MP3 Roberto Magris Trio - Kansas City Outbound
Straight-Ahead Jazz, rearranged standards, original compositions
12 MP3 Songs in this album (65:39) !
Related styles: JAZZ: Hard Bop, JAZZ: Traditional Jazz Combo
People who are interested in Oscar Peterson Ahmad Jamal Andrew Hill should consider this download.
Details:
As musical relationships go, the one between pianist
Roberto Magris and bassist-turned-psychologist Art
Davis was short, but intense and oh so sweet.
They met in Los Angeles – Davis’ adopted home since
1986 – in October 2006, when Magris’ agent Paul
Collins secured him a number of dates in the U.S.
Davis – who continued to keep a full schedule as a
bassist in addition to teaching and running a non-profit
organization – joined the pianist’s quartet for two
evenings at Catalina’s Jazz Club in Hollywood. They
played a third time in a trio at the Jazz Bakery, and
wrapped up with a set of duets in Santa Monica, where
Davis had a long-standing Sunday gig at the Ritz
Carlton.
“It all turned out very cool, onstage and offstage,”
recalls Magris. “On one side I think that Dr. Art felt my
awareness, respect and knowledge of the jazz
tradition, and on the other side I felt that he really
appreciated my pianism.”
Magris returned to his home in Italy, but eight months
later he reunited with the 72-year-old bassist in Kansas
City, along with drummer Jimmy “Junebug” Jackson –
the 21-year veteran of life on the road with B-3 master
Jimmy Smith. Together, they played a tribute to the
recently departed Jay McShann at the American Jazz
Museum and reconvened the following day in the
studio.
The title track catches Magris in a John Coltrane state
of mind, improvising with some dark, dense chords
reminiscent of McCoy Tyner and drawing Davis back to
his collaboration with Trane on Africa/Brass,
Ascension, Olé! Coltrane and the alternate takes of A
Love Supreme. With a muscular tone and unerring,
majestic touch, Davis reminds us why he was the only
bassist with an open invitation to jam with Trane’s
classic quartet, and an ongoing favorite of Alice
Coltrane’s after her husband’s death.
Magris says he chose “I Fall In Love Too Easily” to take
advantage of Davis’ “slow, rolling walk,” which is much
in evidence here – stark contrast to the pianist’s
angular phrasing and unexpected accents.
The otherworldly introduction to “Iraqi Blues” seems to
speak to lost souls, and Magris says: “There is no
political statement behind the title except the aim to
recall the memory of people who died there, no matter
who was right and who was wrong.” A strong
touchpoint in his conception was Stanley Cowell’s
1969 “Blues For The Viet Cong.”
Billy Strayhorn’s gorgeous “A Flower Is A Lovesome
Thing” was brought to mind by Davis’ recording of it
with Herbie Hancock on the bassist’s 1995 recording A
Time Remembered. Magris’ solo take on it is rendered
stately and timeless by his extraordinarily precise
fingering and light touch.
The scene shifts to the next day – when the young
Kansas City-based drummer Zack Albetta joined
Magris and Davis – and, as before, Magris opens the
session with an improvisation that he relates to the
influence of Denny Zeitlin.
When he recorded it on his 1978 Artists House album
From California With Love Andrew Hill rendered his
composition “Reverend Du Bop” as a meandering
abstraction. Here, Magris tightens the focus while
respecting Hill’s signature obtuse angles. Davis is
extremely judicious in his note selection before
switching to arco for one piquant chorus.
“Rainbow Eyes” is dedicated to the pianist’s beloved,
and again, Strayhorn’s influence is much in evidence.
Strays for lovers? Always.
Davis sets out the theme of Thelonious Monk’s
“Bemsha Swing,” and the trio (with Jackson back on
drums) bounces it between them – having so much
fun, says Magris, that they almost forgot the
arrangement they had worked out.
“Lonely Woman” – Benny Carter’s, not Ornette
Coleman’s – was a gift left to Magris by saxophonist
Herb Geller after they recorded the 2003 Soul Note
release Il Bello Del Jazz together. He plays it pretty
here; edging toward a stride style with deliberate
phrasing.
Davis begins “Darn That Dream” with a distractedsounding
solo – like a man waking from confusing
sleep – and he continues to set up tension through the
piece with accompaniment that slips out of phase with
Magris’ lead.
“Alone Together” is the sound of a band grooving hard.
Davis is way up in the mix, setting a bustling pace and
swinging effortlessly.
“Bye Bye Baby” maintains the pace, with Magris
striking an unusually bravura stance that finds him
chewing up the changes like Oscar Peterson as he
duets with Albetta.
Peterson, Tyner, Cowell, Hill, Monk, Ellington… the roll
call of great pianists present in spirit in Kansas City on
these two days continues with one other who Davis felt
Magris conjured the first time they met: “the Legendary
Hassan.” Hassan Ibn Ali (born William Langford in
1931) is little more than a legend a couple of decades
after his death. His recorded legacy is a mere single
disc made with Davis and drummer Max Roach in
1964 and released under Roach’s name. A second
recording with saxophonist Odean Pope was never
released and the tapes are rumored to have been lost
in a fire. But, like Robert Johnson, Hassan’s legacy
can’t be contained by two shadowy recording
sessions. A ubiquitous – albeit mysterious – figure on
Philadelphia’s jazz scene in the ‘50s, Hassan is
credited by Coltrane biographer Lewis Porter with
opening the saxophonist’s ears to new harmonic
possibilities. Jimmy Heath has said, “Hassan was
Cecil Taylor before Cecil Taylor.”
“’You play like Hassan,’ Dr. Art told me,” says Magris.
“’Your sound and concept remind me of him.’ I’d never
heard the name before. I’d completely missed him,
even though I’d listened to most of the pianists from the
history of jazz, and studied many of them, too. When I
was a young musician I learned day by day, listening to
LPs and checking out names and styles, including
some of the most obscure and forgotten ones, but I’d
never heard of Hassan. Dr. Art said that the session
with Hassan was one of the best sessions he ever
played.”
Art Davis’ words carried authority, just like the man
himself carried authority. His stand against
discrimination at the New York Philharmonic shone a
light on the continuing racism in U.S. symphonies, and
his application of cello fingering to the double bass
helped revolutionize the way the instrument was
played. A giant figure, Davis died just three weeks after
this, his last recording session.
“I still keep the image of him standing in the studio in
front of me,” says Magris. “I am very proud to have
shared a stage with him and to have these recordings.
I think that Hassan and Max Roach would enjoy them.”
James Hale
James Hale is a regular contributor to DownBeat
and Signal To Noise, and the co-author of The
Billboard Illustrated Encyclopedia of Jazz & Blues.