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(Ed. Note: I originally intended to do a formal interview with Joe and Kevin, but as the day progressed and the friendly vibe between us grew, I became less and less interested in the idea of shifting gears into being “on the record”. So I kept it casual. As a result, this article is a narrative and not in a traditional interview format.)
Back in 2012, when I first caught the jazz record collecting bug, I quickly took a strong interest in recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder, who recorded for numerous classic jazz labels including Blue Note Records. I had a background as an amateur audio engineer so I was also interested in his methods. On one occasion, I reached out to mastering engineer Kevin Gray, who had been working with Rudy’s original master tapes for several years in conjunction with various jazz reissue labels including Music Matters.
Kevin was very polite and helpful, so a few years later when I published an article on groove wear, I thought it would be a good idea to ask Kevin to proofread it before it was published. After he read it, he wanted to talk to me over the phone, so that was the first time we spoke.
On a few occasions I would ask him questions about my research so we stayed in touch. Then last November when I launched RVG Legacy, a website dedicated to preserving the legacy of Rudy Van Gelder, I let him know about it. It must have flown under his radar until this summer when he emailed me excited about what I had put together. A couple weeks later he emailed me again, saying he had been talking to Blue Note reissue producer Joe Harley about my Rudy site, and they decided to invite me to a Blue Note remastering session at Kevin’s mastering studio, Cohearent Audio in Los Angeles.
I was beaming with excitement. For the first time I would get to hear Rudy Van Gelder’s original master tapes in person, someone whose methods and sound I had been carefully studying for the past ten years. So I booked a flight and waited patiently for the day to come where I packed my bags and headed for the West Coast.
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| Rudy Van Gelder in his Englewood Cliffs studio in 1962 (Photo credit: Francis Wolff © Mosaic Images LLC) |
An Unexpected Listening Exercise (and Outcome)
The first morning I was in SoCal, my co-pilot, Tarik, and myself began the 90-minute drive west from San Bernardino at 8 A.M., headed for Cohearent. Upon pulling up to the address, Tarik and I were met with the unassuming façade of a small, single-floor, seafoam green house. We had been instructed to go through the gate to the building on the back of the property.
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| World-class mastering incognito: View of the Cohearent Audio property from the street |
Once inside, it wasn’t long before Kevin hit “play” on one of his Studer reel-to-reel tape recorders. While we waited for Joe to arrive, the sound of music began flowing from Kevin’s massive custom-built speakers at the front of the room, each of which consists of two subwoofers with sealed enclosures, two woofers, one midrange driver and one tweeter.
Before I tell you what happened next, I think it’s only fair that I preface it with a comment about what kind of listener I am. I am a very honest listener. I don’t pull any punches. For example, if it costs ten times as much and sounds the same to me, I’m going to be honest about that.
When Kevin played that first tape, it literally made me tear up. (I wish I could tell you what it was. All I can say is that it was a recording made by a well-known yet underrated West Coast jazz recording engineer in 1958.) I had a strong emotional response that was completely unexpected. If I had to describe what it was that made it sound so special, I’d guess that it was a combination of lifelike dynamics and a very natural stereo soundstage. I know this may sound cliché, but in a word, it was haunting.
Keep in mind that my experience cannot be attributed to the tape alone. Of course, Kevin’s playback system and room also played an important role. After talking to Kevin a little about his background, it became clear that he is a master of electrical engineering and acoustics, and the evidence is in the spectacular playback achieved in his studio, which he designed and built himself, bass traps, electrical wiring and all.
The second thing Kevin played for us was a tape of a Rudy Van Gelder recording dating back to 1961. Time for another preface…
I adore Rudy Van Gelder. His story of creative and entrepreneurial independence has inspired the way I work and live for many years now, going all the way back to 2004 when I first read the book Temples of Sound. Being someone who has always firmly believed that audio recording is an artistic medium that should not necessarily be used in a way that attempts to imitate life as closely and objectively as possible, I have always appreciated the unique character of his recordings. I have stuck up for Rudy in internet chat rooms when he was getting trashed by audiophiles claiming to be “in the know” about other great jazz engineers like Roy DuNann and Fred Plaut.
That said, when the Rudy tape came on, I did not feel as “wowed”. And I think the most important factor here was my feelings — how the sound and the music made me feel. In comparison, Rudy’s tape sounded a little “hyped up”. The top end was much more present, and the sound was less relaxed. What this ultimately amounted to, I feel, is that where the first recording sounded chillingly like the musicians were in the room with us (I have listened to expensive home audio systems before and never got this feeling), the Rudy recording sounded like a recording — an outstanding, gorgeous recording, but nonetheless a recording. And maybe that makes sense since Rudy never claimed to try to make his records sound “as realistic as possible”.
