J.J. Johnson

The Eminent J.J. Johnson, Volumes 1 and 2 (Blue Note)

Steve Turre

TNT (Telarc)

Almost everyone who has played the trombone since the advent of bebop owes a debt to J.J. Johnson. The prodigiously talented soloist, writer, and arranger decisively redrafted the instrument’s rules after leaving the big bands of Count Basie and Benny Carter to join Dizzy Gillespie in 1946. Johnson’s amazing range, speed, fluidity with the slide, and harmonic imagination saw him repeatedly executing phrases and delivering solos that were previously considered beyond the realm of any trombonist. His style has influenced numerous others, from such outside artists as Roswell Rudd, Albert Mangelsdorff, and George Lewis—who were inspired by his feats to move the horn even further beyond the norm—to his direct descendants like Steve Turre, perhaps his finest current disciple.

Sadly, Johnson committed suicide this past February, in an incident that upset the entire jazz world. While Turre dedicates much of the music on his new release TNT (Trombone-N-Tenor) to his mentor and idol, Blue Note Records has just reissued two magnificent albums Johnson cut in 1953 and 1954. The Eminent J.J. Johnson, Volumes 1 and 2 solidified Johnson’s reputation as a spectacular soloist and combative bandleader. These dates, originally recorded in mono and issued as 10-inch releases, are part of the continuing Blue Note Masters series highlighting the engineering expertise of the great Rudy Van Gelder. Meanwhile, Turre’s TNT follows his recent triumph, In the Spur of the Moment, which featured liner notes from Johnson. It’s not quite as anthemic as Johnson’s releases, but it should be regarded as a classic in its own right.

Indianapolis native Johnson’s articulation and ability to rip off smooth, unruffled lines on the trombone initially led many musicians and listeners to assume he was using a valve instrument. He could easily and quickly handle intricate, complex arrangements without faltering. Johnson was also such a talented writer that he eventually carved out a second career as a television and film composer and session contributor throughout the ’70s. Prior to that, he constantly stretched the trombone’s boundaries. His 1953 album Four Trombones: The Debut Recordings saw him exchanging torrid solos with Kai Winding, Bennie Green, and Willie Dennis while a fiery rhythm section of bassist Charles Mingus, drummer Art Taylor, and pianist John Lewis fought to keep from being blown away. Johnson and Winding later co-led their own successful band, recording for Savoy, Columbia, and Impulse! in the ’50s and ’60s. Johnson’s fortunes had been erratic during the ’90s, and prior to the suicide, his health had faltered. But when he made The Eminent J.J. Johnson, Volumes 1 and 2, he was at his peak.

Volume 1 is a straight sextet date that matches Johnson with another dynamo, trumpeter Clifford Brown, and the usually wonderful tenor saxophonist Jimmy Heath. There’s nothing meager or ordinary about anything Heath plays on the disc; he’s simply rendered almost irrelevant by the force and quality of Johnson’s and Brown’s solos. Brown’s crackling, leaping licks and Johnson’s brisk answering statements bowl right over Heath’s bluesy, nicely presented but stolid work. The rhythm unit is three-fourths of the early Modern Jazz Quartet: pianist John Lewis, bassist Percy Heath, and drummer Kenny Clarke. They swing more rigorously and aggressively than they did on a lot of MJQ material, while providing ideal foundations for Johnson, Brown, and Heath to soar.

On Volume 2, Johnson switches between two quintets. His playing remains awesome, but the other contributions are more mixed. While Hank Mobley’s work is too smooth and limited the eight cuts featuring his tenor saxophone work, the first six tracks are spiced by outstanding bass and drums accompaniment from Charles Mingus and Kenny Clarke, plus cutting-edge (for the period) conga work by Sabu Martinez. Those six cuts come closest to equaling the overall caliber of the songs on Volume 1. Still, taken together, these discs provide undisputed evidence that J.J. Johnson was among the top five modern trombonists of all time, and quite possibly the all-time greatest bop stylist.

Steve Turre has closely followed Johnson’s insistence that anything can be performed on the trombone. The former Oakland, Calif., resident has played in every conceivable genre, from on-the-edge fare with Lester Bowie’s groups Brass Fantasy and the New York Organ Ensemble to resilient hard bop and everything else with Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Texas blues and R&B with James Clay and Marshall Ivory, and eclectic world music and jazz with Dizzy Gillespie’s United Nations Orchestra. Turre’s also been a longtime member of the Saturday Night Live Band, a gig that’s given him the financial freedom to record whatever he pleases with whomever he chooses. His varied background is the prime reason he won’t make restrictive projects with studio hacks running the show. TNT contains short tunes and long sagas, standards, blowing pieces, and ambitious Turre compositions, yet everything works and it’s far from being chaotic.

This premier trombonist is great at selecting the contexts that work best with his session mates. For TNT, he’s recruited a trio of contemporary tenor saxophone giants in James Carter, Dewey Redman, and David Sanchez, while moving through a program mixing standards, Afro-Latin jams, and originals. He teams with Redman on two spiraling, loose numbers—“Stompin’ at the Savoy” and “Dewey’s Dance”—that allow the now 70-year-old Redman to nicely construct and deliver his patented twisting, spindly refrains and blues licks. Usual firebrand Carter displays a less frenzied, yet exciting quality on “The Nearness of You,” though he shows his more bombastic side on “Back in the Day” and his soul/funk prowess on Ray Charles’ immortal “Hallelujah, I Love Her So.” Sanchez comes in for the Latin stomps “Puente of Soul” and “E.J.,” displaying a full, torrid sound and relentless pace.

