Gerry Mulligan And The Concert Jazz Band
At The Village Vanguard
This is the first "live" recording of the Gerry Mulligan big band, and was taped at the Village Vanguard in New York in December, 1960. Although several nights of music were recorded, Mulligan decided to select the album's final takes from one Sunday afternoon in order to maintain a consistency of mood. Mulligan's decision to record on location was taken with full realization of the hazards as well as the advantages of "in person" recording. "There are times", he explains, "when a few things may go wrong in such a performance but when conditions are right, the band can achieve more vivid presence and can create more spontaneous excitement than in a studio. In that extended piano blues, for example, that closes the second side, we did many things on the spur of the moment that we'll never do again in quite that way. We fell into a rocking, romping 'head' arrangement that we all enjoyed enormously, and that feeling is captured here".
"Working in front of an audience", Mulligan continues, "has a markedly different effect on a band. It can—as it has with us—result in a confidence as a unit that's a marvel to see, hear and feel".
Mulligan feels that his band is enjoying a steadily growing realization of its own identity. In this regard, Mulligan was asked his reaction to comments that this writer has made in magazine articles which questioned whether the band's arrangements were "adventurous" enough. "First of all", Mulligan answered, "I want the band to find itself, to find its own meaning within existing forms. Many of the guys looking for 'new forms' don’t understand the old ones. Secondly, my conception of a band is that of a group which can communicate an emotion that comes from the interaction between its members as a unit. A band can do that only if it enjoys what it's playing. And we do. We have fun as we work, and when things are really going well, we get a spirit going like 'let the good times roll'. That is what I want".
"Too many 'avant-garde' composers", Mulligan went on, "write for each other, not for the players. By contrast, I want material which the men take pleasure in playing. This band is developing both as a framework for soloists and as a vehicle for writers, but not 'far out' writers. So far as my own participation is concerned, my stamp is on the band and I'm the featured soloist, but up to now I've been more of a supervisor of the writing than a very active contributor. But all of what we do is based on my conviction that music is to be enjoyed, by the player as well as the listener". (...)
Drummer Mel Lewis—a musician of consistent taste who propels the Mulligan ensemble with a rare combination of lightness and strength—has summarized the reason the musicians in this band are so enthusiastic about the Mulligan orchestra. "Every time we play something", says Lewis, "it's different from the last time we've played the number. That's the way it's supposed to be. This is a real jazz band".
And so it is. Its virtues are much more apparent in this second album, partly because of the stimulation provided by the audience and also because by this point the band had been together for some time and had, in Mulligan’s phrase, been finding its own identity.
*Nat Hentoff (from the liner notes)*
The star system of rating records has both advantages and disadvantages, the former tending to outweigh the latter, and the most important advantage being, to my mind, that the decision on the number of Stars to assign tends to clarify the writer’s own thinking, minimizing the possibility of a noncommittal review.
But it can be frustrating. The Mulligan band's first LP was given five stars late last year. And it fully deserved them. Only... this is a better record than that first one!
It was recorded "live" at New York's Village Vanguard. (Of the several locations where I've heard the band, the Vanguard is the best for sound.) The disc has the vitality and fervor that one expects in a live performance, yet is free of that thin, unbalanced sound that non-studio sessions so often produce. I have never heard an on-the-spot recording with sound equal to this. It is excellent.
Musically, the disc has everything, including superb ensemble playing and solos of consistently high quality. Most solos are by Mulligan, Brookmeyer, and Terry.
I sometimes think that taste is a function of wit. An artist needs the wit to keep his work always in perspective. Brookmeyer's solos are almost invariably humorous, as if he could not take his ability quite seriously. Even in conversation, he seems incapable (except perhaps among his most intimate friends) of considering his talent with anything but levity. Yet at the writing table, safely out of the public gaze, his full sensitivity comes to the fore, and it is in his writing that he consistently demonstrates that he is one of the most lyrical musicians in jazz today.
This was evident in the Django’s Castle track in the first Mulligan band album; here it is manifest in his lovely arrangement of Body and Soul, with its delicate, breathy blends and rich sonorities. Nor is there ever danger of Brookmeyer's slipping over the edge from pathos into bathos. Like Paul Desmond, Miles Davis, Lorenz Hart, and many others, he has his sense of irony to tell him when he has gone just far enough. A beautiful, beautiful writer, Brookmeyer.
Mulligan also is blessed with a great lyrical sense—and great humor. He and Brookmeyer, in their solos, contribute majorly to the sense of fun that makes this album so infectious, though Terry makes the most potent single contribution to that spirit. On the opening track, Blueport, Terry and Mulligan mix it up in fours and eights, the high, singing, pixieish quality of Terry's trumpet a perfect foil and companion to Mulligan's amused, lumbering baritone. On the last track, People, Terry does a marvelous long solo that is obviously knocking the band out. They respond with a powerful though simple riff in unison reeds—evidently extemporaneously—and Terry and the band build together until, when he sits down to let the band have it all, everything is shouting. All things considered, this is probably the best track in an excellent album.
Reider has the unenviable task of replacing Zoot Sims in the tenor solos. But, with a sound much like Sims', he does well indeed. I was moved to overt chuckling by his Middle Eastern bit in his solo on Blueport.
Bassist Crow more than adequately replaces Buddy Clark, who left the band a while back to return to California. Lewis, who also has returned to California, was perfect for this band. He is a kick all through the disc, both to the band and to the listener. He has a rivet cymbal that has just about the most sizzling sound you ever heard, and he rides it with the assurance of a master. Like everyone else on the disc, Lewis has excellent taste.
The essences of this LP are vitality, humor, and, at times, an affecting beauty. It’s very much worth not missing. *Gene Lees (Down Beat, August 17, 1961 [5 stars])*
Side 1
1 - Blueport
(Art Farmer)
2 - Body And Soul
(Johnny Green, Frank Eyton, Edward Heyman, Robert Sour)
3 - Black Nightgown
(Johnny Mandel)
Side 2
4 - Come Rain Or Come Shine
(Harold Arlen, Johnny Mercer)
5 - Lady Chatterley's Mother
(Al Cohn)
6 - Let My People Be
(Gerry Mulligan)
Gerry Mulligan (baritone sax, piano [#6]); Don Ferrara, Clark Terry, Nick Travis, (trumpets);
Willie Dennis (trombone); Alan Raph (bass trombone); Bob Brookmeyer (valve trombone);
Bob Donovan (alto sax); Gene Quill (alto sax, clarinet); Jim Reider (tenor sax);
Gene Allen (baritone sax, bass clarinet); Bill Crow (bass); Mel Lewis (drums).
Recorded live at the Village Vanguard, New York City, December 11, 1960










