Billie Holiday

• Fine and Mellow

December 8, 1957

 LINER NOTES

All too often, tragedy and genius seem to go hand in hand in the world of jazz. It may be that the sensibility required to create a certain kind of musical beauty feels too acutely the ills of the universe to come to terms with them. Whatever the reason, the lives of many of the most important figures in jazz make a sad, sorry contrast beside their musical achievements.

Billie Holiday was born Eleanor Gough McKay in Baltimore in April, 1915. Three years later her teenaged parents married, and by the time she was ten her father had left to marry again. He played banjo and guitar with a number of bands, and was often to meet his daughter again when she became famous.

She moved to New York with her mother in 1929 and was quickly in trouble with the police. serving a jail sentence as a call-girl. Hunger drove her to try for a job as a dancer in the Log Cabin Club. Her effort failed miserably. but she offered to sing rather than give in completely. The customers stopped drinking and listened, and she became a professional singer.

She was subsequently discovered by impresario John Hammond. and attracted the attentions of a number of musicians and celebrities. In November, 1933 she made her first records with clarinettist Benny Goodman and his Orchestra. Although her progress was not easy, and her wages often poor. she steadily became better known, and in 1935 made the first of a long series of recordings with pianist Teddy Wilson.

In January, 1937, the association with Wilson led to her first recording date with tenor saxophonist Lester Young, and marked the beginning of a partnership which was to produce remarkable results. From the first, the two of them displayed an astonishing musical sympathy. with Young complementing Billie's vocals superbly in his own bland, lazy style.

His elegant. relaxed phrasing proved a great influence on Billie's singing, and she was later to admit that she sought to copy his sound vocally. The partnership was cemented by Billie's tours with the Count Basis band, in which Young was than just beginning to establish his reputation. lthough they recorded together little after the early war years, Billie was always to nominate Young as her favourite tenor player.

Her tours with the Basie and Artie Shaw bands proved hard and exacting. Problems raised by the colour of her skin arose perpetually , making even the most routine matters difficult. Even when she began to work in clubs more regularly. from 1938 on, she was perpetually troubled by one thing or another.

Her personal problems mounted, and helped to bring about an involvement with narcotics which led in time to another stay in jail. She emerged temporarily cured, but was never able to shake off the habit permanently. and was always under the threat of police investigation.

Brushes with the police deprived her of the cabaret card needed to work in New York in establishments selling liquor, and this restricted her activities in the later years. She was actually under arrest again for the possession of narcotics when she passed away in a New York hospital on July 17, 1959, some four months after Lester Young had died.

In spite of all of the sordid details which surrounded her personal affairs, Billie Holiday retained a very great honesty and integrity to the end in all of her work. She could not help baring her heart to the world when she sang. If she was happy, so was her song, and when grief came, she had no professional tricks with which to mask it.

This album is made up of items from the early and middle stages of her career, before her voice was showing too marked signs of wear. Some of them have not been released before, and are taken from concert broadcasts for which it has not been possible to identify the personnel in her accompanying group.

Oh yeah, Billie, you're so damn right! So right it hurts. And still: how can one not talk about it after hearing your purest and most beautiful desperate love calls? Your voice makes us shudder - at times with delight, we're caressed by it, sometimes because we get taken in by the eternal note of sadness, the deepness of your love for truth and life coming through. Maybe then we respond with silence - but there's a body language too, which is also a kind of talking about you. This perhaps you will accept. Your voice is touching our bodies because it's sound. Your voice is reaching our inner selves because it's coming from deep inside.

When ESP released 3 albums of newly discovered radio broadcast performances by Billie Holiday from 1949-1952 in the early seventies, Maely Daniele Dufty wrote: "It's hard to think of a time more right than now for a Billie Holiday record to be released. Now being the time when tens of thousands of young Americans are ailing and dying of what killed her.

Drugs - then as now - were only the symptom. For Billie the root cause was being black and poor, exploited and powerless, a black artist in a pink celluloid world, growing up in a society which prides itself on having fought and won its freedom from outside oppressors only to perpetrate selective oppressions against segments of its own citizenry. It's a bitch to live with all that noble rhetoric about human being created equal when you know that not even the cats who signed the Theory of Government, and the rest of the Constitution, really believed it should include EVERY human. Not as long as prejudice was profitable.

