first looked at it, which is probably what kept the price down, but by the time I got it home and gave it a listen I was happy to find that this was a rare case of a record ‘playing better than it looked’. I am so inspired by the intensity with which John Coltrane played the soprano saxophone during this time period, and “Afro Blue” is a fine example of that passion and vigor.
Plastylite “P” etched and “VAN GELDER” stamped in dead wax
Personnel:
Richard Williams, trumpet
Fred Jackson, tenor & baritone saxophones
Grant Green, guitar
John Patton, organ
Ben Dixon, drums
Recorded June 19, 1964 at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey
Originally released October 1964
1
The Rock
2
The Way I Feel
3
Jerry
4
Davene
5
Just 3/4
Selection:
“The Rock” (Patton)
A rare record in any format, this is the genuine article right here: Van Gelder stamp, Plastylite “P”, mono. After its original release in 1964, The Way I Feel was never reissued on LP or CD in the United States, and it has only been reissued twice in Japan on CD. The reason for the scarce number of reissues could be related to the fact that my Capitol Vaults digital copy has heavy audible tape damage in a couple of spots, which was a major reason I was so persistent in seeking out a vintage copy. However, I’ve owned a few copies of this over the years, all with original Van Gelder mastering, and I’m convinced that the mild distortion I hear on Richard Williams’ loudest trumpet blasts was baked into the original master lacquer disk and is therefore present on every copy. As much of an RVG fan-boy as I am, the truth is that the engineer was obsessed with obtaining a superior signal-to-noise ratio in his work and in the process mastered (and recorded) a little too hot at times.
This is one of my favorite Blue Note albums. It is definitely in my top five, partly because it is so consistent. When I first got into jazz, I followed a lot of ignorant stereotypes, one of them being that jazz with an organ isn’t “real jazz”. But John Patton looked so damn cool on this album cover that I had to give it a try, and it was undeniable how jazzy, soulful, and funky this record was all at once. John Patton’s music is lighthearted and occasionally funny, and the leader clearly succeeds at bringing those qualities out of his sidemen here (saxophonist Fred Jackson’s solo on “The Rock” is a good example). The title track’s laid-back groove breaks up the soulful tempo of the first side by strutting at the pace of a crawl, and though “Davene” sounded a bit hokey to me at first, I have since realized it to be a beautiful ballad that is now a favorite.
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.
All tracks recorded at Columbia 30th Street Studio, New York, NY
“Ah-Leu-Cha” recorded October 26, 1955
“Bye Bye Blackbird”, “Tadd’s Delight”, “Dear Old Stockholm” recorded June 5, 1956
“‘Round Midnight”, “All of You” recorded September 10, 1956
Originally released March 1957
1
‘Round Midnight
2
Ah-Leu-Cha
3
All Of You
4
Bye Bye Blackbird
5
Tadd’s Delight
6
Dear Old Stockholm
Selections:
“Ah-Leu-Cha” (Parker)
“Bye Bye Blackbird” (Dixon-Henderson)
For Collectors
Technically the third copy of this I’ve owned, my first copy was acquired on eBay, overpriced, and in rough shape. The second wasn’t much better, but this copy, acquired at the WFMU Record Fair in New York City a few years ago for a very reasonable price, is in fantastic condition, as you will hear!
Original pressing all around — I don’t personally get caught up in the matrix code game. For labels like Columbia, a matrix code can be used to identify the stamper and other metal parts used to press a particular copy of an album. The idea is that the quality of these parts deteriorates to some degree as each part is used in the manufacturing process, and thus that copies fashioning lower part numbers in the inner run-out section of each side have the potential to sound better (for more info on the vinyl manufacturing process, check out Deep Groove Mono’s links page).
From the information I’ve gathered, however, this difference will typically be so minuscule that it would be difficult to hear the difference between two records made from different parts (provided both copies were sourced from the same master lacquer disk). This is why I’ve chosen to stay away from the matrix code melee. In any event, for all you stamper geeks out there, this particular copy of Miles Davis’ classic ‘Round About Midnight was made from a “1C” stamper for side 1 and a “1A” stamper for side 2.
For Music Lovers
“The First Great Miles Davis Quintet” would have begun formulating around spring 1955 when pianist Red Garland and drummer Philly Joe Jones first joined the trumpeter for a recording session at Van Gelder Studio in Hackensack, New Jersey (The Musings of Miles, Prestige 7014). A few months later, bassist Paul Chambers and the harmonically curious yet ever-precise tenor saxophonist John Coltrane would complete the combo.
