Sippin’ at Bell’s

Here is an unconventional blues from Miles Davis called Sippin’ at Bells.  It comes from his very first session as a leader in 1947 and the band featured Charlie Parker (on tenor!) John Lewis – piano, Nelson Boyd – bass, and Max Roach on drums.

The other tracks are the original Milestones, (Miles would write a second Milestones ten years later – a modal tune based on two chords) Little Willie Leaps (based on the chords of Bronislaw Kaper’s All Gods Children Got Rhythm), and Half Nelson.  All four of the tunes on this date ended up becoming jazz standards.  Jazz musicians throughout the world know them and continue to play them.

Sippin’ at Bells, a 12 bar blues,  is notable for it’s unique, substitute chord laden progression.  Miles begins the song with an F major 7 (instead of a dominant 7) and if that is not radical enough, he immediately diverts to the key of Eb in measure two, using Fm7-Bb7.  In the fifth measure, instead of using the usual IV dominant 7, Davis employs a IV major 7, a striking diversion from the norm.

In 1949 the pianist Bud Powell would record his original, Dance of the Infidels.  Its chord progression is almost identical to that of ‘Bells,’ although its melody is completely different.  Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

I have a dream: A world without booth reviews

Sometimes it feels like I’m on an island.  I am the only one I know who would be happier if the NFL did not use instant replay.  For years we got along without it and we did just fine.  In fact, if you asked to name one important game that was lost due to lack of instant replay I would be stumped.

To be honest I don’t care if the refs get it right or not.  All I want is for the game to keep moving.  I have confidence that the refs are professional enough that they will call the play called correctly over 90% of the time.  That’s enough for me.

How many times are you enjoying an exciting game only to have it interrupted to decide whether or not both of the receiver’s feet were inbounds?  Not only does the game come to a grinding halt but we are then subjected to at least a half-dozen replays.  Not to mention the mind-numbing speculation by the announcer as to the ruling.   By the time the ref gets his ass out from behind the curtain I don’t even care if the call is reversed.  I just to see more of the damn game.

Worse still is when the game gets down to the final two minutes of the 2nd and the 4th quarters, at which point the refs upstairs decide if a play is reviewable.  They always err on the side of caution;  they will call for a booth review if the left tackle so much as sneezes. 

Under the current system it stands to reason that half of the time the call is going to go your way, meaning in favour of the team you’re rooting for, and the other half of the time you’ll be disappointed.  Wouldn’t it be exactly the same without replay?  Sometimes a bad call will go your way, sometimes it won’t.  The only difference is that without replay the game moves at a much faster pace. 

Human error is part of life.  Sometimes imperfections give it character.  I don’t care if Max Roach speeds up and I also don’t care if Chad Ochocinco is inbounds or not!

The first and last word on jazz piano: Bud

There have so many pianists that have shaped the legacy of jazz music but there is one who towers above them all. Without Bud Powell there would be no Wynton Kelley, no Horace Silver, no McCoy Tyner, and no Chick Corea. Certainly Barry Harris, Tommy Flanagan, and Sonny Clark would have sounded much different. Even the pianists you might think are not influenced by Bud, such as Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett, owe a great deal to the master. Early Bill Evans recordings reveal a close stylistic affinity with Powell, and Jarrett has recorded many of Powell’s compositions on his trio dates- enough to let you know that he has more than a passing fancy.

The first Bud record that I owned was s Verve “twofer” called The Genius of Bud Powell, which comprised his trio and solo work from 1949-1951. I was just fifteen, new to jazz, but from the opening off-to-the-races intro of Tempus Fugit, Bud had won yet another disciple.

It would be impossible for me to overstate his importance to jazz pianists. The connection I felt to him was instantaneous and thrilling. These sessions, recorded in such a brief span of time, are the lexicon from which future pianists would study.

His technique is prodigious, but not as frightening and daunting as that of Art Tatum. He’s just mortal enough to allow you to have a smidgen of belief that it is attainable.

The technique, however, is the tip of the iceberg. Check out his clarity of ideas. He rarely repeats himself, even on the extended choruses of All Gods Children Got Rhythm, Tea For Two, and Parisian Thoroughfare. His attack is hard, yet he never forces the beat. He is secure in the center of the beat, rarely clams a note, and is so confident in the up tempo numbers that they hardly sound fast at all – just musical. His ideas, in fact, are so well-formed that he becomes a be-bop impressionist – painting in colors we could not dream of.

These sides, and I’ve heard them hundreds of times, never get old to me. I am as dumbfounded listening to them today as I wax 35 years ago. His ballad playing is like no other pianist I’ve ever heard. Phrases come in clusters, seemingly unrelated to the beat, but that is only an illusion; his time is never less than perfect. He appears to have found a way to use the maximum amount of pedal without ever slurring notes. He is romantic but never scmaltzy.

His personality looms over everything. From the startling originals, Hallucinations and The Fruit, to the clever re-working of the standards Tea For Two and Cherokee, he is in command and the music has such forward momentum that you almost get the feeling that his sidemen – Max Roach and Ray Brown – giants in their own rite, are merely along for the ride. This is bourne out on his solo sides of 1951, in which the tunes are so alluring, and his time so strong that on first listen one can be forgiven for not noticing the absence of a rhythm section!

Bud, you left us far too soon, but thank you for all that you have given us. We can never repay you, and we will never forget you.