Thirty years after they were recorded, composer/historian Bill Kirchner wrote that "the 1949 Tristano Capitol sessions are among the greatest in the history of recorded jazz - triumphs of conception and execution by a group of musicians who had been in close collaboration for a year."
A number of enthusiasts had felt this way at the time they were made, and today Bill is not alone in this assessment, nonetheless these recordings are really known to only a fortunate few. The historical reasons for this shed fascinating perspectives on the forces in jazz evolution. One of the barriers is partly that of terminology. It may be surprising, and not a little ironic, that the man who stated that the "musician’s function is to feel" should be regarded as a founder of the "cool school" and perhaps its coolest exemplar. But comparison of the 1949 Capitol sides with later products of some other groups will reveal that cool jazz did not begin in blandness or diffidence, and that ice can burn. The recordings are a unique pinnacle of group commitment in jazz, a necessarily ephemeral achievement within the maelstrom of the jazz life. We may now also look back and debate the significance of Lennie Tristano and his most famous students, Lee Konitz and Warne Marsh. Were they then, inventors of "free jazz", the Schoenberg-Berg-Webern of modern jazz? Or was this music simply a stage in their individual musical developments, a parallel to bebop, without other issue?
Clearly Lennie Tristano himself is the pivotal figure. The concepts that coalesce in Wow, Crosscurrent, Intuition etc. are evident in Lennie’s earliest recordings, at a time when Lee was developing his own remarkably original tone and linear phrasing, and pre-Tristano Marsh largely an unknown quantity. Lennie’s piano style is unique from the beginning, with threads reminiscent of Art Tatum, Milt Buckner, Teddy Wilson and Nat King Cole apparent. Blind from an early age, he developed considerable technique and a fascination with extended harmonies. He had a great love of earlier jazz masters, including Louis Armstrong, Roy Eldridge and Lester Young, and would later insist that his pupils learn classic solos originally played on instruments other than their own, to give a sense of solo construction and to free them from note-running habits particular to their hortts. He was deeply affected by the contemporary discoveries of the beboppers, especially Charlie Parker and Bud Powell. Parker was an admirer of Tristano and was reportedly due to play a gig with him just prior to the great altoist’s death, but the relationship between conventional beboppers, and Tristano and his pupils has been ambiguous, despite many musical parallels.
Lennie was born in Chicago in 1919 and during his school years played saxophones, trumpet, guitar and drums, in addition to piano. He studied at the American Conservatory of Music, and by 1943 was teaching. He also began playing in clubs and by the mid-forties was beginning to attract the attention of local critics and musicians passing through the Chicago jazz hub. Contacts with the Woody Herman band led Chubby Jackson and others to encourage Lennie to move to the New York area at the end of 1945. Finding a temporary home at Al B. White’s, a restaurant-bar in Freeport, he formed the trio, with guitarist Billy Bauer and bassist Arnold Fishkin, which would become the foundation for the sextet. His novel and seemingly idiosyncratic music was not designed for conservative NYC club-owners, and soon he was teaching again, attracting students of talent equal to his own.
Lee Konitz, also born in Chicago, in 1927, had early contact with Tristano, but had somehow largely fashioned out of nowhere the amazingly original cool tone heard on 1947 Claude Thornhill sides. He was therefore able to make his own considerable contribution to the Tristano sound. Generally recognized as a major jazz figure, Lee’s extensive career is well documented elsewhere.
In contrast, Warne Marsh has primarily been the enthusiasm of a small group of musicians and jazz aficionados. Warne was born in Los Angeles, also in 1927, where he worked on the Hoagy Carmichael show in the mid-1940’s, until an Army stint during 1946-47 brought him to New Jersey and contact with Lennie. First influenced by the big-toned swing tenors, he was inevitably drawn to Lester Young’s lighter sound and flowing melodorhythms. Ira Gitler has written that "there were parallels with Stan Getz in his sound, but even then Marsh’s tone was much drier, more ascetic, and rhythmically and harmonically, he and Stan were quite different". Recently former Tristano bassist Peter Ind recalls "one session [at Lennie’s] when Stan Getz was completely intimidated by [Warne], who was so far ahead of him harmonically, but then Warne was ahead of nearly everyone ideas-wise." Gitler quotes Tristano, "Warne ... has the fantastic ability to thrill me the way Pres or Roy, Christian or Bird, maybe few others had."