It’s also possible that I came to the studio that day with my own prejudice, that I subconsciously was setting a bar in my mind for “realism in playback”. Most jazz collectors and audiophiles will agree that the greatest classic jazz recordings are the ones that sound the most realistic. I also feel it’s important to keep in mind that Joe Harley has on more than one occasion explained that his goal as a remastering engineer is to make his reissues sound as close as possible to the experience of being in the room with the musicians themselves. In light of this, perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable for me to have those expectations.
Now of course, this was not an apples-to-apples comparison, far from it. In fact, there are too many uncontrolled variables to list. My reaction might have also been different if the Rudy tape was played first. The Rudy tape was of a classic, breathtaking recording of his that I have long admired. It’s just that hearing that tape didn’t necessarily feel a whole lot different than my experiences listening to the same album at home (Kevin’s amazing playback system aside). I should also mention that I had never heard the first recording by “Engineer X”, so it’s possible that this element of surprise also played a part in that recording’s “wow” factor.
While the Rudy recording was playing, Joe came busting through the door, reference vinyl LPs in hand. He gave me a COVID era-appropriate fist bump. Kevin then pulled a large blue plastic bin from a closet and shoved it across the floor in Joe’s direction. Joe then opened it up to reveal some of the most precious treasures in all the world of music: about a dozen original master tapes dating back to the 1950s and 1960s, all jazz recordings and almost all made with loving care by Rudy Van Gelder.
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| Joe Harley reaching into the magic blue bin for the day’s tapes |
The Morning Session
Joe then handed a tape box to Kevin and Kevin started loading it on to a different Studer deck that he uses for most of his mastering work. The tape was of a Blue Note album originally recorded at Rudy Van Gelder’s Hackensack home studio in 1957 (I was asked to not name specific recordings). Before I went to L.A., Joe told me were going to work on this album in the morning and another in the afternoon. Knowing the morning album’s history, I was privately hoping I would get to hear both the original mono and stereo tapes in person, and was pleased that both tapes were in the blue bin.
Joe gave Kevin the mono tape first, and before I knew it we had launched into a comparison of the mono and stereo tapes to decide which would be used for the Tone Poet reissue (slated for next year). Tarik and I sat in the back of the room and quietly watched Joe and Kevin work their magic. The tape was wound “tails out”, a common reel-to-reel tape storage practice intended to avoid audible “print-through”. As such, Kevin rewound past the album’s ending solo piano ballad to a piece featuring the entire band. (Interestingly, the mono master was on a single reel but the stereo was on two reels.)
Joe shifted his chair center to better judge what he was hearing. He and Kevin partook in some inaudible chatter, then Joe got up to put the Japanese stereo reissue he had brought with him on Kevin’s lathe, which doubles as a turntable complete with V-15 playback cartridge and tonearm to the side. The intention was to quickly switch between the mono and stereo presentation, something that couldn’t be done with just one tape machine. Once the record was spinning, there was more inaudible chatter between them, but I did manage to make out that Joe seemed to be favoring the stereo presentation.
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| Critical listening time with Kevin Gray (left), Joe Harley (center), and my copilot, Tarik Townsend (right) |
Kevin began quickly switching reels from mono to stereo when the song was over. Once he had the stereo reel cued up to the beginning of the first side and playing, it wasn’t long before Joe began singing its praises. He was clearly moving toward using the stereo tape for the reissue, and seemed to have been from the very start.
From where I was sitting, the mono tape sounded pretty darn good. A little bright, but the balance between the musicians was solid. I didn’t know what to make of the comparison between the mono tape and the stereo LP, but once they put the stereo tape on, my first thoughts were, ‘That’s pretty bright,’ and, ‘It sounds like nothing is on the right.’ In all fairness, I was sitting back further than them and I wasn’t close to the sweet spot. Still, the stereo presentation clearly offered a greater sense of width in space.
Prior to this, I noticed that Joe had been reading a 6-by-6 cardboard card that was inside the mono tape box, and a few minutes after the stereo tape had begun playing, Joe explained that someone had left a note about tape damage on the mono tape in a spot we hadn’t heard. That was all it took for him to confirm with Kevin that they were going to use the stereo tape for the Tone Poet reissue. Several minutes later, by the end of the first side, EQ moves and other adjustments contributed to what I felt was a smoother top end and a more even stereo spread (at one point Joe explained that the vinyl manufacturing process would naturally relax the top end a little more as well).
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| Joe peering at notes left by a previous mastering engineer |
As we listened through the entire album on the stereo reels, we all chatted while Joe and Kevin multitasked. Joe would occasionally make a quick comment to Kevin about the volume levels between tracks, and Kevin kept busy taking his official session notes, which he explained serve the primary purpose of making it easier to go back and redo the mastering should any problems pop up between the lathe and the presses.
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| Kevin taking session notes |
It was also at this time that I boldly asked Joe and Kevin if I might be able to move my chair up to the center of the console so I could sit at the sweet spot. They happily obliged, and when I did — again, I don’t like to overdramatize these things — it felt like I had stepped in to the Hackensack living room after standing outside the doorway. All the musicians quickly snapped into position, creating a lush stereo image with swirls of airy reverberation bouncing around (sitting between big speakers like Kevin’s, you can’t help but feel wrapped in sound). I had a stronger sense of the soundstage, and the music’s dynamics also became more apparent. Still a little bright to my taste but nonetheless a significant difference compared to when I was sitting further back.
