All About Larry Coryell, pt 1.
.... a few pages to show my appreciation
for one of the world's greatest musicians,
the one & only Larry Coryell
for one of the world's greatest musicians,
the one & only Larry Coryell
Thinking about Larry...
I saw Larry Coryell in 2014 at the Blue Note in Tokyo. He was a member of the trio commemorating Jim Hall, who had passed away the previous year. In fact, this gig was supposed to be Jim’s, so Larry was effectively sitting in for him. Ron Carter was the bassist, who had played for decades with Jim. The other guitarist was Jim Hall’s protege and co-collaborator, Peter Bernstein. I didn’t grow up listening to Jim Hall unfortunately, but I did listen to Larry and loved his playing and compositions down the years. He had always inspired me. I jumped at the chance to see him in person, with apologies to Jim!
At the end of the gig, Larry came out and just stood in the area where people would come and go. He just stood there, making himself available to anyone who wanted to go up and say hello. It’s not something I’ve seen so often. Musicians sometimes gather in a special place after the whole gig is finished with the expectation to sign CDs which guests have bought. Signing and pressing the flesh and exchanging brief words between artist and fan, that kind of thing. This wasn’t that. This was just Larry standing and making himself available to anyone who wanted to speak to him. It was great of him to do so. I guess it shows how much he liked people, and loved his fans, or fans of good music. He was happy to connect.
I have since written about our short meeting there [see here], and just wanted to re-mention this as a way into talking about Larry from a perspective a few years hence. That time was 2014. Now is 2021, one year on and counting of the pandemic which has devastated so many people’s lives, and the careers of many, including the careers of so many musicians. Back in 2014, we could happily approach this person and that, shake hands, talk together at the relatively short distance which always seemed normal. Oh, for life to return to normal and for musicians to be able to do what they do -making people happy! Alas, Larry’s chance to do that in person ended on February 19, 2017, when he passed away from heart failure. He had played the previous two nights at the Iridium Jazz Club in Manhattan, New York. He had been making people happy, as he always had. His death was a profound loss for the world. For the world of jazz, the world of music, and the world in whatever sense -Larry was a force for good, and for peace and love and understanding. He embodied compassion and love in his playing and in his life.
His playing in that 2014 Tokyo gig was superlative. He owned the songs, along, of course, with the other members. An aspect of Larry Coryell I hadn’t been properly aware of was his mastery of jazz standards. Now, having had the chance to step out a little and listen to what I obviously hadn’t, I’m shocked by my ignorance. My image of Larry Coryell music was the stuff he composed himself, more or less -all the funky fusion stuff, often on electro-acoustic. For the last few years now I’ve been listening to his interpretations of classic tunes like ‘Round Midnight, Blue Monk, Joy Spring, Sophisticated Lady etc.. I kicked myself for not knowing much about this side of him, and kicked myself even harder for not being acquainted with all the music he had been making. I had been subsisting on the occasional gems I had loved down through the years -his work with Philip Catherine, his participation in the Meeting of the Spirits video with John McLaughlin and Paco de Lucia and this bit and that. There was nothing orderly or formal about the way I had engaged with Larry’s music. Now when I look at things, I’m shocked and flabbergasted at my ignorance. But it is an ignorance which has as its silver lining the prospect of vast explorations to come.
We corresponded a little by email after that meeting. He was so enthusiastic about the preparations for his War & Peace opera, to be debuted in, of all places, Moscow! I loved that he loved Tolstoy’s masterpiece and had created his own work inspired by and dedicated to it. Being a lit guy myself, I loved that he loved literature. We talked about James Joyce and he asked me to send him a copy of Dubliners. I did so, along with a recording of music played by an Irish classical guitarist, the final track of which showcases a piece played on Joyce’s own guitar. Larry would occasionally send me comments or questions on Joyce’s stories. I loved that he loved Joyce. (I was entranced to hear, at his passing, that he had been working on an opera based upon Joyce’s Ulysses, and so disappointed that he hadn’t been able to finish it. I wonder what progress she did make… I would love to know.) Anyway, here I was in 2014 and after, interacting with this genius musician about music and about literature -I felt that I must be dreaming. The dream aspect intensified when, a year or so later, he sent me praise for a little recording I’d made for him on Soundcloud entitled ‘Blues for Larry’ [see the page in this site for 'Machrijam' CD]. It was hardly anything to write home about, but Larry was generous, and his words made me feel truly happy, and gave me a measure of confidence that I might not otherwise possess. It was in line with everything I knew about him. Larry was a truly warm and beautiful person. I think that personal warmth and inner beauty and intelligence really comes out in his playing and in all his work. As I get older, I tend to find myself listening to Larry’s music more and more. I find the kind of intense powerhouse jazz-rock kind of vibe I grew up on a little less my kind of thing, or within it, it is the quieter aspects which attract. What I appreciate now is warmth, subtlety and purity of passion in the contact between the fingers, or the pick, and the strings. And hey, it’s also nice to hear a guitarist voice-scat along with things, too, as does George Benson, and as does Larry Coryell. As in the Jim Hall Tribute gig, what delight it was to see Larry so intent on his groove to be singing along with whatever notes his busy fingers were making!