In addition to leading his new band, Miles was simultaneously eager to make the move from Prestige to Columbia Records. But the rising star still owed Prestige label head Bob Weinstock four more albums under contract. So before Columbia could release any material under the Davis moniker, Miles would need to fulfill his agreement with Weinstock. What then commenced in 1956 for the newborn quintet was a mash-up of Prestige and Columbia dates, all of which have since been heralded as classics.
‘Round About Midnight, Davis’ Columbia Records debut, was recorded in three sessions between October 1955 and September 1956 at Columbia’s historic 30th Street Studio in New York City. Many of you will already be familiar with the legendary sound of this studio. I find the sound on this particular album to be more immediate and up-front than the roomier sound heard on later Miles albums recorded here (Kind of Blue, for example). Nonetheless, the cathedral-turned-studio’s sonic blueprint is committed to tape here and the results are simply gorgeous.
Columbia Records’ 30th Street Studio
Davis’ inaugural Columbia release is a highly consistent effort. On the album’s second tune, Miles takes Charlie Parker’s “Ah-Leu-Cha” at a faster tempo than the composer did on his own leisurely-paced 1948 recording (yet nowhere near as fast as Davis did at Newport in 1958), and though the leader opts for the bolder sound of an open horn here and on “Tadd’s Delight”, Davis’ signature muted trumpet sound dominates the album and is ultimately immortalized on ‘Round About Midnight. (It’s a shame that the quintet’s version of “Sweet Sue, Just You” didn’t make it to the original album release — a stellar take that could have only been left off as a practical matter of space — though fortunately it does appear on the 2001 Sony Legacy CD reissue.)
No sooner than alto saxophonist Julian “Cannonball” Adderley joined the group in early 1958 did Red Garland leave, unable to tolerate the leader’s sky-high standards. Jones would soon follow, and the First Great Quintet’s short reign would come to a close after the recording of Milestones. ‘Round About Midnight is thus one of the few examples of this iconic ensemble’s explosive power, and the album has stood the test of time as a rare combination of brilliance and accessibility equally fitting for attentive listening and unwinding.
Recorded June 22 and June 28, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
1
Take Three Parts Jazz
2
Meta-Waltz
3
Dear Elaine
4
Friday the 13th
Selection: “Dear Elaine” (Waldron)
For Collectors
Prestige released numerous LPs in the late ’50s, many of which stand today as interesting mixes of rarity, low demand, and musical excellence. This album is one example of that. I first heard it on Spotify and instantly took to it, but the master tape had noticeably degraded by the time of its digital mastering. So it became a priority of mine to seek out an original. One weekend afternoon last winter I was checking out a Swedish jazz dealer’s website and there it was, an original pressing touting VG++ condition. The asking price was a tad high so I talked the seller down a little and about ten days later the LP arrived at my doorstep. Quiet vinyl is a must for quiet music like this, and as you will be able to hear in the clips above, this one’s definitely a keeper.
I was instantly a fan of the album art as well, which portrays a serene scene of silhouettes that to me appear to be practicing tai chi. What connection the cover is intended to have with the music I do not know, though I do find that its grey, clouded imagery complements the mood of the music quite well.
For Music Lovers
A pair of forward-thinking composers, Teddy Charles and Mal Waldron first recorded together in January 1956 for Atlantic Records release 1229, The Teddy Charles Tentet. A year later they collaborated on five albums in just as many months, four of which were recorded for Bob Weinstock’s Prestige and New Jazz labels (Olio, Prestige 7084; Coolin’, New Jazz 8216; Teo, Prestige 7104). The last album in the run is presented here, captured on two dates in late June 1957.
The soft timbres of The Prestige Jazz Quartet convey a calming mood throughout, even during the more uptempo moments. The album has experimental leanings that weren’t yet trendy in 1957, but the sparse solos hardly beg for the listener’s attention. The quartet arrangement with vibraphone makes for a spacious atmosphere that lends itself well to the nuances of the vibes. Engineer Rudy Van Gelder has also set the drums further back in the mix than usual, making even more room for the dreamy echoes of the vibes to resonate.
The program begins with a trio of movements penned by Charles (“Take Three Parts Jazz”), followed by a pair of Waldron compositions (“Meta-Waltz” and “Dear Elaine”) and concluding with a lesser-known Thelonious Monk tune, “Friday the Thirteenth”. “Route 4”, the first third of Charles’ piece, is an ode to the highway traveled by hundreds of the Big Apple’s finest jazz musicians traveling to and from Van Gelder’s home studio in Hackensack, New Jersey. The piece’s other bookend, “Father George”, refers to another passageway between the city and Van Gelder’s, the George Washington Bridge. “Lyriste”, the title of the middle section, is an invented word of Charles’ crafting that joins ‘lyrical’ and ‘triste’. In accordance with the titles, perhaps Charles intended the piece to serve as a soundtrack for a somber commute back to the island after a long day of recording, where use of the word ‘triste’ might have been meant to suggest that trips to Van Gelder’s were for many of the musicians a welcome break from the routine of city life.
