Newport Jazz Festival is August 7-8, live feed planned

Looks like I'll miss the Newport Jazz Festival for the 52nd year in a row. Too bad.

This year's edition, in Newport, Rhode Island August 7-8, will have folks like Wynton Marsalis, Dave Brubeck, Ahmad Jamal and the Chick Corea Freedom Band with Roy Haynes. Great lineup.

Jazz impresario George Wein started the festival in 1954, Wein is still around and promoting though he's about 900 years old.

But the Festival is probably the largest jazz gathering in the United States. Just check out the honor roll of folks who released albums from their live Newport sets:

- Duke Ellington

- John Coltrane

- Count Basie

- David Brubeck

- Ray Charles

- Muddy Waters

- Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday and Carmen McRae

- Nina Simone

Half of Rahsaan Roland Kirk's Volunteered Slavery album was from a live Newport set and ... well, you get the idea. Too numerous to mention. If your favorite jazz musician is of any significance, he's played Newport.

Back in the earlier days of the festival, the Voice of America carried Newport live, giving households their annual jazz fix.

It was in 1956 that a tired-sounding Duke Ellington and his band lit the stage up. An oldie from their songbook, Diminuendo and Crescendo In Blue, featured Paul Gonsalves on tenor sax, and before his 27-chorus, six-and-a-half minute solo was over the audience got crazy. If you listen to the live portions of that album you can hear Duke trying to quell the audience before a riot broke out.

Here's what I wrote a year ago about that solo:

"It's one of those moments that every human being should experience. It's crunch time, and you're called to perform at something -- a job, dealing with family, facing the outside world. And you're performing at a level that you didn't know you had and you don't remember how you did it. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar described one of those moments during the closing seconds of a playoff game when he was at the baseline, in the corner, those seconds ticking away. Abdul-Jabbar said time just slowed down for him, kind of like you're watching the world in slow motion. A teammate got him the ball, Kareem put up the hook shot, it went right in, and immediately the world went back to real time. I'm sure it was that kind of moment for Duke Ellington and his band."

Enough history. But here's the good news. If you can't make it to Newport, check out the NPR site this year. They plan a live Internet feed so you can listen to at least some of the music, real-time.

I know where I'm going to be this weekend: In front of the computer, speakers blaring, listening to some great jazz.

###

Jam breaks out - at WalMart

Now, this is cool! I found this in the People of WalMart site.

I've seen (and participated in) jam sessions breaking out in some pretty unusual places, but never this. Now if WalMart had it on the ball, there'd be a lot more impromptu jammin' going on.

You Gotta Start Somewhere

###

Singer Al Jarreau hospitalized in France

Can't believe he's 70. I always liked Al; he always sounds so joyful when he's singing.

Singer Al Jarreau hospitalized in France

(AP): "AP - Singer Al Jarreau has been taken to a hospital in France with breathing problems."

###

Clarke's bass a bridge between jazz, fusion and funk

Happy 59th birthday to bassist Stanley Clarke.

He's got the background. Played with guys like Art Blakey, Horace Silver, Gil Evans and Stan Getz, was probably best know for his work for Return To Forever, Chick Corea's band. Playboy Magazine chose him as top jazz bassist 10 years in a row. He helped bridge the gap between jazz and fusion, along with all the genres that sprung from there.

That slap-and-pop technique, really more a funk sound than a jazz sound, is something that Victor Wooten, that killer bassist with Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, does so well. 

Here's another vid, with Clarke sharing bass time with Wooten and Marcus Miller. It's interesting hearing the bass take a lead guitar role here. So kick the bass up and rip the knobs off:

###

Happy Father's Day!

Horace Silver's "Song For My Father."

It's your day, Dad. Enjoy it.

###

Everyone needs some Rahsaan in their lives

Something from one of the greatest, all-time:



That's Rahsaan Roland Kirk on tenor sax, manzello, stritch, flute, nose flute, siren, and who knows what else he has in his pockets.

You'd think a blind guy who plays this kind of style must be more novelty than anything else, until you listen. That's when you realize he was the real deal. Rahsaan was the total musical package.

This clip is from a concert in Bologna, Italy in 1973. He's doing the songs "Three For The Festival" and "Volunteered Slavery." In the first cut he's also playing a passage from "One Mind/Seasons."