Along with those qualities, one would have to add humour. Yes, humour. Or this sense of playfulness, this sense of mischievousness, with more than a little wildness thrown in. That’s what I hear in Larry’s play. That’s what entertains and makes me want to get up and holler, or dance, or clap my goddamn hands in delight.
What a wide avenue he walked. If he was creating and performing this opera about the human condition and the folly of war, he was also creating and performing this funky get-down and shake your boody vibe in the album Heavy Feel, issued in 2015. What an album that is, and what an album that is for a veteran jazzer to bring out. It sounds like something from the 1960s. It is alive. It is electric. It is punkish. It is radical. It is so rock! He sounds like he did when he started out. This from the man who plays a tribute to Jim Hall with Ron Carter and Peter Bernstein in a trad bebop near-acoustic jazz mode. Basically, what I didn’t know when I met him was that Larry Coryell was not in any kind of retrospective mode. He was not resting on his laurels -not even close to it. Larry Coryell was, until the very end of his amazing life, creating music in various avenues, often simultaneously, engaged with the muse in the vastness of musical creativity he was gifted with. As Roman Miroshnichenko, the Russian guitarist who worked with Larry in the performance of War & Peace stated: - ‘Every time I play with Larry the only thing I can say to myself is: how he can be so incredibly brilliant and overfull of ideas!’ It is remarkable that Larry was ‘overfull of ideas’. He had always been so, too. In his autobiography, Larry talks about the ‘60s and how he would embrace whatever was ‘happening’, ‘combining, say, George Harrison’s guitar sound with the saxophone lines of John Coltrane. Crazy? You bet!’ Larry combined everything that he felt could be combined, and made a career of it. It’s not for nothing that he’s dubbed the Godfather of Fusion.
Time is a concept musicians have learnt to not fear. There is no past, except that which cedes rich complexity to one’s present journey. There is only now. Larry manipulated time within the narrative of whatever song he was journeying through, be it with a touch of syncopation or a gravity-defying run of notes. He also manipulated time in the sense that he was always in touch with whatever he encountered. He didn’t lose musical ideas as time went on. He accumulated them and employed them in such a way as to layer his playing with richness and depth.
I also love that Larry loved the blues. He was a jazz guitarist who knew the importance of the blues. It corralled the visionary in him and said, Man, that’s good, but don’t you forget the roots of popular music. Don’t you worry, Larry would say. Listen to this! [……to resounding applause after he’d wowed everyone with his blue-notes agogo] Check out 'Jemin-Eye'n' in the recording he made with Philip just a few weeks before he passed away. Which is ANOTHER example of how Larry was doing so much right up until he left us.
You know what, I don’t know what to say about Larry Coryell. He is just a genius person who made genius music that will last forever. I can’t express how sad I am that he passed away. The only consolation for those who knew him and loved him and know and love his music is that we can all do it together. And, as he would search, always search in his music, we can explore, always explore the beauty in his music.
At the end of the gig, Larry came out and just stood in the area where people would come and go. He just stood there, making himself available to anyone who wanted to go up and say hello. It’s not something I’ve seen so often. Musicians sometimes gather in a special place after the whole gig is finished with the expectation to sign CDs which guests have bought. Signing and pressing the flesh and exchanging brief words between artist and fan, that kind of thing. This wasn’t that. This was just Larry standing and making himself available to anyone who wanted to speak to him. It was great of him to do so. I guess it shows how much he liked people, and loved his fans, or fans of good music. He was happy to connect.
