Stan Getz

1. Four Brothers
2. Early Autumn
3. My Gentlemen Friend

1. Step Up, Swing Out
2. Bossa Nova Bauble
3. Pitchman
4. Sandy At The Beach
5. Boganville Hooks
6. Song For Strayhorn
7. Waltzing Matilda

Stan Getz and Gerry Mulligan (J for Jazz JFJ 804)

• Stan Getz (ts)
• Stanley Cowell (p)
• Miroslav Vitous (b)
• Jack DeJohnette (d)

1. Stan's Blues (Step Up Swing Out)
2. Lorraine (Bossa Nova Bable)
3. La Festa (Pitchman)
4. Lover Man (Sandy at the Beach)
5. Spain (Not on the LP)
6. Desafinado (Bogansville Hocks)
7. Con Alma (Song for Strayhorn)
8. Wave (Waltzing Matilda)

1. A Ballad Stan Getz
2. This Can't Be Done
3. Let's Fall In Love
4. That Old Feeling
5. Too Close For Comfort
6. Anything Goes
7. Scrapple From The Apple G-M-P
8. I Didn't Know What Time It Was G-M-P

Lou Levy, Ray Brown, Stan Levey
October 12, 1957

SEE: "Meets The Saxophonists"

 LINER NOTES

About Gerry Mulligan: here are a few statistics in as few words as possible, for these facts have been exhaustively outlined on countless record liners and in numerous publications. he was born in new York City in 1927. Somewhat of a prodigy, he began playing piano and various reed instruments at an early age, and writing music in his teens. By the time he was twenty, his compositions and arrangements were being played by the big bands of Gene Krupa, Elliot lawrence, and Claude Thornhill, and by the small bands of Miles Davis and his own. By the time he was fifty he had won virtually every magazine poll, both critical and popular for his instrument and often for arranging and big band as well, recorded enough material as a leader to make a pile of records half as high as himself, altered everyone's thinking about the role of the baritone saxophone in jazz, and proved to be the most enduring of all the great instrumentalistswho emerged in the late 40's and early 50's. Today he gives every indication of continuing this not inconsiderable record of musical accomplishments.

Despite this appearance of success, Gerry Mulligan remains a mass of contradictions and, often, a man alone with his music. A prolific recording artist in terms of total output over the years, his last serious recordings made in the U.S. were in December 1976 (Idol Gossip) and February 1971 (The Age of Steam). Although he is a major American composer, of late he gets most requests for compositions and motion picture scores from Europe, and he maintains his thirteen-piece orchestra not so much for its modest commerciality but because it provides an immediate (and often the only) outlet for his compositions and arrangements, old and new. Because Mulligan possesses a name with celebrity value and an enormous artistic reputation, one would assume there would be constant bookings, but he works infrequently because of the general inadequacy of the concert scene. His tastes and livelihood revolve around the culture of New York City but he shuns it, preferring to be away from it or outside the United States completely. The times and the business of music in America have worked in his disfavor, given his talents, his success should have been tenfold and his recognition even more far-reaching. All of this has made for a very complicated individual.

Part of Gerry's personality can be simply explained. Mulligan's formative years as a musician occureed during a complex period, a time when musical forms were changing rapidly and when the proponents of various types of music were hostile to each other - yet, Gerry found himself easily assimilated into the most disparate camps. His geneation was one that produced many talented instrumentatlists; in fact, the emphasis seems to have been on the ability o individual soloists. While Gerry was certainly a soloist of uncommon abilities, his most noteworthy contributions were in terms of writing for groups, and his earliest efforts, such as some of the arrangements for the early MIles Davis "Birth of the Cool" group, reshaped American musical thinking. Gerry, then as now, wrote for groups, large and small. The composition, the overall structure of a musical statement, was far more important than any individual soloist. This kind of writing was not the way to get ahead in the 50's; concert tours featured soloists, jam sessions, and the like. While much has been made of Gerry's ability to fit into almost any sort of musical group, he remains at his very best as an integral part of a group he has written for and structured himself.