Did solve a mystery here. The clip ends with the intro to "Passion Dance," and I recognize it. That version shows up on Kirk's "Dog Years In The Fourth Ring," and a guy named Kenny Rogers (no, not the same one) was playing baritone sax there. And he kicks butt.

Anyway, enjoy! Had to spread a little Rahsaan into people's lives.

###

More Rahsaan:

At 82, groundbreaking Konitz still holds his own

Not long ago, through an NPR music site, I downloaded a Lee Konitz concert recorded earlier this year, and just about wore out my headphones listening to it.

What's amazing is that Konitz is 82 years old now, playing with guys in their 20s and -- well, if he's pacing himself more, he's showing no real shortage of ideas. But Konitz's entree in the jazz world was always in his ability to think on his feet.

Konitz, who plays alto sax, was a contemporary of some of the real giants -- Charlie "Bird" Parker in particular, but while Parker went toward the fast, harmonically challenging genre of bebop, Konitz was clearly in the early "cool jazz" camp. Their instruments were identical, but while Parker went for a full-throated sound, Konitz' tone was a lot thinner and more exacting. More surgical. In a time when every altoist in the world tried to sound like Bird, Konitz didn't even try. But both were amazing improvisers.

On the opening track of this one-hour, 10-minute set, you can almost see the ideas shifting around in Konitz' brain. Admittedly he's a little slower on the musical uptake, and he started a little tentatively to 28-year-old pianist Dan Toepfer's "Green Dolphin Street" intro. His lip isn't as strong as it once was. But by the end of the first song he showed he still has enough gas -- and ideas -- in the tank.

Out-there musical ideas were his calling card. Although he was one of the nine-piece band Miles Davis fielded for "Birth Of The Cool," Konitz is probably best known for his association with pianist Lennie Tristano, one of the great thinkers in jazz. Tristano and his crew played really cerebral stuff, even headier than anything Dave Brubeck ever played. And it was in the late 1940s that Tristano and a few friends decided to try what was probably the most audacious experiment of 'em all.

They decided to make something out of nothing.

I've known musicians who can pick up on a few notes from a bass -- or even a drum pattern -- and improvise on the fly, and build something new from the head arrangement on up. I've been able to do this a couple of times, including an unforgettable set with the late guitarist Chuck Bigbee, where we totally made stuff up for about 45 minutes. I can't think of anything more exciting than coming up with something off the top of your head in a musical context. But even those moments, rare as they are, come about almost accidentally, in the excitement and energy of the moment. But the Tristano/Konitz session was deliberate.

In 1960, Ornette Coleman put together a double quartet, two full bands on opposite sides of the room, and recorded the 36-minute-long "Free Jazz." Nearly all of this was composed on the spot; about the only pre-written parts were some of the transitions between each section. This stuff was so out there -- at the time, anyway -- that trumpeter Freddie Hubbard sounded lost. Coleman's album was one of those that no one was neutral about; it was either a bunch of disconnected skronks on vinyl, or a revelation.

Of course I have "Free Jazz" on CD. It's packaged with an earlier take, one that's kind of a rough draft. The first take was half the length of the released version, and there are plenty of differences between the two. Bass clarinetist Eric Dolphy in particular approached each version as a tabula rasa; it's intriguing to listen to both and hear Dolphy playing two completely different sets of ideas on the same theme.

But the Tristano/Konitz effort, part of which was released on an album called "Intuition," predated "Free Jazz" by nearly 15 years.

Tristano's been dead for years now, and their bassist, Arnold Fishkin, wasn't exactly a household name. But back when I was in college, a local guy named Mac McReynolds had a big band that played World War II vintage stuff, with an Air Force motif. McReynolds' band was called the Planes Of Fame band, and his bassist was named Arnold Fishkin. I wasn't aware of the Tristano/Konitz connection back then so I didn't ask the obvious question, but there can't be two guys with a name like Fishkin.

But Konitz today, he may have lost a lot off his fastball by now, but it's hard to tell from listening.

If you've got the time and want to hear some good playing from an old guy, hop on over to the NPR site and grab the concert. It's free, and it's a treat. The old guy can still bring it.

###

Sexy songs: 'Physical' gets nod, not sure why

It's official. "Let's Get Physical" is the sexiest song of all time.

That's what a poll by Billboard Magazine says. Olivia Newton-John's single, released in the early 1980s, got the nod over choices from Rod Stewart and Marvin Gaye.