It's that kind of con that Billie could not live with. After all, she was black, a woman and an uncompromising creative artist. And until the day she died, she paid dues for being all three of these. She paid with her life for having become the victim of America's greatest conspiracy: Narcotics traffic, which by now has become a pest on everybody's house.

It's a shame Holiday died before she saw those new young ones come up. The dissenters, the non-accomodaters, the wildeyed truth-lovers, all the young ones who have had enough of half-lies, quarter-lies, any damn lies, and who have ears only for the sound of truth. For that's what the Lady sang "Nothing but the truth."

The strings of my mind started swinging to your truth while listening to "Strange Fruit" when I was 16 the first time I heard you sing, and I'll never forget. You had a late white sister in Janis.

You will have soulmates, buried alive in the blues, as long as the cry of the butterfly will not be heard...

Thank you for the songline.

Liner Notes: Urban Gwerder

It's hard to think of a time more right than now for a Billie Holiday record to be released. Now being the time when tens of thousands of young Americans are ailing and dying of what killed her.

Drugs - then as now - were only the symptom. For Billie the root cause was being black and poor, exploited and powerless, a black artist in a pink celluloid world, growing up in a society which prides itself on having fought and won its freedom from outside oppressors only to perpetrate selective oppressions against segments of its own citizenry. It's a bitch to live with all that noble rhetoric about humans being created equal when you know that not even the cats who signed the Theory of Government, and the rest of the Constitution, really believed it should include EVERY human. Not as long as prejudice was profitable.

It's that kind of con that Billie could not live with. No more than the best of our young, black and white, who are now being destroyed by it in Viet Nam, Cambodia, Kent, Chicago, Berkeley and all the places in between. The Super Manipulator Con, which depends on collusive relationships between those who make the laws and those who break the laws. From Napalm to Narcotics, you can be sure that you'll rarely find those who wheel and deal, export, import or distribute in jails. Jails are mostly reserved for the victims.

Billie's deck was stacked against her. Child of a teenage, unwed mother, Billie was born in the black ghetto of Baltimore. She was left with her maternal grandmother at the age of three, when Billie's father, a young boy with musical talent, ran away to New York and asked her mother to join him and get wed. Their marriage didn't last. It couldn't, even if they had been ideally suited to each other. Two kids, alone in a strange place, neither one prepared to earn a living, they split up within a few months and Billie's mother took the only job the Baltimore educational system had prepared her for, she became a sleep-in maid on Long Island for $10.00 a week. Most of which she sent to her mother to keep Billie for her. But the grandmother never forgave Billie for having messed up her daughter's life, and there was neither love nor understanding for Billie.

Billie made it all the way to the fifth grade in Baltimore, and then ran off to New York. When she got a good look at her mother's life and what 8 years of hard work raising other people's kids and cleaning other people's houses at $ 500.00 a year had done for her, Billie joined the first Madam's establishment who offered her a white telephone of her own and a 50% cut.

Man's judgment has rarely been tempered by examining the cause as diligently as the effect. If Holiday was a teenage prostitute, it says less about her morality than about the morality of the world surrounding her. For Billie the options were nearly nil; even later, when it became obvious that she was in truth a member of the international aristocracy of great talent. Billie Holiday, after all, was black, a woman and an uncompromising creative artist. And until the day she died, she paid dues for being all three of these.

Those were tough dues indeed. For even in her teens, the talent stood out like a beacon. And so did her wild independence. To harness her into a gold-producing mealticket, the trick was to make her dependent. Heroin did that.

"Loverman, where can you be?" was a cry for a glassine envelope full of heroin more often than a man. But for rare exceptions, such as her last marriage, the two usually were mutually inclusive.

Billie Holiday inevitably was caught and convicted of violation of the narcotics law. As a user. Never a seller. As a matter of fact, thinking back, during her 25 years of being a victim of the narcotics industry, none of her suppliers ever seem to have gone to jail. Just the customers ...

Billie "paid her debt" to society. But society never paid its debt to her. For 12 years following her release from prison, Billie Holiday was refused a police card, licensing her to sing in New York, her home base. Grounds for the refusal was that her arrest as a narcotics user might impair the morals of her listeners. The Police Department apparently during those years never worried about the bad influence the gangsters or ex-gangsters who owned the clubs might transmit to their customers. Billie never did get a police card.

