Report on ‘Tribute to Jim Hall’ Gig
at The Blue Note Tokyo
by Martin Connolly
2014 1.20 Monday, first show (from 7.00 to 8.15)
Ron Carter, Larry Coryell, Peter Bernstein
Setlist:
1. Alone Together
2. How Deep is the Ocean?
3. Darn That Dream (Peter’s solo piece)
4. Getting Sentimental Over You
5. Blue Monk (Larry’s solo piece, on a Martin acoustic)
6. Receipt, Please
7. St Thomas
8. There Will Never Be Another You
This concert was the first show of the evening, of the second night at
the Blue Note Tokyo. Other shows: 18th, Motion Blue, at the Redbrick Warehouse,
in Yokohama, 24th Blue Note Nagoya, and 26th and 27th, The Cotton Club in Tokyo.
Guitar legend Jim Hall passed away in December of 2013. He and
Ron Carter had been scheduled to play in January at these venues in Japan. Ron
then decided he wanted to play these concerts as a tribute to his great fellow musician
and friend, accompanied by other guitarists. There was some shock at the sudden
passing of Jim, and it took a little while to establish who might step into his shoes
during the Japan tour.
the Blue Note Tokyo. Other shows: 18th, Motion Blue, at the Redbrick Warehouse,
in Yokohama, 24th Blue Note Nagoya, and 26th and 27th, The Cotton Club in Tokyo.
Guitar legend Jim Hall passed away in December of 2013. He and
Ron Carter had been scheduled to play in January at these venues in Japan. Ron
then decided he wanted to play these concerts as a tribute to his great fellow musician
and friend, accompanied by other guitarists. There was some shock at the sudden
passing of Jim, and it took a little while to establish who might step into his shoes
during the Japan tour.
'We can't believe he's not here.'
Ron’s first contact with Jim Hall began, he explained, way back
in 1963, in the Art Farmer band. It was ‘a great band’, but Ron felt compelled
to leave and join Miles in April of ’63. Ron Carter then became an essential
part of jazz history in that famous and highly influential grouping, known as
Miles Davis’s ‘second great quintet’: Miles, Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Tony
Williams, and Ron Carter. Ron and Jim kept in contact, however, and in musical
contact, and ended up releasing their first disc together in the early
seventies. Ron explained all this as he stood, tall and elegant, in the middle
of the Blue Note Tokyo stage –‘our living-room set’, as he joshed. ‘So,’ he
continued, ‘he’s a dear friend… who is not with us anymore. Tonight we’ll play
songs that Jim loved to play, and that I loved playing with him,
and songs that we all enjoyed hearing Jim ruminate over…..’
It was a bittersweet moment for him, and for all there.
The first tune was the title cut from Carter & Hall’s 1973
‘Alone Together’, and it set the timbre for the evening: music that celebrated
–and how!- what Jim & Ron had put together over all those years. Larry
Coryell and Peter Bernstein sat either side of Ron, and you could be forgiven
for thinking all three had an association going back as long as Ron’s with Jim
–they were that together. Peter (at 46, the youngster here) studied under Jim Hall’s tutelage
(and many years before that, under Kenny Burrell), and they performed together on many
occasions. Peter's playing reflected that in every nuance. When Larry was
playing chords, with Ron delivering the smoothest and most textured bass backing
on the planet, Peter came in with melodic lines that were simple in the best
sense: understated eloquence. Later, he played a solo piece by himself –'Darn
That Dream'– with assurance and verve, investing the tune with personality. While
the playing was smooth and flowing, Peter punctuated the flow with little
staggers, sudden crashing runs on the fretboard that recalled Thelonious Monk.
Each tiny break in the flow was a sudden egress of emotion, which was very
affecting. Here was jazz guitar-playing which threw the listener into the world
of the lover, or the dreamer, possessed of joy, hope, and, as the playing suggested, impulse.
What can I say about Ron Carter’s immaculate playing? He was a
beautiful presence in the centre of the stage and the tone he gets from his
double-bass doppelgänger-self-in-wood is a marvel. Timing, swing, faultless
complexity, possessing these in abundance, Ron Carter is the greatest
double-bass player on planet Earth. I know Ron Carter from Billy Cobham’s Spectrum,
Freddie Hubbard’s Red Clay, and from Chet Baker’s You
Can’t Go Home Again, not to mention from Miles and so many
other recordings. His discography is very long, as everyone has always
wanted him on their records –over 2,500 recordings? Isn’t that one for
Guinness? In both Freddie’s and Chet’s albums Ron’s playing is the epitome
of cool, and in the latter, in the opening track, ‘Love for Sale’, Ron
trades off with the great Alphonso Johnson on electric bass. It is one of
the greatest and most dramatic jazz pieces ever played,
and at the same time, it is an elegant battle of the traditional
(double-bass) and the new (electric bass). (They both win.) Ron’s now 76, but
you can’t hear that, and visually his age endows him with grace. He already has
poise in abundance. And groove. What he played on Monday night was pure magic,
and it was a magic enhanced by the love and respect he felt for his departed
friend: ‘I just saw Jim Hall walk across the stage’, Ron said toward the end of the set.
