Month: September 2019

Jazz Remembered

By Carl Glatzel, Editor

Back in 2000 I was given the opportunity to head up art direction for Deer Mountain Records, a Houston-based startup jazz label. Houston’s own Paul English was artistic director and principal performer and I was freelancing full time, trying to find as many jazz-related design gigs as possible. These were great days, when live jazz performances were still a cause for celebration at the historic Warwick Hotel in Houston’s Museum District — a sophisticated venue for equally-sophisticated music. Jazz aficionados and novices alike would gather and hang on every note of Paul’s masterful improvisations and Brennan Nase’s intimate double bass solos.

Most projects kept me in Houston, chasing down Paul and his collective group of artists with my friend and photographer, Ignacio Gonzalez, at different local venues.

After sitting down with Paul and his business partners I knew what was expected of me and soon my days (and nights) would be consumed with branding Deer Mountain Records. Most projects kept me in Houston, chasing down Paul and his collective group of artists with my friend and photographer, Ignacio Gonzalez, at different local venues. Other projects would take me on the road. One such project took me down the Texas Gulf Coast to direct a photo shoot at the Corpus Christi Jazz Festival, where chance would have me meet two saxophone greats.

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Dennis Dotson and Dave Liebman reviewing charts.

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Paul was booked to play at the festival with his group, but he also planned on cutting some live material with Dave Liebman and Ed Calle at a hole-in-the-wall studio nearby. Liebman and Calle were performing at the festival with their own traveling bands. My wife and I were tasked with offering a ride to Ed Calle to and from the festival, giving us a chance to talk about music and life on the road with a giant on the international jazz scene. Once at the studio I finally met Dave Liebman, a true living legend and a gentleman. Being a longtime fan and having listened to Liebman grace Miles Davis’ electric recordings, among others, I felt as if I already knew him. Being in that studio was a rare chance to witness what it takes to cut a world-class jazz performance — a chance to see virtuosos with amazing chops warm up, get loose and get to know each other musically. Incredible blowing like I’ve never witnessed before — Liebman, Calle and Houston’s Dennis Dotson on trumpet. Dennis, who held his own magnificently, stole the show with jaw-dropping solos. Bright, brassy and note-perfect passages immediately eliciting comparisons to Hubbard’s finer moments by everybody in the engineering booth. And as we worked around performers and studio equipment to achieve each perfectly-framed shot, Ignacio and I couldn’t help but smile with the knowledge of how special this all was.

Being in that studio was a rare chance to witness what it takes to cut a world-class jazz performance — a chance to see virtuosos with amazing chops warm up, get loose and get to know each other musically.

The night was capped off with a brisk walk down the street and a late dinner at a local dive, offering up even more conversation, laughter and camaraderie. And photos throughout all of this, capturing and preserving great memories for one art director’s all-too-quick brush with greatness.

All photography by Ignacio Gonzalez.

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The Curious Case of Baby Face

By Carl Glatzel, Editor

Roosevelt Willette, aka “Baby Face”, was somewhat of a mystery man. Even his birthplace is disputed — it might have been Little Rock or possibly New Orleans. One thing is for certain, however, his appearance on the jazz scene couldn’t have been more serendipitous. In the late 50s he met soon-to-be labelmates, Lou Donaldson and Grant Green, in New York after a move from Chicago. Donaldson, acting as unofficial scout for Blue Note Records, was a catalyst in signing both Willette and Green to the label. Willette’s soulful touch on the Hammond B3 reflected his gospel background and would later become a high-water mark, if not a significant footnote, in Blue Note’s storied past.

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Face To Face, 1961

Armed with a big, bluesy sound and brimming with raw emotion, Willette would go on to lead his own groups on two outings in 1961 — both excellent sessions: Face to Face and Stop and Listen. Each group featured Grant Green on guitar and Ben Dixon on drums. Willette’s first session, Face to Face, added the earthy, southern swagger of Fred Jackson on tenor — duck calls, squawks and all.

By the time of his debut as a leader Willette had an original sound pinned down — easily giving similar units such as Smith/Burrell and Turrentine/Scott a run for their money. Although it was early in the recording careers of each member, his group played like weathered professionals — effortlessly belting out greasy, gospel-tinged lines in flawless Blue Note fashion. Even Willette’s sideman contributions on Lou Donaldson’s Here ‘Tis and Grant Green’s Grant’s First Stand are standout examples of Soul Jazz at its finest. There was no doubting it, the man had the golden touch. It was a crying shame he didn’t get to record more for the label. With regular creative partners such as Grant Green, Lou Donaldson and Ben Dixon, Willette could have gone on to record several more albums in the same vein, perhaps even exploring larger group settings or varied instrumentation. Instead, he mysteriously left Blue Note and resurfaced a few years later on the Argo label cutting two more sessions as leader in 1964 — neither hitting the heights of his earlier efforts.

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Here ‘Tis, 1961

After Argo, Willette left recording altogether and made his way back to the live jazz scene in Chicago where he played from 1966 till his untimely death in 1971. How on Earth could such a natural talent fade away into utter obscurity? Willette’s chops were, arguably, on par with the likes of Jimmy Smith and Jack McDuff. And yet, he wholly owned an original and identifiable sound — something quite difficult to achieve in a climate dominated by the innovators of his instrument of choice. Was there a falling out with his collaborators or label chiefs? Or did he pose a threat to more established artists on the roster? Unanswered questions and a handful of excellent tracks are all that’s left of “Baby Face” Willette’s checkered and mysterious recording career.

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Please visit the JazzSherpa Bodega for great looking jazz merch and support jazz wherever you are.