In 1959 Holiday became gravely ill. An ambulance took her to Knickerbocker Hospital. She was in a liver coma. Because of needle marks on her arms, indicating she had a history of narcotics, she remained on the stretcher in the emergency ward for one and one half hours without anyone attending to her needs and then was refused admission. One of the ambulance drivers recognized her and took her to Metropolitan Hospital, where some 30 minutes later the comatose Billie was placed in an oxygen tent.

12 days later, when Billie came out of it, she still remained on the critical list, having to be fed intravenously while receiving blood transfusions.

One morning, nine hours after I had left her bedside the night before, I found her in a deep rage. She told me, this time she had been framed for good. "You watch, baby, they are going to arrest me in this damn bed -"

And so they did. The night nurse claimed she had found a deck of heroin in Billie's handbag, which was hanging from a nail on the wall -six feet away from the bottom of her bed. It was virtually impossible for Billie - with hundreds of puounds of equipment strapped to her legs and arms for transfusions - to have moved one inch toward that wall. One hour later the police arrived and arrested one Billie Holiday in her hospital bed. Charge: Use of narcotics.

To make the arrest of a woman in a hospital bed seem more real, the police confiscated her comic books, radio, magazines, a box of Whitman chocolates, and Italian ice cream, and then stationed 2 cops at the doorless tiny gray hospital room.

When I screamed at the authorities that they could not arrest a woman on the critical list, I was told that problem had already been solved: Billie Holiday had been removed from the critical list.

Billie Holiday never walked out of that hospital. She was robbed of her chance to live by being subjected to the kind of panic and persecution that would make a healthy woman sick.

She paid with her life for having become the victim of America's greatest conspiracy: Narcotics traffic, which by now has become a pest on everybody's house.

It's a shame Holiday died before she saw those new young ones come up. The dissenters, the non-accommodaters, the wildeyed truth-lovers, all the young ones who have had enough of half-lies, quarter-lies, any damn lies, and who have ears only for the sound of truth. For that's what the Lady sang - Nothing But The Truth.

by Maely Daniele Dufty -Woody Woodward

1. I Only Have Eyes For You
2. Good Morning Heartache
3. Them There Eyes
4. Billie's Blues
5. Oh, What A Little Moonlight Can Do
6. Trav'lin Light
7. Lover Come Back To Me
8. Fine and Mellow - "40 Years only"

• Dick Berk
• Billie Holiday
• Eddie Khan
• Gerry Mulligan
• Mal Waldron

• Benny Carter
• Buddy De Franco

 LINER NOTES

Monterey LP

Billie holiday defined jazz singing as an act with such originality that her legacy is of permanent importance. It has been axiomatic that Billie was the greatest woman jazz singer of all time. This recording stands as one of the very few documents of her performance less than a year before her death on July 17, 1959. Recorded "live" on October 5, 1958 at the first Monetery Jazz Festival, at an outdoor stage in a horse show arena, hers was the final act on the last evening before a wrap up jam session ending the 3-day MJF debut.

I had caught Billie and her trio several nights at her gig at San Fransisco's Black Hawk the week before the festival. Mal Waldron, Eddie Khan and Dick berk provided a strong, swinging trio. Drummer Berk, who was just 19 years old recalls: "I was thrilled to be chosen to be in her rhythm section and we were really up for Monterey and Billie was too.: Waldron's credentials were already impressive' Khan's work with Max Roach, Freddie Hubbard, Jackie McLean, etc., and Berk's impeccable time-keeping pleased Billie.

Introducing billie and Friends to the 6000 people in the audience, M.C. Mort Sahl opened the set. Nearly half way into the set, Billie and here trio were joined by three giants of jazz - Gerry Mulligan, Benny Carter and Buddy De Franco. Dig Gerry! My own memories of the Holiday magic that evening remain lively. She held the musicians and audience magnetically as one, as she sang 11 songs with hardfast determination, even under the thunderous roar of an airplane flying low directly over the festival grounds, as it approached the Monterey Airport when she was singing Good Morning Heartache. This is not an uncommon occurence there; these few seconds of ad hoc noise are a part of preserving the integrity of the entire set.

