Steeplechase Jam Sessions, Volumes 15 & 16

Steeplechase 31581

Steeplechase 31582

Mid-teens in number, the Steeplechase Jam Session series now occupies a respectable chunk of the Danish label’s massive catalog. The general schematic from project to project has remained essentially the same since the series’ inception: bring together three same-instrument soloists and team them with a “house” rhythm section to tackle a program of standards and the stray original or few. No formal rehearsals are allowed and a mandate holds for no premeditated solos in an economy of takes. Volumes 15 and 16 follow the plan with worthwhile, if occasionally workman-like, results to varying success.

Vol. 15 exhalts the alto saxophone and convenes three rising players on the instrument: Loren Stillman, Chris Byars and Kris Allen. Stillman and Allen are still in their 20s, leaving Byars as the relative fogey in his mid-30s, but their collective youth undercuts nothing in shared passions for and comprehension of the bebop idiom. As in the past pianist Andy Laverne serves as the ersatz ringleader and chief arranger/composer, basically fielding the same post Mal Waldron held on so many classic Prestige jam sessions in the 50s. His supple, but assertive touch is a ubiquitous asset to saxophonists and works in sensuous synchronicity with longtime colleagues, bassist Steve LaSpina and drummer Billy Drummond, to support and inspire.

The chosen program is a colorful concoction of two Bird tunes (‘natch), three Laverne numbers, a ballad medley and a tune from Byars to start the set. His “You Know How It Is” reveals itself as basically a “Blue Train” crib grafted onto a bright cymbal-sustained beat. Annotations on the tray card clearly breakdown solo order on each track, but I found it most instructive to start with the ballad medley in drawing a bead on each player’s tone and phrasing preference. Stillman evinces a lot of early Konitz in his feathery dry inflection and cerebral skill at parsing a melody on “You’ve Changed.” Allen’s approach is more tensile and flinty, reflecting the mien of longtime mentor Jackie McLean and making for an appealingly contrastive rundown of “Prisoner of Love.” Byars fills out the middle with a version of “Autumn Nocturne” that open plaintive, but swiftly sprouts legs.

Laverne’s “Apropos” and “Hydroponic” accentuate the horn trio’s acumen at crafting lush harmonies on the fly. The general congeniality and easy deference distances the session from a cutting contest and places a welcome emphasis on communal integrity. Lest listeners think it’s all placid handshakes and backslaps, the three engage in playful brinksmanship on “Steeplechase” as Laverne comps brightly behind them. Even Drummond gets in on the foreground action via a series of breaks on the closing “Blues For Alice.” As entries in the series go, this one is pretty much a sure bet.

Vol. 16 ends up more problematic than its predecessor. The chief complication rests from the chosen instrumentation of three bassists plus piano and drums. There are multiple segments when antiquated wisecracks about the bull fiddle being the butt of the band begin to ring uncomfortably true. It’s not necessarily the players’ fault. Steve LaSpina is a veteran of over 25 Steeplechase sessions. Jay Anderson’s total is nearly double that quotient. Ron McClure is the ‘greenhorn’ of the group with only a dozen to his name. The three men have over a century of professional experience between them so it’s certainly not a question of musicianship- there isn’t a member of the ensemble who isn’t an ace on his instrument. The program is blue-chip too, delivering a generous selection of bass-friendly tunes that include the evergreen “So What’” (retooled as a funky jam) and another Mr. P.C. feature, the oft-overlooked “Tale of the Fingers.”

Pianist George Colligan necessarily steps up as principal chordal architect and bridge. In partnership with the lithe stick play of drummer Darren Beckett he does his best to offer both accompaniment and contrast, but there are still moments were the sheer number of palpitating bass strings muddies the playing field. Individually, many of the solos exhibit textbook-worthy prowess. Contrapuntal constructions on pieces like the opening “Walkin’” and the version of Monk’s “Bright Mississippi” exemplify the fluid give and take between the players that is at times entrancing. Thematic quotes are plentiful and varied with all three men regularly weaving surprisingly melodic improvisations, particularly on the small handful of originals from McClure and LaSpina. But the best moments unfold when one or another pairs off with Colligan and Beckett.

If pressed to pick a favorite jazz implement my choice, after much agonizing deliberation, would almost certainly fall to the double bass. In the right hands and right setting it’s a timbral device that I simply can’t get enough of. But in this particular context, with players whose styles are not all that divergent, the tripartite schematic borders on overkill. Most of these tunes simply weren’t built for these sorts of lop-sided arrangements. Without horns or some other displacing agent beyond piano and drums the preponderance of bass solos begins to turn ponderous and bleed the date dry of punch. Dating from the winter of ’99, there’s not much mystery as to why this music stayed in the can so long. I can only recommend it half-heartedly with a horizontal thumb salute.

[Steeplechase discs are available direct through: Stateside@prodigy.net]

~ Derek Taylor