One of the major barriers between conventional bebop and Lennie’s music is found in his rhythmic approach - reflected in his ongoing problem in locating compatible drummers. While the harmonic sophistication of his music may be said to derive considerably from Art Tatum, it is perhaps less frequently acknowledged that Tatum was also one of the rhythmic geniuses of jazz and that some of that amazing complexity of rhythm came to Lennie along with the chordal ingenuity. The rhythmic prestidigitations of Earl Hines also provided excel- lent precedents. Since rhythmic complexity was one of Lennie’s major improvisational tools, including the free layering of alternate metrical suggestions within the phrases, it was important to find a drum- mer who could sense these subtleties, which differed from the expectations of bop, or a drummer who would just keep an even-four feel, or to forego the drummer altogether. ‘The last two solutions unfortunately were the most common throughout Lennie’s career. Denzil Best heard here, had the potential to fill the ideal role but that was not to be. It is a shame that the early, transient associations with Shelly Manne and Max Roach could not have developed to fruition.
Contrary to his luck with drummers Lennie was very fortunate to encounter guitarist Billy Bauer shortly after his move to the East Coast. Bauer, already a big-band veteran with established credentials (Woody Herman et al.), seems to have had the ideal personality to understand and complement Tristano’s piano. Never a student, Billy flows with the harmonic and metrical variations with surprising ease. Billy remembers trying to keep up with Lennie’s harmonies, but he never could catch him since the pianist would always be moving on, alter- ing already altered chords. Arnold Fishkin also stands outside from the mentor-student axis yet fills the musical needs with aplomb. Fishkin relates that Lennie simply gave him several harmonic reference points which should anchor any given piece then told him to play "whatever he liked in between."
A quintet session for New Jazz (later Prestige) in January 1949 serves as an appetizer for the Capitol sides - ostensibly a Konitz date it is undiluted Tristano group music, showing considerable growth over 1947 recordings with clarinetist John LaPorta as the sole horn. The virtuosic elan of the lines played by Konitz in rein with Tristano and Bauer point the way.
As one who has loved the Capitol sextet sides since I first heard them in the mid-fifties, it was a prolonged learning experience to realize that these seemingly gemlike performances were not the ultimate aim of Lennie’s music. In fact their power as potential masterpieces of the period, perhaps served to caste a distorting view over the true goals, leading to the notion, expressed by Francis Davis, of a combination of "rectitude and abandon" - less than half right to my taste, where the closer "precision and ecstasy" also are inadequate. The importance of total improvisation as a channel for "feelings" is the key. Marsh, who is obviously amongst Lennie’s most devout disciples and who exemplifies this concept, has made the interesting distinction between "feelings" and "emotions", speaking disparagingly of "emoting" in music - I take this to mean acting out easily recognized emotions, rather than allow- ing free channel of feelings, more subtle, and as surprising to the artist as to the listener. Warne felt that emotion would be expressed naturally if the musician "let himself be the instrument of creating music."
Lee Konitz now considers the sextet pieces as "etudes", concentrated forms of improvised ideas, that should serve as launching pads for further untrammeled improvisation. Lee says that he felt somewhat intimidated, rather than released by the developed precision of these intricate lines - feeling that only anticlimax could follow such "intense" themes. Despite this, Lee managed to play remark- able and very influential solos, shading the still-maturing Warne Marsh. The meeting of Konitz with Tristano in the late 1940’s was one of almost perfect transit between two highly original artists; later reunions, however rewarding, would reveal a divergence of their paths. It is likely nonetheless, that the approach the already unique Konitz adopted to fit with Lennie’s conceptions established a model for all subsequent horn players of the school.