Somehow I can't see it.

This isn't even my age talking; I was in my early 20s when that song came out, and yeah, I did like it. My then-girlfriend also loved that song; in fact she first called it to my attention and the title became a wry part of our secret vocabulary.

For Newton-John, this was something of a reach. She'd had something of a squeaky-clean image, and the song broke the mold for her. But the video had her working out on all sorts of exercise equipment, just so folks wouldn't read "Get Physical" as a dirty song. It was a nice use of double entendre, I thought. Exercise? Yeah, right.

But the sexiest song? Not likely. While the lyrics are there, the song's beat and tone do not spell sexy. Not even close. It doesn't even make me want to hit the gym, but then I don't visit those places very often.

Besides, subtlety is a big part of sexy. Except for the exercise angle, there wasn't much of that there.

Stewart's best, "Tonight's The Night," had the grooves and lyric that spelled sexy, although the part about spreading wings wasn't exactly subtle.

Back a few years before my heyday, Johnny Mathis was it as far as coming out with sexy songs -- funny when you consider he didn't "roll that way," as the parlance goes. But the lyrics were right there, and the velvety tones of his voice and the arrangements set the stage for many a romantic encounter. Nat King Cole was another from a few years earlier ("Unforgettable" was one of the greatest of all time). I've come to really enjoy Nat, and his piano playing was highly underrated. Check out some of his earlier stuff ("Straighten Up And Fly Right") for a sample there, even though that song wasn't one to set up the mood.

My own choice for sexiest song? "Invisible Lady" by Charles Mingus. He was at the piano for this one, with Jimmie Knepper as the lead instrumental voice. "Invisible Lady" was in the same vein as some of Duke Ellington's songs, kind of like a smooth "Satin Doll," and Mingus employed Knepper in about the same way the Duke used his great trombonist Lawrence Brown. Knepper's trombone work was buttery, melting all over the place, with just the right touch of mystery.

It's an instrumental, but that's all right. Sometimes words just get in the way, right?

Try this with your spouse: Lights low, per normal. Employ all the rest of the romantic things you use. And put on "Invisible Lady."

If that doesn't set the proper mood, stick a mirror under your nose. I'll bet it won't fog.

###

Happy Birthday, Stan Getz

Enjoy that great tenor sax. Stan Getz would have been 83 today.

###

Getz on allmusic.com

Getz on amazon.com

Kristofferson among music's best double threats

Writing about Kris Kristofferson made me think a little bit about his success in two separate careers -- in music and in acting.

While many stars try their hand at some other art (maybe it's an inherent restlessness in those creative types), few truly excel outside their field.

Of course, Kristofferson's a rare bird anyway. An excellent student at Pomona College (one of the Claremont colleges, the Ivy League of the West Coast and a duck snort down the road from my old neighborhood), he was also a Rhodes scholar. One of those folks who could do anything he sets his mind to do.

Sure, Madonna did her share of acting, but there's a great separation between her success on the screen and on the concert stage. Enough separation to label her a dabbler, so I'm not going to include her in this list. Same thing with Elvis -- his film career couldn't touch his music.

So who are some of the great double threats from the music world? Here are some that come to mind at a moment's notice:

• Michael Jackson is an obvious choice, and I'm not referring to his dancing. He showed some real filmmaking chops with his rock videos, and his "Captain Eo" 3-D movie (which I thought was kind of cheesy) was a mainstay at Disneyland some years ago. His "Thriller" video was deemed culturally significant enough to make it into the National Film Registry earlier this year.

• Frank Sinatra did pretty well in pitchers himself, winning an academy award for his supporting role in "From Here To Eternity." Oh, yes, Ol' Blue Eyes didn't have a half bad set of pipes on him, either. And mustn't forget Bing Crosby's "Road" pictures with Bob Hope. Those were totally insane; if Bing and Bob don't fetch at least one skinny laugh from you, you're in real trouble.

• Also crossing over from music to movies was Dexter Gordon. A tenor sax player in the 1940s and 50s, he started a nice second career playing the lead role in "Round Midnight," one of the best jazz movies ever. In his other film, "The Awakening" (with Robin Williams and Robert DeNiro), he had a much smaller part, and not much acting involved there. All he had to do was be catatonic.

• Then there's Milt Hinton. One of the better jazz bassists of his day, he was also an excellent photographer. Some of the best black-and-white photos of musicians I've ever seen were originally sighted through Milt's viewfinder.

