Brew Moore - Zonky

Steeplechase 36037

In jazz, addiction ain’t fiction. Saddled with a poetically accurate sobriquet, Brew Moore belongs to that sad-eyed psychological subdivision- the dipsomaniacs. Like Zoot Sims, Lin Halliday and a number of others, his bouts with the bottle bookended spates of brilliance. Sims never succumbed fully, aging gracefully like the fine libations he so loved. Moore wasn’t so resilient, his horn prematurely silenced by a drunken spill down some stairs in the summer of ’73. The record library left behind is scant. AMG lists a mere nine albums to his name over a career that spanned several decades. Sideman appearances maybe double that figure.

Moore spent his final years in Europe, gigging periodically at the Montmarte in Copenhagen and mustering various attempts at a comeback. Steeplechase acquired the rights to many of the radio airshots recorded at the club during this time frame. This new offering joins two previous ones from roughly a year earlier in spotlighting the saxophonist’s mid-60s stand at the club. Kenny Drew’s trio, the regular house rhythm section at the Montmarte, provides able-bodied support. Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen handles bass duties and Makaya Ntshoko bangs the cans in regular drummer Alex Riel’s stead.

Moore sounds only mildly zonked, the spirits sipped prior to the set accentuating rather debilitating his powers. Spoken introductions serve as the bread to the meat of four long cuts. These verbal prefaces fare better than the band sonically, but fidelity is still passable and the easy banter finds Moore in an amiable, dry-witted mood. The set opens with the extended extemporaneous warm-up “Gene’s Blues.” Moore strolls through an abundance of choruses, occupying the first seven of sixteen languorous minutes with one curlicued phrase after another and leaning heavily on Lestorian roots. As the improvisation progresses his inflection hardens with the stain of an underlying wail until it almost seems as if a different horn player has usurped the stage. Pedersen anchors the action with superb harmonic aplomb. His switch to the foreground after a nimble turn from Drew delivers the first of several solos. It’s these callus-abrading inventions that are among the true hidden troves on many of these Danmarks Radio broadcast tapes.

Also on the bill: a billowy reading of “I Should Care”, a romping rundown Bird’s “Donna Lee” and the colloquially-christened title cut in incomplete form (product of a probable faulty tape splice). Moore attunes particularly well to the ballad feature, playing plushly piquant in the first half, pillow soft in the second. Combined he achieves a compelling intimacy with the melody. With a mere five years remaining on his mortal cabaret card, Moore settled back into his usual routine, hooch holding sway until the bitter end. His was an improvisatory light that thanks to the numbing effects of inebriants only shone beyond an average wattage intermittently. This was one such fateful occasion. Thanks are due Steeplechase for financing its circulation.

~ Derek Taylor