DOC NYC ’15: The Jazz Loft According to W. Eugene Smith

It was the jazz loft scene before the “Loft Jazz Scene.” In the mid-1970s, downtown lofts like Sam Rivers’ Studio Rivbea were an important venue for the fiery Free Jazz artists that were not getting commercial club bookings. They were sort of following in the tradition of W. Eugene Smith, who hosted round-the-clock jam sessions in his Flower District living space from 1957 to 1965. As a professional photographer and amateur reel-to-reel tape-recorder, Smith documented a great deal of the music and the comings and goings of the musicians drawn to his scene. Treasures from his chaotic archive are revealed in Sara Fishko’s The Jazz Loft According to W. Eugene Smith, the documentary component of WNYC’s multimedia Jazz Loft project, which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

In the late 1950s, Smith was widely recognized as one of the nation’s leading photo-essayists, but like a good jazz musician, he badly mismanaged his career. Although not a musician himself, he shared a natural affinity for jazz artists, like his neighbor, Hall Overton. If jazz fans are having trouble placing that name, Overton was an accomplished jazz and classical composer who co-led sessions for Prestige with Jimmy Raney and Teddy Charles. He also arranged Thelonius Monk’s compositions for a ten-piece orchestra performance at Town Hall. Naturally, they rehearsed those demanding charts at the Sixth Avenue loft space, where Smith duly recorded them at work.

Fittingly, one of the musicians Fishko interviews is the great Freddie Redd, featured in both the Off-Broadway production of Jack Gelber’s The Connection and Shirley Clarke’s film adaptation. Indeed, its fictional narrative seems not so very far removed from events that transpired there. Unfortunately, that included heroin use, as drummer Ronnie Free explains in detail.

There is a lot of great music in Jazz Loft, but Fishko also gives Smith his due as a photographer. Thanks to his painstaking printing techniques, the contrast between light and shadow in Smith’s black-and-white images is often resembles Renaissance painting. In some ways, the film also functions as a time capsule, incorporating eccentric details of the late 1950s-early 1960s era, such as radio show hosted Long John Nebel, a sort of forerunner to Art Bell and George Noory, to whom Smith often set rather bizarre but expensive telegrams.

In addition to Redd and Free, Fishko includes the reminiscences of Phil Woods (always a lively interview subject), David Amram (who seems like a nice fellow based on a few email exchanges), Carla Bley, Steve Swallow, Dave Frishberg, Bill Crow, and Overton’s colleague, Steve Reich, as well as some contemporary perspective from Jason Moran. That is quite a diverse but talented ensemble.

Arguably, one point Fishko might have emphasized more was the stylistic openness of the sessions. Apparently Zoot Sims ruled the roost whenever he was in town, but Dixieland trumpeter Wingy Manone was equally welcome as his Hardbop, Bebop, and Swing colleagues. That was cool and very jazz. In fact, the entire film is a nostalgic, finger-snapping celebration of music and photography. At times, Jazz Loft is distinguished by a tone of clear-eyed sadness for the human weaknesses that sabotaged so many remarkable artists, but it is mostly just a swinging good time. Highly recommended hip eyes and ears, The Jazz Loft Scene According to W. Eugene Smith screens this Friday (11/13) at the Chelsea Bowtie and next Monday (11/16) at the IFC Center, as part of DOC NYC.

Shirley Clarke and Freddie Redd’s The Connection

Avant-garde cineastes know it as Shirley Clarke’s The Connection, but to fans of classic Blue Note hard bop, it belongs to Freddie Redd.  While Clarke’s adaptation of Jack Gelber’s boundary-breaking stage play holds a place of honor in the world of independent/experimental cinema, Redd’s music claims the ears and affections of many jazz listeners, particularly fans of the late great alto-saxophonist Jackie McLean.  For the uninitiated, Milestone kicks off Project Shirley, a four film Clarke restoration and re-release program, with her cinematic take on The Connection (trailer here) tomorrow at the IFC Center.

Filmmaker Jim Dunn and his cameraman have come to document the lurid lives of junkies.  Through their lens, we will watch a group of addicts loll about a divey crash-pad, waiting for their dealer, known as Cowboy, to finally show up.  Some are rather irritable while others are quite garrulous, but they are all junkies, engaging in junkie behavior.  This includes Freddie Redd’s Quartet, playing themselves, rehearsing a bit to pass the time.

Sadly, McLean certainly had his share of drug troubles.  Of course, he learned from the master, his mentor Charlie Parker.  His seventeen month stint performing in the stage production of The Connection was a godsend for the musician.  A narcotics bust had cost him his cabaret card, making him unemployable in New York nightclubs.  However, legit theaters, even grungy avant-garde venues like The Living Theater, were except from the controversial regulation.  The Connection became something still quite rare in the jazz world—a regular gig—at a time when McLean most needed it.

