A Carla Bley Christmas

Carla Bley suspects her aspirations for a concert of Christmas music might have cost her at least one gig. Surely, those modernist snobs know by now they made a terrible mistake passing up a program of Christmas carols from the inventive arranger-pianist-bandleader. Indeed, despite her musical adventurousness, Bley has long had an affinity for traditional carols that eventually led to Carla’s Christmas Carols, a distinctive but respectful Christmas-themed release now available on Bley’s WATT label.

Often scrupulously straight, Bley’s charts sound as if they were intentionally written to best serve the time-honored carols themselves. Such is definitely the case with the opening “O Tannenbaum,” in which the jazz voicings are only asserted late in the arrangement. Likewise, the warm, relaxed mood of “The Christmas Song” should equally please fans of both Bley and Nat King Cole (still probably the carol’s greatest popularizer). Given this disciplined approach and the burnished sound of the Partyka Brass Quintet, Bley’s Carols will be an especially accessible jazz Christmas album for non-jazz ears. Yet, Bley’s admirers will still be happy to hear her unique musical sensibility very definitely shapes and colors the character of the session.

For instance, who else but Bley would pen an original for a Christmas program titled “Hell’s Bells.” While it swings like mad, the glorious trumpets of Tobias Weidinger and Axel Schlosser lend it a vibe akin to the especially rousing carols. Always one to surprise, Bley also gives “Jingle Bells” a New Orleans second-line treatment, ending with a bit of glockenspiel and ompah for punctuation.

Of course, Bley also prominently features her longtime partner Steve Swallow, whose decidedly melodic approach to the electric bass largely carries the tune on the simply gorgeous rendition of “O Holy Night.” Though she often dismisses her own playing as “arranger’s piano,” Bley takes several tastefully articulate solos, particularly on the elegant “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Part Two,” (which logically follows the more boppish brass interplay of “Part One”).

Bley’s Carols is a beautiful set of Christmas music that would win the leader a legion of new fans in a more perfect world. Perhaps Bley’s Carols is less likely to top critics’ year-end lists (as have most of her recent releases) because of its admittedly seasonal appeal. Yet, it is no less accomplished. In fact, it leads to greater appreciation of her versatility and sensitivity as an arranger and leader. It is highly recommended as a jazz stocking stuffer. (By the way, look for more jazz Christmas CD reviews here over Black Friday weekend.)

Bley’s Black Orchid Big Band

Appearing Nightly
Carla Bley and her Remarkable Big Band
WATT/ECM Records

The website for Carla Bley’s WATT label (distributed by ECM) is pretty funny. It represents WATT Records as a prison, with Bley and longtime musical partner Steve Swallow as the inmates, and web designer and frequent musical collaborator Karen Mantler as the warden. That sense of humor and all three musicians are also present on Bley’s newest release, Appearing Nightly.

Nightly consists largely of festival commissions which, though modern, are informed by and deliberately suggestive of 1950’s big band jazz. The opening “Greasy Gravy” for instance, has hints of a Basie vibe, particularly in Bley’s use of the trombone section. At times tagged with a reputation for playing "arranger's piano," Bley fits nicely into the Basie mold—supportive and swinging, but stylistically economical in her own solos.

The following “Awful Coffee” came out of the same culinary themed festival commission that produced “Gravy.” For one passage of the somewhat more caffeinated track, Bley throws in quotes from “Salt Peanuts,” You’re the Cream in My Coffee,” Watermelon Man,” “Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries,” “Hey Pete Let’s Eat More Meat,” and “Tea for Two.” The food theme seems to come naturally to Bley, who penned six different Banana compositions for last year’s release with her “Lost Chords” group and Italian trumpeter Paolo Fresu.

The heart of Nightly is “Appearing Nightly at the Black Orchid,” a twenty-five minute suite commissioned by the Monterey Jazz Festival, named after a Monterey lounge Bley gigged at early in her career. Its movements allude to elements of the nightly jazz gig: “40 On / 20 Off,” “Second Round,” “What Would You Like to Hear,” and “Last Call.” It may sound a bit self-referential to compose a jazz suite to represent a jazz gig, but these are post-modern times.

Introduced with an elegant piano prelude from Bley, “40 On” then segues into a fine example of Steve Swallow’s melodic approach to the electric bass, as the band slowly swells up underneath him. The brass comes out swinging in “Second Round,” particularly featured trombonist Gary Valente. “Like to Hear” is more subdued, maybe reflecting musicians’ constant trepidation a patron might request some dreaded chestnut like “My Melancholy Baby.” Muted horns wail plaintively and Bley takes a brief but meditative solo, before the bands comes in building up towards the hard charging finale, “Last Call.”

Rounding out the program with one standard, “I Hadn’t Anyone Till You,” and “Someone to Watch,” an original which germinated from the seed of a Gershwin tune, Nightly is most definitely a swinging affair. Bley has assembled a first-rate band and her originals have a vigor that is refreshing. For some reason, her music seems to have a reputation for being less accessible than it really is, but Nightly ought to be warmly received by both jazz modernists and big band fans.

Find Fresu

The Lost Chords Find Paolo Fresu
Carla Bley
ECM-Watt/34

Carla Bley has a well-deserved reputation as a composer’s composer. Even when writing for her own sessions, she is really writing for her sideman, as on her newest release The Lost Chords Find Paolo Fresu. Written specifically for a two horn font-line of reedman Andy Sheppard and Italian trumpeter Fresu, Bley has crafted a distinctive statement for small combo.

Bley’s writing is also notable for a sense of humor, which can be heard in the etymology of the so-called “Banana Quintet,” the centerpiece suite of the CD, originally consisting of five movements, but growing into six. The title comes from some word association, starting with five, to hand, then to bananas (which grow in hands).

Regardless, “The Banana Quintet” is gorgeous music, starting with the spare elegance of “One Banana.” Featuring lovely solos from Fresu and bassist Steve Swallow, it is the perfect music to listen to on the ipod when coming home on an early winter night. Fresu might not be particularly well known in America, but he is one of the top trumpeters in Europe, distinguishing himself in the lyrical Italian trumpet tradition beginning with Chet Baker’s Italian sojourn and most celebrated in the figure of Enrico Rava.

“Two Banana” is bluesier, but still reflective, while showcasing the more plaintive sound of shepherd’s tenor. It is also a nice example of the compatibility of Fresu and Sheppard, playing off and around each other. “Three Banana” has a slightly Monkish lope to its rhythm, giving some space to its composer, propelled along by Billy Drummonds cymbal work.

“Four” is the darkest of the suite, a moody passage, which grows in intensity through Drummonds insistent drumming. “Five Banana” is lighter in tone, with a lilting rhythm, again well suiting Fresu’s polished trumpet tone, followed by a crisp, eloquent solo from Sheppard on tenor. “One Banana More” is the bonus banana, a short but elegant coda to Bley’s hand.

Of the other three individual Bley compositions, “Death of Superman/Dream Sequence #1—Flying” is another title which requires some explanation. According to Bley, it was originally composed as a tribute to the life of Christopher Reeve for a commission that fell through. Fortunately, Bley took a waste-not-want-not attitude, adapting it here for the Lost Chords and Fresu. It is a delicate piece, with Swallow introducing the melody, giving way to some Miles-like mute work from Fresu, followed by Sheppard’s husky tenor taking a delicate solo.

Given their short shelf life, bananas seem like an inappropriate title for richly textured music that grows with repeated listening. Maybe there is an analogy to be made about peeling layers, but it is probably best to just let the wordplay go. In any event, Find is a very rewarding session (even the liner notes are entertaining) that may bring both Fresu and even Bley wider audiences in America.