• Chuck Berry was also quite a shooter. He was probably more passionate about his photography than he was about his music; he'd built his first darkroom when he was a kid. He wasn't quite in Hinton's league, but he was good with a camera.

• Eddie Henderson's an interesting one. A jazz trumpeter, he's straight out of the Miles Davis style. For years he played on weekends, working his way through medical school. He had dual careers as a jazz player and as a psychiatrist, a not inconvenient choice given the number of head cases there are in the music world.

• Brian May, one of the founders of Queen, got his PhD. in astrophysics a few years ago. And country singer/songwriter Jimmie Davis, who penned that great song "You Are My Sunshine," served several terms as Governor of Louisiana. But then, there's no bigger form of show business than politics.

Writers among the musicians? Again, it's hard to separate the dabblers from the real thing. Most music autobiographies, if they don't suck eggs, were written by a ghostwriter. But Artie Shaw and Sidney Bechet -- both clarinetists -- turned out some good prose. Charles Mingus' autobiography, "Beneath The Underdog," was interesting but ... strange. It was pure stream-of-consciousness stuff, but then a lot of his music rolled that way, too.

You tell me: What other double-threat musicians can you think of? I know I hardly nibbled around the edges here.

###

Kristofferson concert wasn't slick, but done honestly

Those who check out Kris Kristofferson's latest concert circuit may notice what's missing: No fancy lighting, no top-of-the-line equipment, no gorillas in security outfits. Shoot, not even a band. It's just Kris.

And it was this minimalist, for-real aspect that helped Kris connect with the audience. He was up there on the empty stage of the North Charleston Performing Arts Center, standing in the circle of light with two monitors at his feet, a microphone stand, and a music stand next to him. Just him, with a nothing-special acoustic guitar, occasional harmonica on the neck rack, and his songs. Take away the usual venue trappings and it could have been him playing in a coffee shop, some smoky tavern someplace, or your living room.

He's 73 now, and he's lived some hard miles. A songwriter in the 1960s and 1970s. A few albums on his own. Time as an acclaimed actor. Some tours with The Highwaymen, a country supergroup (with Waylon, Willie, and the Man In Black). A drinking habit that would have pickled anyone else's innards. I understand he's clean now.

Friday night, perhaps a form of redemption. It was just Kris Kristofferson, songwriter, warts and all, delivered in a personal manner you don't see on the concert circuit. And the crowd at the Performing Arts Center, mostly baby boomers who remember him more for his songs than for that bathtub scene with Barbra Streisand (A Star Is Born), was appreciative and often helpful.

You can't say he'd lost much off his voice over the years because, honestly, he never had that much of a voice anyway. His rhythm was sometimes off, and there were a couple of times where he forgot words or guitar phrases. But he'd already connected so solidly with the audience, so that really didn't matter.

Pastor Sonny, who accompanied me to the concert, knows something about this aspect. Sonny's a baby boomer in good standing, and makes his living speaking in front of audiences. He knows his music, too -- he's a fine rhythm guitarist, and it's always a pleasure throwing down some songs with him. He suggested the smaller venue and being up there alone, without the protection of a band and all the usual concert trappings, is really doing it the hard way.

Kris started slowly, apparently wasn't feeling too well for this show, but started to catch his stride with "Me And Bobby McGee." Janis Joplin made that song famous, it's pure Kristofferson. He noticed the audience response, and offered an apology. "When you're trying to sing along and we're not together, it's not your fault."

For this show, he just didn't seem to take this stardom business all that seriously. Or himself. "Don't try to clap along," he told the audience at one point, explaining his own sense of rhythm isn't all that great. "Don't even try." And on "Duvalier's Dream," he agan interjected, "don't try."

Between songs he'd occasionally check his set list on the music stand. "I already did that song," he said at one point, almost to himself. "Can't do this song, because then we'd be done."

But he broke out his songwriter's reportoire -- "For The Good Times," "To Beat The Devil," "Here Comes That Rainbow," "Sky King" (a ribald military chopper pilot's story that had Pastor Sonny, the Southern Baptist minister, rolling in his seat), "Best Of All Possible Worlds" (a shaggy-dog tale about spending a drunken night in jail, something Kris can probably sing about with authority). And my own favorites -- "Why Me Lord" and "Sunday Morning Comin' Down." A strong show, in all.