Accompanying Charles and Waldron are bassist Addison Farmer (twin brother of trumpeter Art Farmer) and drummer Jerry Segal. Segal avoids complicating things by playing with tasteful restraint throughout, and Farmer more than plays his part by delivering an impressive solo on “Meta-Waltz”. Side B begins with “Dear Elaine”, an apprehensive sprinkling of notes that seems to provide a window into the mind of a cautious courter. Closing the album, Waldron’s regular use of refrain on “Friday the Thirteenth” creates a comforting sense of familiarity that culminates in an inspired hammering of adjacent keys. (In the original 1953 recording of the tune, Monk is in his prime, rightly delivering an astonishing solo, though there’s something about hearing that melody played on the vibes that makes more sense to me than hearing it on Rollins’ sax…what do you think?)
Charles and Waldron would collaborate sporadically moving forward, but this would be the last time the entire ensemble would be in a recording studio together. Despite it being a short-lived, lesser-known experiment, the Prestige Jazz Quartet was a group of exceptional talent that deserves its rightful place in the storybook of modern jazz.
Epilogue
When I was preparing to take photos of the album jacket last week, I heard something jostling around inside, so I took a peek and to my surprise there was a small piece of paper inside with what appeared to be two interviews dated 1958 and typed in Swedish (the country the record came from upon my purchase). I then thought it would be cool to post a scan of the paper and maybe send out an S.O.S. for help translating it, then I thought of Google Translate and decided to do the translation myself, which I am presenting here.
The reviews would have originally been published in two Swedish magazines, Estrad (“Bandstand” in English) and OJ (“WOW”), and both were written by well-known Swedish jazz musicians: saxophonist/arranger Harry Arnold, whose resume included working with Quincy Jones, and pianist/composer Lars Werner. The original owner of the record must have been in the habit of typing up reviews for all the records they owned (perhaps to make up for the fact that they couldn’t read the English liner notes). Arnold seems the more opinionated of the two, possibly due to being more experienced and knowledgeable, though the way in which Werner has been charmed by the music resonates more with me. Through my amateur translation I also sense that Arnold’s review is surprisingly informal and that Werner was the better writer of the two (I also favored what I heard of Werner’s own music on YouTube).
For me, finding that piece of paper and reading the reviews felt like being transported back to the endlessly fascinating time that these records were made in, and I thought I’d share my experience with anyone who feels similarly nostalgic. I hope you enjoy!
Harry Arnold, Estrad (Bandstand), February 1958:
Harry Arnold
Of course I could try to make this into a pompous analysis of this record, but since it is said that honesty is best kept at a distance — all right, I do not have much profound to say about this record. Do not think that I condemn the whole thing because I absolutely do not; I’m just so damn precarious about it.
Perhaps the review will be more useful if I stick to the basics. The quartet consists of vibraphone, piano, bass, and drums, so it is tempting to draw parallels with the Modern Jazz Quartet. Here and there the style is similar, but the compositions are not in the “classical” spirit, as is usually the case with John Lewis and partners.
Side one is occupied by a work endowed “Take Three Parts Jazz”. It is a symphony in three movements with names “Route 4”, “Lyriste”, and “Father George”. In addition there is a song called “Meta-Waltz” on the same side.
On “Friday the Thirteenth”, which Thelonious Monk wrote, I think the whole thing suddenly begins to sound more natural, this may possibly be due to the fact that Monk has a truer sense of jazz when he composes than the other composers on the disc have?
I think pianist Mal Waldron stumbles too much at times, and the slow vibrato on the vibraphone affects my nerves in an unpleasant way. I think that the chord changes become one soporific grinding — but I appreciate the disc in a way, because I have a feeling Teddy Charles and the others have a bona fide interest in reinventing jazz without resorting to hysterical effects. It should also be noted that the solos are quite interesting at times.
Lars Werner, OJ (WOW), January 1958:
Lars Werner
In both name and composition, listeners will inevitably be tempted to compare this group with the Modern Jazz Quartet, which of course for a long time almost had a monopoly on sales in the vibraphone quartet market. However, the Prestige group’s music is of an entirely different character than MJQ’s: it is less stylized and lacks a certain coolness while spanning over a larger emotional register. There is certainly no equivalent in the Prestige Jazz Quartet to the personality that is John Lewis in MJQ, nor a soloist by Lewis’ standards, but Teddy Charles and Mal Waldron’s music proves capable of keeping the listener’s interest alive naturally, and the brilliant bassist Addison Farmer gives an intense and unfailing swing to everything.
