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.

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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.

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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.

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Some Elvisiana:





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