Those who are expecting a slick, prepackaged performer doing his songs just like they were on the album would probably be disappointed. Which is OK; there are plenty of musical acts that can cater to just that need.

This was just Kris, being honest.

--

As a working musician, I got a couple of takeaways from this performance:

• Even if you're not at your best, connecting with the audience overcomes all.
• Keep things simple and straightforward. Sonny noticed Kris seldom strayed from the key of D.
• Like my old mandolin player Wil St. John (an incurable Bob Dylan fan) liked to say, the whole thing is just to deliver a song.

###

Kris Kristofferson on Amazon

Kris Kristofferson on allmusic.com

From The Boot: What he's doing lately

Teddy Pendergrass 'still proclaimed he was a lover'

Here's one for Teddy Pendergrass, who died Wednesday at 59.

Pendergrass had one of those raw, powerful voices that ... well, many a young man's late-night agenda was set to Pendergrass' voice back in the late 1970s.

A 1982 car accident left him paralyzed from the waist down.

From the Associated Press:

... but instead of becoming bitter or depressed, Pendergrass created a new identity — that as a role model, friend and longtime colllaborator Kenny Gamble said ... "He never showed me that he was angry at all about his accident," Gamble said in a telephone interviewwith The Associated Press. "In fact, he was very courageous." Pendergrass left a remarkable imprint on the music world as he ushered in a new era in R&B with his fiery, sensual and forceful brand of soul and his ladies' man image, burnished by his strikingly handsome looks ...

The accident left him in a wheelchair, and took something off his voice, and off his image.

"He used to say something in his act in the wheelchair, 'Don't let the wheelchair fool you,' because he still proclaimed he was a lover," Gamble said ... but his career was never the same. Gamble said it was difficult for Pendergrass to project vocally like he once did: "The breathing aspect of it, he wasn't really able to deal with it."

He had colon cancer surgery eight months ago, and apparently the recovery was difficult. He had been hospitalized for several months.

###

Elvis at 75: A country singer?

There's no way I can ignore this. The King himself would be 75 years old today.

I wasn't a great Elvis Presley fan, but over the years I've come to appreciate what he'd done. He'd crossed genres, popularized Las Vegas entertainment, and gave us a lot of great songs to listen to, enjoy, and learn.

To my knowledge, he never claimed to be a great musician. But he did all those things that a great musician does.

Name the genre and you'll probably find it represented in his body of work. Rock? Of course. Blues? Well, not like Muddy Waters, but he could sing 'em. Country? No problem. Gospel? Man, that's where I think he did his best work.

As I write this I'm listening to some of his gospel songs, and this gives me a real appreciation for his range. These songs, well, they're done respectfully, and you need to capture the right emotion and phrasing. And this is the same guy who pulled out the stops with "Hound Dog" and "Heartbreak Hotel." Elvis was no one-trick pony.

He's continued to break ground though he's been gone more than 30 years. Tribute bands are a big thing these days, groups that replicate a performer or group. Hey, the person being replicated doesn't even need to be dead -- some years ago I spent time talking with a guy who did a Garth Brooks tribute show in Nevada. You can say the first of about a zillion Elvis impersonators (see: Honeymoon In Vegas for a whole passel of them) gave birth to that industry.

Then, looking to the macabre for a minute, Elvis was one of the first to build a fortune and release top-selling albums from the grave. You're seeing this now with Michael Jackson; albums continue to sell and movies continue to be made long after Jacko had anything to do with it.

When the Postal Service deliberated over which image of Elvis to put on a postage stamp -- the 50s Elvis or the Las Vegas Elvis -- I preferred the younger version. That's when he was belting out old Arthur Crudup blues songs, creating another version of rock and roll, scandalizing polite society with his animated stage presence. When he was still not far removed from his truck-driving days, when he thought it was a real blast that folks were actually paying to hear him sing. That's the Elvis I'd rather remember.

Over the years I think he got a lot more jaded, bought too much into the stardom lifestyle, lost a little something off his skills, but he could still deliver a song.

Considering Elvis was still young and still had many songs in him at his passing, this begs the question of what he would be doing today if he was alive and in halfway decent shape. Oh, he'd still be touring. Many of his contemporaries -- the Stones, Willie Nelson, guys around his age -- still maintain killer schedules even though they may not look so good. I'm still trying to figure out Keith Richards. I'm amazed that guy's even alive, let alone able to handle small objects without assistance. He may look like wires are holding him up on stage, but Keith can still play that guitar.