I have since written about our short meeting there [see here], and just wanted to re-mention this as a way into talking about Larry from a perspective a few years hence. That time was 2014. Now is 2021, one year on and counting of the pandemic which has devastated so many people’s lives, and the careers of many, including the careers of so many musicians. Back in 2014, we could happily approach this person and that, shake hands, talk together at the relatively short distance which always seemed normal. Oh, for life to return to normal and for musicians to be able to do what they do -making people happy! Alas, Larry’s chance to do that in person ended on February 19, 2017, when he passed away from heart failure. He had played the previous two nights at the Iridium Jazz Club in Manhattan, New York. He had been making people happy, as he always had. His death was a profound loss for the world. For the world of jazz, the world of music, and the world in whatever sense -Larry was a force for good, and for peace and love and understanding. He embodied compassion and love in his playing and in his life.
His playing in that 2014 Tokyo gig was superlative. He owned the songs, along, of course, with the other members. An aspect of Larry Coryell I hadn’t been properly aware of was his mastery of jazz standards. Now, having had the chance to step out a little and listen to what I obviously hadn’t, I’m shocked by my ignorance. My image of Larry Coryell music was the stuff he composed himself, more or less -all the funky fusion stuff, often on electro-acoustic. For the last few years now I’ve been listening to his interpretations of classic tunes like ‘Round Midnight, Blue Monk, Joy Spring, Sophisticated Lady etc.. I kicked myself for not knowing much about this side of him, and kicked myself even harder for not being acquainted with all the music he had been making. I had been subsisting on the occasional gems I had loved down through the years -his work with Philip Catherine, his participation in the Meeting of the Spirits video with John McLaughlin and Paco de Lucia and this bit and that. There was nothing orderly or formal about the way I had engaged with Larry’s music. Now when I look at things, I’m shocked and flabbergasted at my ignorance. But it is an ignorance which has as its silver lining the prospect of vast explorations to come.
We corresponded a little by email after that meeting. He was so enthusiastic about the preparations for his War & Peace opera, to be debuted in, of all places, Moscow! I loved that he loved Tolstoy’s masterpiece and had created his own work inspired by and dedicated to it. Being a lit guy myself, I loved that he loved literature. We talked about James Joyce and he asked me to send him a copy of Dubliners. I did so, along with a recording of music played by an Irish classical guitarist, the final track of which showcases a piece played on Joyce’s own guitar. Larry would occasionally send me comments or questions on Joyce’s stories. I loved that he loved Joyce. (I was entranced to hear, at his passing, that he had been working on an opera based upon Joyce’s Ulysses, and so disappointed that he hadn’t been able to finish it. I wonder what progress she did make… I would love to know.) Anyway, here I was in 2014 and after, interacting with this genius musician about music and about literature -I felt that I must be dreaming. The dream aspect intensified when, a year or so later, he sent me praise for a little recording I’d made for him on Soundcloud entitled ‘Blues for Larry’ [see the page in this site for 'Machrijam' CD]. It was hardly anything to write home about, but Larry was generous, and his words made me feel truly happy, and gave me a measure of confidence that I might not otherwise possess. It was in line with everything I knew about him. Larry was a truly warm and beautiful person. I think that personal warmth and inner beauty and intelligence really comes out in his playing and in all his work. As I get older, I tend to find myself listening to Larry’s music more and more. I find the kind of intense powerhouse jazz-rock kind of vibe I grew up on a little less my kind of thing, or within it, it is the quieter aspects which attract. What I appreciate now is warmth, subtlety and purity of passion in the contact between the fingers, or the pick, and the strings. And hey, it’s also nice to hear a guitarist voice-scat along with things, too, as does George Benson, and as does Larry Coryell. As in the Jim Hall Tribute gig, what delight it was to see Larry so intent on his groove to be singing along with whatever notes his busy fingers were making!
Along with those qualities, one would have to add humour. Yes, humour. Or this sense of playfulness, this sense of mischievousness, with more than a little wildness thrown in. That’s what I hear in Larry’s play. That’s what entertains and makes me want to get up and holler, or dance, or clap my goddamn hands in delight.