As jimmy Lyons, Founder of the MJF remembers: "I had admired Billie for so many years, playing her wonderful records on my radio shows and seeing her in person - I knew she would be important for our first festival . . . and she was!" We should rejoice that we are all beneficiaries of the circumstance. My gratitude is also extended to Pete Hammar of Ampex Corporation for his fortuitous discovery which has led to the finish of this album.

Herb Wong

40 Legendary Years

I came back to the Festival many times through the years. When I moved back to Monterey part-time during the 60's, it was one of the big events for us, something we always looked forward to. I brought my son, Kyle, to the Festival when he was young, and now he's performed there himself several times, which makes us both very proud.

Jazz was an important factor in "Play Misty For Me," the first movie I directed: we filmed several scenes at the Festival. We shot part of "Misty" in the main arena. using a hand-held camera. and I had to learn to improvise.

Improvisation as a filmmaker is analogous to improvisation as a musician. I think in some ways my work has helped deepen my appreciation of this type of music. I've also done several jazz documentaries, including one on Thelonious Monk, whom I saw at Monterey. I liked his bold style and seeing him perform at the Festival had a strong effect on me.

As you listen to this collection, you'll see how jazz and the Monterey Festival have changed through the years. In the 70's and 80's jazz seemed to be getting very serious, but now it's headed back to that earlier, easier feeling. Jazz is not only bluesy and forlorn - it also has humor and an upbeat, happy thing about itself. It reflects the independence of the people who were willing to spend their lives playing their music.

Today, the Monterey Jazz Festival is really one of the great ones; and it has a history to match. I hope you'll hear some of the great moments on these recordings and share the wonderful memories of music and celebration with those of us who, were there.

-CLINT EASTWOOD

FOLLOWING THE SEVENTH ANNUAL MONTEREY JAZZ festival in 1964, columnist Ralph Gleason wrote glowingly of "That Special Monterey Mystique."

At the same time, Gleason (who, with Jimmy Lyons co-founded the MJF) expressed concern that in general there were to many jazz festivals; most were having production problems, and losing money, and the whole festival concept might well vanish within the decade. Those other festivals just didn't have the Monterey mystique, that aura which made this one seem so very special - the same magical ambiance that made the Monterey Pops Festival of 1967, held at the same Monterey County Fairgrounds that was the site of the jazz event, seem so "out of this world" to the rock n' roll crowd.

Even before Dizzy Gillespie's 1958 a cappella rendering of The Star Spangled Banner - the first jazz notes blown on the Fairgrounds stage - an unmistakable buzz of excitement ran through the crowd, most of whom were not jazz freaks at all, but boosters of their beloved Monterey -Carmel-Pebble Beach community. Actually, Gillespie was not scheduled for solo honors; Louis Armstrong, the headliner of the first 1958 concert, was supposed to join him. But Satch said "not me," and Diz went on alone.

A Berkeley native, I was an enthusiast for the Monterey-Big Sur area long before the wonders of jazz brightened my teenage years. Before the festival made its debut, I'd already heard jazz in Carmel's Sunset auditorium, where Errol Garner recorded his "Trumpet By The Sea" album in 1955 and trumpeter Marty Marsala's traditional jazzers played two years later. It was the success of the Carmel concerts that encouraged Lyons to canvass the Monterey nusiness community for funds to back a jazz gathering in Monterey. Along the way he gained valuable support from local educators and politicians.

After four decades of autumnal jazz journeys to the Monterey Fairgrounds, I still get the same sort of first-night excitement and anticipation I felt in early October of 1958. As much now as then, I love wandering through the old oak trees; I dig the music that now comes from as many as four satellite stages; I enjoy the crowds young and old, the foods and concessions, and of course, at the core of the festival, the music of the featured Main Stage musicians. The mystique of Monterey still gets to me. The fairgrounds has become my equinoxial home; it is the jazz festival that ends my summer and begins my fall. 1958 was a good year. "The Eisenhower Depression" hadn't yet hi, there was money in the land and LPs by the million were on the nation's turntables.