While Mulligan has endured, many of his contemporaries who burned brightly are nowgone. If one looks carefully at the major figures who emerged during the early 40's to the early 50's, one realizes that the number who were still fulfilling their creative potential by 1960 was very small. By 1980 there are only a few who are vitally creative. True, many continue playing, but only a handful seem to be living up to the potential they evidenced early in their careers. In fact, most of the ebst are either dead or buried in commercial studios, or they simply make occasional records, tour with small groups , try to be a part of the festival scene, live in Europe, or appear as soloists when the situation arises. This does not comment adversely on the talents of these musicians, but it does (continued on insert)

- BUT THERE WAS NO INSERT - SORRY!!

NOTES BY STAN GETZ

Gerry and I had a great deal of fun during this session. Halfway through the date, though not on this selection, we switched horns, with gerry playing my tenor and me playing his baritone. I think Gerry's abilities as a writer can't be overrated (except by possibly Gerry himself). Kidding aside, this ballad is a formidable example of his considerable talents.

GERRY MULLIGAN MEETS STAN GETZ

When Gerry Mulligan Meets Stan Getz was initially released by Verve in 1958, Norman Granz offered his inspiration for the date, and related comments:

"I've conjectured, as I'm sure other people have, what kind of sounds would come from a meeting between Gerry Mulligan and Stan Getz. Obviously, each has won enough awards on the various jazz polls held throughout the world to cover possibly an entire house wall to wall; obviously, too, each is a master of his instrument and each an important factor in today's azz scene. Without spelling out any further the qualifications of each, I can say that this is the first album, to the best of my knowledge, on which the two have performed as soloists with no other horns.

"Stan picked the rhythm section with Gerry's approval: Lou Levy' on piano; Stan Levey on drums; and Ray Brown on bass, and the rhythm section particularly does well by the soloists. As an added fillip to this album, Mulligan suggested at one juncture that they trade horns, so you find that on side one of the album Getz plays baritone and Mulligan plays tenor; and on the other side they reversed the procedure so that each played his primary instrument - Stan the tenor and Gerry the baritone."

Reviewing the album for Down Beat, Jack Tynan noted that "A Getz-Mulligan meeting on record was, one supposes, inevitable sooner or later. In capturing both saxists for a joint date, in supplying them with a rhythm section of top caliber, Norman Granz has produced a worthwhile jazz album..."

Getz, as Tynan heard him, "gets downright funky at times," and the critic praised the array of cooking performances, "with both saxists soloing in happy, spirited fashion."

Both Getz and Mulligan were well-established as influential jazzmen when this album was recorded, more than five years ago. During that relatively brief period, however, both have prospered, musically and commercially.

Getz spent several years as an expatriate content to live and perform in Europe. His popularity remained constant in this country, despite the fact that he did not appear here in person. A flow of records cut abroad helped, but, basically, the image Getz had established endured, keeping him in the minds of jazz fans. Then, when Getz decided to return, he did so in the manner of a returning hero, welcomed by jazzophiles eager to hear his mellow, touching sound again. And, ultimately, he joined guitarist Charlie Byrd in the Jazz Samba set for Verve, a disc that sent fans into the Bossa Nova camp and paved the way for a successful nation-wide invasion by that music from Brazil. Today, Getz is more in demand than ever. And he is as astute a musician as ever. Strikingly inventive, he can caress a ballad with the kind of taste and artistry few soloists in jazz can match. He is just as adept at cooking ferociously - a quality, as Tynan noted, that keeps matters perking on several tracks in this set.

Mulligan hasn't been idle, either, since this collaborative venture with Getz. When he became impatient with the rewards of working with his own quartet, he formed his Concert Jazz Band (a first-rate ensemble represented by several Verve albums) and toured with it.

The band reflected Mulligan's own personality and music; few bands could have been so lucky. Mulligan's imagination is impressive. As a composer, he creates lasting lines and consistently enticing works. His writing has wit and wisdom. And writing is important to him. As a result, when he doesn't feel like assembling the band for appearances, he can settle back and be a genuinely productive composer. Writing the score for a Broadway musical remains one of his ambitions; it is one he is due to fulfil soon. The gregarious Mulligan, however, never will be content to exist in any tower. Always eager to seize his horn and rush to a session, he is a performer; he thrives on the exchange of ideas that is inherent in any meeting of jazz minds. It is this motivation that helped make the Getz-Mulligan get-together in '58 such an enlightening one. Mulligan, as ever, was more than ready; Getz, comparably prepared, felt the inspiration that such a healthy challenge embodies. And with the support of a vigorous, sensitive rhythm section, the pair prospered.

Fortunately available again, this meeting of giants merits many hearings.

