The 1973 album Head Hunters represented Herbie Hancock’s full recognition (he’d made earlier, less explicit gestures in the early 60s) of the popularity and efficacy of soul music. In those days of sensitivity in jazz to selling-out, and being a “serious” jazz pianist, Hancock had to give himself permission to cross to the popular realm. Thanks to his recent discovery of Buddhism he found he was allowed (according to his biography) “to create music to serve humanity”, as opposed to pursuing any longer the poor-selling, somewhat arcane “space music” of his Mwandishi sextet. The avant-garde had enjoyed a brief vogue in high places, but was in retreat among the big names that had spun off from Miles Davis. Can you imagine Columbia issuing Bitches Brew as a new record today?
Hancock needn’t have worried, because the music of Head Hunters came to be seen as an artistic triumph. The funk dance beat and the ingenious patchwork of interlocking, complementary riffs that Hancock had admired in Sly Stone and Stevie Wonder were there, but so too in the tunes Chameleon and Sly was a new and intriguing side-slipping, polytonal style of modal improvisation, a massive step forward from Hancock’s chord-locked work on earlier modal tunes such as the 1965 Maiden Voyage (prosaically, a revision of a jingle Hancock wrote for Yardley men’s cologne).
The name Head Hunters wasn’t used as a band name on record until 1975 when the album Survival Of The Fittest was issued by the Headhunters (now contracted to one word). The success of the Head Hunters album (it was the biggest selling jazz album until Kind Of Blue overtook it in the recidivist 80s/90s) turned the name into a brand and the franchise has continued, attributed to various lineups led energetically by drummer Mike Clark, who debuted with Hancock on the 1974 album Thrust, home of the jazz-funk test-piece Actual Proof. Tonight, we didn’t get Actual Proof but we got proof that the funk prevails, in good measure, even with one of the band’s veteran members gone missing.
I had had some reservations – having seen on YouTube some spectacular chromatic playing from altoist Khris Royal with the Headhunters in New Orleans in 2016 – that altoist Donald Harrison, best known for his time with Art Blakey, might be a bit too inside, too bebop for this gig, might sound like Cannonball Adderley did on Kind Of Blue, rather limited to the harmony. But although some solos were a little static for my taste, it turned out he fit very well and gave us the bonus of some outstanding soul-style vocals and audience interaction.
The set began with a piano, bass and drums rendition of Four String Drive. After the first phrase, which is typically followed by a one- or two-bar silence, joker Clark said “All right – I hope you enjoyed it. We’ll see you the next time.” It’s evidently a routine, and a good one. The groove picked up and solos followed, with an especially ear-catching one from seven-string bassist Chris Severin, who turned out to be the most consistently compelling soloist of the night.
After Four String Drive, Clark joshed again “The others are gonna join us later in the tour.” Donald Harrison was donning his alto stage-right, but there was no sign yet of Headhunters founder member and percussionist Bill Summers.
Perhaps nodding to Harrison’s post-bop background, the next two numbers were funk versions of Wayne Shorter’s masterpiece E.S.P. and Miles Davis’s So What. Both fell a little awkwardly over the funk rhythm, seeming to need more space and float, but the intention was good. Severin’s bass again stole the solo honours, his lines on So What propulsive and shaped to tell a story. There was still no Summers, and no mention of him.
The “jazz” numbers had overall lacked a little creative energy, but with the band perhaps settled in, Loft Funk (with a line like Freedom Jazz Dance) had a lot more focus and intent, with a solid, menacing groove and good solos from pianist Kyle Roussel and Severin, the latter a master of relaxation at any tempo, not afraid to leave space, change pace and direction, always making clear, coherent statements. Early in Harrison’s solo, the bass and then the whole rhythm section dropped to an easy swing, which may have suited the saxophonist well.
Loft Funk ended with a virtual free for all, not something one might expect at a Headhunters gig, but it was a useful diversion. After that intensity, Clark said “We’re going to New Orleans for a minute. I need to get my feet on the ground.” Then came a revelation for anyone who thinks Harrison might be limited to the besuited constraints of the Jazz Messengers. He started singing, very convincingly, in New Orleans funk style, and proved a fine showman, rousing the audience into participation on a version of the Meters’ Hey Pocky A-Way. His multi-tasking not exhausted, he moved to the still vacant percussion stool, and played some congas.
And that was it, a little earlier than the allotted 75 minutes. They said farewell but then stayed on stage for a brief encore comprising just the theme of Chameleon, sharply played and with an enhanced bass line.
Then, out of the blue, before the band could leave, the 76-year-old Bill Summers was crossing the stage. Mike Clark (77) said he’d had some difficulties. Summers came to the mic and said “You don’t know the day I’ve had. I was two blocks away an hour ago.” Clark told us “We don’t want you leaving without hearing a special treat from Bill Summers.” Whatever had happened, Summers looked fine and was fit enough to give us the full gourd and vocal intro to the 1973 version of Hancock’s Watermelon Man, which was followed by solos all round. His arrival can’t have been stage managed but made a good last act in an evening that after a relatively routine start had developed quite a dramatic curve. Music over, he followed his friend Mike Clark through the auditorium with a hand on his shoulder as if to find his way. Fifteen minutes later they were still signing CDs in the foyer.
I should add a word about Ronnie’s Friday night Viva Cuba! session upstairs at the club. Tonight, at 9.45, two hours after the Headhunters’ first house, it featured the excellent band Son Yambu. By that time, the pavement outside the club was empty – no queues as there had been – and I expected to see a dozen people upstairs. I ascended the stairs to enter a room rammed with maybe 200. Punters were lining up in anticipation before the bandstand as an animated DJ stoked the atmosphere with some dense Cuban beats. It was quite the scene, and though I could only stay for half an hour, I saw Son Yambu – voice, trumpet, tres, bass, congas and timbales – play three very impressive numbers. Donald Harrison’s hometown New Orleans isn’t that far from Cuba and the musical connection – the contagious syncopation, the minor tonality and the declamatory expression – was palpable.
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The Headhunters, Ronnie Scott’s, London. First house, 26 July 2024. Bill Summers (pc); Mike Clark (d); Donald Harrison (as); Chris Severin (elb); Kyle Roussel (kyb).
