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Until he reads it here, James Keepnews,
who graciously provided the above liner notes, will be unaware
that the inspiration for Know It? I Wrote It! came from
an evening we spent together at Sweet Basil in New York
City. (Perhaps the slyboots charge is not entirely unfounded.)
The John Scofield Quartet was on the marquee, and the first
set opened with a medium tempo number. The rhythm section's
broken two feel created a great sense of anticipation, constantly
hinting at a galloping 4/4 but never quite getting there.
Then Dennis Irwin suddenly pedaled a low E (note to jam
band folks: think Phil Bomb) at the same time Bill Stewart
started implying double time on the ride cymbal. They got
back on the two feel, eventually delivered on the promised
four, and everyone went home happy. I also went home with
a kernel of a new tune, the idea of the rhythm section suddenly
pulling away from each other and the feel re-assembling
into something else.
With the tune written, the next
task was to give it a title. I realized the construction
of the tune was similar to a certain style of joke, where
the punch line is obviously thought up first, and the set-up
tailored to fit ("I'm a Frayed Knot," "Rudolph
the Red Knows Rain, Dear"). I trust that most jazz
musicians will recognize "Know It? I Wrote It?"
in the same vein. Maybe I can start a trend here, and future
editions of the Real Book will someday contain such yet-unwritten
gems as "He's Not Our Regular Drummer!", "The
Bad News Is They Saved The Book" and "A Moose
Has The Horns In Front…"
JAY WALK
Jazz musicians need to know how to "play the changes",
but linking scale after scale to chord upon chord is not
in itself enough. Another equally important aspect of the
jazz language is to take the "blues scale" and
make it fit over various chord progressions. (Check out
organ greats like Jimmy McGriff and Chicago-based Chris
Foreman if you're not sure what I mean.) Countless tunes,
from "I Got Rhythm" to "Cherokee" to
"Easy Living" have sections that can be treated
with the "blues scale". One famously challenging
progression that can't, however, is John Coltrane's "Giant
Steps". Or can it? That's what I set out to explore.
I'll admit that the progression I used isn't precisely the
Coltrane cycle, and the melody isn't exactly the blues scale,
but I consider the expedition a success nonetheless.
In considering a title, I remembered
that my first exposure to "Giant Steps" (played
as a waltz!) "Central Park West" and other great
tunes came from hearing J.R. Monterose play in clubs around
the Utica area. I was fortunate to be able to study with
J.R., and will always be grateful for the inspiration and
encouragement he gave me, so this tune is dedicated to him.
Coincidentally, the night before the recording session,
Jimmy and I were judges in the J.R. Monterose Memorial Scholarship
Competition, and Rick was the house accompanist.
SMALL DOSES
Until they recently closed their doors, Small's in the West
Village was home to the until-6 a.m. jam session. Like all
jam sessions, it had its moments, both good and bad (O.K.,
some jam session's moments are all bad.) On one particular
evening, the house rhythm section kept going to a McCoy/Elvin
style bag on every tune, whether it was "Passion Dance"
or "Pennies From Heaven." I was hanging out with
no-nonsense Brooklyn drummer Chuck Ferrugia, and we settled
back and listened as each chorus was taken further and further
out. At one point, I remarked "I don't know what they
could do to get further out than that," and Chuck replied
"Well, they could swing." I began to kick around
the idea of loose/out A- sections and a hard swinging bridge.
The tune, as originally conceived, was a lot more obvious,
WAY out on the A-sections, but it felt too forced. It seemed
to flow better with a gentler transition between the sections.
This way, I felt we captured the spirit of the original
idea, without it sounding like an exercise.
ESPECIALLY WHEN IT RAINS
The most personal tune of the bunch, and anyone who needs
to know what the title means already does. Musically, the
tune kind of fell out all at once, melody and harmony together,
with no particular agenda other than to capture the mood
I was in.
STELLA BY STARTLIGHT
A staple for jazz musicians in general and guitarists in
particular, this is my take on the classic tune. I assure
anyone who pays attention to these things that any homage
to Carmen Caramanica is advertent indeed.
BALLAD
The story here is what the title is not. With the jam band
Ant Ester, we followed a typical formula for closing a show:
At the end of the last set, the house lights would come
up, and it's "Goodnight, Herkimer! (Collective audience
sigh) "Unless the management lets us do one more! (Collective
audience cheer.) Then we'd play a short uptempo number and
segue into a slow, easy one, giving everybody a chance to
wind down before turning them loose on the outside world.
(I would always picture Bugs Bunny, floating out of the
castle on a cloud of ether, pursued by the Mad Scientist:
"Come back here, you rab-bit.") As we moved toward
doing more original material, I came up with a sort of a
cross between Steve Khan's "Dr. Slump" and the
Grateful Dead's "Across the Rio-Grand-ee-o" to
end the night. In honor of its role, we started calling
it "Finish Your Beer and Beat It." Ant Ester soon
imploded, but I didn't want to give up the tune entirely.
Jazz gigs tend toward somewhat less booze-fueled audience
mayhem (generally), so "Finish Your Beer" fit
better as a mid-set ballad than a closer. Only now, the
title made absolutely no sense. And nothing else I thought
of fit. So that's my Ballad and I'm sticking to it.
FAT CAT
This was originally written as an exercise, using lydian
chords descending in minor thirds over the A sections of
rhythm changes. It was fine as exercises went, but when
I brought the line down an octave, played it over a Bb7
vamp, and took some liberties with the bridge, it became
a tune of its own. As I was trying to notate the melody,
my 20-pound orange monster named "Dizzy" kept
jumping up to sit on the manuscript paper, no doubt fearing
that frivolous pursuits such as composition might distract
me from the more pressing issues of the day, foremost being
the level of food in the bowl. As I hesitate to reward this
attempted feline distraction with full title credit, I'll
offer a tip of the hat to Mike "Fat Time" Stern
and all the great gigs I caught at the 55 Bar as well.
NOW YOU'VE DONE IT
Some tunes make me feel claustrophobic, like every chord
change pulls in tighter and tighter until the tune wants
to collapse inward. Others, Like "Stella" and
"Falling Grace", seem to constantly open up. I
set out to craft a melody and progression with that "opening
up" in mind. The title reflects my realization that
once having written the tune, I would need to learn to blow
on it. It takes a few left turns along the way.
IN YOUR OWN SWEET WAY
The weekend before the record date, the trio played two
nights at Hamilton College's "Jazz in the Valley"
festival, alongside artists Chucho Valdez and Carmen Caramanica.
This was a tune that Rick thought went especially well,
so he suggested for in the studio.
CAN'T BUY ME LOVE
Credit here is shared by David Baker and Rick Montalbano.
At the end of the session, David said, "The record
still needs..." and trailed off, making a face and
snapping his fingers. Rick was able to translate this instantly
to mean "a great organ-trio arrangement of a classic
Beatles tune." We talked through it and twenty minutes
later we walked out the studio door, still in time to get
beans-and-greens at the Franklin Hotel.
Paul Kogut
August, 2003 |