GETZ/MULLIGAN PETERSON

Half this set continues Gerry Mulligan's series of meetings with major jazz figures. The other half is devoted to a colloquy between Stan Getz and Oscar Peterson. Both Mulligan and Getz have vigorous pride in their ability as jazzmen. They welcome stimulation of the most accomplished possible associates because, like most professionals, they are usually most driven into demanding the best of themselves when in the most highly competitive situations.

Getz has had extraordinary fluency as an improviser since his teens. Mulligan, who has been an uncommonly able arranger - both on paper and on the job - since his early years in jazz, acquired full-scale instrumental fluidity somewhat later. In fact, it wasn't until the last half of the fifties that Mulligan experienced more and more occasions when the line between his thoughts and his fingers was instantaneously complete. Hearing the two jousting as well as inter-relating in this October 12, 1957, session is, therefore, particularly intriguing.

Getz, who is a superior stylist but has created no body of his own music is heard with and against Mulligan, who has also become an instrumental stylist but who made his reputation first for the music he had developed initially for big bands and then most distinctively with his own small combo.

Although both are modernists, both Getz and Mulligan have stylistic as well as emotional roots that go back into the swing era - Getz through Lester Young and Mulligan through many influences on many instruments. It's all the more instructive, therefore, to hear them work out on so markedly boppish a tune as Charlie Parker's Scrapple from the Apple which was based, however, on the chords of Honeysuckle Rose. Throughout the introduction, the initial statement of the theme and the exchange of sections of the theme, it's clear that both are "down" for the event. Mulligan's solo gains in intensity and looseness as it goes on. Getz, by this point in his career, was well into his resolution to play with more body and more propulsive swing than had characterized his intensely introspective style of the early fifties. On this solo, he wails with a rhythmic power and fiercely emotional directness that he's seldom exceeded on records. In this kind of groove, he could stand up against anybody for sureness of swing alone. Lou Levy digs in with fire as well as logic and then Mulligan and Getz challenge each other exhilaratingly until interjections by Stan Levey bring a return to the main theme, more by Stan, and a deep-breathing close.

I Didn't Know What Time It Was is taken at a less demanding clip. Mulligan lopes through his solo in a resilient demonstration of coherent organization, buoyant placement of rhythmic patterns and freshness of imagination. Getz, still highly charged emotionally, swings no less strongly and penetratingly in this groove than he did in the more driving Apple, and his solo here too is one of his better ones on record with a "cry," an emotional thrust that fully dramatizes his emergence from the almost disembodied purity of tone and limpid phrasing of the Early Autumn and Long Island Sound days. After a substantial Lou Levy solo, Ray Brown constructs a superb bass solo and then Getz leads the way home.

1. A Ballad - Lou Levy, Ray Brown, Stan Levey
   (October 12, 1957)
2. My Funny Valentine - Ray Brown, Herb Ellis, Stan Getz, J.J. Johnson, Connie Kay
   (September 29, 1957)

 LINER NOTES

The marvel of Stan Getz's sound is no secret. It has captured the attention and affection of countless listeners, including many who thought that they had no interest in jazz, or in the style of jazz Getz was said to represent. Such is the power of a sound when it reflects the honest passions of a supremely gifted artist. In this respect, Getz recalls his contemporary John Coltrane, whose approach to the tenor could not have been more different, yet who also attracted an uncommonly broad audience without compromising his art. No tutorials in jazz appreciation are required when hearing such players, for their message is immediate and unmistakable.

Getz and Coltrane share two other traits - a mastery of the tenor sax that bordered on the absolute, and the occasional dismissal of their music as one-dimensional. Coltrane, whose virtuosity was hard to miss, and who could answer the charges of excessive anger and hostility with entire programs of ballad playing, is generally acknowledged today as both a technically and emotionally complete artist, while Getz is still disparaged on occasion as too simple or too pretty a player. The problem may be that creating melodies on his horn camp so easily to Getz. The dedication required to turn out such impeccable phrases went unheard when Getz blew, and the astounding consistency that he demonstrated over a 45-year recording career masked his effort even further. Getz knew his instrument inside-out; and even in his final performances, in the months before his death on June 6, 191 after a lengthy fight with cancer, his execution was flawless.

