This was Zoot Sims’ third visit to the Scott club, and Cohn’s second. Perhaps London’s jazz enthusiasts have been spoiled by the profusion of fine musicians who have played in the club, and are becoming blasé. Whatever the reason, the night I heard them (a Friday), Cohn and Sims were playing to a disappointingly small audience. I know their music is outrageously unfashionable, as it is neither harsh nor ugly, and one knows what to expect, but does one always have to emerge from a jazz club muttering about the amazing new sounds one has heard?
Cohn and Sims have been playing together intermittently for the past sixteen or seventeen years, since the days of Woody Herman’s Second Herd. Both have always been disciples of Lester Young’s way of playing the tenor, but both achieve considerable individuality. On their last visit, I remember being struck particularly by the inventiveness and power of Al Cohn’s playing – so much more impressive than on record. This time, it was Sims who caught the ear more. Within the Young idiom, the tones of the two saxophonists are quite different. Cohn gets a big fat sound, Sims a lighter and more hollow one, and he perhaps comes closer to the Prez sound of 1939-40. Sims, of course, is incapable too of playing a phrase that doesn’t swing and his melodic lines are refreshingly simple.
Cohn, on the other hand, tended to run out of ideas on one or two occasions, and was probably just having an off night. The rapport between the saxophonists was a major delight, as was the way in which the rhythm section supported them. Cohn seemed to act as leader, looking rather like Dick Heckstall-Smith with hair, and suggested the tunes. He also usually took the first solo. The repertoire hasn’t changed greatly since their last visit, and follows fairly closely that of boppers, i.e. the blues, and numbers based on I Got Rhythm, You’re Driving Me Crazy, and similar tunes, with a leavening of ballads.
The excellence of the rhythm section I have already mentioned. On the occasion I heard the group it consisted of Stan Tracey, Rick Laird and Jackie Dougan. I was a little disappointed that the fine Ronnie Stephenson (or should it be Stevenson – every time I see his name in print it is spelled differently) was not playing, but Dougan did almost as well. He used the rimshot-on-alternate-afterbeats thing a bit too much, but otherwise fitted in perfectly. Laird was excellent in the section and took several pleasant solos. Stan Tracey’s accompaniment was, as one has come to expect, impeccable. In this context it is perhaps worth mentioning that Ben Webster, who is not noted for his loquacity, was moved to remark to the audience at the first house of the Festival Hall Kansas City Jazz concert what a pleasure it was playing with such competent musicians as Tracey, Laird and Stephenson, and how they made everything so easy.
Tracey’s solo style is largely a matter of personal taste – certainly the more I hear of it the more I like it. He outgrew the predominant influence of Monk sometime ago, and now has his own style. Whatever else one may say about it, there can be no denying his tremendous swing. Sims watched his solos with a vaguely bemused, wondering air, as if he couldn’t quite believe that such sounds could come from a piano.
Those who missed Sims and Cohn undoubtedly missed a very satisfying evening’s listening. The warmth and easy swing of their playing left one with a pleasantly mellow impression of two fine musicians who are not in the least concerned to break new ground, who have found their own paths and keep to them. Their paths may be well worn, but at least there are no nasty brambles for you to tear your trousers on.