It is great music too—perhaps too good.  Redd rerecorded his themes with a different line-up for a British label, which hardly endeared him to Blue Note co-founder and producer Alfred Lion.  Redd only recorded three records for Blue Note during what should have been the peak of his productive years, including the Redd’s Blues session that was finally released decades after it was laid down.  Yet, they perfectly represent the smoldering intensity of the hard bop style incubated on the label.

As a film, Clarke’s Connection is undeniably important, winning a pyrrhic victory against the New York Board of Regents (which then functioned as a censoring schoolmarm for New York cinemas).  However, its cast, mostly carried over from the Living Theater production, is clearly more accustomed to acting for the stage (such as it was) than the screen.  However, it boasts an iconically cool performance from Carl Lee, who would appear in several blaxoploitation classics before succumbing to his own demons, as the smoothly dangerous Cowboy.  Yet, the most intriguing turn comes from Roscoe Lee Browne as J.J. Burden, the street smart cameraman, who acts as a hip corrective to Dunn’s naïve pretentions.

For viewers who have seen John Travolta pop a syringe full of adrenaline through Uma Thurman’s breastplate, the heroin scenes in The Connection might appear tame by comparison.  Yet, it never glamorizes drug use.  Believe it or not, it is much closer to Nancy Reagan than Cheech & Chong in that respect.  Regardless, there is an earthiness and immediacy to the film that still holds up.  Of course, there is also the music, which alone justifies a strong recommendation.  This review was written to the sounds of Redd’s score and every minute of it sounded awesome, again, for the something-hundredth time.  It is a film everyone considering themselves fully accredited film snobs really has to be familiar with.  Conveniently, it opens tomorrow (5/4) at New York’s IFC Center, in all its freshly restored gritty glory.

Freddie Redd’s Reconnection

For seventeen months Freddie Redd led a group that included Jackie McLean playing music he composed for Jack Gelber’s Off-Broadway hit, The Connection. A film version was directed by Shirley Clarke and Blue Note released the music on LP. While Redd is an under-recorded artist deserving wider acclaim, what fame he has derives from the music from The Connection, which he revisited last night in Merkin Hall.

Steve Schwartz, the host for the concert, somewhat whitewashed the subject matter of the play, as a story of chemical addiction. It is a starkly naturalistic portrayal of a crash-pad filled with heroin addicts, being filmed by a documentary crew, as they wait for their drug connection. Some of those hanging out happen to be musicians (played by Redd and his quartet) who periodically rehearse as they cool their heels.

The concert started with Lou Donaldson, who credited the pianist for giving him his first gig in New York, sitting in with Redd and his rhythm section mates, Mickey Bass and Louis Hayes. Donaldson’s alto sounded ageless as he burned through bop standards like “Now’s the Time.” In fact it was almost more of a Donaldson concert, featuring tunes like “Whiskey Drinking Woman,” long a staple of his sets, although Redd himself did get plenty of solo space.

Before the intermission, Redd was briefly interviewed on stage. Perhaps, the most telling exchange started with Schwartz reminding Redd that Gelber’s stage instructions state: “The jazz played is in the tradition of Charlie Parker.” Redd modestly responded to the effect that he always hoped that were true.

The second set was entirely The Connection, with Donald Harrison taking over the alto duties. Hearing the now familiar themes again, it is striking how rich Redd’s compositions are, as they take unexpected twists. While Harrison was somewhat tentative on the opener, “Who Killed Cock Robin,” they would take another shot at it as a sort of encore, in which everyone locked in. Again, there was a bit of a false start on “O.D.” due to confusion with the sheet music and a personnel rotation on bass, although Louis Hayes did his best to cover it with his steady ride. Ultimately it was Redd’s show, and he did not disappoint. He has a muscular, but economical style, and his soloing is bright and compelling, not the least diminished since he first recorded these themes.

Redd now lives in California, so this was a welcome opportunity for him to reconnect with his New York roots. Many prominent musicians and industry figures came out to hear Redd’s return. Thanks to Redd, The Connection has a place of import in jazz history, despite the New York Times panning the original production as “a farrago of dirt, small-time philosophy, empty talk and extended runs of ‘cool music,’” as shrewdly quoted on the back cover of the original Grove Evergreen movie tie-in edition.

It has been produced around the world and the film is often screened at jazz festivals. I screen an excerpt in my jazz survey courses at SCPS. It was definitely a product of its time, but the music is still powerful, as proved again by Redd last night.