Jammin' on the One

Norman Granz was one of those impresarios of whom it can safely be said lived the Sinatra ode “I Did It My Way” to the fullest. He never really catered or kow-towed to anyone, calling his own shots and cobbling a cottage industry couched in his own stubbornly commercial aesthetic. People hated him for it, especially the jazz intelligentsia. But he paid his detractors little consideration, investing his energies instead toward preserving the work of some of the music’s most legendary figures.

It’s pretty easy to peg a Granz jazz session right off the bat. Swing and/or bop luminaries assembled in all-star configurations. If it’s a studio date, the sound is usually dry, but clear for the vintage. If it’s live, there’s an even greater focus on combative fireworks. Akin to the pit boss at a cockfight, Granz had a thing for pitting prodigious talent against talent and capitalizing on musicians’ competitive natures. Blues and standards clutter the menu on his records with a preference for mid- to up-tempo numbers and minimal arrangements. Some players like the bantam rooster-tempered Roy Eldridge and the bombastic Buddy Rich reveled in the settings. Others like debonair Benny Carter and gentle-souled Lester Young were less suited to the fisticuffs and roughhousing. Either way, Granz was set on gleaning performances that emphasized the visceral over the intellectual and celebrated spontaneity, no matter how premeditated the parameters.

The Complete Norman Granz Jam Sessions showcases all these tropes in abundance spread across nine sessions and five compact discs. I recently dropped ducats on the box through Yourmusic.com, a subsidiary of BMG, which dispenses with the troublesome purchase quotas and instead sells all its wares at discount prices. The catch is the subscription service side of the membership. Each subscriber must purchase one disc a month at the locked-in cost of $5.99 by way of a queue. Leave your queue empty and you’re still levied the fee. Overall though, it’s a pretty sweet deal & I’ve used it mostly to pick up several otherwise exorbitantly priced Miles Davis boxes at cut rates.

But back to the Granz box. The only content previously released domestically is the first and most famous jam session featuring Charlie Parker. None other than Carter, Johnny Hodges, Flip Phillips and Ben Webster join him, and that’s just the sax section. Also on roll call: Charlie Shavers; Oscar Peterson; Barney Kessel; Ray Brown and J.C. Heard. In other words a swing-to-bop fan’s dream team. The other seven sessions arguably don’t quite match that level of assembled royalty, but they trade for some very interesting aggregations just the same. Sessions 3 and 4 convene the tentet of: Harry “Sweets” Edison; Buddy DeFranco; Carter; Willie Smith; Stan Getz; Wardell Gray; Count Basie; Freddie Green; John Simmons; and Buddy Rich. Basie even doubles on organ for the lengthy ad-hoc confab “Blues for the Count," a piece where Getz encounters reed problems. And it’s a treat to hear woefully under-represented Gray solo on each of the four jams, garnering a spotlight on “(I Don’t Stand” A Ghost of a Chance With You” during the requisite ballad medley.

A shout out is in order too for the various rhythm sections. As Granz’s golden egg, Oscar Peterson is the most frequent ringleader, but it was precisely this sort of set-up in he excelled amidst big guns that could put his polished Tatum-isms to the test. Ray Brown is a supple-skinned rock throughout and its fun to hear recalcitrant Rich reined in on the various ballad medlies. Louis Bellson is great too, particularly on the final two dates in the potentially daunting company of the well-oiled O.P. trio.

I suppose the sameness of general formula from session to session could pall for some people. And despite the ebullient excitement on cuts like “Apple Jam” and “Lullaby in Rhythm” it’s pretty obvious that the musicians aren’t stretching themselves too rigorously, just enjoying the relaxed and paid opportunity to play with their peers. But Granz was careful to vary solo for each meeting and even allowed for some spirited ensemble interaction during the various breaks. What I dig most about the set the summit conference-like atmosphere that pervades each conclave. Sure, these guys were jamming in a studio rather than an after hours speakeasy. And yes, the paycheck, and therefore impetus, was more than a hat passed around for house rent. Moreover, a producer’s mitts are all over the proceedings. But these potentially stultifying properties hardly seem to matter a whit when Illinois Jacquet rips into his opening salvo on “Jamming for Clef”, pouring out booting string of choruses before reluctantly ceding to the ferocious brass barrage of Eldridge. The shortest of the cuts clocks just under 12-minutes and most spool out well beyond that. Everything has the aural sheen of a thorough remastering scrub.

The packaging is up to Verve’s typically quixotic standards. A metal backless case with a clear plastic window holds a cardboard one containing five foldout digipacks, each embossed with original David Stone Martin cover art from the original LPs (see above). Martin’s graphics are another huge draw: line drawings depicting weirdly arranged instrument assemblages or caricatures of the musicians that bring to my mind Edward Gorey. A thick booklet contains session more illustrations, photos, essays and biographies. Solo sequences for every track are conveniently limned, both in the book and on the tray cards. It’s a top-notch monument to Granz’s vision and moxie and thus far has delivered hours of listening pleasure to these ears. Now if only Yourmusic would hurry up and get the JATP box in stock!