Long play records taken from tape-recorded masters were ideal for modern jazz renditions as well as for "live" recordings from clubs or concerts. An abundance of issues on old and new jazz labels encouraged the Schwann LP catalog to create a separate "jazz" category.

More cities had more jazz club, than at any time in history, and more bands were traveling to them, booked for a week or more at a time. In the early 1960's the immediate San Francisco area, just a couple of hours drive from the Monterey Peninsula, had a dozen clubs booking "name" bands and groups, some going back into the late 20"s, others from the swing and bebop (and beyond) generations.

The prominent names on the programs for the first few years of the Monterey festival are an astonishing lot. Besides those represented on the initial four tracks of this set, the 1958 roster alone included Armstrong, the Mastersounds, Mel Lewis, Bill Holmes, Sjhelly Manne, Max Roach, Booker Little, Jimmy Guiffre, Jim Hall, Ernestine Anderson, the Modem Jazz Quartet, Cal Tjader, Sonny Rollins, the Harry James Orchestra and more.

That first Festival, despite every problem imaginable - from airplanes overhead to an unwieldy sound system and a top-heavy payroll - managed to clear $600. Hardly enough to repay the dozens of local investors or even to lease the fairground, for 1959. But it surely was an artistic success - "Best jazz festival in the world. " said vibist Milt Jackson. Billie Holiday, only a few months from death, sat in the doorway of her trailer-dressing room, holding her dog and mumbling, "It's sure beautiful here." An unusually relaxed Dave Brubeck took in stride the roaring takeoff of a plane from the nearly airport - a legendary moment heard on Disc One of this collection and recalled in detail by Clint Eastwood elsewhere in these pages. (In later years the festival acquired enough local clout to accomplish the altering of airline schedules for one weekend annually.) Gillespie so enjoyed himself that he became an "artist in residence" at Monterey for years; as did the Modern Jazz Quartet, whose pianist, John Lewis, became the event's Musical Director in 1959 - certainly a new idea for a jazz festival.

"This was the greatest experience of my life," trombonist J.J. Johnson commented after performing in 1959, and singer Jimmy Witherspoon broke down in tears that year as he sang 'Tain't Nobody's Business in the late night drizzle, accompanied by Earl Hines, Ben Webster, Woody Herman and Coleman Hawkins among others. By 1960, Monterey was on a roll. That year Jon Hendricks debuted "Evolution of the Blues Song;" Duke Ellington introduced "Suite Thursday;" the John Coltrane Quartet (plus Eric Dolphy) and the Ornette Coleman Quartet played on the same bill, and each act was given an original introduction composed for the occasion and sung by Lambert, Hendricks and Ross.

As the 60's moved along, more innovations and splendid shows came and went at Monterey, but by the end of the decade there were some signs of discontent. "Too many of the same old musicians." "There's more festival than jazz." Too much drinking in the arena." - all these were frequently heard complaints. But at least the festival survived in the 70's, when most jazz festivals vanished, or at least altered their formats. Younger fans, turned to rock 'n roll; jazz clubs dropped off the map across the country; the Vietnam war, the civil rights, movement and the increase in urban violence were among the signs that many aspects of American life were changing drastically. But the mainstream jazz community, including the Monterey Jazz Festival; continued at the same rather sluggish pace.

The crowds at the festival, were pretty much the same as always ("my family," Lyons called them). The musicians, however, were inevitably drawn from a smaller and smaller pool. Ellington died in 1974; many other older Monterey stars were gone by the early 80's. Ralph Gleason wrote his last comments about his beloved festival in 1972, bemoaning a lack of imagination in booking and noting the dullness of the hard-drinking crowds.

He died in 1975.

Those of us who continued to attend and cover the festival through the 80's were hard pressed to praise the entire weekend, although we always found bright moments; many of which are captured on the second and third discs in this set. But everyone who really cared about jazz knew that the Monterey Jazz Festival would survive, and surely would prosper again, that changing times in music would mean changing times at Monterey. Jimmy Lyons knew it, and so did his Board of Directors.

And so it came to pass.

