McCoy Tyner: Fly With the Wind

McCoy Tyner's 1967 album The Real McCoy

Birthday greetings to pianist McCoy Tyner, who celebrates No. 73 today.

Tyner is still best known for his association with John Coltrane, though that was — chronologically — a short part of his career and a long time ago. It’s been 46 years since the two split — Tyner left two years before Coltrane’s death in 1967 — and 51 since Tyner first became a member of Coltrane’s most famous quartet (with bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones).

“(Coltrane) wasn’t dictatorial at all,” Tyner said in an interview with jerryjazzmusician.com. “He didn’t tell you what to do, he left the playing up to you. If he had something specific he wanted out of the melody, he would tell you, and the rest was up to you. So, we had fun!

“It was because it was like that, that we had that sort of freedom, we would surprise ourselves, we would reach certain points together . . . Jazz is a very good moral teacher. You have to respect the other guy who is on stage with you in order to achieve what you are looking for. You have to respect the music and the person that is next to you, that way you can get the best out of the situation.”

You can suggest Tyner’s best came after Coltrane, even if it’s not his best-known, or even best-appreciated by audiences. I can remember seeing Tyner some 30 years ago as the second half of a concert bill with Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers; a third or more of the spectators vacated the venue after Blakey was finished.

“McCoy Tyner, so thoroughly identified with the rolling muscularity of Coltrane’s rhythm section, experienced a dry spell after he parted company in 1965,” wrote Gary Giddins on the liner notes to La Leyenda de La Hora (The Legend of the Hour). “. . . Many people wondered how and if he’d be able to sustain a career on his own. Tyner wondered, too, and there was a moment when he contemplated leaving the music scene.”

Fortunately, the moment passed. Like an actor most renowned for a role early in his career, Tyner’s name goes with Coltrane’s, even if he has long since evolved in his art.

“I asked McCoy in what direction he wanted his music to go from this point on,” wrote Nat Hentoff in the liner notes to 1967′s The Real McCoy. ” ‘I don’t think in those terms,’ he said. ‘You see, to me living and music are all the same thing. And I keep finding out more about music as I learn about myself, my environment, about all kinds of different things in life. I play what I live . . . I just want to write and play my instrument as I feel.”

A link to the title track of Tyner’s 1976 album Fly With the Wind below:

Sources: jerryjazzmusician.com, npr.org, wikipedia.org

Elvin Jones: Afro Blue

Remembering drummer Elvin Jones on the day of his death in 2004.

Though Jones’ career was long and his resume extensive, like McCoy Tyner, he’ll always be known for one thing above all others: he was part of John Coltrane’s quartet at its most important time.

Jones himself, from ejn.it/mus/jones: “Right from the beginning to the last time we played together it was something pure. The most impressive thing was a feeling of steady, collective learning . . . If there is anything like perfect harmony in human relationships, that band was as close as you can come.”

From Peter Keepnews’ obit of Jones at nytimes.com:  “(Jones) in turn influenced Coltrane, Mr. Jones’s ferocious rhythms goading Coltrane to ecstatic heights in performance and on recordings like  “A Love Supreme” and “Ascension.”

It was, in  part, because of Jones that the quartet made the music it did. From Lewis Porter’s book “John Coltrane: His Life and His Music”, quoting bassist Steve Davis:” “That first night Elvin was in the band . . . he was playing so strong and so loud you could hear him outside down the block. Trane wanted it that way. He wanted a drummer who could really kick, and Elvin was one of the strongest, wildest drummers in the world. After the gig, Trane put his arm around Elvin and took him to a barbecue around the corner, and bought him some ribs. Trane and Elvin were tight from then on.”

Jones parted with Coltrane before the saxophonist’s death — Keepnews speculated Jones might have been offended by Coltrane’s decision to add a second drummer — and he led his own band for years, mentoring younger players as he became more and more of an older hand. Life Magazine called him “the world’s greatest rhythmic drummer.”

Wynton Marsalis, from hardbop.tripod.com: “Elvin is so great it will bring tears to your eyes. I mean, damn, somebody play drums like that! Just that he could figure out all that.”

Jones was part of one of the most famous families in jazz. Older brothers Hank, who died a year and two days ago at age 91, was a famous pianist and Thad, who died in 1986 at age 63, was a famous trumpeter. In all, Jones had nine siblings.

Jones was 76 when he died of heart failure in Englewood, N.J.

Sources: ejn.it/mus/jones, nytimes.com, drummerworld.com, hardbop.tripod.com

Ricky Ford: Yes or No

Ricky Ford's 1983 album: Future's Gold

Early birthday wishes to saxophonist Ricky Ford, who celebrates No. 57 on Friday (the birthday of another celebrated saxophonist).

It seems Ford has been often overlooked, whether because of the commonality of his name (not to be confused with the author Richard Ford) or the timing of his career. It certainly shouldn’t be because of the quantity or quality of his work, which is, respectively, voluminous and high.

You can look at who he’s played with for his references — starting with Mercer Ellington and the Duke Ellington Orchestra, Charles Mingus, McCoy Tyner, Abdullah Ibrahim, etc. And you can look at the teaching he’s done — at Brandeis University, and most recently in the first few years of the new century in Turkey.

“I’ve no doubt that had he born 40 years earlier he might have been a principal soloist and arranger with one of the classic swing bands,” wrote Mark Gardner on the liner notes to Ricky Ford: Hot Brass.

He wasn’t of course, but he started as a teen playing in his native Boston’s clubs and continuing into today.

“I’ve never heard Ricky Ford play without feeling he meant it,” wrote J.R. Taylor on the liner notes to Ford’s 1979 album Manhattan Plaza. More than 30 years later, we’re guessing those words are still true.