George Braith: Extensions

George Braith 

The soon to be octogenerian multi-saxophonist George Braith (née Braithwaite, NYC, 1939) is one of the very few reedmen to follow in the footsteps of the inimitable Rahsaan Roland Kirk (1935-1977). In his sadly limited discography, Braith reveals himself to also be uniquely eccentric talent in his approach to blowing multiple horns both individually and simultaneously, as well as in his composing. As a composer, Braith runs the gamut from soul jazz, to challenging “squirrelly” changes (as John Patton called them), to Caribbean influenced themes, to more atmospheric pieces. He eventually patented his unique soprano/alto hybrid, the braithophone, that is joined at the bell. The bulk of Braith’s reputation stems from the four recordings he appeared on for Blue Note and two more on Prestige, all recorded in a short span between 1963 and 1967. Though he has been active as a live performer in New York on and off since, has also been involved in educational projects and released a few more recordings in Japan and on his own.

Braith and his Braith-o-phone

Braith’s first sessions for Blue Note were as a sideman for organist Big John Patton (1935-2002) for the July and August 1963 sessions that produced Blue John (Blue Note 84143). The sessions had masters picked and even received an issue number with a cover design from the label. Although its thumbnail image appeared on later Patton records in the 60s, it was not released until 1986. It has remained largely out of print since, with another reissue coming in 1995 and then an expanded edition in Japan in 2015 containing what is, ostensibly, an entire unreleased record’s worth of material. Braith contributes three compositions to the sessions. The first is “Hot Sauce,” a playful track which he would record again three years later for his own Laughing Soul (Prestige 7474, 1966) that also included bandmates from this session, Patton’s working trio which also included guitarist Grant Green (1935-1979) and drummer Ben Dixon (b. 1934). The second, “Bermuda Clay House,” which is the first track included here, is a classic minor key straight ahead soul jazz groover that has one of Braith’s finest solos on record, displaying his unfettered facility on straight alto (known as the stritch) for a chorus before bringing in the soprano to end this solo with rhythmic section-like shouts and for the tag leading into the closing head. A third, “Chunky Cheeks,” would remain unissued until 2015, but a later recording of the track was also done for Laughing Soul.

Braith was soon recording as a leader for the label, recording Two Souls In One (Blue Note 84148) in September, 1963 and Soul Stream (Blue Note 84161) in December of that same year. He did one last recording for Blue Note, the one we’ll focus on here, Extension (Blue Note 84171), in March of 1964. For all of his Blue Note records, Braith employed the standard organ trio plus horn line-up that is so prevalent in soul jazz records of the era, though the material deviates far from what you’d hear on,say, a record by other organists like Patton at that point in his career or Freddie Roach. The organist on these sessions, Billy Gardner, had been active and recording as a pianist in New York since at least 1960, appearing on sessions led by drummer Dave Bailey, saxophonist Charlie Rouse and an early Grant Green session from 1961. Gardner’s discography is also quite limited, appearing only on a couple of sessions for Lou Donaldson, one for Houston Person and a small band session for Johnny Hodges. His style, while steeped in the deep blues and soul necessary for any organist of the era, also reveals an exploratory bent, unusual tones, an ear for navigating Braith’s unusual changes and a profound sensitivity on the more atmospheric tracks. Green is present on all these sessions as well, among the many, many that he appeared on for Blue Note both as leader and sideman from 1961-1966. Green has one of the most immediately recognizable, singing sounds in jazz guitar and despite at times being prone to falling back on some of his standard licks, the material, particularly on Extension, reveals some of Green’s most adventurous playing on record. A shifting line-up of drummers (Donald Bailey, a veteran of organist Jimmy Smith’s groups, the unfortunately under-recorded Hugh Walker, and underground legend Clarence Johnston) completes the cast on these records, all displaying consummate professionalism, swing, groove and taste navigating the wide range of composition and arrangements Braith brought to the sessions.  

Braith himself is a remarkable soloist, with an unfettered facility as I mentioned before on both the stritch and the soprano individually, a muscular tone on tenor and a diverse, rhythmic approach to playing the double-horn parts that spices up arrangements of standards, comps for bandmates, creates unusual textures on the atmospheric compositions and ballads and pushes the envelope on his own solos.