His swing was flawless as well as it had been throughout his career. Yet Getz was tagged as a ballad player from the moment he caught the jazz world's attention with his brief solo on " Summer Sequence Part IV" by the 1947 Woody Herman Second Herd, an episode so riveting that the Ralph Burns composition was quickly retitled "Early Autumn" and reworked as a Getz showpiece. When the concept of "cool" caught on shortly thereafter, Getz was quick to recognize the danger of being pigeonholed. "It's fun swinging and getting hot ...l can be a real stomping tenor man," he insisted to Leonard Feather in 1950; but it was the sensitive, lyrical side of Getz that made the greatest impression with the jazz and non-jazz public.

When Getz launched bossa nova music in the United States, this ideal pairing of lyrical material and lyrical interpreter elevated him to a level of commercial success unprecedented among modern jazz musicians. His records became Top-10 pop hits ("The Girl From lpanema," which won the Grammy as Record of the Year for 1964, hit the top five on the singles charts during the peak of the British invasion). The common view of Getz as primarily a gentle romantic became even further entrenched among fans who paid little attention to his more free-blowing efforts. Yet Getz had always been a complete jazz musician, as anyone familiar with his albums and live performances can testify. He was a man of his times, a modernist who had been formed by the bebop innovators as well as the great Lester Young, who is the primary model for his taste and tone; and his bands invariably contained the most inspired and inspiring musicians.

All of this was established early on. Getz, born on February 2, 1927, was a jazz prodigy long before the current prodigy era. He joined Jack Teagarden's band at the age of "16"; turned down a Julliard scholarship in order to pursue his tutelage on the road; and played in the reed sections of various big bands while still a teenager, including those of Stan Kenton and Benny Goodman. After his "Early Autumn" success with Woody Herman, he solidified his position as the top young tenor star with a series of recordings for Savoy, Prestige/New Jazz and Roost, including such popular titles as the aforementioned "Long Island Sound," the supercharged "Parker 51" (from a phenomenal live session at Boston's Storyville nightclub), and the seductive "Moonlight in Vermont" with Johnny Smith.

Near the end of 1952, Getz signed an exclusive recording contract with Norman Granz's Clef (later Verve) label; and for the next two decades, well after Granz had sold the label to MGM, Getz was an exclusive Verve artist. These are the years covered by the present anthology, which contains two dozen of the saxophonist's greatest and most acclaimed performances. While by no means an exhaustive survey of Getz's best, the specific tracks (which are presented chronologically) have been chosen to highlight the range of Getz's talent, and the variety of situations in which that talent was allowed to excel.

Like far too many jazz artists of his generation, Getz was fighting drug addiction during the `50s, and ultimately pulled himself together by moving to Denmark in 1958. Before leaving the US, however, he made one final tour with Jazz at the Philharmonic, which culminated in an intense and productive two weeks of recording in Los Angeles. The last five titles on Disc One come from this period, and include performances with J.J. Johnson from another Shrine Auditorium concert, as well as studio encounters with Oscar Peterson's trio, Ella Fitzgerald and Gerry Mulligan. The tracks with Johnson originated in the monaural edition of their famous At the Opera House album (the stereo version was indeed taped at Chicago's Civic Opera House), another flawless jam session that achieves a totally different feeling than Getz's combination with trombonist Brookmeyer. The studio titles offer two more classic ballad readings with Fitzgerald and Mulligan, plus a relaxed jam vehicle on the chords of "Sweet Georgia Brown" with Peterson's trio that Getz once described as "a terrific feeling ...one of the most enjoyable recordings I ever made."

 LINER NOTES

This, as far as I know, is the first time that Stan Getz and J. J. Johnson have ever teamed up as the only soloists on an album. Their affinity for each other was marvelous a kind of musical dialecticism; and especially is this evident in their remarkably exciting "Blues In The Closet".

The rhythm section on both sides of this LP consisted of Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown, Herb Ellis and Connie Kay.

NORMAN GRANZ

CD

Try it tonight. Catch a set at some jazz spot. The players appear to be a cohesive group presenting seemingly predetermined selections as a well rehearsed recital. Now go ask the musicians how the tunes were picked and the tempos set. The answers may surprise you: there might not be any! As you uncover how casually the program was pieced together, you may also uncover that the participants are casual acquaintances. That's the story of -and for the most part, the glory of -the Jazz bandstand. An ad hoc ensemble whose members would be hard pressed to explain how the music came together just minutes after the gig. Yet they'll know, and you probably will too, whether their show clicked or not.

