PAQUITO D’RIVERA
Blowin’
[Columbia FC 37374]

STAN GETZ
The Dolphin
Concord Jazz CJ-158

TOM SCOTT
Apple Juice
[Columbia FC 37419]

PART ONE

In 1840, a Frenchman named Adolphe invented the wind instrument to which he bequeathed his last name. I often wonder if he could have possibly imagined the sounds and role the saxophone has played in the ensuing century and a half of musical history. Shunned by the brethren of classical music, the saxophone did not have a significant impact on the music scene until it was picked up by the brothers of jazz. Even so, in the early years, in the New Orleans era of jazz, there was still very little saxophone R & D. Not until the late 1920s, after jazz had migrated to the Midwest and Northeast, when musicians like Sidney Bechet on soprano, Coleman Hawkins on tenor and a bit later Johnny Hodges on alto, all began to reveal the supremely expressive properties of the instrument, did the saxophone establish any kind of respectable reputation.

Today, the preeminence of the saxophone in the world of jazz is indisputable. As a reference for unresolvable speculation on the next 150 years of saxophone history, I have assembled a diverse group of new music from current sax artists and bands. There’s a lot of ground to cover between Tom Scott, of L.A. Express fame, and the World Saxophone Quartet, of cosmic omniverse fame. So let the blowing begin.

Tom Scott’s newest album, Apple Juice, is nothing more than one would expect from the redundant reedman. With its eezy-breezy fusion funkiness and occasional burp of candor and understatement (usually from the restrained guitar work of Eric Gale), Scott’s music is consistently palatable to the soft-core jazz listener.

However, listening to tunes like “So White and So Funky” (sung by Dr. John no less) and “Instant Relief’ (from which there was none, especially during Marcus Miller’s bubbly-boink bass solo) is an activity that can lead to serious deadening of the aural nerve endings and should be avoided by all scrupulous citizens. Apple Juice should have been canned while it was still fresh.

Getz is back! At least that will be the heraldic tout once The Dolphin makes its appointed rounds among the critical establishment. Indeed, the tenor saxophonist has abandoned his disheartening flirtation with mega-buck record companies and convoluted music-making of the past few years. As Stan Getz himself declares, his new band is “one that is right for me, not one that’s designed to reach a wider audience or compete with the rock people.”

Only one member from the old group has been retained, drummer Victor Lewis. To construct his comeback band, Getz dug up Lou Levy, Woody Herman’s pianist during the days of the “Four Brothers” sound in Herman’s sax section (Getz, Herb Stewart, Zoot Sims and Serge Chaloff were founders of this distinctive sax ensemble that characterized the “Herds” of the late ‘40s). The addition of Monty Budwig on bass completed Getz’ task of assembling a “classical-jazz quartet.” In May, 1981, the new band played the Keystone Korner in San Francisco, the sight of several notable live jazz recordings. The result is The Dolphin and the performance is vintage Getz.

Whether working with a lush, romantic ballad (Johnny Mandel’s “A Time For Love”), or a lyrical, swinging film theme (“The Night Has A Thousand Eyes”), Getz displays the fluid phrasing and flawless execution of which he is so capable. (He even honks and squeals with style and grace.) Clifford Brown’s composition, “Joy Spring” gives the tenor saxophonist a chance to drive home some of that Bird-like blowing reminiscent of the late ‘50s Getz vehicles. “Joy Spring” also includes a blistering bass solo by Budwig and consistently tight ensemble work throughout. The title cut is the expected bossa nova selection written by Brazilian Luiz Eca. If you liked Getz’ early ‘60s successes with this type of tune, you’ll dig his latest installment. As a matter of fact, the nostalgia factor is the body and soul of this new Getz effort; anyone who was a Stan Getz fan can now safely welcome him back from the dead. He is no longer part of the problem. On the other hand, he’s also not part of the solution anymore. Die-hard Getz fans will be delighted by and will savor The Dolphin, other less fanatical observers will cast an admiring glance at an old fish, and let it safely swim away.

Things pick up a bit with the next selection from this brief saxophone blowout. For many years, Paquito D’Rivera struggled to leave his native Cuba in order to “live in the United States and build there a career as a jazz musician.” He finally realized his dream by skipping out during a European tour, fearing reprisals and restrictions would be forthcoming if he tried to leave Cuba legitimately. Castro’s loss is definitely a positive acquisition for the jazz rank-and-file in the U.S. D’Rivera’s first solo album, appropriately titled Blowin’, is a refreshing example of the worldness of jazz music.

Cuban, and consequently West African influences within jazz have existed, to one degree or another, at least since the late ‘40s when Dizzy Gillespie hired Chano Pozo as his conga player. D’Rivera extends the rich jazz tradition to the sound of the music. His intensity and warmth are as powerful as his talent and commitment.

Blowin’ features an eclectic selection of works for D’Rivera’s interpretation. From “On Green Dolphin Street’’ to “Basstronaut’’ to “EI Dia Que Me Quieras,” the multi-instrumental capabilities of D’Rivera are never applied with less than total resolve and virtuosity. The opening tune, “Waltz For Moe,” is a swinging waltz highlighted by the relentless percussion section: drummer Ignacio Borroa, conga player Daniel Ponce and a fine contribution by stalwart bassist, Eddie Gomez. D’Rivera blows his soprano sax with gale force strength and Trane-like quickness. He’s also prone to cries and moans echoing the style of George Adams. Especially on alto, the listener is reminded of Adams’ pointed lyricism punctuated by anguished shrieks and joyful squeals; D’Rivera’s work on “Chuco” is exemplary of this effect.

D’Rivera’s choice of accompaniment, the Caribbean pianist Hilton Ruiz on some cuts, Argentinian keyboardist Jorge Dalto on others (most notably on “Monga,” featuring Dalto’s inspired electric piano work), reflects the Cuban saxophonist’s delight and concern with the ethnic parameters of Afro-American jazz. This facet of D’Rivera’s music - his band, his performances - reveals an underlying structure of international aesthetic thrusts which precipitates a vitality and expressiveness that necessarily stems from an enlightened world awareness. On the surface, D’Rivera’s musical efforts do not blubber forth political whinings. It is through the quality and dignity which permeate every selection on Blowin’ that a man’s voice is heard, strong and resourceful, singing for the freedom he believes he has found.

-Douglass DeLoach

Part Two continued in next issue: The emergence of the unaccompanied saxophone quartet