To their credit, Charles and Waldron have been doing a lot of experimenting that sometimes has more in common with contemporary musical manifestations other than jazz. Here however, it seems that they have started from the rich ballad tradition found in jazz, and I feel they have found success with this approach.
Charles’ contribution, the tripartite “Take Three Parts Jazz”, contains much more tangible musical material than some of the earlier stuff he has done. The piece is highly successful, with tempo changes, solos, and themes emerging out of necessity, and the sense of a greater whole is never lacking.
Waldron’s two contributions, “Meta Waltz” and “Dear Elaine”, display an unconventional touch and much melodic finesse. Both works are well prepared, and fortunately they lack the sort of searching character that has so easily crept into many attempts to break jazz conventions.
Finally, Thelonious Monk’s four-beat composition “Friday the Thirteenth” provides an opportunity for longer solos from Charles, Waldron, and Farmer.
As a soloist, Charles is not as virtuosic as Milt Jackson — who is the only one he has to compare. Charles plays fewer notes but often gets an aphoristic clarity of melody, which makes him a musician I like to listen to.
Waldron seems to look for things other than melodic development as a soloist. He is more interested in piano percussion characteristics, and piano solos become more of a series of rhythmic figures, albeit rather monotonous at times.
The Prestige Jazz Quartet is still only a gramophone ensemble, and I am afraid that its music lacks the accessibility of MJQ. But this album should in the long run be of greater importance than, for example, MJQ’s last album, which gets a little stale after a while.
“A DIVISION OF UNITED ARTISTS RECORDS, INC.” on both labels
Personnel:
Jerry Lloyd, trumpet
Zoot Sims, tenor saxophone
Jutta Hipp, piano
Ahmed Abdul-Malik, bass
Ed Thigpen, drums
Recorded July 28, 1956 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released February 1957
1
Just Blues
2
Violets for Your Furs
3
Down Home
4
Almost Like Being in Love
5
Wee-Dot
6
Too Close for Comfort
Selections:
“Just Blues” (Sims)
For Collectors
This LP didn’t pique my interest until I saw an original pressing on the wall at an esteemed Manhattan record shop last fall. Though I was unfamiliar with the music, I knew of the record’s ‘holy grail’ status. Needless to say, I was intrigued. At this point in my time collecting I felt confident handling such an expensive piece, and when I removed the vinyl from the sleeve it was beautiful — Lexington Ave. labels, flat edge, deep groove, all the trimmings. When I got home later that evening I gave it a listen on Spotify and quickly realized how fun and animated the music was. Though I had never spent anywhere near the asking price on a record before, the thought that I may never see the record again eventually captivated my mind, so I arranged an in-store audition.
I set out with cash in hand, ready to make what I believed to be a respectable offer. When I got to the store, I took a more careful look at the record before it played. Visually it was beautiful with only some light scuffing. When side 1 began, the music sounded loud and present and I liked what I heard. The second song, the ballad “Violets for Your Furs”, was quieter though, and revealed light yet consistent surface noise. The owner said the record had been cleaned, which was a bit disconcerting in consideration of the noise I was hearing. I began listening more carefully, and by the time the needle got to trumpeter Jerry Lloyd’s solo on “Down Home”, the last song on the first side, the deal was dead, as inner groove distortion was evident. I thanked the owner for his time and left the shop a (much) wealthier person.
At this point I knew I loved the music, so I picked up the Classic Records reissue. It sounded great, but I still wanted to see if there was something I was missing out on that could only be provided by a younger, fresher master tape. So I sought out the copy you see here, an early ‘70s United Artists copy (technically the second ever pressing of the album). Ultimately, the master tape sounded similar with both pressings and I decided to keep the UA.
(Note: The following two paragraphs were updated June 2024.) At this point it is clear that at least some of these UA mono LPs were exported for sale in Japan, as many copies can still be found with Japanese “OBI” stickers. The common cut corners with these records signal either promotional use or discounted/no-returns status. Additionally, although these early ’70s Blue Note reissues are some of the earliest to not be mastered by Rudy Van Gelder, Liberty Records had begun using other mastering engineers as early as 1966. But who mastered many of these United Artists reissues remains a mystery.
Some of these US reissues are not sourced from the original tapes. According to Blue Note archivist Michael Cuscuna, United Artists would have been the first parent label to demand that Blue Note’s original master tapes be duplicated (sometimes with Dolby noise reduction) in the event that the tape was beginning to flake. (This is why original copies of classic Blue Note albums with Van Gelder mastering are so valuable: there is no debating that they were made using first generation tapes shortly after the recording sessions.) But this myriad of possibilities doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on the quality of this particular finished product, the results of which can be heard in the needledrops above.