If Elvis was still around, it wouldn't surprise me to see him making the rounds as ... a country singer. Seriously. Although you'd never confuse him with Johnny Cash, he'd always been real popular with those who listen to country. He'd always had the voice for it, and country is one of those genres that you can continue singing as your voice ages. I can hear him doing the kind of songs Charley Pride sang.

Got to give The King his due on a milestone birthday.

###

Some Elvisiana:





... and let's not forget all those flying Elvi:

Playing weeks and weeks of Stormy Monday

I wasn't terrribly surprised to see that Stormy Monday is probably the most-recorded blues song of 'em all, with at least 1,134 versions out there. Without a doubt it's the most played by bar bands.

It's a great song. T-Bone Walker originally played it, and the lyrics take you through a week of the blues:

"They Call it stormy Monday,
But Tuesday's just as bad ..."

It was also the first blues I've played in public, if you don't count Miles Davis' "All Blues," which is a jazz piece from his Kind Of Blue album.

But in my first sessions on stage, this harmonica player discovered something about colliding perceptions and reality:

• All harmonica players do nothing but blues.
• All bar bands know "Stormy Monday."
• Therefore, all harp players end up playing "Stormy Monday." A lot.

It's hysterical. Every bar band in the world plays "Stormy Monday." In fact, with many it's the only blues they know. They play it to "prove" they know blues, but in actuality it just proves the band doesn't know much of anything.

So after years of playing it, and even hearing it in my sleep, I ran out of ideas. Got tired of playing it. There are only so many ways you can attack a slow-blues standard, and I probably used all of them at some point. Double-time in the solos. Long pauses and held notes, going into clusters of sixteenth-notes. I quoted other songs -- my favorite version was throwing a few notes from that other blues chestnut, "After Hours," into it. I had to do something with it. In 1994, I stopped playing it.

In a famous interview, jazz innovator Charlie Parker said he had the same feeling with "Cherokee." He'd played it so many times he could do it while nodding out (and apparently he often did). Got sick of that song. But he did break through that wall, by using the upper intervals of the chords. This gave him a larger pool of notes to work with, and he said he came alive musically at that point.

I didn't go that far; even in my fantasies there's no way I can get close to Parker's musicianship. Instead, I chose to "boycott" the song. Any time it came up on stage, I sat it out. Which was all right; I was working in more of a country/rock direction then. I'd do other blues every so often, but indulged my interest in other musical forms.

It wasn't until 10 years later that I consented to play "Stormy Monday" again. I was playing with a vocalist named Jayne Valentine, who had this really powerful, expressive voice. We also shared an intuituve musical rapport, and every time we got together on stage, sparks would fly. More than a few folks swore we were an "item," that's how high the energy level was. But one night she decided to sing T-Bone's song, and because it was someone with the talent level and emotional level of Jayne, I joined her on it. And again, the song came alive.

Working with folks like that would put muscle, blood, and breath to any song.

T-Bone is still one of the great blues guitarists, and Stormy Monday is still a great song.

I'd play it again.

###

31 years past his death, Mingus is still great

Bassist and band leader Charles Mingus passed away 31 years ago today, on Jan. 5, 1979.

Simply put, he was one of the greatest in jazz -- particularly if you could stand to work with him. There are plenty of stories about that aspect of Mingus' personality.

Here's a twofer from Mingus: "Moanin," a song that first showed up on his Blues And Roots album (love that baritone sax there), and his version of Duke Ellington's "Take The A Train."

Right around 1960 Mingus had his own Ellington phase, switching over to the piano, going with slightly larger bands, and deploying trombonist Jimmie Knepper more frequently, in a role similar to what Lawrence Brown played for The Duke.

Knepper and Mingus later had an altercation and Mingus punched his trombonist in the mouth -- unforgivable stuff given Knepper needed a good lip to play. Knepper later sued Mingus but admitted from the stand that he did his best work ever under that lunatic.



But this video is from later, probably around 1964. That's when Mingus used one of his best-ever touring bands, with Jaki Byard on piano and Eric Dolphy on alto sax/bass clarinet/flute. Dolphy's featured here.

Mingus is definitely one of my favorites.

###