Meanwhile, Turre not only adjusts his alternately boisterous, soulful, and experimental approaches to mesh with the three saxophonists, but he also smoothly interacts with changing pianists (Mulgrew Miller, Stephen Scott), bassists (Buster Williams, Peter Washington), drummers (Victor Lewis, Lewis Nash), and occasional percussionist Giovanni Hidalgo. Only someone who is supremely confident in their abilities and is experienced in numerous idioms could make the musical leaps on TNT so easily. Turre is clearly in charge on this date, yet has no problem giving each saxophonist his own space, or reacting to differences in pianists’ tempos or drummers’ rhythmic patterns.

TNT is another example of Steve Turre fulfilling the promise that J.J. Johnson spotted years ago. Turre’s records should soon be regarded in the same fashion as The Eminent J.J. Johnson, Volumes 1 and 2, although Johnson will never be replaced in the jazz universe.

—Ron Wynn

Ron Wynn is a staff writer for The City Paper.

Platters that matter

Recent releases of note:

Ben Folds, Rockin’ the Suburbs (Sony/Epic) Having ditched his superfluous sidemen (the two that made the Five), this arrogant piano-pop wunderkind delivers his first “proper” solo album—a less analog, more lavishly produced version of Folds’ standard bill of fare. There are breathtakingly lovely ballads, bombastic anthems, and so much general smart-assery that the concoction eventually turns sour.

Lambchop, Tools in the Dryer (Merge) Nashville’s own pop orchestra join the legion of indie rockers who’ve thrown a lasso around their previously uncollected recordings. Tools in the Dryer is far from comprehensive, which is bound to aggravate fans who’ve been waiting for the CD debut of haunting, heartfelt early singles “My Cliché”/“Loretta Lung” and “I Can Hardly Spell My Name”/“The Scary Caroler,” among other rarities. Absences aside, though, Tools in the Dryer accomplishes the goal stated in the liner notes—to show that Lambchop have dabbled in more styles than the liquidy country-soul that brought them to the level of internationally beloved cult act.

Lanterna, Elm Street (Badman) This Champaign, Ill., instrumental project specializes in textures made by guitars picked with heavy reverb and delay. Their latest LP is reminiscent of the early days of the Athens band Love Tractor—appealingly atmospheric, elementally evocative, and fundamentally forgettable.

Lennon, 5:30 Saturday Morning (Arista) This 19-year-old Middle Tennessee metal diva has been buzzed-about in the mainstream media (MTV’s Kurt Loder says she “kicks ass”), but her debut album is a disappointingly calculated pastiche of teen-sex-toy posturing, Tori Amos-style victim-becomes-perpetrator harangues, and the most generic of grinding techno-metal. Lennon has a nondescript voice that has clearly been trained to fill the room, and although there’s a certain bravado to the way she and her production team can shoehorn Rage Against the Machine riffing, Sarah McLachlan trip-hop, and a twee acoustic bridge into a single song, the genre-hopping is ultimately inorganic.

The Moldy Peaches, The Moldy Peaches (Rough Trade) In the grand tradition of faux-naïf rock brats, this NYC boy-girl duo sing throwaway ditties about teenage kicks—eating fast food, downloading porn, smoking crack—backed by mostly improvised lo-fi primitivism. About 75 percent trash and 25 percent treasure, Moldy Peaches are cheap, meaningless, and fun. In other words, rock ’n’ roll.

—Noel Murray

Lanterna, Elm Street (Badman) This Champaign, Ill., instrumental project specializes in textures made by guitars picked with heavy reverb and delay. Their latest LP is reminiscent of the early days of the Athens band Love Tractor—appealingly atmospheric, elementally evocative, and fundamentally forgettable.

Lennon, 5:30 Saturday Morning (Arista) This 19-year-old Middle Tennessee metal diva has been buzzed-about in the mainstream media (MTV’s Kurt Loder says she “kicks ass”), but her debut album is a disappointingly calculated pastiche of teen-sex-toy posturing, Tori Amos-style victim-becomes-perpetrator harangues, and the most generic of grinding techno-metal. Lennon has a nondescript voice that has clearly been trained to fill the room, and although there’s a certain bravado to the way she and her production team can shoehorn Rage Against the Machine riffing, Sarah McLachlan trip-hop, and a twee acoustic bridge into a single song, the genre-hopping is ultimately inorganic.

The Moldy Peaches, The Moldy Peaches (Rough Trade) In the grand tradition of faux-naïf rock brats, this NYC boy-girl duo sing throwaway ditties about teenage kicks—eating fast food, downloading porn, smoking crack—backed by mostly improvised lo-fi primitivism. About 75 percent trash and 25 percent treasure, Moldy Peaches are cheap, meaningless, and fun. In other words, rock ’n’ roll.

—Noel Murray