You now hold the recorded music of a virtually once in a lifetime unit co-headed by Stan Getz and J.J. Johnson. Two sets by the same band, and a show that truly clicked!

Norman Granz had the good intuition to pair Stan Getz and J.J.Johnson for his 1957 Jazz At The Philharmonic tour. As part of a huge package, the two took part in the jam session and the finale, but by backing them with an all-star rhythm sec- tion, the producer Granz created a defacto Getz -Johnson band. This group held a featured spot in all the concerts.

Stan Getz and J.J. Johnson were both considered preeminent soloists of the New Jazz of the 1940s yet both had continued (and continue) to sound contemporary Getz and Johnson both had solid roots in the earlier Big Band Tradition. Stan Getz had played with the orchestras of Jack Teagarden, Stan Kenton, Benny Goodman, and Woody Herman, while J.J. Johnson had sparked the now forgotten Snookum Russell Orchestra (Fats Navarro was another teenaged member) before joining Benny Carter at 19 and Count Basie at "21".

This coupling is also of interest in the context of Norman Granz' JATP J.J. Johnson had blown at the first concert back on July 2, 1944! Stan Getz had just joined the pack and represented Norman's capability of updating JATP with fresh faces and shifting motifs. Of course, it never hurts to add a big name to an all-star lineup. The trombone-tenor voicing was also unusual.

Comparing different performances of the same piece has long been a key to the understanding of jazz soloists. The first three decades of jazz recording provided numerous instances of comparative listening. These possibilities decreased dramatically when reusable erasable tape replaced permanent one-time-only discs as the medium of recording. The 1957 JATP tour was recorded and on tape. The issued Lps have always been marketed as "Jazz At The Opera House." The September 29, 1957 concerts at Chicago's Civic Opera were indeed a highlight of the tour, and should be further singled out as an early instance of a stereo location recording. Nevertheless, about half the music issued as "Jazz At The Opera House" was performed elsewhere and recorded in mono. Bingo! This compact disc, which gives you both concerts, gives us the opportunity to compare different versions of the same tunes done at separate concerts. The concerts recorded in mono are just as exciting as their stereo counterparts with creative ideas flowing easily from the master musicians Stan Getz and J.J. Johnson.

How was this set decided upon? Many gigs lead off with the blues. Getz and Johnson kick off this one with a bebop blues, Charlie Parker's classic Billie's Bounce. It must have been the opening kick-off too, because neither Stan nor JJ had recorded it before. Likewise for My Funny Valentine. This remains Stan Getzs only dabbling with the Richard Rodgers favorite, while J.J.'s ballad interpretation of the tune lay nearly 7 years in the future, and he didn't record it with Kai Winding until Apri1"16", 1968. Playing Crazy Rhythm was probably Stan Getz's idea. He'd been using this tune for years, first recording it on July 28, 1953, but this 1957 Crazy Rhythm is the first in J.J. Johnson's discography. Romance past and present is represented by the ballads. Yesterdays was the first ballad J.J. Johnson recorded under his own name (December 24, 1947), while Stan Getz had just started thinking about It Never Entered My Mind. Stan had used it for his portion of a ballad medley recorded August 1, 1957 (issued on Jazz Giants'58). The mono version released here is his definitive performance of the tune. The closer Blues In The Closet brings producer Norman Granz out in the open. I think Norman was a sucker for this Oscar Pettiford composition, having had it recorded for his various labels. But it is a first in both Getz's and Johnson's discographies. With these concerts, Norman Granz started the highly successful but shortlived Getz-Johnson Discography. It's a major triumph of Norman Granz's formula: Put the soloists together then get out of the way and let them play.

Phil Schaap

Stan The Man

1. When Your Lover Has Gone
   Louis Bellson, Ray Brown, Harry Edison, Herb Ellis, Stan Getz, Gerry Mulligan, Oscar Peterson

   August 1, 1957
   
   

2. Gold Rush
   Benny Bailey, Stan Getz, Lars Gullin, Jan Johansson, Gunnar Johnson, Erik Nordstrom, Ake Persson, William Schiopffe

   September 16, 1958

 LINER NOTES

If a common theme unites the 15 performances on Stan the Man, it might be that -- much like the former baseball great who holds permanent deed to that appellation - Getz is a versatile and adaptable player who can swing from the heels when the situation seems to dictate such measures. That information will hardly be news to anyone who has followed Getz's work closely over the years, but it might come as a revelation to casual listeners who identify Getz solely with the bossy novas he rode to the top of the pop charts during the Kennedy Era, or with the paradoxically luxurious yet romantically keening ballads that secured his initial renown as one of jazz's more beguiling wishful thinkers -- The Great Gatsby of the tenor, the fabulous phantom of the Long Island Sound.