From Two Souls In One, Braith’s appropriation of “Mary Had A Little Lamb” is an unabashed soul jazz swinger with Gardner’s driving bass line and drummer Donald Bailey pushing the band to their limit every step of the way. Braith’s approach to rearranging more well-known material for his two-horn attack is on full display here, along with his playful, yet aggressive soloing that continuously builds tension throughout. Green is also in fine form here, reaching a boiling point before giving way to soulful, screaming solo from Gardner, here sounding reminiscent of his contemporary John Patton, but still very much his own man.

The title track from Soul Stream is an atmospheric track with an unusual chord structure that seemingly finds no resolution until finally settling in one tonal area towards the very end. Gardner conjures different colors and textures for Braith’s melancholic lines, the track opening up as it fades out. To these ears, this track foreshadows Eddie Harris’ atmospheric explorations from later in the decade, sans echoplex of course, and is a true outlier in the sounds one “expects” from an organ combo from 1963. It is also a clear precursor to the “Ethlyn’s Love,” the ballad on Extension.

Gardner’s tough, minor key groover “Boop Bop Bing Bash” from this session is an often compiled track and deservedly so. Braith contrasts his deep toned solo with double-horn punches behind the soloists, Gardner showing himself at the vanguard of jazz organ circa 1964 with echoes of Larry Young in his eloquent phrases, his bass lines interacting and connecting beautifully with Walker’s superb drumming.

Extension is perhaps Braith’s most fully realized record for Blue Note. Recorded over the course of several days in March, 1964, it includes five Braith compositions and a very Braith-ian arrangement of Cole Porter’s “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye.” Due to having to record on borrowed horns because of the unfortunate robbery of his horns before the session, Braith focuses more on single horn playing, with more tenor than on any other recording of his. Braith’s dark tone on tenor is somewhere in the territory straddling old and new that Yusef Lateef had been so beautifully staking claim to since the late 50s with some Sonny Rollins gruffness thrown in for good measure. Extension is also an unconventional record for Blue Note for the period, eschewing an emerging formula on the label that would be cemented into place for the next several years with the success of Lee Morgan’s Sidewinder (Blue Note 84157). This formula consisted of a groovy blues to open the record, typically followed by either a ballad or more challenging composition and a side-ending latin-oriented piece; the second side opened typically with another cooker, followed by perhaps a second ballad and a mid-tempo piece, often a standard, to close the record. What can you say…it works to great effect and a good chunk of the classic Blue Note releases from the second half of the 60s have this template in place. Here, on the other hand, we open with the intricate 6/8 dance of “Nut City,” sporting a Flamenco-ish chord movement in the A sections before giving way to a more typical release. The soloists benefit wonderfully from the rhythmic juxtapositions in the form, with Green and Braith working in a plethora of dynamic motifs. Gardner’s tone on this record is more personal than on any of the other recordings on which he can be almost confused with Patton at times (or perhaps the other way around, who knows?). Not so here as a more delicate, dark tone permeates the backgrounds, laying the groundwork for the aforementioned ballad “Ethlyn’s Love,” a more fully elaborated expression of some of the unorthodox chord movements in “Soul Stream.” The tracks that follow, “Out Here” and “Extension” again show Braith’s penchant for said harmonies, use of whole tone scale, stacked 4ths and augmented lines in the melodies, unconventional resolutions and compositions. They meld the harmonic and rhythmic sequences in a way that brings us in and out of familiar and unfamiliar territory in unexpected ways and paint a portrait of one of jazz’s most singular and practically forgotten personalities. “Out Here” builds off of an augmented motif, more recognizable as a turnaround (which was indeed employed by the seminal blues guitarist T-Bone Walker) before placing us on a path with unforeseen twists and turns. Grant Green’s playing here is of particular note in contrast to virtually all his recordings. stepping outside of his usual comfort zone, exploring this new terrain with a cautious aplomb. Braith’s tenor takes a different path into the exploration of 4ths than Eddie Harris, along with many other melodic leaps, weaving a tapestry of ideas tastefully cradled by the sympathetic comping of Gardner and Johnston. Gardner is also notable again, his embellishments of the harmonies during his solos making the eccentricity of said harmonies shine. Many of these compositions are an evolutionary expression of Monkish harmonic and melodic sensibilities ("Sweetville"), though once again Braith’s own personality is what is most evident, a tributary voice within jazz’s evolutive continuum. Extension’s title track incorporates the main melodic motif of Clifford Brown’s “Daahoud” into a wider palette. A challenging piece with a tight arrangement, tenor with echoes of Sonny Rollins and impeccably placed two-horn shouts,  it also has, once again, Grant Green finding a new context for his familiar voice, digging in to the changes with a no-nonsense directness that highlights the virtues of his harmonic approach.