beautiful presence in the centre of the stage and the tone he gets from his
double-bass doppelgänger-self-in-wood is a marvel. Timing, swing, faultless
complexity, possessing these in abundance, Ron Carter is the greatest
double-bass player on planet Earth. I know Ron Carter from Billy Cobham’s Spectrum,
Freddie Hubbard’s Red Clay, and from Chet Baker’s You
Can’t Go Home Again, not to mention from Miles and so many
other recordings. His discography is very long, as everyone has always
wanted him on their records –over 2,500 recordings? Isn’t that one for
Guinness? In both Freddie’s and Chet’s albums Ron’s playing is the epitome
of cool, and in the latter, in the opening track, ‘Love for Sale’, Ron
trades off with the great Alphonso Johnson on electric bass. It is one of
the greatest and most dramatic jazz pieces ever played,
and at the same time, it is an elegant battle of the traditional
(double-bass) and the new (electric bass). (They both win.) Ron’s now 76, but
you can’t hear that, and visually his age endows him with grace. He already has
poise in abundance. And groove. What he played on Monday night was pure magic,
and it was a magic enhanced by the love and respect he felt for his departed
friend: ‘I just saw Jim Hall walk across the stage’, Ron said toward the end of the set.
Larry Coryell is a guitarist I have grown up with, in a sense,
having been listening to him since the mid-seventies, at least. He is, with John
McLaughlin, the co-founder of Jazz-Rock guitar, or even Jazz-Fusion. Larry and John
basically took jazz and looked at it as though it were a pristine piece of clay, yearning to be
modelled into some new and interesting shape. So much else was happening in
music: The Beatles, Dylan, The Beach Boys, rock, heavy rock, pop, folk,
experimental classical, and each in turn was beginning to eclipse jazz as the
‘happening’ idiom of music. Jimi Hendrix was a pioneer of rock, and of guitar,
but it is clear he wanted to also branch out. Yet, his experiments in jazz
did not quite take him where he wanted to go. His early passing
meant the ending of his searching in that direction.
Yet, there were others who were already versed in the idiom of jazz, but not
only. The contribution of John McLaughlin (who once actually jammed with Jimi)
here is well known, but Larry Coryell was also a seminal figure: Jazz-Rock grew
out of what Larry and John were doing. They both have their seminal albums,
and both from 1969: Larry’s is Spaces, (with John, and Chick Corea, Miroslav Vitous and
Billy Cobham, and John’s is Extrapolation (with John Surman, Brian Odges and
Tony Oxley). (Serendipitously, Blue Note played an extract from the latter
just prior to Larry, Ron and Peter taking the stage.)
Both albums map out territory which simply did not exist at that
time, at least for guitar-players. The fast fingering was what grabbed you, but
it was the chordal explorations creating new and unheard-of musical landscapes
which entranced. Larry, however, is not John, and John not Larry; the two soon
developed in different ways, although they did also collaborate famously. The
Guitar Trio, which on record features John, Al DiMeola and Paco de Lucia,
actually began with Larry and John and Paco, and their Albert Hall concert is a
testament to what they shared. Larry is just as complex in many ways as
McLaughlin, but often seemed more drawn toward a blues-rock inflection in his
playing and/or the infusion of something unexpected, usually wild. This was an
aspect of his playing which would garner immediate praise –and hollers of
delight– from the audience, who were very glad for a bit of down-to-earth
twelve-bar in with their complex, complicated, intricate, jazz guitar
offerings. And so, on this evening at the Blue Note Tokyo, when, in the middle
of his solo piece, ‘Blue Monk’, Larry went back to that aspect of himself, and,
in no uncertain terms, just let rip –partially recalling progressive rocker Jan
Akkerman’s recent solo acoustic outpourings– he again earned whoops and cheers
from the audience. I certainly cheered, as he was Larry Coryell, the Larry
Coryell, legend, master, searcher, now 70, but time (unless it’s ‘time’ in a song!)