Because its uptempos swerve with headlong abandond because even its ballads pulsate insistently, one possible alternate title for Stan the Man could be Stan Getz Swings - a point that reads like the common wisdom it ought to be, but a point that continues to be hotly contested by some of jazz's more dogmatic revisionists, who will admit to hearing nothing more than purposeless splendor in the watery reaches of the vaunted Sound. Getz's career illustrates that it is possible to be adored all out of proportion by one segment of the jazz population while being villified by another segment equally vocal if not equally large. Back in 1949, when it was still possible for an improviser to achieve pop stardom overnight, the 22-year-old Getz rose to celebrity on the wings of his recording of Early Auturnn with the Woody Herman Orchestra. He went on to monopolize the year-end jazz magazine popularity polls throughout the'50s and '60s - a period that witnessed the apotheosis of Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster, the ascension of John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins, the advent of Albert Ayler and Archie Shepp. The lingering resentment one senses toward Getz in certain quarters may be no more than the inevitable price any artist ultimately pays for such myopic adulation on the part of his cult. But there is also the nagging question of Getz's stylistic lineage, which in turn raises the even stickier issue of race. One no longer hears Getz decried as a white popularizer of Lester Young, but there remains, in some minds, the suspicion that Getzs accomplishments are derivative and therefore minor.

The defense mounts for Getz by observing, first of all, that the white Lester apostles of the late-'40s and early-'50s, Getz foremost among them, helped ensure that Young's paradigmatic lyric chill would remain a force to be reckoned with in the subsequent evolution of jazz. It should also be acknowledged that Getz in particular long ago settled whatever debt he owed black music, by influencing countless black saxophonists (including the young John Coltrane - in terms of sonority at least - George Coleman and -via Coltrane and Coleman -- Wayne Shorter). And it's good to that even the fledgling Getz was no mere Lester Young imitator. However beholden Getz was to Young for his laconic inflections and his liquid tone, his work on this double lp announces a sure grasp of the harmonic vocabulary of Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker (Coincidence alone cannot explain why Getz and Parker shared a rhythm team for a time in the early-'50s - pianist Al Haig, bassist Tommy Potter, and drummer Roy Haynes gigging with whichever saxophonist had work lined up for them. Nor is it coincidence that a Horace Silver played with Getz, the man who epitomized the cool sound that Silver's earthier, more vigorous music was soon interpreted to be in direct reaction against. Getz himself had already returned to the roots before hiring Silver: from the very beginning, the tenorist's rhythmic placement owed more to the forthright heroes of pre-Lester swing than to any of their slippier modernist progeny. And why not? Getz's values had been shaped in the big dance and swing bands he travelled with as a teenager during World War II.)

But in a music in which each performer is encouraged to make it all up as he goes along, the sources of inspiration, once they have been properly acknowledged, are finally never as important as the presentation of the source in the service of self-expression. In this regard, Getz is above reproach. His solos never fail to tell an original story, and the story is usually compelling. In summing up the continuing appeal of Getz's work over the last three decades, one might appropriate a phrase or two from Nick Carraway's benediction for Jimmy Gatz (the judgment of character not being so far removed from the assessment of music) and say: If an artist's personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there is something gorgeous about Getz, some heightened sensitivity to life such as one rarely perceives in jazz. It is this quality that marks Getz off as a major artist, and it is a quality in everywhere evident on Stan the Man. The earliest selections here are from a 1952 session (which produced the lp Stan Getz Plays) with pianist Duke Jordan and guitarist Jimmy Raney included in the rhythm section. Here is one tenor reading of Body And Soul that invites no comparison to Coleman Hawkins. Instead, the frayed tone, the exacerbated trills that string one phrase to the next, the abrupt double timing, the frequent veers into the outer limits of the song's chords and the subsequent tumbles into the tenor's bottom register all propose affinities to Lennie Tristano, Lee Konitz, and Warne Marsh. It hardly seems likely Getz had fallen under Tristano's sway; a more logical explanation for the resemblance would be that both Getz and the Tristano saxophonists shared a common model in Lester Young. To my way of thinking, Body And Soul's quiet, concentrated intensity makes it the most powerful Getz improvisation on record. Getz is the lone soloist both on Body and on its companion Stella by Starlight, but Jordan and Raney make telling contributions in supporting roles. Raney's spare voicings are surely a contributing factor to the tenorist's harmonic freedom. Jordan's prelude to Body is every bit as striking as his more famous intro to Parker's Embraceable You, while his decisive romping on Stella greases a Getz solo that pulls you along with its great momentum.