With Larry Young and Roy Haynes, 1964

There are other stories and photos of Braith from the era that place him in the best company possible in jazz in the mid-60s, with icons (Coltrane), underground legends (bassist Albert Stinson) emerging stars (Roy Ayers) beyond his recording companions, among others. His mohawk hairdo, another nod to Rollins, sharing the stage with Larry Young and Roy Haynes is a fitting snapshot of what Braith embodied musically at the time: a unique musician searching, pushing the envelope with like-minded musicians who are also conscious of their place within the evolving art of jazz.  Braith would record only two more records in the era: the aforementioned, and ultimately disappointing, Laughing Soul and the more exploratory Musart, which we will revisit at a later date on this blog. His Musart studio predates and grows into the 70s loft scene, more notably recognized in Sam Rivers’ Studio Rivbea and the Wildflowers recordings on Douglas.

 Los Angeles, 1965: (L-R) Albert Stinson, John Houston, George Braith, Roy Ayers, Donald Dean

Braith’s long recording silence following his output in the 60s prods the imagination as to where things went, though Musart perhaps maps at least some of that ground. Nonetheless, his Blue Note recordings are yet another example of the almost endless well of chromatic hues and explosive, unique and often eccentric creativity that so many now almost-forgotten figures had to offer. So it goes…

jg

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All tracks composed by George Braith, except as noted.

From John Patton Blue John (Blue Note 84143)

Rec. August 2, 1963

George Braith- stritch, soprano sax; Grant Green- guitar; John Patton- organ; Ben Dixon- drums.

1. Bermuda Clay House

From Two Souls In One (Blue Note 84148)

Recorded September 4, 1963

George Braith- stritch, soprano sax; Grant Green- guitar; Billy Gardner- organ; Donald Bailey- drums

2. Mary Had A Little Lamb (trad.)

From Soul Stream (Blue Note 84161)

Recorded December 16, 1963

Personnel as above, except Hugh Walker replaces Bailey on drums.

3. Soul Stream

4. Boop, Bop, Bing, Bash (Billy Gardner)

Extension (Blue Note 84171)

Recorded March 24-27, 1964

Personnel as above, except Clarence Johnston is on drums.

5. Nutville

6. Ethlyn’s Love

7. Out Here

8. Extension

9. Sweetville

10. Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye (Cole Porter)

Don Redman and Benny Carter In the Studio Together

Composing music, arranging it for performance, and keeping the musicians on track are all different skills and each can take a lifetime to develop. Throughout American music history there have been many who excelled as the triple-threat composer/arranger/director. Among that vanguard there is a coterie who were known to also pick up a horn and/or sing a few verses as well. These are the “everythingers.” In any reckoning of jazz history, Don Redman and Benny Carter deserve to head that list. Maybe “everythinger” isn’t the most elegant way to describe someone whose creativity is so comprehensive and versatile, but the term gives an idea of how many aspects of a performance that person influences.

The recorded legacies of Redman and Carter both date back to the 1920s and span several decades. Though neither musician is in danger of being forgotten or overlooked, paeans to their contributions in jazz history must be complemented with actual listening. Though the age in which Redman and Carter emerged is distant, their music surpasses genre, style, or fashion. Many of their tunes and recordings live on and will continue to do so.

Don Redman and his Orchestra

A brief biographical outline: Don Redman (1900-1964) was born in Piedmont, West Virginia. He demonstrated a precocious talent early on, playing trumpet at the age of three before moving on to piano, clarinet, and saxophone. He took a job with a traveling band and eventually wound up in New York City where he joined Fletcher Henderson’s Orchestra in 1923. He played reed instruments, wrote tunes, and arranged for the band, including specially designed showcases for Louis Armstrong, Henderson’s imported star from Chicago.

