Hello, Mr. Whistler,
does it rain today, in Northern California? Probably not.
In fact, I wanna talk some jazz. Normally I have a knack for studio recordings. I understand those people who prefer the live atmosphere – Mr. Klinger told me seeing Carla Bley‘s Trio live (as he had, recently, in the „Unterfahrt“ in München) cannot be replaced by the most beautiful studio recording. In my small world it can.
As much as I like a vibrant atmosphere, looking, from time to time, at the faces around me, always returning to the sound, I prefer sitting alone in the dark and listening to an album, from start to end, with all the elements of an artificial studio ambience. (How interesting to be at home in a house with a real recording studio, your shangri-la, so to speak, Brian!) When I fall in love with such a recording, Manfred Eicher‘s production of Carla Bley‘s penultimate album („Trios“) is a good case in point – the room is vanishing anyway.
Oh, I had my good deal of fabulous live experiences, the „American“ quartet of Keith Jarrett in Nürnberg 1976, or Byard Lancaster III in the Theatre de Mouffetard in Paris, 1974, with Steve McCall on drums. These two always spring to mind at first. But, yep, I prefer the kind of privacy that makes listening a more intimate experience. Now sometimes it happens that I can’t resist the thrill of a live recording, at home.
That happened yesterday night. Oh, my gosh. Now have a look at some of the titles, (btw, I‘m sorry you have to wait till September 20 to give this your undivided attention, via Tidal, probably): The Man I Love, All The Things You Are, Im Getting Sentimental Over You. This is not my daily bread, and no part of my „holy“ grail of classic tunes. Honestly, when we would have 1966, a rainy evening in London, and Stan Getz would play Ronnie Scott‘s Club (at the peak of his powers), and The Kinks at The Marquee (a bit drunk and ready for harsh words), I wouldn‘t think twice and be ready for Mr Ray Davies to give me the goose skin of my life.
But what the hell was that: I listened to that forthcoming album with all those evergreens and, and the music stopped me in the tracks. I was tired, oh so tired, nevertheless I always wanted to stay in the moment, from applause to applause, and suddenly I was strangely awake, fully there – it all happened in January 2017 at the Village Vanguard. I know, a surprisingly small club with warm acoustics, I had been there, virtually, when I was a teenager sucking in the magic of Keith Jarrett‘s „Fort Yawuh“ without end.
So, here we go, I listened to that old-fashioned stuff, and the way the quartet nailed it, was full of wit, charm, spell, awe, wonder, suspense, drive, diversion, passion, humour, everything. Oh, they didn‘t nail it, wrong word, they opened it up, and let the dust dance that had settled on the tunes since the time they had been hailed as fucking standards. Manfred Eicher is the executive producer here, the album is called „Common Practice“ (a title that made me laugh after midnight), and it‘s from the Ethan Iverson Quartet with Tom Harrell. Ben Street plays double bass, and Eric McPherson drums. Listen, for example, at this drummer’s play, so full of inventions and side steps: playing in the tradition, kind of, doesn’t mean to fulfill the usual expectations. A wonderful way to start the autumnal season.
Best,
Michael