When Tim Jackson became the festival's General Manager in 1992, he was 37. That made him less than half the age of his predecessor, who was by that time at the very end of a long and distinguished tenure. But Jackson, a musician himself, already had put in 17 years as director of the Kuumbwa Jazz Society in nearby Santa Cruz. He not only knows the 90's jazz scene in its broadest sense, he also understands the musical attitudes and preferences of the younger generations, most of whom had regularly ignored Monterey's jazz events. In his few years at the helm, Jackson has expanded to five the number of simultaneous performing sites at the festival, and has brought in fresh young jazz talent while continuing to present the older giants. We have heard Sonny Rollins still blowing hard, and Wynton Marsalis, Roy Hargrove, Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, and many others playing hot. In addition to presenting world-class jazz groups, the new leadership has also involved local musicians in the MJF'S schedules, has rearranged and refurbished the main performing area with better sound and video screens - and because of all this, has drawn in crowds of young jazz fans.

Just a few years ago, as part of a change of pace program in onee of the festivals smaller new venues, I held a conversation on the state of jazz with veteran record producer and man-about-jazz Orrin Keepnews (who also happens to have joined with Jackson in producing this Monterey compilation). "Do you see jazz dying in the years ahead?" an audience member asked Keepnews.

"How can you kill a spirit or a music?" Keepnews replied.

"Or a mystique," he might have added.

- Phil Elwood

THE MONTEREY JAZZ

Festival has always been something very special for me-and, without taking a poll, for thousands of jazz fans from California and beyond. Monterey (the name of the town alone is enough for insiders to know what you are talking about) is not just about music; it"s about an experience, an opportunity to hang out with like-minded folks on the third weekend in September (except for the first year; when the festival was held early in October) and celebrate jazz in an environment that is both idyllic and pleasingly funky.

Musicians have been sparked by the Festival weekend, too, with its convivial crowds and verdant environment. So many performances have been extraordinary. I'm lucky enough to know firsthand, having made about a dozen visits in all since attending my first Monterey in 1961.

This anthology collects 28 grand moments, starting appropriately in 1958 with founder and longtime general manager Jimmy Lyons welcoming us to the "first annual" festival, followed by Dizzy Gillespie, Monterey"s almost-annual artist-in residence with an unaccompanied national anthem. From that debut year there is also Dave Brubeck with For All We Know, which features his alter ego, Paul Desmond, in a typically understated solo, and Billie Holiday in one of her last major appearances. Billie's slow blues, Fine and Mellow, with subtle contributions by Gerry Mulligan and Buddy DeFranco, aches with Poignancy. Mulligan's spirited Blueport, written by his then trumpeter Art Farmer, is quite another matter, seeming to bound gleefully, driven by the gutsy solos of both horn players.

Although this historice journey proceeds strictly in chronological order, compilation producers Orrin Keepnews and Tito Jackson were primarily concerned with the level of performance, not with any particular tune balance or even spacing between years. Thus there are only four selections from the 60's, but they cover a wide range of superior artistry. Altoist Cannonball Adderley had many fine ensembles, arguably none better than the 1960 outfit heard here playing Frank Rosolino's resilient jazz waltz Blue Daniel. Note the piano solo by the wondrous Victor Feldman. Thelonious Monk's classic blues, Straight No Chaser, was played in 1964 by the pianists quartet augmented by a six-horn group in a Buddy Collette arrangement. Bobby Bryant's trumpet solo has fire, as does the outing by Monk's unique-toned tenorman. Charlie Rouse. Duke Ellington was a festival regular in the early years; a definite highlight of his visits is the 1965 version of Billy Strayhorn's gorgeous ballad, Chelsea Bridge, played with command and heart by tenor saxophonist Paul Gonsalves. That year also provides Charles Mingus' Don't Let It Happen Here. Jimmy Owens on flugelhorn digs way down for this extended improvisation.

From 1971 we have Oscar Peterson"s perky Younger Than Springtime, with dazzling Danish bassist Siels-Henning Orsted Pedersen. Carmen McRae's lovely version of I Wish I Knew is from that same year, with her usual melodic grace supported by the sort of fine house rhythm section typical of Monterey: Nat Pierce, Joe Pass, Ray Brown, and Louie Bellson. Disc One concludes with Dizzy Gillespie's classic Manteca, from 1973. It's his young protege Jon Faddis who delivers the trademark high note trumpet staff; Gillespie's solo is more conversational.