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| Listening in the sweet spot (Kevin’s monitors are between the curtains, the white strips are the grills) |
From there, Kevin readied his Neumann lathe to create the lacquer disk masters that would be sent to Record Technology Incorporated, or RTI, for plating and pressing immediately after the session (Kevin hurried off to Fed Ex as soon as we were through with the afternoon session). Joe gave Kevin a gentle reminder: “Did you say you were gonna swap out the cutting stylus?” Before pressing play, Kevin also readied his digital recorder in order to make a high-resolution digital transfer for Blue Note as well. Once the tape was rolling and the lathe was cutting, Kevin was free to talk, but between takes he excused himself so he could implement small fadeouts at the end of each song (there was a note inside the tape box to do so).
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| Kevin getting ready to do a manual fadeout |
The Afternoon Session
After we went to lunch, we came back for the afternoon session. The album we would be working with was recorded in 1965 at Van Gelder’s Englewood Cliffs studio. It featured a bigger band and presented a marked difference in sonics. The routine was more or less similar to the morning session, though there was only a stereo tape to be used this time, so no fussing over mono and stereo. After Gray and Harley got a good sonic balance, I once again asked to pull my chair up. Though I had never heard this album before, I was familiar with other work the trumpeter and drummer did for Blue Note from that time period. Here, I heard a more significant difference compared to what I was used to hearing. The sweet spot revealed a very nice balance between all the instruments, and the drummer sounded especially dynamic and realistic compared to other records I had heard him on.
Kevin’s system also seemed to help make the musicians sound less separate than what I was used to. One of my pet peeves about Rudy Van Gelder’s standard stereo spread in the 1960s is that the left channel often feels empty when the saxophonist is soloing on the right alongside the drummer. On Kevin’s system though, the microphone bleed and overall ambience of Van Gelder Studio was more consistently apparent, even in the trumpeter’s absence, which led to both greater cohesiveness within Rudy Van Gelder’s “primitive” stereo mix as well as a stronger sense of spatial balance throughout the performance.
I often listen to music on headphones (while I’m doing other things), where stereo separation is typically exaggerated. But regardless of whether the master tape, Kevin’s rig, or both played a significant role in creating that beautiful spatial balance I heard, I walked away from Cohearent Audio that day having learned a valuable lesson: I have done very little focused listening on good speakers in the sweet spot over the years, and above all I think my experience served as a welcome reminder of how rewarding that type of listening can be.
Once our work had been done, we all began saying our goodbyes. Moments later, just as Joe was opening the door to leave the studio, he paused as if he had forgotten something. Quickly turning to me, in a quiet voice he asked, “So are you going to change the name of your site to Deep Groove Stereo now?”
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| (L to R) Joe, me, and Kevin |
RVG Legacy: Preserving the Legacy of Rudy Van Gelder
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| (Photo credit: Francis Wolff © Mosaic Images LLC) |
It is with great pleasure that I announce the launch of RVG Legacy, a new website dedicated to preserving the legacy of Rudy Van Gelder. Since the pandemic has taken away all opportunities for me to give my presentation on Rudy in person, I decided to build a website that would essentially deliver all the content of my talk virtually. In the spring I wrote the narrative, then over the summer I put everything together and developed the site.
Produced in association with Van Gelder Studio and Estate, RVG Legacy features dozens of never-before-seen photos from Rudy’s personal collection, and it is sure to become the definitive one-stop destination for all things Van Gelder. Check out the promotional video below and have fun exploring the world of Rudy Van Gelder!
Making a Case for Rudy Van Gelder’s Importance to the History of Jazz
For regular readers of this blog, recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder needs no introduction. In fact, aside from the musicians themselves, he is probably more known by jazz record collectors than any other figure in the music’s history. For collectors then, any question of Van Gelder’s importance will surely seem puzzling if not flat-out blasphemous.
But not everyone knows how essential Rudy Van Gelder is to the history of jazz. Not everyone knows he was granted a Grammy Trustees Award, one of the highest honors for a non-performing individual working in the music industry. Not everyone knows that he is also a National Endowment of the Arts Jazz Master, a title he shares with other jazz greats like Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald, Herbie Hancock, Dizzy Gillespie, Artie Shaw, and Quincy Jones. This article was therefore written to provide evidence of just what a colossal force of nature Rudy Van Gelder was as a jazz recording engineer.
National Landmark Status
Around the time of Rudy Van Gelder’s passing in 2016, a small cast of characters began organizing an effort to obtain National Landmark status for Van Gelder’s Englewood Cliffs studio. For the past year, through my research for a presentation to the Audio Engineering Society, I have been on the periphery of the Landmark application process and privy to witnessing everything unfold.