Leaving in 1927 to become music director of the Detroit-based band, McKinney’s Cotton Pickers, Redman’s multi-faceted role with Henderson was taken by the slightly younger New Yorker, Benny Carter (1907-2003). Carter had played with several bands, proving to be an effective soloist on reed instruments and trumpet. In order to fill Redman’s shoes, Carter taught himself to arrange his fellow bandmates’ parts in new, compelling settings for Henderson’s growing book of dance tunes. Carter didn’t stay long: he left to briefly front his own band before succeeding Redman as music director of McKinney’s in 1931. After a sojourn in Europe, Carter returned to New York as a bandleader in the mid-1930s. He would lead groups and orchestras of various sizes for the next 50+ years; one of the great careers in American music.

Redman also left McKinney’s Cotton Pickers to front his own band. He secured an engagement at Harlem’s famous nightspot, Connie’s Inn, and was the beneficiary of frequent nationwide broadcasts from the club which helped establish the Don Redman Orchestra as one of the leading jazz outfits during the 1930s. While many Americans struggled to find work during the Great Depression, Redman’s band brought music and levity into their living rooms. A jocular frontman, Redman balanced humor with complex musical arrangements in catchy tunes like “I heard,” “Try getting a good night sleep,” and the band’s theme song, “Chant of the weed.” Redman’s rhyming speech-singing banter, full of street slang and wit, is arguably a forerunner of rapping.

Though their paths almost crossed several times, there are instances when they performed together. About a month before the stock market crashed in October 1929, Redman and Carter were both in the studio for Okeh recording with an ensemble called The Little Chocolate Dandies. Featuring the two "everythingers" on alto saxophones with trumpeter Rex Stewart, J.C. Higginbotham on trombone, Coleman Hawkins on tenor saxophone, and pianist Fats Waller, it is an all-star assemblage of leading black musicians of the day. Playing with an old style banjo-tuba-drums rhythm section, the group recorded two songs, Redman’s “That’s how I feel today” and Waller’s “Six or seven times,” both arranged by Redman.

The Little Chocolate Dandies session, Sept. 18, 1929

"That’s how I feel today” opens with four ascending chords played against George Stafford’s insistent hi-hat. Stewart takes the melody with the reed section offering a sober, climbing response. The entire band plays the bridge before Stewart returns for the final A section. Waller improvises a full chorus in his recognizable style, especially the light, right-handed touch to open the bridge. Following Waller, Carter improvises with broad, balanced phrases and filigree touches during the tune’s first two A sections before being joined by the band for a harmonized ensemble line during the bridge, concluding with a series of thrilling ascending figures (preceding by 11 years a similar feature for saxophone chorus in Duke Ellington’s “Cotton Tail”). A brief interlude follows the alto saxophonist’s final A section, and then a last run-through of the form with Higginbotham alternating with the band in a proto-Swing Era call-and-response gesture that at one point sounds like the future big band anthem “Moten Swing.” Redman’s chart efficiently gives all of the musicians a chance to shine within only 3 minutes and 22 seconds of playing time.

The other tune captured by the Dandies on September 18, 1929 was “Six or seven times,” a song which this listener has circled back to more than six or seven dozen times since first hearing it. Waller’s song is funny, describing how the singer’s St. Louis woman is never pleased unless she gets a certain thing from him six or seven times. Without pondering for too long what it is that she craves, cut to the stunning Carter/Redman feature that follows the sung verses. Carter plays single measure ideas followed by Redman singing them back; this pattern is repeated through two 8-bar sections. Though not the possessor of a great singing voice, Redman is a charming and musical vocalist, matching Carter’s phrasing and vibrato accurately while adding humor. The band then takes up the exchanges with Carter.

The imitation episode in “Six or seven times” recalls an aspect of the practice regimen that most players adopt at some point or another. By imitating the playing of someone else, usually from a recording, musicians develop their ear and ability to execute musical ideas in tempo. One way to work on this is to sing the musical phrases before trying to find the notes on your horn.

