Falling in Love with Jazz

by Anthony Medici in Uncategorized

Still somewhat smitten by my exposure to Sonny Rollins (see my post from last Sunday), I’m borrowing the title from one of his lesser known (and lesser) efforts, “Falling in Love with Jazz,” to sound the theme of this week’s blog.  Do you remember your first love?  Do you remember your first jazz love?  Do you remember how it was, or why it was, or, more likely, who it was, that first opened your ears to jazz? 

I grew up, a true child of the 60s, on rock ‘n roll.  It was the Beatles on Ed Sullivan that first alerted me to how cool music could be.  It was like being hit by lightning—but surviving.  I got my Beatle boots, and longhair, and, when I was almost old enough, started going to the Fillmore East (I grew up in Noo Yawk) practically every weekend.   There and at other venues around town, I saw almost all the great rockers:  The Doors (several times), Hendrix, the Who (several times), Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company, Clapton, Zeppelin, Jefferson Airplane, Country Joe and the Fish (“And it’s one, two, three , four, what are we fighting for?  –some things never change), and so many others.  My ears are still ringing from Blue Cheer.  I was in love with rock.

Then the Vietnam War ended, the energy that fueled the music dissipated, hippies turned to yuppies, and I drifted away from the rock scene.  Next was classical music.  It was Bernstein’s version of Tchaikovsky’s 5^th Symphony (the LP with the cover illustration of Napoleon on horseback) that showed me that there could be another form of musical excitement.  I delved into classical music. 

Unfortunately, I still didn’t have ‘ears” for jazz.  I didn’t understand it.  The instrumentation was unfamiliar.  The harmonic and rhythmic concepts seemed strange and unfathomable.  Then, somehow, I heard Art Pepper.   I don’t remember exactly how or when I first heard Art, but when I did, the music started to make sense.  Even more than that, the music took on a power that has not abated.  I responded to Art’s deep-seated lyricism, his utter intensity, his musical fluency.  I had never attended a jazz concert, but I was moved to go see him and attended a concert in San Diego a few years before he died (in 1982).  I’m so glad I had a chance to hear him in person. 

Art’s life and career was terrible affected by drug addiction.  He tells his life story in the autobiography “Straight Life,” a compelling albeit painful account.  Art did major prison time in the early 60s as a result of his addiction, and this incarceration divides Art’s musical journey into two rather distinct phases.   Many prefer his work of the 50s to his later work.  The two masterpieces from this earlier period are “Art Pepper Meets the Rhythm Section,” with Miles’ then- rhythm section of Red Garland, Philly Joe Jones, and Paul Chambers, and “Art Pepper +11,” with the cream of West Coast Jazz. 

After coming out of prison in the 60s, Art entered Synanon, got on a methadone program, and began to gain some control over his addiction problems.  In this second phase of Art’s career, Art’s playing is marked by intense, almost painful lyricism, which never descends to bathos, as it is anchored by a total candor and honesty.  I particularly like two efforts from this period, “Living Legend” and “The Trip.” 

In the liner notes for “The Trip,” taken from a taped interview with Art, Art says of the title cut, “Whenever I play it, it has a distant, sad, heart-rending type feel to it, you know, but yet it’s swinging and it’s joyful in a sad type of way.  In its own way, in its own sadness, it’s happy and beautiful.”   I think that describes Art’s music beautifully.   I hope you’ll give Art a listen.   Art opened up jazz to me, and it’s been a love affair ever since.  Who was your first love?