After receiving feedback from the New Jersey Historic Preservation Office recently (gatekeepers of the National Register for properties in New Jersey), it became clear to Jennifer Rothschild, member of the Closter Historic Preservation Commission and figurehead of the application process, that the case needed to be made for Rudy’s “historical significance”. If your first response to that as a jazz fan is simply, “A Love Supreme” (as was mine), the committee that will eventually hear the studio’s argument for Landmark status needs more than qualitative claims that ultimately amount to opinion; they need factual evidence.
I started to think of possible ways to make a concrete case for Rudy’s historical significance. Jennifer mentioned the likes of Rolling Stone as a publication with enough clout to say something meaningful about the importance of an album like A Love Supreme. That set off a light bulb. Assuming there wouldn’t be time for an in-depth study of multiple publications, what single publication has widespread authority on the history of recorded jazz and thus could somehow demonstrate just how integral Rudy Van Gelder is to the development of the the art form?
The Penguin Guide
I asked for advice from a couple friends with experience in the jazz industry and settled on The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings. Like many jazz fans, I have owned the Penguin guide since I first became interested in the music, and its list of Core Collection albums has long been a guiding light for me in a continual attempt to locate “essential” albums. From this, the idea then became to conduct an analysis not only of how often Rudy’s recordings show up in the Core Collection but also how he fares in comparison to other jazz recording engineers.
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| The Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings |
In the ninth edition of the guide, the definition of “Core Collection” is laid out by authors Richard Cook and Brian Morton:
While one may technically need to read between the lines to extract a notion of “historical significance” here, I think it’s pretty clear that the first albums any music fan might wish to own in an unfamiliar genre are going to be those that are widely considered the most important i.e. historically significant.
Since there is no place in the guide where the Core Collection albums are presented collectively, the world is lucky that a jazz fan named Tom Hull has assembled a list of those albums on his website, assumedly by scouring the entire 1,646-page guide. Using this list of 199 albums, I then proceeded to create a spreadsheet that included engineering credits. (Click here for more information on how the study was conducted and for the complete viewable database.)
The Results
Of the 199 Core Collection albums, 25 were recorded by Rudy Van Gelder in their entirety, with an additional 2 albums containing a portion of material recorded by him, for a total of 27 albums recorded by Van Gelder either entirely or in part. As you will see in the table below of the top engineers represented by the Core Collection, no other recording engineer even came close to Rudy’s tally:
| ENGINEER | YEARS | CREDITS (FULL) | CREDITS (PART) | CREDITS (TOTAL) |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Rudy Van Gelder Van Gelder Studios (New Jersey, U.S.) Blue Note, Impulse, Prestige, Verve, Limelight | 1954-1968 | 25 | 2 | 27 |
| Tom Dowd Atlantic, Audio-Video, Coastal Studios (New York) Atlantic, Bethlehem | 1954-1959 | 3 | 4 | 7 |
| Doug Hawkins WOR Studios (New York) Blue Note, Dial | 1947-1953 | 2 | 5 | 7 |
| Jan Erik Kongshaug Rainbow, Talent Studios (Oslo); CTS Studios (London) ECM | 1976-1996 | 5 | 0 | 5 |
| Val Valentin Capitol Studios (Los Angeles), RCA Studios (New York) Verve, Pablo | 1956-1977 | 4 | 1 | 5 |
| Bob Fine Fine Sound (New York) Mercury, Verve | 1954-1960 | 2 | 2 | 4 |
| Martin Wieland Bauer Studios (Ludwigsburg, Germany) ECM | 1974-1978 | 3 | 1 | 4 |
| Rune Andreasson Radio Sweden (Stockholm) Blue Note, Dragon | 1965-1999 | 3 | 0 | 3 |
| David Baker Avatar Studios (New York) ArtistShare, Blue Note, Tiptoe | 1985-2004 | 3 | 0 | 3 |
Studio and label affiliations are for Core Collection albums only. For more information on how to interpret this table, please visit the complete viewable database used in this study.
Conclusion
Rudy Van Gelder is an entirely unique figure in the broader history of audio engineering. Perhaps this study provides some evidence of this more universal claim, but for the moment, the Penguin guide suggests that Van Gelder recorded all or part of 27 historically significant jazz albums, which is close to four times as many as any other engineer represented by the guide’s Core Collection. Despite the fact that Rudy Van Gelder’s superhuman output of classic jazz recordings is common knowledge to most jazz fans and nearly all jazz collectors, my hope is that this study puts forth some tangible evidence of this.
Please enjoy the following list of Rudy’s Core Collection albums as well as a Spotify playlist featuring them!
Ed. Note: Of course, the results of this study are solely based on the opinions of the authors of the Penguin guide, and one could easily imagine a more expansive study being done, either entirely within jazz or for all genres, that takes into account the opinions expressed by multiple experts. It should also be noted that the results here are focused on the contributions of recording engineers to the genre of jazz specifically. Were an alternate study done considering all genres of music, the tallies for several engineers (Tom Dowd, Val Valentin, Bob Fine, etc.) would surely more closely approach Van Gelder’s.