A month after the Chocolate Dandies session, Duke Ellington recorded “Six or seven times” with his band under the pseudonym Six Jolly Jesters. On that session, the alto sax—voice imitations replicate the Carter and Redman exchange almost exactly. Ellington extends the idea by having Freddy Jenkins take the lead in the second 8-bar section on trumpet with each of his phrases repeated by Johnny Hodges' saxophone. In 1931, Cab Calloway had a hit record with “Six or seven times.” Returning to the Little Chocolate Dandies format, Calloway’s exuberant personality accounts for a thorough reinvention of the tune. Where Redman was casual, Calloway is extroverted and a bit wild; each is compelling in a different way.

I’ve been looking for more examples of instrumentalists being mimicked by a singer. Calloway, of course, used imitative call-and-response in “Minnie the moocher” to great effect, but it his voice that leads the “Hi-de-ho” exchanges with the chorus. For a much later example of the original concept, jump ahead to 1977 where Nigerian saxophonist and Afro-beat pioneer Fela Anikulapo Kuti engaged audiences in a crowd participation exercise that he called the “Underground Spiritual Game.” This featured his playing short ideas on his alto saxophone, which the audience would then repeat back en masse. One of the best illustrations of this “game of togetherness” is “J.J.D.” (“Johnny Just Dropped”). The exchanges go on for a full two minutes with a gradual increase in complexity (12:30-14:30).

There are abundant examples of either Carter or Redman pulling off impressive musical feats, whether it is a composition, arrangement, a tight band performance, playing a solo or singing, often all in the same performance. The imitative call and response in “Six or seven times” is an example of a relatively simple idea given joyous musical expression that is catchy and taken up by other musicians. Far from sounding dated, this inspiration remains fresh and accessible today.

1. That’s how I feel today / The Little Chocolate Dandies (Don Redman) / New York, September 18, 1929
2. Six or seven times / The Little Chocolate Dandies
3. Six or seven times / Six Jolly Jesters (Duke Ellington Orchestra) / New York, October 25, 1929
4. Six or seven times / Cab Calloway and His Orchestra / New York, June 11, 1931
5. J.J.D. (Johnny Just Dropped) / Fela Kuti / 1977

j.s.m.

A Tribute to George Davis

 A Tribute to George Davis

The late, highly talented multi-instrumentalist and songwriter George Davis (1938-2008) was one of the key figures in the development of the distinctive New Orleans funky guitar sound in the 1960s. Slightly older than two of the other great progenitors of the style, Davis’ sound is clearly present in the playing of both Leo Nocentelli of Meters fame and Walter “Wolfman” Washington, whose early recordings include the inescapably funky rhythm parts to Eddie Bo’s “Hook and Sling” (1969). The hollow body guitar tone, tight, clipped right hand rhythms, dynamic use of sixths, double stops and single note parts and riffs, along with soulful, intricate lines are present in the myriad of recordings Davis played on as a session man throughout the 60s and are an essential component of the unmistakable sound that defines New Orleans soul of the era. Davis wrote, arranged and played on records by Aaron Neville (for whom he co-wrote “Tell It Like It Is”), Robert Parker, Earl King (with whom he played bass on the classic “Come On”), Ernie K-Doe, Willie “Tee” Turbinton, the lesser-known, but equally wonderful talent Alvin Robinson, also did sessions for Allen Toussaint, Cosimo Matassa, and gigged and recorded with virtually everyone in New Orleans during that era, appearing on singles on such seminal New Orleans labels such as Minit, NOLA and Instant.

Davis is all over Robert Parker’s big hit “Barefootin’” (rec. 1965), weaving funky staccato lines, bluesy call and response, straight rhythm playing, along with connecting fills that bring the song to life.

Davis released only one single under his own name on his own label, Parlo records, the sophisticated groover “Hold On, Help Is On Its Way” in 1966. Davis shows off some Montgomery-esque octaves in a display of elegant intensity. 

