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SIDE A

TUBA DE NOD

MILANO

VARIATIONS

ON THE SCENE

PIES OF QUINCY

SIDE B

OLD FOLKS

SADIGA

GANDOLFO’S BOUNCE

, MURRAY STEIN: DESIGN 3 LIONS: PHOTOGRAPHY

Tay. 3 Ae Fe So eee eee

BOOKER LITTLE, Trumpet

ARTHUR DAVIS, Bass

The winner of all those jazz drumming swards on the cover. is of course,

Max Roach, the most influeritial plaver in the relatively short but muitiole

active history of modern jazz drumming. The most significant victory of a'!

was his selection by over a hundred major jazzmen in the ‘Musicians’

Musicians”’ Poll in Leonard Feather’s The New Encyclopedia of Jazz as the

‘greatest ever’’ on his instrument.

At 34, Max is hardly likely by age or temperament to rest on his

achievements. He continues to be one of the most insatiably experimental

musicians in jazz, constantly trying to make his instrument more respon-

sive to wider and wider shadings of expression. It is not so much that Max

is trying to make the drums « ‘“‘melody’”’ instrument. “I think,’’ he ex-

plained recently, ‘‘that ‘melody hee dade is a bad word as applied to

drums, because the instrument has indeterminate pitch. Lyrical is a much

more concrete word.”

“! look for lyricism,’’ Max went on, ‘‘the particular lyrical feeling that

goes with the particular harmonic flow of whatever we're Playing. It’s tor

tunate that | do know harmony and can hear chenges, because as a result,

my phrases can breathe. What i mean is that when wie chord changes, ! try

to change the color of what I’m doing. Also, if the harmonies are teiding to

increase or reduce or stretch tension, | try to have my drumming comple-

ment what’s happening with the chords.”’

The lyricism that Max is finding more and more absorbing as a jazz

possibility is especially evident in this album. The set was made with a

combo of the youngest musicians Max has ever had in one of his units.

Max enjoys being challenged—personally as well as musically—by the

members of the various groups he leads. ‘‘I always learn something more

about music and about people with each new group,” he points out. “|

adjust to them and they adjust to me, and through this assimilation, some-

times new things evolve in my own playing. With these young players, |

tried to give them some of what I'd iearned through the years working with

Bird, Miles and Dizzy, but they also taught me something.”

Max did some of the writing for the album, an indication of his con-

tinuing interest in that phase of jazz. A former student at the Manhattan

School of Music, Max also had private iessons in theory and composition

with Vittorio Giannini, head of that department at the schoo! and a man

with whom John Lewis has also studied.

For this album, Max arranged most of John Lewis’ Milano (with some

aid from Booker Little) and contributed two originals—Tuba de Nod and

Pies of Quincy. Ray Draper, not yet twenty, is the protagonist of the tuba

piece. He’s been trying since the age of jacen to make the difficult tuba

into a legitimate, malleable jazz horn. “‘I think he'll do it, e says Max, “‘if

he’ll stick with it long enough and concentrate. Physically, it will also take

him time to get the chops necessary for the instrument. The tune means

more or less ‘sleepy tuba.’ Ray’s made a lot of progress on the instru-

RECORDS ING

original performances on this re-

the finest equipment available. Mas- ter acetates were cut on Scully lathes using Westrex feedback heads, bring- ing you the full frequency range of 20 to 25,000 cps, using the RIAA curve. To msure perfect reproduc- tion, keep records away from heat; clean occasionally; check your stylus for damage and wear, as this condi-

tion may break the fine walls of this recording.

GEORGE COLEMAN, Tenor Sax

RAY DRAPER, Tuba

ment, and already is proving his point that its potential is much more than

has been indicated in jazz history so far. Now he must make it a living

entity.’”’

In Pies of Quincy, ‘‘pies’’ are what cymbal makers call cymbals.

Quincy is not Quincy Jones but Quincy, Massachusetts, where the Zildjian

:actory—the most famous cymbal plant in the world—is located. Max dem-

oristrates his cymbal skills in the piece, and in the process, also shows how

conversational he can make his solos—it’s almost a dialogue of cymbals.

Bassist Arthur Davis also gained considerable valuable experience

with Max, and after leaving, joiried Dizzy Gillespie. George Coleman, who

wrote Variations on the Scene and Sadigo (named after an Egyptian girl

come upon in Boston) is from Memphis, where he had his first professional

job before leaving on the road with blues singer B. B. King. Max first heard

him in Chicago, and after his time with Max, Coleman is now based in New

York for more experience. He plays a driving tenor, but unlike several of his

equally vigorous contemporaries, George has a developing sense of

economy and chooses his notes for maximum effect most of the time

rather than just running changes. The fiery Booker Little @who has particu-

larly interesting continuity in Old Folks, a head arrangement) is also from

Memphis and studied at the Chicago Conservatory of Music. In addition, then, to its interest as an example of Max’s more !yrical

drumming and the way his writing is evolving, the session is also a record

of how he molds a group and the effect this group of youngsters had on ~ |

him. ‘‘l write—and | play—for the guys who are working with me at the

time. | don’t mean | change my style organically, but | always keep in mind

the particular way each man plays.”’ It’s intriguing, then, to hear—as you

become familiar with the record—the interactions between Max and the

second iine. :

Max is part of a long tradition in jazz by which those who have already

contributed to the language try, so far as they can, to pass on what they've

learned to the younger players. Max does this as a leader and also for three

intensive weeks each summer as the teacher of jazz drumming at The

School of Jazz in Lenox, Massachusetts, where John Lewis is musical

director. | ‘‘| learn a great deal there,’’ Max says. “‘I like best the private lessons.

We don’t play as much as we talk and exchange ideas. The youngsters

come up with some real radical things. Certainly | encourage them. That's

how | learn. It’s a wonderful thing—this communication in jazz. And it

doesn’t only happen in the music.”’

Max’s inability to ever be satisfied with himself or with his sidemen is

the key to the fact that aithough he was so important in forming what is

now the basic grammar of modern jazz drumming, he won’t relax into

gliches but keeps freshening end refreshening and creating anew on-‘his

instrument.

The clarity and brilliance of the

-—-Nat Hentoff, Co-Editor, The Jazz Review

PRINTED IN U.S.A.

cording. were preserved through me- — ticulous planning and recording with:

sent tt

Thine AO