Spotify Playlist: RVG Penguin Core Collection (clicking this link opens Spotify in your web browser)
Note: If you are not logged in to Spotify on your web browser, clicking the “play” icon 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.
Albums Recorded by Rudy Van Gelder in The Penguin Guide’s Core Collection:
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Art Blakey A Night at Birdland, Vol. 1 & 2 Blue Note (1954) |
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J.J. Johnson The Eminent J.J. Johnson, Vol. 1 & 2* Blue Note (1954-55) |
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Kenny Dorham ‘Round About Midnight at the Cafe Bohemia Blue Note (1956) |
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Sonny Rollins Saxophone Colossus Prestige (1956) |
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Sonny Rollins A Night at The Village Vanguard Blue Note (1957) |
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Jimmy Smith Groovin’ at Smalls’ Paradise, Vol. 1 & 2 Blue Note (1957) |
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Cannonball Adderley Somethin’ Else Blue Note (1958) |
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Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis Very Saxy Prestige (1959) |
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Horace Silver Blowin’ the Blues Away Blue Note (1959) |
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Freddie Hubbard Open Sesame Blue Note (1960) |
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Gil Evans Out of the Cool Impulse (1960) |
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Grant Green The Complete Quartets with Sonny Clark Blue Note (1961-62) |
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Jackie McLean Let Freedom Ring Blue Note (1962) |
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Sheila Jordan Portrait of Sheila Blue Note (1962) |
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Lee Morgan The Sidewinder Blue Note (1963) |
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Eric Dolphy Out to Lunch Blue Note (1964) |
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Andrew Hill Point of Departure Blue Note (1964) |
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Archie Shepp Four for Trane Impulse (1964) |
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Anthony Williams Life Time Blue Note (1964) |
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John Coltrane A Love Supreme Impulse (1964) |
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Wayne Shorter Speak No Evil Blue Note (1964) |
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Roland Kirk Rip, Rig and Panic Limelight (1965) |
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Larry Young Unity Blue Note (1965) |
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McCoy Tyner The Real McCoy Blue Note (1967) |
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Roland Kirk Now Please Don’t You Cry, Beautiful Edith Verve (1967) |
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McCoy Tyner Time for Tyner Blue Note (1968) |
* = Albums partially recorded by Rudy Van Gelder
DGM’s Richard Capeless to Give Talk on Rudy Van Gelder in October
As many of you may know by now, I have long been a big admirer of Van Gelder, which naturally led me to carefully study his life and his work over the past seven years. In 2016 I met Dan Mortensen, then the AES historical track chair, and last year while assisting Dan it was decided that I would give a talk on Van Gelder this year.
I am honored to be presenting Rudy Van Gelder’s story from my perspective, and I have taken steps to make sure my point of view is as comprehensive and unbiased as possible. If you are interested in attending the talk, please click here to visit the AES website and learn more about their All Access passes. If you cannot attend the talk in October, my hope is to give the talk again at a suitable public location for little to no cost at the end of the year.
Here is a summary of the talk as taken from the AES website (click here if you’re interested in seeing my bio over there):
Rudy Van Gelder, or “RVG” as most jazz fans know him, was responsible for laying to tape hundreds of classic jazz recordings spanning a period of over five decades, which were released on a variety of labels including Blue Note, Prestige, Savoy, Impulse, Verve, and CTI.
His rise from obscurity to engineering fame centered on a unique approach to his work, about which he was famously secretive. Beginning in a makeshift living room recording studio in his parents’ Hackensack, New Jersey home, Van Gelder would eventually build a one-of-a-kind cathedral-like studio in nearby Englewood Cliffs that is still in use today.
Always on the cutting edge of technology, Van Gelder used a plethora of state-of-the-art tools to create “the Van Gelder Sound”, a distinct and easily recognizable sonic fingerprint that helped define the sound of jazz on record during the classic analog era of the 1950s and 1960s.
Van Gelder’s legacy is that of an individual who realized his dream to work in a creative capacity, and his story stands to inspire people from all walks of life.
Vinyl Spotlight: A Date with Jimmy Smith, Vol. 2 (Blue Note 1548) “W63/NY” Mixed Labels Pressing
- Vintage pressing circa 1962-1966
- “West 63rd (no R) / New York USA” mixed labels
- “RVG” and Plastylite “P” (ear) etched in dead wax
Personnel:
- Donald Byrd, trumpet
- Lou Donaldson, alto saxophone
- Hank Mobley, tenor saxophone
- Jimmy Smith, organ
- Eddie McFadden, guitar
- Art Blakey, drums
Recorded February 11 & 12, 1957 at Manhattan Towers, New York City
Originally released September 1957
Selection:
“Groovy Date” (Mobley)
When I started collecting, I bought into the popular opinion that Jimmy Smith isn’t “collectible” and didn’t pay him any attention. But then I found a great 1965 German documentary on him serving as evidence of how “incredible” he really was. From the live performances where he plays with so much heart and frankly, tears it up, to the interview moments where he communicates his philosophy of jazz and music in general so well, I decided to start listening. So I made a Spotify playlist of all his Blue Note albums, put it on shuffle while I worked, and a couple weeks later I had a condensed playlist of favorites (you can hear that playlist on Spotify now). One of those songs, “Groovy Date”, is from this LP. The sheer power with which the song opens and closes was enough to make me hit the “heart” button, and the solos from all the members do not disappoint.