Davis also recorded with two of the seminal drummers of New Orleans groove “Gentleman” June Gardner and Smokey Johnson. The sessions with Johnson produced some of the quintessential funky instrumentals, genre and era-defining sounds that put the city’s seemingly bottomless well of talent and soul on full display. “It Ain’t My Fault” (1965) and “I Can’t Help It” (1966) were originally released as two-sided singles Wardell Quezergue’s NOLA records imprint. The former is a masterpiece of laid back soulfulness, Johnson’s high hat in constant conversation with the rest of the drums. He lays down a wide pocket for Davis’ slinky solo, that’s followed by the entrance of the horns and a singing soprano sax solo, presumably played by Earl Turbinton. The more up-tempo “I Can’t Help It” also features Davis’ trick bag and Johnson’s singular approach of incorporating the the different colors of the drum set into the groove.

Davis left New Orleans for New York in 1969 and soon joined Dizzy Gillespie. He appears on two of Gillespie’s lesser known records done for the obscure Perception label: Portrait of Jenny and The Real Thing (both 1970). He also appears on (and is the highlight of) an as of yet unreleased live recording from New York’s Fillmore East from 1970 that can be heard on Paste music and is highly, highly recommended. Gillespie was evolving with the times entering the 70s, incorporating funky back beat grooves and long, laid-back Latin jams. Davis’s style and sound are a perfect component for Gillespie’s group, his resourceful, diverse comping deepens the groove with its interactions with pianist Mike Longo. Taken from Portrait of Jenny, Gillespie’s “Diddy Wah Diddy” is an extended, relaxed Latin groove that gives plenty of space for all involved--and not at all far removed from Donny Hathaway's "The Ghetto" which was released around the same time. There is no drumset on the session, the set instead replaced by a group of percussionists. From this recording, it would seem like Gillespie could have made more headway into the rock ballroom circuit had he chosen to do so and, in the process, expanded his audience, much like saxophonist Charles Lloyd did not long before. The Fillmore East recording certainly suggests as much and Davis was more than up to the task of being a guitar hero for the rock crowd when called on to do so. Gillespie gave him the space to stretch out on extended solos and we can hear his distinctive New Orleans style in the comping and soloing of “Diddy Wah Diddy”. “Timet” is a more conventional soul piece also written by Gillespie, with Davis adopting the vibrato tone used in many soul and gospel recordings of the 60s, a sound reminiscent of Pop Staples that takes us right back to his bluesy, New Orleans roots. 

Session work was plentiful for Davis as well after arriving in New York, playing guitar, flute and other instruments and his credits as a sideman are extensive. His funky rhythms, soulful solos and even psychedelic sounds elevate Sir Edward’s 1973 recording The Power of Feeling (Encounter Records) into one of the great, (almost) lost underground funky jazz records of the era. Sir Edward was actually tenor saxophonist Harold Vick who was under contract to another label, Strata East Records, at the time. The recording shows how Davis evolved with the times, incorporating effects where appropriate. His wah-wah rhythm guitar pushes Vick’s varitone and wah tenor and also creates washes of texture with the vibes and electric piano. His solo takes us to some of the familiar places of his style, the staccato picking, use of double stops, octaves and chordal soloing raise and release the intensity—a masterful display of funkiness in jazz.

The last track included here is Vick’s version the Stylistics’ 1972 hit “People Make the World Go Round” which sticks closely to the original arrangement, including a beautiful flute solo from Vick and Davis’ tasteful, though still psychedelic use of Echo-plex and reverb.

When Davis passed in 2008, a number of newspapers and blogs on the web paid tribute to him with testimonials of his generosity, talent, humanity and stature as a key figure in the development of New Orleans music. Here we have just a personal tribute to some of his best work as one of the great unsung figures whose instrumental voice added so much to the recordings on which he played and defined a sound that always found a way to celebrate his funky roots. We should all be so lucky to be able to do that as musicians.

jg

*****

1. Robert Parker- Barefootin’ (1965)

2. G. Davis and R. Tyler- Hold On, Help Is On Its Way (1966)

3. Smokey Johnson- It Ain’t My Fault (1965)

4. Smokey Johnson- I Can’t Help It (1966)

5. Dizzy Gillespie- Diddy Wah Diddy (1970)

6. Dizzy Gillespie- Timet (1970)

7. Sir Edward (Harold Vick)- Stocking Cap (1973)

8. Sir Edward (Harold Vick)- People Make the World Go Round (1973)

George Davis- guitar