The 1954 Down By The Sycamore Tree (from the Cool Sounds Ip) illustrates Getz's gentle manner of embellishing a simple melody, while offering a kind of dress rehearsal for The Peacocks, the wonderful 1976 lp which reunited him with Jimmy Rowles, the pianist here. The crisp (though uncharacteristically reserved) drumming here is by the great Max Roach.

Pernod (from the 1954 location recording Stan Get At The Shrine) catches fire instantly from the rubbing together of Getz's tenor and Rob Brookmeyer's valve trombone. The contrapuntal interplay between the two horns is mischievous and exciting, almost dixieland-ish in its slapdash elan.

The 1955 Our Love Is Here To Stay (from Cool Sounds) is one of Getz's shapliest, most vernal ballads, featuring one of the most empathetic rhythm sections that he stewarded in the '50s -- pianist Lou Levy, bassist Leroy Vinnegar, and drummer Shelly Manne, all of whom are back on deck for the 1955 Getz-Lionel Hampton confrontation that initiates Side B.

The album Hamp & Getz was a happy side effect of the fact that both men were in Hollywood shooting The Benny Goodman Story. Credit Norman Granz with intuiting there would be a chemistry between the two, Hampton's enthusiasm is contagious, not to mention audible - you can hear him shouting affirmation behind an uncharacteristically ribald Getz solo on Jumping on At The Woodside.

The solo order on the 1956 Dizzy Atmosphere (from the ad hoc gathering Sittin' In) is Paul Gonsalves, Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins, and Getz, in what is essentially a roughhouse tenor battle with Gillespie egging the combatants on. Getz more than holds his own here, bringing a track that threatens to descend into babble all throughout its eleven-minute length to a surprisingly graceful finish.

The delightful Pennies From Heaven (from Stan Getz & The Oscar Peterson Trio, 1957 )finds Getz in a playful mood. He benefits greatly from the springy, Kansas City-accented backing of the drummerless Peterson Trio, Herb Elis's jangly, Freddie Greenish, guitar in particular.

Both Pennies and side Cs All The Things You Are suggest that Getz idolized Lester Young as much for his implacable logic as for the purity of his tone. An ironic gaiety evocative of Young undercuts Getz's Pennies, while on All TheThings, Getz's solo evolves in a manner Young employed to great effect in the final decade of his life: Getz starts off at caterpillar tempo in a mossy lower register before taking wing as the tempo flutters and expands. All The Things was recorded in 1957 for inclusion on The Soft Swing and features Getz's working unit of the time, which included the pre-"Seventh Son" Mose Allison on piano.

When Your Lover Has Gone is from Jazz Giants '58 (actually recorded in 1957). The loose head arrangement is by Gerry Mulligan, and there are relaxed solos by Mulligan puckish trumpeter "Sweets" Edison, as well as two solo turns by Getz. The support the horns receive from the Peterson trio and Bellson take "bounce" a touch too literally. Getz's impervious choruses, which interpolate a familiar circus theme, are invigorating nonetheless, and both he and J.J. Johnson seem to draw energy from Ray Brown's charging bass. (From Stan Getz & J.J. Johnson Live at the Opera House, 1957).

The four remaining titles were rescued from the vaults. Gold Rush and But Beautiful both date from Getz's late-'50s European sojourn. Too bad the Gold Rush chart is uncredited - it's a fanciful arrangement reminiscent of the Miles Davis Nonet. The soloists are Getz, trumpeter Benny Bailey, and baritonist Lars Gullin. There's nothing sentimental about Getz's interpretation of Beautiful, though he lavishes a great deal of tender feeling upon the song.