Despite this album being available only in mono regardless of format, many Smith Blue Notes are only available in stereo as reissues. So I decided it would be both worthwhile and cost-effective to pursue these albums in their original mono LP incarnations. Since Smith originals are so readily available, I quickly acquired six of them. This one was a little harder to get online, but then one day I was in a local shop and they had this copy for cheap. The cover looked great but the vinyl was pretty marked up. It doesn’t play with any skips, and aside from “Groovy Date”, it can be a little noisy. That’s fine with me because my favorite track sounds bold and clear, and I basically chalk this up as paying a fair price for a single song and a great cover (I love the photos of the musicians, the layout, and the color scheme).
As for one of my favorite topics, sonics, this is one of a handful of Blue Note albums recorded by Rudy Van Gelder that wasn’t recorded at one of his studios or a live venue. For years I noticed the recording location “Manhattan Towers” for various Blue Note recordings on jazzdisco.org but never knew what it meant. But then, one day I was lucky enough to speak with Blue Note producer and archivist Michael Cuscuna about it, and he explained that Blue Note had worked out a deal with Manhattan Towers, a hotel in New York City’s Upper West Side, so bigger bands could assemble in their ballroom (Art Blakey’s percussion ensembles, Sabu Martinez) and important artists like Smith who liked to record at night could jam after the normal Hackensack business hours (Van Gelder’s neighbors were known to complain about the noise late at night and his parents lived there).
In writing this article I did a little research and found this cool New York Times article from 1974 explaining that the hotel, located on Broadway between West 76th and 77th Streets, was crime-ridden! (One has to wonder if it was similar or becoming more that way in 1957!) You can hear the massive size of that ballroom on these cuts. The horns, organ, and guitar still sound quite immediate and up-close, but the reverberation of Art Blakey’s drums is true to the space’s larger size. Stay tuned as I review more of Jimmy Smith’s classic Blue Note recordings in the coming months.
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
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?)
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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.
Vinyl Spotlight: Lee Morgan, Candy (Blue Note 1590) Original Pressing
- Original 1958 mono pressing
- West 63rd address on both labels
- Deep groove on both sides
- 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)
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.
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| 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).
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| 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”, 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.
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| 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.
Spotify Playlist: Songs That Inspired Candy
Note: If you are not logged in to Spotify on your web browser, clicking the “play” icon above will only play 30-second clips of the songs. Click “Play on Spotify” or the Spotify logo to launch the app on your computer. Click here to open this playlist in your web browser.
Vinyl Spotlight: The Eminent Jay Jay Johnson, Volume 1 (Blue Note 1505) Liberty Mono Pressing
- Liberty mono pressing circa 1966-1970
- RVG etched in dead wax
Personnel:
Side 1:
- Clifford Brown, trumpet
- J.J. Johnson, trombone
- Jimmy Heath, tenor & baritone saxophone
- John Lewis, piano
- Percy Heath, bass
- Kenny Clarke, drums
Side 2:
- Jay Jay Johnson, trombone
- Wynton Kelly, piano
- Charles Mingus, bass
- Kenny Clarke, drums
- Sabu Martinez, congas
Side 1 recorded June 22, 1953 at WOR Studios, New York City
Side 2 recorded September 24, 1954 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in 10″ format (BLP 5028/5057) in 1953/1954 (BLP 1505 released January 1956)
As with many of these compilations of earlier Blue Note material, there are several different configurations of musicians on each track of this album. But, unlike many of those compilations of 10” and 78 RPM material, this collection of sides contains some of the finest musicians in early bebop. Led by arguably the greatest trombonist in modern jazz, J.J. Johnson, the lineups play fast and furious on the first side with the talismanic Clifford Brown trading very quick riffs with Johnson and Jimmy Heath on the opening track, “Turnpike”. If the song was named after fast traffic on a New Jersey toll road, it is very appropriate. The three horns pound out a hard-driving, repeating riff to open the song. Per usual, Clifford Brown and Jimmy Heath continue the furious pace as they often do on most of the recordings featuring them at the time.