Yesterdays, is essentially a freely evolved trio performance with some discreet brushstrokes added. The harmonies have been greatly altered from the original, and recognition of the song depends on some melodic traces. Conversations with Billy Bauer and Arnold Fishkin suggest that the tight ensembles of the other pieces, arose to accommodate the two horns. Previously the structure of a piece could evolve naturally in the relatively flexible context of trio or quartet. As with most of Tristano music, the sprinting Sax of a Kind by Lee and Warne, and Bauer’s intriguing Marionette have their origins in standards, Fine and Dandy and September in the Rain. Tristano’s Wow, with its truly wowing bridge, and perhaps the masterpiece, Crosscurrent, where the music moves in an inevitable arc from beginning to end, are more disguised/evolved pieces based on You Can Depend On Me and I Got Rhythm. Given Lennie’s wish to avoid repetition, the structures are changed from AABA to ABCA or ABCD forms.
The free inventions, Intuition and Digression, appear to stem from the same principles that generated Yesterdays, though the saxes are now expected to make major contributions of form and direction. Apparently after finishing the set pieces Denzil Best had to play another gig, and since there was remaining studio time Lennie decided to record some "experiments" similar to those his students attempted at Tristano’s studio and during a sextet gig at Birdland, where according to Bauer they would generally play one free piece each evening. Only the order of instrument entry was discussed. Fishkin reports that four sides were made - only two survived and their eventual issue several years later was the result of the advocacy of critic Barry Ulanov. The relationship of these unique performances to the later waves of musical freedom in jazz will be debated for years to come. An indirect link to Don Cherry and Billy Higgins of Ornette Coleman’s quartet has been suggested by Robert Palmer and a more direct influence of Lennie on Cecil Taylor is not out of the question. But what IS noticeable about Intuition and Digression is how Tristano-like they are. We were already in deep harmonic waters with Yesterdays, the next step was not very large.
The Warne Marsh Quintet featuring Ted Brown originated from the piecemeal diaspora caused by the closing of Lennie’s East 32nd St studio during 1956, the members arriving in LA by various routes. Several sessions were produced by Albert Marx and scattered, probably to their commercial detriment, over three different labels. The group was a working band at the time, as is easily perceived from the loose precision of the ensembles and the deployment of well-complementing background sax figures (according to Brown, mostly the creations of Ronnie Ball). The present recordings have a slightly curious history in that they were made in the early stereo period, but the preferred takes were first issued in mono as "Jazz Of Two Cities" on Imperial. The original stereo version "Winds of Marsh" is extremely rare- this was reissued later in France and Japan under the "Jazz Of Two Cities" title. The second tenor solo on Ear Conditioning and the piano solo on Lover Man differ between mono and stereo; the takes of Jazz Of Two Cities and I Never Knew are completely different. Trivia aside, these are very fine performances, reveling in the joint spirit of the players.
Warne himself, is in Lee’s words "one of the great IMPROVISERS of jazz." His rhythmic imagination may have exceeded that of Lennie himself, to the point of rivaling that of Parker; Warne described to Pete Christlieb, exercises in which, with the aid of a metronome a melody phrase is sequentially displaced by fractions from the beat. All such mental and physical preparation would have amounted to nothing if it did not provide both the freedom and the impetus for the exhilarating flow of his solos - opening the channels for the "feelings". His part- ner, Ted Brown (also born in 1927) became associated with the Tristano group around the end of 1948. He remembers hearing Warne in broadcasts by the Hollywood Canteen Kids in 1945. Brown was also first influenced by the Hawkins tradition before being struck by the music of Young and Parker (there may be something of Lee, too). Brown’s recordings have been few, but all worth seeking out (eg. on Criss-Cross); unfortunately we have no examples of his extensive playing with Tristano.