means very little if you’re a musician.
having been listening to him since the mid-seventies, at least. He is, with John
McLaughlin, the co-founder of Jazz-Rock guitar, or even Jazz-Fusion. Larry and John
basically took jazz and looked at it as though it were a pristine piece of clay, yearning to be
modelled into some new and interesting shape. So much else was happening in
music: The Beatles, Dylan, The Beach Boys, rock, heavy rock, pop, folk,
experimental classical, and each in turn was beginning to eclipse jazz as the
‘happening’ idiom of music. Jimi Hendrix was a pioneer of rock, and of guitar,
but it is clear he wanted to also branch out. Yet, his experiments in jazz
did not quite take him where he wanted to go. His early passing
meant the ending of his searching in that direction.
Yet, there were others who were already versed in the idiom of jazz, but not
only. The contribution of John McLaughlin (who once actually jammed with Jimi)
here is well known, but Larry Coryell was also a seminal figure: Jazz-Rock grew
out of what Larry and John were doing. They both have their seminal albums,
and both from 1969: Larry’s is Spaces, (with John, and Chick Corea, Miroslav Vitous and
Billy Cobham, and John’s is Extrapolation (with John Surman, Brian Odges and
Tony Oxley). (Serendipitously, Blue Note played an extract from the latter
just prior to Larry, Ron and Peter taking the stage.)
Both albums map out territory which simply did not exist at that
time, at least for guitar-players. The fast fingering was what grabbed you, but
it was the chordal explorations creating new and unheard-of musical landscapes
which entranced. Larry, however, is not John, and John not Larry; the two soon
developed in different ways, although they did also collaborate famously. The
Guitar Trio, which on record features John, Al DiMeola and Paco de Lucia,
actually began with Larry and John and Paco, and their Albert Hall concert is a
testament to what they shared. Larry is just as complex in many ways as
McLaughlin, but often seemed more drawn toward a blues-rock inflection in his
playing and/or the infusion of something unexpected, usually wild. This was an
aspect of his playing which would garner immediate praise –and hollers of
delight– from the audience, who were very glad for a bit of down-to-earth
twelve-bar in with their complex, complicated, intricate, jazz guitar
offerings. And so, on this evening at the Blue Note Tokyo, when, in the middle
of his solo piece, ‘Blue Monk’, Larry went back to that aspect of himself, and,
in no uncertain terms, just let rip –partially recalling progressive rocker Jan
Akkerman’s recent solo acoustic outpourings– he again earned whoops and cheers
from the audience. I certainly cheered, as he was Larry Coryell, the Larry
Coryell, legend, master, searcher, now 70, but time (unless it’s ‘time’ in a song!)
means very little if you’re a musician.
Larry Coryell as the player of straight jazz standards was kind of new to
me, I am a little embarrassed to admit, having not followed his career as
consistently as I might have done. I suppose still see him as the 'Godfather of Fusion'.
Yet, here, he played with all the facility, grace and imagination of a latter-day Wes Montgomery,
whether soloing or vamping. When he got most into things, he would accompany himself
with improvised vocalising, which added to the excitement of each moment. But of course, Larry had always been highly conversant with jazz standard playing. While he could play his own
composition ‘Good Citizen Swallow’ with the great (late) bass player
Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen -a must-see on YouTube- he could also play the standard
‘Blues in the Closet’ with him, and be entirely at home in both tunes. Larry’s
collaborations with the great Philip Catherine, of course, while often mapping
out truly new territory, also revisited and reinvigorated a number of jazz
standards, often from the world of Django Rheinhardt. Surely Larry and Philip’s
work was the impetus for the Super Guitar Trio. In Larry Coryell’s guitar
explorations you are likely to hear anything –be it from the classical world (see his 'Bolero'),
or the world of pop or folk (see him on the Old Grey Whistle Test 1975),
and so you just have to as receptive as you can when
watching/listening. I am sure some in the audience were surprised when he really
went for it in his solo piece. It was something else. I was personally delighted.
However, the evening was all about team interplay, and what we
were treated to was so astoundingly realized I was at one point reduced to tears. The three players paid the ultimate compliment to Jim Hall. ‘Receipt, Please’ was beautifully engineered in order to get the most out of its bluesy heart. ‘St Thomas’ lifted us up, with its warmly-felt Calypso rhythms and furious interchange of solos from all three. A sense of joy was in evidence not only in the vibrations in the air, but, most conspicuously, in the smiles the players all wore
as they bopped
and they grooved.
