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Smalls Records
Nate DorwardMitch Borden’s Smalls
jazz club earned a reputation in the 1990s as a hotbed for New York’s
jazz talent, especially through its till-dawn jam sessions. It was a place
where older, little-celebrated players like Frank Hewitt, Gil Coggins,
Charles Davis, John Mosca, and Harry Whitaker crossed paths with a younger
generation. Some of the younger players – Kurt Rosenwinkel, Mark
Turner, Brad Mehldau, Omer Avital, and Greg Tardy, for instance –
were snapped up by the major record labels, but many other fine musicians
went unsigned. The new Smalls Records label, owned and run by Luke Kaven,
a dedicated fan of the club and its musicians, has begun to remedy the
situation; the catalogue has already grown to ten releases since the label’s
start in 2004.
Much of the buzz around the label has concerned bebop pianist Frank Hewitt
(1935-2002). A seasoned veteran of the New York scene, Hewitt played with
Coltrane, Dinah Washington, and Billie Holiday, was at one point part
of the Living Theater’s production of The Connection, and was a
member of pianist/educator Barry Harris’s coterie. But he remained
largely overlooked, despite Smalls’ enthusiastic support (he played
there several times a week), and the end was very hard indeed: frequently
homeless, he often took refuge in Smalls’ decommissioned walk-in
freezer. Legendary figures often shrink to lifesize once recorded evidence
surfaces, but the posthumous release of Hewitt’s trio discs We Loved
You (SRCD-0001) and Not Afraid to Live (SRCD-0007) confirmed that he was
indeed a neglected master, a lyrical visionary of bebop piano in the tradition
of Powell, Monk and Elmo Hope. The newest Hewitt release, Four Hundred
Saturdays (SRCD-0010), documents one of his regular Saturday-night quintet
performances at Smalls. Alto saxophonist Mike Mullins and tenor saxophonist
Chris Byars join Hewitt’s usual rhythm section of bassist Ari Roland
and drummer Jimmy Lovelace; though Mullins is somewhat uneven, Byars turns
in an exceptional performance: elegant, hardswinging, full of “how’d
he do that?” harmonic moves. Across four long tracks – “Lullaby
in Rhythm,” “Blue Gardenia,” “Oblivion,”
and “Manteca” – the music at times virtually levitates.
(Byars is also co-leader of Across 7 Street, whose Made in New York [SRCD-0002]
was reviewed in Coda 320.)
Other releases have focussed on younger players. William Ash’s The
Phoenix (SRCD-0006) is a classic Wes Montgomery-style guitar trio: no
surprises here, but Ash inhabits the style so strongly that the results
are a small gem. Drummer Ari Hoenig’s The Painter (SRCD-0004) is
a live date featuring pianist Jean-Michel Pilc: his keyboard-swamping
virtuosity is fun but overbearing, and the real reason to hear the disc
is Hoenig, whose freakish ability to play melodies on the drumkit gets
an impressive showing on “Summertime.” The Darkling Thrush
(SRCD-0005) is a showcase for the young vocalist Sasha Dobson. She’s
a likeable singer though still not quite there yet; the greatest attraction
is again Chris Byars, who arranged the charts and leads the eight-piece
band. Saxophonist Ned Goold’s The Flows (SRCD-0003) is a scrapbook
of live trio performances; it’s difficult music, but Goold’s
Rubik’s Cube harmonic approach and crisp Charlie Rouse-influenced
playing make this one of strongest items in the catalogue.
The most intriguing recent Smalls releases are two idiosyncratic debut
albums. Pianist Sacha Perry is a remarkable composer, his dark-but-jaunty
sensibility recalling Herbie Nichols. The tunes on Perry’s trio
disc Eretik (SRCD-0009) seem perpetually to head in several directions
at once, as if saying, “when you come to a fork, take it!”
As a soloist he’s lyrical and curiously meticulous, as if patiently
threading a line through the tune’s labyrinth. He relies too heavily
at times on a few favourite stock phrases, but that’s the only blemish
on an exceptional disc.
Neal Caine’s Backstabber’s Ball (SRCD-0008) has a slightly
offbeat lineup: a two-tenor front-line of Ned Goold and Stephen Riley,
Caine’s deep-toned bass (he plays unamplified), and Jason Marsalis’s
unobtrusively ingenious drumming. Caine and Goold recently visited Toronto
to perform with Quintet Sperandei: discussing this album, Caine remarked,
“a lot of times ‘loud’ and ‘busy’ are mistaken
for ‘hip’ and ‘energetic.’ And really it’s
more about creating space and having a whole texture of emotions and feelings
from soft to loud.” The hushed dynamics, lack of a harmony instrument,
and spare, eloquent compositions suggest the classic Gerry Mulligan quartets,
but the album resists pigeonholing: it’s gentle, emotionally open
music, balanced between folksong honesty and bubbling wit. For all its
discreetness, the music can be genuinely ecstatic. Of the current Smalls
catalogue, this is the strongest of the non-Hewitt releases, and it’s
among the year’s best jazz albums so far.
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