For Music Lovers
To stand out in the testosterone-overrun world of instrumental jazz, it certainly didn’t hurt that German-born pianist Jutta (pronounced “Yoo-ta”) Hipp was a woman. That’s probably what esteemed jazz critic Leonard Feather was thinking in 1954 when he began nurturing the undiscovered talent. After hearing a friend’s recording of her, Feather booked studio time in Germany for the 29-year-old redheaded bopper (New Faces – New Sounds from Germany, Blue Note 5056), then arranged for Hipp to come to New York City in November 1955 for a residency at the Hickory House on East 52nd Street. The six-month stretch that followed proved quite an eventful time for the pianist. She was recorded on location by Blue Note in April (Jutta Hipp at the Hickory House, BLP 1515/6), and amongst the plethora of world-renowned jazz musicians whose acquaintance she had the pleasure of making, Hipp was reunited with tenor saxophonist Zoot Sims, whom she had originally jammed with on the Continent a few years back when Sims was on tour with bandleader Stan Kenton.
Hipp woud eventually be asked to assemble a combo for a Blue Note session at the label’s holy house of sound, engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s home recording studio in Hackensack, New Jersey. Sims would be recruited along with drummer Ed Thigpen, the backbone of Hipp’s Hickory House trio. Trumpeter Jerry Lloyd came along with Sims and bassist Ahmed Abdul-Malik entered the equation as well. Overseen by Alfred Lion, a fellow German native, the session commenced in late July 1956 and produced the entirety of the LP in a single day.
The band warmed up with a pair of ballads: the Matt Dennis-Tom Adair composition “Violets for Your Furs” (first recorded by Frank Sinatra two years prior), and the standard “These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)”. The former took what was perhaps a nervous Hipp four takes to get through, and while the time constraints of the LP format wouldn’t allow the latter on to the original release, it would surface for the first time 40 years later along with George Gershwin’s “’S Wonderful” on the 1996 Connoisseur Series compact disc.
Sims and Hipp rehearsing at Van Gelder Studio
Hours later, by the time seven songs were laid to tape, the session was all but complete when Sims would have suggested the band riff on an up-tempo twelve-bar progression of his choosing. The result was “Just Blues”, and the track proved to be so much fun that it would later be chosen as the album’s opener. (In a review for All About Jazz, critic Chris M. Slawecki quipped, “Sims contributed the opening “Just Blues”, although he apparently couldn’t be bothered to title it,” which provokes the comical image of Lion turning to Sims for the title after the take with Sims shrugging and humbly replying, “Just blues.”)
The album would eventually make it to store shelves seven months later in February 1957. But by this time Hipp had mysteriously disappeared from the scene, and without star power to drive album sales, the sides wouldn’t be repressed until the glory days of hard bop were long over, rendering the original LP a figment to the vast majority of the jazz record collecting populous.
On first listen, the music here may sound a bit old-fashioned when held up to other cutting edge jazz albums recorded in 1956, but the consistently fun vibe of Jutta Hipp with Zoot Sims proves difficult to deny. Sims would assume the unofficial role of leader that day, bringing a playful, infectious energy to the studio, and Hipp rose to the occasion despite known confidence issues. Thigpen, who would go on to form one-third of the legendary Oscar Peterson Trio, provides a steady, driving rhythm throughout, putting the soloists in the zone with inspiring momentum on more upbeat tunes like “Just Blues”, Lloyd’s “Down Home” and the J.J. Johnson composition “Wee Dot”.
Drummer Ed Thigpen
The recording itself is one of Rudy Van Gelder’s finest. By 1956 the engineer had finally backed off the quirky artificial spring reverb that hinders many of his earliest recordings, allowing listeners to hear the natural ambience of the Hackensack living room in all its makeshift glory. Soft, warm cymbals also define Van Gelder’s sound during this period, giving the music a unique, almost cartoony character. For the finishing touch, Reid Miles provided some of his most iconic design: a colorful, modern jumble of rectangles primitively imitating the keys of a piano (the cover has proven so iconic it has found a home in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City).
Sadly, this was the last time Hipp would enter a recording studio. At some point the pianist became jaded by the music industry, retreating to Queens to work in a textile factory. She returned to her first creative passion, painting, and lived alone there until 2003 when she passed away due to terminal illness. There are only a few recordings of the German phenom to be heard as a result, and we should be grateful for this particular shining example of her talents.