What a wide avenue he walked. If he was creating and performing this opera about the human condition and the folly of war, he was also creating and performing this funky get-down and shake your boody vibe in the album Heavy Feel, issued in 2015. What an album that is, and what an album that is for a veteran jazzer to bring out. It sounds like something from the 1960s. It is alive. It is electric. It is punkish. It is radical. It is so rock! He sounds like he did when he started out. This from the man who plays a tribute to Jim Hall with Ron Carter and Peter Bernstein in a trad bebop near-acoustic jazz mode. Basically, what I didn’t know when I met him was that Larry Coryell was not in any kind of retrospective mode. He was not resting on his laurels -not even close to it. Larry Coryell was, until the very end of his amazing life, creating music in various avenues, often simultaneously, engaged with the muse in the vastness of musical creativity he was gifted with. As Roman Miroshnichenko, the Russian guitarist who worked with Larry in the performance of War & Peace stated: - ‘Every time I play with Larry the only thing I can say to myself is: how he can be so incredibly brilliant and overfull of ideas!’ It is remarkable that Larry was ‘overfull of ideas’. He had always been so, too. In his autobiography, Larry talks about the ‘60s and how he would embrace whatever was ‘happening’, ‘combining, say, George Harrison’s guitar sound with the saxophone lines of John Coltrane. Crazy? You bet!’ Larry combined everything that he felt could be combined, and made a career of it. It’s not for nothing that he’s dubbed the Godfather of Fusion.
Time is a concept musicians have learnt to not fear. There is no past, except that which cedes rich complexity to one’s present journey. There is only now. Larry manipulated time within the narrative of whatever song he was journeying through, be it with a touch of syncopation or a gravity-defying run of notes. He also manipulated time in the sense that he was always in touch with whatever he encountered. He didn’t lose musical ideas as time went on. He accumulated them and employed them in such a way as to layer his playing with richness and depth.
I also love that Larry loved the blues. He was a jazz guitarist who knew the importance of the blues. It corralled the visionary in him and said, Man, that’s good, but don’t you forget the roots of popular music. Don’t you worry, Larry would say. Listen to this! [……to resounding applause after he’d wowed everyone with his blue-notes agogo] Check out 'Jemin-Eye'n' in the recording he made with Philip just a few weeks before he passed away. Which is ANOTHER example of how Larry was doing so much right up until he left us.
You know what, I don’t know what to say about Larry Coryell. He is just a genius person who made genius music that will last forever. I can’t express how sad I am that he passed away. The only consolation for those who knew him and loved him and know and love his music is that we can all do it together. And, as he would search, always search in his music, we can explore, always explore the beauty in his music.
We can continue our appreciation and love of Larry Coryell and his music at the great Facebook site created by and curated by the woman who loved him and was his wife in the latter years of his life, Tracey Coryell -the Larry Coryell Appreciation Society. We can go there and share images and memories of the man and discuss what we liked and talk about the merits of this record and that. And in doing so, we can be part of the community that is close to Larry and Larry's music and loves what he achieved. Larry lives!
On a personal artistic note.... I would like to say that Larry's playing influences my own, even if everything I do is unlearnt and I can basically only play my own stuff. (My 'Machrijazz' album owes a certain something to Larry, so I am glad to think of him as my remote 'sensei'.) But not only that. I feel that Larry's approach to guitar is an artistic approach which I also embrace in writing. The principle is simple: know your territory, and be bold when you make your mark. Bold doesn't have to mean hard. It means grab your listener, or reader, at the very first note, or word, and make what you say next of relevance or dramatic interest to that person. It is also essential to make clear your character, or, how can I say it, your voice. If the voice in which you make your piece heard, or read, has a character-full timbre, something confident of itself without being brash, then it will tickle the interest of the listener, or reader. Put it like this: it doesn't take long to identify who's playing the guitar when it's Larry Coryell doing the playing. We recognize him as a friend, one who will guide us through the narrative, and entertain us. As he would say, imitation can be a great way to learn, but you need to jettison that if you want to be original. Whatever Larry plays, he owns. (And then gifts to us...)
By the way... I lead a secret triple life as university professor in Japan, a solo artist by the name of 'Machrijam' and a writer of poetry and stories. In my 2017 fantasy-comedy novel The Conjuring Cowboy, I make mention of a number of musicians, including Larry. And in my upcoming novel, which is set in Belfast in 1979, there is an extended scene in which a character buys a vinyl copy of Larry Coryell and Philip Catherine's Splendid, much to his delight...
And just hot off the press... an original poem about vinyl records... just click here.
Martin Connolly May 3rd, 2021
Click for pt.2