But what is most impressive about fast-paced bop numbers like “Turnpike” that feature a trombonist or tubist is each player’s ability to keep pace with the other soloists. During a short period of time in junior high school, I chose trombone as my first instrument. In those six months, the only thing I learned on the trombone was that it was extremely difficult to play anything fast. My young muscles struggled to play even quarter notes fluidly. I simply could not move the slide into the different positions fast enough to be in key. Having to do that all while breathing in sync with finger motions is very difficult. Knowing what it’s like to move that slide into the perfect position and then hearing J.J. Johnson fly through a solo, playing notes in rapid fire succession with the ease of a trumpeter or saxophonist impresses me every time I play this LP.
On the next song, the same band plays the standard “Lover Man”. Like many standards, it is a classic that has seen very creative interpretation by several musicians. But what sets this reading apart is the bottom end sound of Johnson’s trombone. The other trombonist that I (and frankly, most other collectors) revere most is Curtis Fuller. For me, Fuller always has a somber tone to his trombone sound even in songs such as the classic “Blue Train”, which is a very uptempo song. But Johnson’s tone, though low like Fuller’s, has a very swinging yet casual kind of sound. It seems to dare the audience to sway but not quite dance to the music. Also, Johnson seemed to embrace the wide use of trombones in the new and exciting latin salsa music that was emerging from New York at the time; his music can sometimes have a latin tinge that adds a unique sound to the typical bebop track.
The latin influence is most present on the song that I most enjoy on this LP. Johnson turns the Broadway standard “Old Devil Moon” into a cool, relaxing latin jam. Johnson plays his trombone with a kind of warble, like a guitarist with a wah-wah pedal for a special effect. As he plays the familiar riff, time is kept by one of the most influential drummer of the early days of bebop, Kenny Clarke. As worthy as he is of the praise he receives, for me the most exciting percussionist of the whole compilation is the conguero, Sabu Martinez. I’ve always been a fan of the conga on classic jazz sessions, whether it’s Ray Barretto on such influential recordings as Blues Walk, Manteca, and Midnight Blue, or Martinez, who is very lively on this LP. It is a rare treat to hear Sabu (who had a short life and career due to drug abuse), and he is the perfect fit to a latinized song such as this one.
Strangely enough, Charles Mingus, the biggest name on the session and one of the greatest composers, bassists, and personalities in the history of music, fails to make any kind of impression on me here. Mingus always seemed, to me, to enjoy playing and writing his own material most. Perhaps he felt restrained by playing music composed by others, and in this case maybe he had grown tired of exploring these standards. It is also documented that Mingus did not like the way that Blue Note’s house engineer, Rudy Van Gelder, recorded his sound. I notice the bass of Percy Heath far more on the record than I do Mingus.
Lastly and aside from the phenomenal music laid to tape here, the thing I enjoy most about this LP is probably the cover. The color scheme of the bright red, black, and white pops out at one’s eyes, and the neatly placed photo of J.J., looking serious and a bit menacing, is fitting. It is a perfect example of all of the things that Blue Note covers were known for at the time: an excellent photograph juxtaposed with some of the most clever, aesthetically pleasing typography of the day. The cleanliness of this record, the jacket, and most importantly, the music makes me feel fortunate to have it in my collection.
Vinyl Spotlight: Sonny Rollins, Volume 2 (Blue Note 1558) Liberty Mono Pressing
- Liberty mono pressing circa 1966-1970
- RVG etched in dead wax
Personnel:
- Sonny Rollins, tenor saxophone
- J.J. Johnson, trombone (all but “Reflections”)
- Horace Silver, piano (all but “Reflections”)
- Thelonious Monk, piano (“Reflections” and “Misterioso” only)
- Paul Chambers, bass
- Art Blakey, drums
Recorded April 14, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in September 1957
Selections:
“Wail March” (Rollins)
“Misterioso” (Monk)
As a jazz lover and record collector, I am very fortunate to live near New York and its dusty record stores, as well as fellow collectors like the namesake of this blog, Mr. Mono himself. If we can’t hunt for LPs together in person, he will sometimes send me pictures of any records I might be interested in from the stores in the city — and sometimes be so kind as to snag some for me to be mailed later. A few months ago, he was in a store that has a very serious reputation for jazz sales when he sent me a few shots of some early pressing Blue Notes at pretty fair prices. One of the pics was of a glossy early pressing of Sonny Rollins Volume 2. The copy was not the first pressing but still had all the things that make collectors warm inside: a West 63rd Street label, Rudy Van Gelder’s initials in the dead wax, and the famous cursive ‘P’ indicative of a copy made in the company’s heyday. Best of all, the dealer did not want an arm and a leg for the copy, and it was payday Friday.
