Jazz. Back when I was younger, listening to jazz was not what the cool kids did. I did, though, and did not get into what the cool kids listened to, I guess. I mean: I never understood the allure of prog rock, not of pop, nor of disco. And so on. I did grow into listening to R&B and funk, and later world, and (some) punk and postpunk. Not to mention that I really, really got into classical. The works: from Bach to Schönberg and beyond, from cantatas through operas to string quartets, and what have you.
But that is besides the point. I stand by my choices, such as they were and are. And now it seems as if the truly cool kids listen to forms of jazz again, or maybe just that jazz inspiration is seeping into many genres of music. Or maybe genres are breaking down and we can do what we want.
So here are six jazz albums that I listened to then, a lot, and still listen to to this day. Of course, I listen to a lot of earlier jazz, and to a lot of later. But these are perennials, and could serve to introduce (and convert?) somebody else to the art of jazz.
Miles Davis: Sketches of Spain (1960)
Could have been Kind of Blue, but while that album is also a firm favorite (how can it not be?), this is actually what really got me into Miles. And, simultaneously, ignited my interest in classical music because that melody … I had to hear the original version as well.
But this is about the jazz and Miles and those Gil Evans arrangements. True, though, that this music veers away from straight-up jazz and into some unknown territory of folk and world and classical inspirations: still there is no doubt it remains jazz.
The underlying melancholia is as much blues as it is solèa: Miles understands that connection very well. Not all critics then — and perhaps now — have that understanding and complain that this is neither fish nor fowl, either it is not sufficiently jazzy nor highfalutin classically enough, to which I can only say: bless your little cold hearts. This is excellent music no matter what it is labelled.
John Coltrane: A Love Supreme (1964)
The jazz album that people who don’t listen to jazz like, and that will turn them into jazz fans (hopefully). In my opinion, there are three major religiously inspired or spiritual master pieces of music in the Western tradition: Bach’s Mass in B minor, Mozart’s Requiem, and this.
It’s wondrous that it’s accessible and catchy yet uncompromisingly avant-garde. While it has elements of free jazz, modal jazz, and hard bop, it overwhelmingly feels gospel. It’s funky as hell and can be danced to, perhaps with eyes closed and at peace with the universe.
However, the spirituality runs through it. I’m not religious, but I’m moved by Coltrane’s deep emotion. That’s why I placed it with Bach and Mozart above. I admire those works, though I don’t share their inspiration.
Recording it in one session is a marvel. Especially in remastered versions, the sound quality is stunning, and Coltrane’s saxophone is palpable and nuanced.
Keith Jarrett: Facing You (1972)
Perhaps the first solo piano work that really clicked for me. Like really clicked in a big way. Here we have exquisite melodies and we have deeply funky rhythms. Interestingly, Jarrett is not black (though in some photos he could pass), so where this gospel influence comes from is up in the air. But it is definitely there. This made me listen to Jarrett a lot more, and of course the Bremen, Lausanne, and Köln concerts are magnificent — but it all starts right here.
And his work with the quartets, one American, one European, has the same basic gospel and soul foundation, especially some of the work with Jan Garbarek (for which see below). Then there are his ventures into pure classical, or the duos, not the least the very late ones with Charlie Haden.
But it all started right here and as time has gone by this must surely stand as a pinnacle of solo piano music. I think I shall go and listen to it right now.
Jan Garbarek: Witchi-Tai-To (1974)
I have seen Garbarek in concert and heard some of his newer stuff. He is, now, the poster boy of a certain ‘ECM sound’: nice, spacious production, plenty of semi-classical or world inspiration, and, most of all, a hefty dose of new age fluff. Make of that what you will.
This is nothing like that.
‘Hasta Siempre’ — a tune by Carlos Puebla that is a homage to Che Guevara — has such tense emotion and builds up to such a climax that you almost need a breather after listening (there are no words here so please disregard the praise of the photogenic tropical Stalinist). And then there is the title track … If you meet people that claim jazz has no emotions, force them to listen to this. It is quite overwhelming.
Garbarek’s work with Keith Jarrett in the European quartet has some of the same qualities and is equally recommend. I shall say no more about the later stuff — not my alley at all.
Wayne Shorter: Native Dancer (1975)
Of course, I knew about Wayne Shorter as I did listen to Miles at the time. And I listened to Weather Report (see below). I read an article about this Brazilian wonder called Milton Nascimento, but at that time, it was not easy or even possible to find Brazilian records here in Copenhagen. So this came out and had general distribution. I listened to it for 30 seconds in a record shop and bought it.
And it is wonderful, still. It has Milton’s greatest songs, and it has Wayne’s saxes, especially the soprano (I think). It would serve well as an introduction to both artists, but don’t listen to it for just that: it is a magnificent accomplishment on its own.
Later, I found other Milton’s records at that shop, Odeon?, in Paris, at the Champs-Élysées no less, and after that, at least Bristol here in Copenhagen had them and many other Brazilian records (did not do bode well for my student economy).
Many of Shorter’s later efforts are fine, too, but nothing that came after had quite this impact. A whole new world of music opened up.
Weather Report: Black Market (1976)
I had heard bits and pieces of Weather Report, but the earlier stuff was quite avant-garde, it seemed. This one had great reviews, so once again off to the shop (Bristol, I guess) to listen and buy immediately. I mean: after 30 seconds of the first track, you would be convinced if your mind was the least bit open.
This album hits the sweet spot between still being avant-garde jazz, and mixing in so many other things, including great melodies and a very funky groove.
I never felt the same about the later output, where Shorter’s influence slowly starts waning, but went back and listened to the early stuff and found that now I understood much better. Funnily enough, I do like some of Joe Zawinul’s later music — but it is not altogether jazz anymore, is it?