to play, but sometimes he lacks taste - a way of saying he didn't leave enough space in his solos. The companion album Misterioso (Riverside/OJC-206) is also good; these are not among the essential Monk items, but they are worthwhile, as was everything Monk recorded.
|
Griffin's own The Little Giant (Riverside/OJC-136) is a nice, varied set with Blue Mitchell on trumpet and Wynton Kelly on piano, marred somewhat by a bad recording balance. A Blowing Session (Blue Note 81559) is just what the title implies: an all-star date with the emphasis on extended solos. In this case the lineup is truly daunting: Lee Morgan on trumpet, Griffin, Hank Mobley, and John Coltrane on tenors, and a rhythm section of Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Art Blakey. Many, many notes are played, not all of them meaningful. Morgan plays some of the most interesting stuff here, but of course there is much excitement along the way from all involved. Tenor fans will also enjoy an album made by the quintet Griffin led with tenorist Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis in 1960, Griff and Lock (Jazzland/OJC-264), a straight-out blowing session (with arranged touches), a little short on subtlety but full of swing and good times. And Griffin has an effective guest role on Wes Montgomery's 1962 live album Full House (Riverside/OJC-106), backed by Miles Davis's rhythm section of that time (Wynton Kelly, Paul Chambers, and Jimmy Cobb).
|
From the time of his most important early recordings in August 1949 with Bud Powell and Fats Navarro (available on The Amazing Bud Powell, Volume 1 [Blue Note 81503]), Sonny Rollins had something different. Most tenor players at that time who were influenced by Charlie Parker were equally influenced by Lester Young in their way of accenting eighth notes; they also tended to play with a dry, hard sound, like Dexter Gordon or Sonny Stitt. Rollins had the same freedom of accenting that Bird had, but his heavy tone was modeled on Coleman Hawkins's sound.
|
Rollins didn't really come into his own until the mid-1950s, after a yearlong absence from the scene during which he lay low in Chicago to get himself together personally and musically; when he did, it was as the tenor player who had most perfectly digested Bird's way of accenting, as well as his conception of melody. By 1956 Rollins was arguably the greatest melodic improviser in jazz. He also had a gigantic sound that could seemingly do anything Rollins wanted it to; it could sing romantic ballads, tell stories, ski effortlessly through difficult harmonic terrain at impossible speeds, shout, honk, squeal, laugh derisively, imitate cellos and bassoons, all the while maintaining an awareness of
|
|