That there has been an understandable reluctance on the part of some critics in this country to comment adversely on the work of Dave Brubeck is probably because Dave, both in his playing and most certainly in his relationship with the press, always evinces such a nice-guy quality that it seems nothing short of caddish to write down his music. Yet to me, and never more than on his most recent tour, the music the quartet play is not jazz. Improvise they do most certainly, but it is a brand of improvising that totally lacks the personal feeling that is the very essence of jazz.
It is strange to me that the Brubeck Quartet are so immensely popular – a popularity that has held up unabated for some years, surviving the fads and peculiar blind alleys that jazz has run itself into during the years. I say strange, for to me (sitting as part of an audience) there is nothing more infuriating than the patronising way Brubeck introduces his myriad and meaningless new time signatures. Irritating, because of the condescending manner with which he always makes bragging mention that this is something no-one has ever attempted to do before. Having, therefore, proved to his own satisfaction that he and his group can all count up to eleven or thirteen (or whatever jazzless time signature is going to be employed) he then commences to pound the piano like an automaton, fully wound.
The audience were apparently duly enthralled by these thumping excursions into 5/4, 7/4, 9/4, 11/4 and even 13/4 – which brings us to the real heart of the matter. That this is but a gimmick to provide music for the uninformed, the unhip. It is sad to see just how many there are who fail to recognise that this is a hybrid music, a music totally lacking in those basic jazz ingredients of true feeling and personal expression.
Whilst he was here, I heard Dave Brubeck exhort a brother musician from these shores to keep going on his chosen path, even if he found what he did was quite unappreciated. ‘What has happened to those people who tried to put me down, when I started playing something different’, asked Brubeck. ‘Why, they are all selling shoes now!’ Maybe, Mr. Brubeck, but I will lay long odds they aren’t dancing shoes.
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In the same July 1964 issue of JJ, Mark Gardner wrote of the Brubeck quartet’s latest album, Time Changes:
“It seems that hardly a month slips by without the release of yet another Brubeck album. In fact there is a glut of Brubeck available for the champions of this artist; at the time of writing, no less than 42 LPs under Brubeck’s name are listed in American catalogues. But pianists like Barry Harris, Duke Jordan and Elmo Hope are lucky if they’ve made a handful of discs. The jazz audience at large certainly exhibits a peculiar sense of proportion.
“Brubeck continues to flog the time gimmick ad nauseum (this is the fourth record on which he has employed hilarious time signatures such as 10/4). Why does he persist in labouring the point that musicians can play in 10/4? And also underlining the old news that his men can’t swing in 10/4?
“Side one comprises five originals, four by Brubeck and one by Joe Morello, devoted to the time bit. Iberia, inspired by a radio commercial, contains much thumping from the pianist – altoist Desmond is absent – but Morello holds the attention with his snappy, waltz time drumming.
“I never cease to admire Paul Desmond – his art has remained unspoiled, despite 12 years in the Brubeck camp. He whispers, never bawls at you. His contributions here measure up to his usual high standard. Though light as marsh-mallow, Paul’s solos are always flawlessly constructed. Unisphere is a fair example of his talent and remarkable capabilities.
“His leader, however, shows no improvement. The belching, two-fisted thumpings on the piano must test the instrument’s structure. They also test the eardrums of the listener. He produces a positively dire solo on Shim Wha in which his left hand slams a repetitive chord with sledge-hammer force. Don’t bother with this: Wait for the next Thelonious Monk CBS album instead.”