It may take several auditions to distinguish the tenors, although as a rule Brown has the smoother tone and more straightforward melodic phrasing. Warne solos twist and curl on themselves as though wishing to match the polyphony of Bach’s inventions (favorite listening and practicing material for Marsh), but sweeping through with the rhythmic flow and swing unique to jazz. In the course of these unpredictable lines Warne’s tone shifts subtly from hoarse to smooth to something else, moment by moment, like carp in a rushing stream, as if to cre- ate yet another polyphonic thread, one of timbre. Listen to him swallowing phrases on Jazz of Two Cities (mono), or taking the lead from Ronnie Ball and darting about in the depths on Ear Conditioning, or melding Lester and Lennie on I Never Knew. Warne’s beautiful high-ranging melody on Dixie’s Dilemma (written on All The Things You Are changes, according to Brown, as an exercise for Lennie’s classes) showcases the wonderful confluence of the tenors, lead by his remarkable command of the upper register. Warne solos first on Smog Eyes (on There Will Never Be Another You), Jazz Of Two Cities (on Play Fiddle Play), and I Never Knew. He also leads the way on Lover Man, where the compatibility becomes even more obvious in the duet section. Other duets grace the tribute to Lester Young on I Never Knew, and Tchaikovsky’s Opus #42 (aka These Are Things I Love). While Warne can quietly overwhelm, Ted Brown’s solos provide a perfect foil, well-shaped melodies delivered with direct warmth - but no rote playing, as Lee points out, Ted is "one of those who really improvise." Together they are one of the very best tenor-tandems, worthy of the origins of that tradition in the Herschel Evans-Lester Young team of the great Basie band.
Ronnie Ball (born in England in 1927) plays a Basie-like role in the quintet - he spins relatively simple, if often long, melodic lines, with fine sense of touch and swing. Ronnie was an active writer for the group, witness Ear Conditioning and Quintessence (Look For The Silver Lining and My Melancholy Baby). Ball and Brown appear very close musically and their joint appearance on Ball’s "All About Ronnie" is worth finding, with the added benefit of the Tristanoite-trombone of the ill-fated Willie Dennis. Warm-toned Ben Tucker and Jeff Morton provide an appropriate cushion for the tenors - Morton laying down the even time pre- scribed by Tristano, but with good sense of involvement and swing.
Unfortunately the remainder of the Marsh-Brown legacy is limited to four titles on "Modern Jazz Showcase" a Kapp 2-LP anthology set, and the excellent "Free Wheelin" under Brown’s name with guest Art Pepper on Vanguard - these should be made available once more.
Lennie was reportedly first to teach jazz in relation to its own tradition. This was one of the attractions for Lee, Warne and subsequent students. When Lennie died in 1978, after recording amongst other riches, his solo piano masterpiece C Minor Complex, he would leave the legacy of his dedication to the art of jazz in the lives and work of his students. Nevertheless, one is left wondering at the limited general recognition of Tristano and his followers. Maybe Lennie was more about attitude to playing jazz than details of style; as Arnold Fishkin says, Lennie did not give other musicians much they could copy, he played "lines not licks". Others would develop the layering of altered chords (notably Coltrane, of course) or take free-form in very different directions. Lennie, Warne ( 1987), and Ronnie (1984) are gone, Lee has long established his own musical world, only partly linked to Tristano’s, and Ted Brown after retreating to a "paying profession" only plays occasional gigs. Another major figure of that generation, pianist Sal Mosca (born 1927!) has apparently withdrawn guru-like to teach and rarely to play in public. Vocalist Sheila Jordan, who speaks very positively of her time with Tristano is not often linked in name with him. Lennie’s influence continues in a later generation of students, pianists Connie Crothers and Liz Gorrill, saxophonists Lenny Popkin, Charlie Krachy, and Richard Tabnik, amongst others.
Indirectly, the piano influence has been channeled through Bill Evans, Herbie Hancock, Clare Fischer, Keith Jarrett, Paul Bley... The effect of the Capitol and New Jazz sides rippled through Europe in the fifties establishing national styles and leaving other numerous traces. Charlie Mingus’ interactions with Lennie have frequently been documented, and Bill Kirchner has noted echoes in the work of other composer-instrumentalists such as Wayne Shorter, Sam Rivers, Julius Hemphill and Anthony Braxton.
In the end the essential reason to listen is the excitement of discovery that still survives in this remarkable music, and it won’t hurt to bring your intuition and your feelings along.
- Terry Martin
Thanks to Billy Bauer, Ted Brown,
Arnold Fishkin, Lee Konitz, and Bill Kirchner.