Emmet Cohen: Vibe Provider (Mack Avenue 1211)
Neo-stride is one of many strengths of Emmet Cohen, fabulous pianist and savvy entrepreneur. The opening song Vibe Provider is a homage to Willie “The Lion” Smith and as virtuosic as it is fluent, his lines like knives carving through butter. Lion Song is appropriate, since Cohen lives in Harlem, New York, birthplace of stride among others. Moreover, Harlem is the scene of Emmet’s Place, the popular YouTube channel of musical gatherings at Cohen’s uptown residence (here’s a swinger marking Houston Person’s 90th birthday).
It’s not often that one hears a spontaneous and organic mingling of Teddy Wilson, Oscar Peterson and McCoy Tyner. I’m speaking of If This Isn’t Love, one of four collaborations with ace drummer Joe Farnsworth, a regular collaborator of Cohen at East Coast venues. If there’s one description besides boundless talent that crops up when you hear (or see) Cohen playing, it’s jubilance. Whether it’s Tin Pan Alley like Surrey With The Fringe On Top or self-penned hard bop (supported by Cohen’s regular guys, bassist Philip Morris and drummer Kyle Pool and including aptly roaring tenor work by Tivon Pennicott), Cohen never fails to ignite a giant spark. This includes Henei Ma Tov, a modal arrangement of a gentle Hebrew folk song.
Vibe Provider is dedicated to the late Fumni Onanaige, Harlem-based jazz organiser, who clearly inspired Cohen, a breath of fresh air in mainstream jazz.
Dwayne Clemons: Center Of Gravity: Live At Smalls (Cellar Music SLF010)
In the life and career of Dwayne Clemons, there is before and after his five-year jail sentence at Texas State Prison in the 1990s. The trumpeter made his mark on the American scene the preceding decade. Back in the saddle after his conviction for narcotics, his career recovered in fits and starts, mostly outside of earshot of the mainstream media. He eventually settled in jazz-minded Copenhagen, Denmark.
Center Of Gravity was initiated by pianist and club owner of Smalls in New York, Spike Wilner, probably not alone in realising that 64-year-old Clemons, while not the flashiest player out there, has a story to tell full of soul and life experience. Following up the Wilner-produced Live At Smalls from 2015, Clemons was back on home turf in 2023, working up the crowd with bop tunes by Barry Harris and J.J. Johnson.
There’s nothing wrong with that, though Clemons sounds more inspired when tackling (equally unbeatable) warhorses that pre-date the bebop era, playing with natural grace, like the leader of a parade down Burgundy, “a bottle and my friends and me”. Smoke Rings brings us back to 1932 and the Casa Loma Orchestra. Clemons’s heartfelt rendition, featuring suave clarinet as well, is smooth as silk and moves at a relaxed pace as good an antidote to the info-overloaded 21st century as a refreshing bath in a tub in a Mississippi field of sugar magnolias.
His punchy, big, brassy sound reminds of Satchmo, his swing-to-bop aesthetic of Clark Terry, enriching Honeysuckle Rose, I Cover The Waterfront and a thoroughly entertaining sleeper from the New Orleans book, Sweet Emmalina, My Gal. The set is completed by top-notch post-bop tunes by alto saxophonist Amanda Sedgwick, who gives Horace Silver and Wayne Shorter a new look. She’s part of a solid band that includes tenor saxophonist Aaron Johnson and pianist JinJoo Yoo, a threesome that does its own talking on a high level, juicy to boot. Good foil for Clemons, who is certified fit for duty.
Linda Dachtyl: Waves Of Change (Chicken Coup Records)
Hammond organist, keyboard player and educator with a pedigree in jazz, blues and rock, Columbus, Ohio-based Linda Dachtyl sneaks in hip lines on Waves Of Change, her aptly titled venture into prog. There’s nothing wrong with a throwback to the years when Emerson, Lake & Palmer and Wishbone Ash distracted minds from the oil crisis and Watergate, unless your band is plainly not up to the task. Drumming, saxophone and vocals conjure up thoughts of local heroes that spice up the local rummage-sale fair, a handle on the basics but devoid of fluency or individuality.
Near the end of Lee Hazelwood’s Some Velvet Morning, played succinctly in the vein of Vanilla Fudge, Charles Valentino belts out an uninhibited, soulful scream, a rare sign of potential. But by then, Waves Of Change was already beyond repair.
I remember Benny & Willem
The jazz world lost two of the nicest blokes on the block this autumn. They passed away merely five days apart, on 21 and 26 September: Benny Golson and Willem van Manen. I had the pleasure of interviewing Benny Golson for Jazz Journal five years ago, an unforgettable experience. I needed to wake up Mr. Golson from his afternoon nap in his hotel room. Still in his pyjamas, the extraordinary saxophonist and composer of such standards as Along Came Betty, Stablemates and Killer Joe rubbed his eyes, sat up straight and, after I’d shown him a stack of original Golson LPs, was off and running.
Golson had the deepest eagle eyes I’d ever seen, full of life, laced with a streak of mischief. He played the sweet hell out of I Remember Clifford that night at the Bimhuis in Amsterdam, oblivious to whether it was number 1024 or 1025 of his illustrious career.
Willem van Manen was a key player in the rebellious improv scene in The Netherlands, a collaborator of Willem Breuker’s, participant in the era’s groundbreaking records and co-founder of Bimhuis. In line with his usual display of modesty, the trombonist said in a 1987 interview with Jazz Jaarboek: “I sometimes fancy that I emancipated the role of trombone in The Netherlands.”
Van Manen was also an active board member of various institutions. He was also manager of the jazz department of the radio station Concertzender for many years, where I was fortunate to work with him for approximately five years. Straightforward, anti-authoritarian and, not least, sociable. Without exception, drinks lasted thrice as long as the preceding radio meetings in the café nearby his apartment in the centre of Amsterdam. Van Manen died from the effects of a traffic accident at the age of 84. Wry coincidence: in 1983, three members of his idiosyncratic big band Springband died in a car crash.