Disc Two opens with another from 1973, the Modern Jazz Quartet playing Monk's ageless love song, 'Round Midnight, with characteristic quiet fire. Milt Jackson's vibes solo exhibits his customary measured brio. This leads us to the lilt of Bill Evans' 1975 version of the Jerome Kern waltz, Up With The Lark, coupling the pianists ever-fluid playing with bassist Eddie Gomez's freely flowing finger work. Then Dizzy returns for a final appearance with a Tribute to Ralph Gleason honoring the recently deceased writer, who was one of Monterey's champions. Gillespie improvises the somber melody, then segues into a dirgelike slow blues for the man who was his friend.

Count basie has a double-play 1977 offering that first spotlights his own piano on Quincy Jones' medium groove blues I needs To be Bee'd With. Then Joe Williams, in a guest shot with his former leader, delivers a powerhouse Goin' To Chicago. From that same year is Benny Golson's Along Came betty by yet another edition of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, this one including robust-toned tenorman David Schnitter, Russian trumpeter Valery Ponomarev, a young Bobby Watson on alto saxophone, and Bud Powell desciple Walter Davis, Jr.

Dexter Gordon, recently returned from lengthy European expatriation, was at Monterey in 1978, employing his resonant baritone speaking voice to introduce his Fried Bananas. There are memorable moments in both Dex's solo and that of ace pianist George cables. A year later, we have a very different tenor saxophonw immortal; Stan Getz, appearing with Woody Herman, with whom he had first gained international renown in the late 40's. Here he is heard on he splendid Michel legrand number, What Are You Doing The Rest Of Your Life? with the consummate warnth that was his gift. Closing the second disc is Freddie Hubbard' in 1980, palting his succulent composition Little Sunflower. In fine form, he gets fat flugelhorn sound and packs his solo with long well-shaped lines.

The final disc begins with Wynton marsali at MJF in 1983, in the intriguing and rarely performed Monk selection Think Of One - the title track of the album which six month later would win him the first of his amny jazz Grammy's©. It's an adventurous outing for the then 22-year old, and Wynton, his tenor-playing brother Branford and pianist Kenny Kirkland all handle themselves with aplomb. From the same weekend comes Sarah Vaughan's moving If You Could See Me Now, the sumpuous Tadd Dameron ballad she first recorded in 1948 - she tells us this - and, happily, kept in her repertoire. Her consummate control and ability to musically emote mark this rendition.

Roy Hargrove's melodically warm,hard-driving treatment of My Shining Hour is from 1992,and it's a Monterey debut for the trumpeter,who would turn 23 a month later. Shirley Horn's upbeat I've Got The World On A String is another evergreen by composer Harold Arlen. In 1994 Horn was in the midst of a tremendous resurgence in her career that had moved well beyond her initial Sixties popularity. Then we segue into Sonny Rollins' minor blues, Keep Hold Of Yourself, from his superb Festival-closing set that year. In typical fashion; Newk uses rhythm as a vehicle here, building his solo with brief roughhouse phrases that pack a percussive wallop.

The following year offers Chick Corea's then-current quartet with Bob Berg, John Patituci, and Gary Novak. They play Gershwin's I Loves You, Porgy (from "Porgy and Bess"); Chick's solo is in a modern yet mellifluous vein; but for me tenor saxophonist Berg steals the rendition with his fluent unaccompanied cadenza. A major young force on that same instrument is Joshua Redman, whose varied set was a 1996 highlight. Here he delivers his finger popper, Home Fries, with strong solos by the leader, Peter Bernstein, and bassist Christopher Thomas. That year's festival closed with Herbie Hancock's quartet, a fitting ending for our compilation. Here the pianist heated up the crowd with one of his longtime favorites, Cantaloupe Island, originally recorded in the 60's when Herbie was first gaining large scale recognition as a member of the miles Davis band. Both the leader and tenorman Craig Handy offer hearty improvisations. If somehow you didn't already know, you now have an idea of the wonders that can happen at Monterey. But, as I have noted, being there is a treat. So if you're not actually reading these notes while sitting under one of the fairgrounds' grand oaks. savoring the misty air off the bay and delighting in the MJF's mad whirl of sounds and humanity, you should be. It's well worth the trip.

- Zan Stewart