The music of that night will be heard for a very long time.
me, I am a little embarrassed to admit, having not followed his career as
consistently as I might have done. I suppose still see him as the 'Godfather of Fusion'.
Yet, here, he played with all the facility, grace and imagination of a latter-day Wes Montgomery,
whether soloing or vamping. When he got most into things, he would accompany himself
with improvised vocalising, which added to the excitement of each moment. But of course, Larry had always been highly conversant with jazz standard playing. While he could play his own
composition ‘Good Citizen Swallow’ with the great (late) bass player
Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen -a must-see on YouTube- he could also play the standard
‘Blues in the Closet’ with him, and be entirely at home in both tunes. Larry’s
collaborations with the great Philip Catherine, of course, while often mapping
out truly new territory, also revisited and reinvigorated a number of jazz
standards, often from the world of Django Rheinhardt. Surely Larry and Philip’s
work was the impetus for the Super Guitar Trio. In Larry Coryell’s guitar
explorations you are likely to hear anything –be it from the classical world (see his 'Bolero'),
or the world of pop or folk (see him on the Old Grey Whistle Test 1975),
and so you just have to as receptive as you can when
watching/listening. I am sure some in the audience were surprised when he really
went for it in his solo piece. It was something else. I was personally delighted.
However, the evening was all about team interplay, and what we
were treated to was so astoundingly realized I was at one point reduced to tears. The three players paid the ultimate compliment to Jim Hall. ‘Receipt, Please’ was beautifully engineered in order to get the most out of its bluesy heart. ‘St Thomas’ lifted us up, with its warmly-felt Calypso rhythms and furious interchange of solos from all three. A sense of joy was in evidence not only in the vibrations in the air, but, most conspicuously, in the smiles the players all wore
as they bopped
and they grooved.
The music of that night will be heard for a very long time.
Post Script
Ron took a rest, but Peter and Larry came out to meet the people.
I was lucky to get the chance to offer my thanks to Larry. We talked jazz guitar
history, not that he wanted to be seen as some historical figure, far from it:
‘I don’t want to stay in the same place…. I keep searching…’ We talked bass
players, Nils Henning Orsted Petersen (‘NHOP’!) among them: ‘I miss him….Bass
players are my best teachers…’ We talked James Joyce: ‘The Dead’ is the greatest
short story I have ever read’ and ‘the story about Parnell [Ivy Day in the
Committee Room]’ brings tears to my eyes’. I was so glad to hear all this
(a) because I'm Irish and (b) because I have loved Joyce all my life and now do research on him.
Larry's definition of him as a 'genius' sounds fine to me!
I was lucky to get the chance to offer my thanks to Larry. We talked jazz guitar
history, not that he wanted to be seen as some historical figure, far from it:
‘I don’t want to stay in the same place…. I keep searching…’ We talked bass
players, Nils Henning Orsted Petersen (‘NHOP’!) among them: ‘I miss him….Bass
players are my best teachers…’ We talked James Joyce: ‘The Dead’ is the greatest
short story I have ever read’ and ‘the story about Parnell [Ivy Day in the
Committee Room]’ brings tears to my eyes’. I was so glad to hear all this
(a) because I'm Irish and (b) because I have loved Joyce all my life and now do research on him.
Larry's definition of him as a 'genius' sounds fine to me!
I am not sure that what Larry had heard was correct, that James Joyce was a
jazz guitarist (!), but he certainly did have a guitar, and, like all
the greatest jazz musicians, he was a searcher, too. On which note, I
think Larry might appreciate the picture below. I’m sure Jim Hall would
appreciate it, too, or even the other Jim, my brother (of Jim's Garage fame!),
who met Larry so many years ago, and also, like me, grew up with and was
nurtured by the fantastic, wonderful music that jazz could be.
jazz guitarist (!), but he certainly did have a guitar, and, like all
the greatest jazz musicians, he was a searcher, too. On which note, I
think Larry might appreciate the picture below. I’m sure Jim Hall would
appreciate it, too, or even the other Jim, my brother (of Jim's Garage fame!),
who met Larry so many years ago, and also, like me, grew up with and was
nurtured by the fantastic, wonderful music that jazz could be.
..........and a final last post script comment........
I would also like to thank my companions, Bill, Chiharu, and
Takuya, who is also a double-bass-player. He was particularly pleased that Ron
Carter signed a cover of the CD version of ‘Alone Together’ for him. On the album cover
are pictured two small unidentifiable stylized figures each at
different positions within a kind of maze: these of course are Ron and Jim.
Ron, however, drew a line down from his name, and
lassoed the figure in the top half.
So now we know which one is which!