I was very tempted. Sonny Rollins is hands down my favorite artist in the entire genre, and in my quest to own the best possible copies of his LPs that I can afford, Volume 2 is a record I did not have an original of. I did own a copy of this album on Capitol and it had never made an impression on me. Despite its critical acclaim and my liking every artist on the date, it had never caused me to want to listen to it frequently. I do not attribute this to the record I had; the purpose of this post is not to downplay or argue the fidelity of other copies of an LP, but my Capitol copy certainly didn’t do anything to elevate the music of this album higher than A Night at the Village Vanguard or Way Out West, my two favorite Sonny records. So I texted Rich back a dismissive reply: “Nah, forget it — it’s never been my favorite Rollins LP,” to which he replied, “Mine either.” This made me feel two ways: pleased because a fellow collector had validated my opinion, but upset that one of the most celebrated records by my favorite musician was somehow dismissed by two knowledgeable jazz lovers.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I had just run into a nice string of luck with my favorite saxophonist on Blue Note. Within a two-week span, I had lucked out on copies of Volume One and the LP that has eluded me most in recent years, Newk’s Time. A few days after buying Newk’s, I was browsing eBay and a seller was selling Volume 2 as a Buy It Now. I usually avoid the Buy It Now sellers for rare records. However, this was a Liberty copy with some wear on the cover, and it was a later cover with the Division of Liberty lettering on the cover. In other words, this copy was not one that a high stakes collector or dealer would value.
However, as a listener of Sonny Rollins, it had some very good things going for it. For one, it was a monaural copy, which I’m not terribly picky over, except for these very early Blue Note recordings where the focus, at least for sales purposes and sound quality, was mono over the primitive stereo of the day. Secondly, it had the initials of Rudy Van Gelder in the dead wax which, without going into too many details, usually results in a high quality sound regardless of year of issue. Lastly, this thing was cheap! Relatively so, but at less than half the price of the copy that Mr. Mono showed me. I felt that if I was ever going to enjoy this record in its somewhat original form, this was going to be the most affordable way to do so.
After a busy few days of package receiving because of the other Rollins LPs I had just purchased, Volume 2 arrived almost as if it matched my opinion of it, as an afterthought. It was the last in a string of records that I had just purchased, and the two records that preceded it (Volume 1 and Newk’s Time) were two of my favorites. Well imagine my surprise when I dropped the needle. The opening riff of “Why Don’t I?” leapt out of the speaker with great urgency. To me it could have been an outtake from Volume 1 with its loud, honking Rollins riff announcing his unmistakable tone in a similar manner to the Volume 1 jams “Decision” and “Bluesnote”. Despite the presence of a piano here, Rollins hints at the legendary style of pianoless strolling he would perfect the following year, all while trading loud, fast riffs with Art Blakey in a conversation punctuated by the drummer’s own Elvin Jones-esque grunts and patented press roll. It all makes for an exciting conclusion to the take.
Another surprising highlight of the album that mirrored my expectations is the song “Wail March”. I am not usually a fan of marches, from the traditional bop march of “Blues March” by Blakey’s Messengers to the almost avant garde style of march found on Bobby Hutcherson’s “Les Noires Marchant”, but “Wail March” changed that quickly. Normally turned off by their corny, almost antiquated style of beat, “Wail March” is a freewheeling song with the driving snare of any classic march but also wild, reckless improvisation by Rollins and trombonist J.J. Johnson and an admittedly catchy chorus. I could not picture any of the stereotypically bland members of a T.V. sitcom marching band playing such a swinging tune at all. It is one of the myriad example of Rollins taking a theme or tune that was considered ‘corny’ or ‘overdone’ and using his dominating tone and knack for off-the-cuff improvisation to make it into something fresh and revolutionary.
The track on this record that most critics laud is the rendition of the Thelonious Monk standard “Misterioso”, instantly memorable because of a repeating, haunting piano riff played by Monk with a sporadic stabbing motion. It has been recorded on many other albums, but this version instantly became my favorite. Every member of the band plays to their strengths on this song. J.J. Johnson has a memorable solo where he fluidly recreates the opening riff while Rollins finds yet another way to insert “Camptown Races” into a song. Horace Silver and Monk appear on the track — a rarity — and they do a remarkable job of playing their own styles. So many musicians have tried to play Monk’s songs just like he did and failed. These guys all knew how to play with Monk. They all retain their own unique sounds all while paying respect to the song’s original theme.
A few weeks ago, Rich and I had one of our many conversations about our respective collections. We discussed what we believed in our opinion to be the best pressings of Blue Note records in terms of collectability, sound quality, condition, lack of wear, and value. The Division of Liberty Blue Notes, especially reissues of earlier Blue Note material in mono, continued to come up in our talks. When I mentioned to Rich that I had quite a few of these, he asked me to review and write about them for his blog, and in the next few posts I hope to demonstrate that these pressings are not just a mere runner-up to original pressings. They have the potential to provide collectors with a high-quality, affordable listening experience while maintaining many of the hallmarks that make originals so collectable.
Many people think that there is a mystique to the Blue Note sound captured by engineer Rudy Van Gelder. That, of course, is an unscientific way of saying that there is an unexplainable and unique sound to these records. The fact that a Liberty pressing purchased at a discount price can project the classic Blue Note sound so well speaks volumes. It essentially changed my opinion of the recording and also provides evidence that Blue Note’s new parent label was capable of preserving the sound of the original LPs to a tee.