The voice you hear at the top of Evening in Paris announcing that it was 26-below in Chicago an February "21",1961 (could it be so?) belongs to engineer Val Valentin. Getz and the Cannonball Adderley rhythm section of that time quickly heat up the atmosphere with this supercharged first take of Quincy Jones' provocative melody. Getz's choruses are remarkable for their escalating complexity and for his ease of articulation even at this equestrian pace and there is no let up when pianist Victor Feldman takes over.

Unaccountably, Evening in Paris was the only title recorded that day, and the take we have here did in fact suffer a breakdown near the end (an insert was recorded later that day). The following day Getz was in New York, recording Sonny Rollins' Airegin with his working band. If anything, Getz's Airegin solo burns even brighter, scales even high peaks, than Evening in Paris. The highlight comes early, as Getz strolls over lashing bass and drums, pianist Steve Kuhn shrewdly letting the terrorist build up a full head of steam before nudging in below him. Kuhn blocks out the chords with crisp dispatch. Scott LaFaro's bass line bristles with what Gunther Schuller once aptly described as LaFaro's "almost belligerent virtuosity, " and LaFara and the charismatic drummer Pete LaRoca play off each other nicely, giving Getz a taste of the new rhythmic liberties available to a soloist in the wake of Ornette Coleman. Given such admirable group rapport, it comes as a shock to learn that this take of Airegin was the only salvagable take recorded that day. In fact just prior to it, Getz had jokingly informed his sideman - a la Burns to Von Zell - "You're all fired."

To anyone fortunate enough to have heard Evening in Paris and Airegin soon after they were recorded, it must have been obvious Stan Getz was on the verge of great things. And indeed, the justly celebrated Focus, with string arrangements by Eddie Sauter, followed by a few short months. An even greater commercial success than he had ever before known was also in the offing for Getz - the bossa nova craze initiated by Jobim's Desafinado was only a year or so away.

Getz stayed with the, by then, MGM/Verve label through the early-'70s, and there were numerous successes, both aesthetic and commercial. But in the waning days of their association, the label did not always do right by Getz. His superb mid- 60s quartet with Gary Burton, Steve Swallow, and Roy Haynes received only token representation on record, for example, and another group with Chick Corea, Stanley Clarke, and Tony Williams had to wait until Getz switched from Verve to Columbia before making its belated record debut. Nor did Getz's five-year tenure at CBS yield music altogether commensurate with his talent, though one can at least be grateful for The Peacocks, Getz's aforementioned collaboration with pianist Jimmy Rowles.

But at 56, Getz is currently in peak form. His dabblings with electronic devices apparently behind him for good, he is gradually acquiring some of the autumnal eloquence and economy of expression one associates with a Johnny Hodges or Ben Webster. His bands have lately been top notch, and he has taken fatherly pleasure in introducing his audiences to such budding younger talent as JoAnne Brackeen, Jim McNeely, Clint Houston, Marc Johnson, Billy Hart and Victor Lewis. The Dolphin and Pure Getz, his first two releases under a new contract with Concord Jazz, contain passages felicitous enough to intimate that Getzs best work may still lie ahead of him. But in that regard, he is in the fortunate position of having some pretty high standards to surpass, witness the music on Stan the Man.

Francis Davis

 LINER NOTES

FIVE BROTHERS            FOUR AND ONE MOORE

BATTLEGROUND            BATTLE OF THE SAXES

All five stem from Lester Young: Brew closest to a facet of old Pres; Zoot embodying Pres, intangibly and tangibly while carrying the tradition farther up the line; Al also carrying the tradition up the line and paralleling Pres in that all the others were very intently listening to his lyric statements; Stan, later dubbed "The Sound", showing off that sound and the conglomerate style with the effects of bop's imprint coupled to the Pres in him; and Allen also effected by two styles, Pres and Bird. but hewing closer to the first in the company present.

The other soloist is Walter Bishop. one of the most able in the Bud Powell tradition.

The lines and arrangements of same are by two of the most important and influential writers of the past ten years. Gerry Mulligan contributed Five Brothers and Four And One Moore. Battleground and Battle Of The Saxes, originally fitled The Fluegelbird and For Cool Tenormen Only but never issued under these titles, are by Al Cohn.

Solo sequence
Four And One Moore - Brew, Zoot, Al, Stan, Allen
Five Brothers - Allen, Al, Zoot, Stan, Brew