Riverside Records co-owner Orrin Keepnews -- RIP

From the Riverside Records' list
(Image: designspiration.net)

Once upon a time, I collected jazz recordings. Among my more valued acquisitions were albums (yes, vinyl) with the Riverside Records imprint. The company had impeccable taste and a reputation for being one of the rare "good guys" in a business not noted for its saints. One of Riverside's co-owners was Orrin Keepnews, who passed away recently at age 91. The New York Times' obituary does an acceptable, though not insightful, job presenting a sketch of the record producer's life and impact. Keepnews' son Peter, a Times editor, did not write the obit, although it's hard to imagine he did not contribute to the piece.

What's notable about Keepnews and his Riverside business partner Bill Grauer was their willingness to pursue what they loved. They didn't have venture capital, their business plan mostly involved getting the next album produced, and they weren't insufferably infatuated with themselves. Keepnews knew the musicians and was able to win their trust more often than not. Riverside's accomplishments and the manner in which Keepnews and Grauer pursued them seem quaint today. However, Riverside Records' artistic merit stands the test of time; the label retains the respect of those who follow and care about jazz. That's a legacy Orrin Keepnews helped create and shape. He will be missed.

Charles Mingus Live Performance Recordings Reissued

Charlie Mingus
(photo: versemusicgroup.com)

I first became aware of Charlie Mingus' music when I was a teenager. I listened to many of his recordings for hours and hours, as did close friends of mine. We grasped and deeply admired his level of musical skill, his material, and his drive. My enthusiasm for Mingus' sound carried over into college. I was fortunate enough to see the bassist and his ensemble perform in a small club in Madison, Wisconsin. It was an interesting night, made a bit more curious when Mingus, et al, smuggled booze into the "dry" performance space.

Lately, I've returned to listening to Mingus' studio efforts and admiring his grasp of composition. According to the Financial Times, Mosaic Records has re-released a number of concert recordings. I can't wait to listen to them, and hear Charlie at his most dynamic. He was a musical titan, who could play with fellow giants, and add something special to nearly any song he performed.

Yes, he really was that good.

Fontella Bass -- RIP

Fontella Bass
(photo: CBS News)

The fabulous singer Fontella Bass passed away earlier this week at age 72. The obit in Bass' hometown newspaper, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, has useful details about her life and especially her relationship with St. Louis.

She made her name, but not much money for a long time, with her 1965 hit Rescue Me. I have a personal attachment to this song. My parents and I had just moved to New York around the time Bass' song was released. At the time, I listened almost religiously to WMCA, a local radio station that played popular music. (The station has since experienced a number of unfortunate evolutions.) The DJs had a record giveaway to the "first x caller." Don't ask me why, but I called. To my complete astonishment, I won. The radio station sent me a 45 shortly after that.

During the mid and late 1960s, WMCA
gave away "WMCA Good Guy" sweatshirts.
I'd love to own one now.

Ironically, Bass' song snugly fit my desperate outlook at that time. Perhaps more significantly, the record was also my first acquisition of a rhythm and blues song. While many, many more have been welcomed into my life, Rescue Me retains pride of place.

I initially learned of Bass' passing through a most unusual set of events. I was doing some research for a blog post involving a "Desperate Housewives"-style calendar some Spanish women created as a school fundraiser. The photo came from El Pais, Spain's leading newspaper. It was there that I noticed a story about the death of Fontella Bass. The journalist's thoughtful piece suggested to me that Bass was more appreciated in Europe than in her home country.

The story of the transit of African-American musicians between Europe and the United States still has plenty of juice. For some reason, some musicians' careers just take hold in the Old World and can't get a break in the New World. Fontella Bass appeared to be a case in point.

However, Bass could live without Europe. She was an independent woman for whom music was only part of her personality package. Her commitment to religion and to gospel music were constants in her life. She cared about her children. She preferred to live in musically obscure St. Louis than in cities with brighter lights. While she felt justifiably wronged over royalty payments and appropriate credit for her talent, Bass knew she stood well above musical flavors of the month and creations of the star machine. Sometimes, that bitter satisfaction just has to do.

(photo: 45cat.com)

Jazz Musician Sam Rivers -- RIP

Sam Rivers

Sam Rivers, who helped establish an avant-garde perspective to the jazz of the 1970s and 1980s, died recently at age 88 in Florida. The New York Times' obit provides a reasonable overview of Rivers' life. However, the website maintained by Rivers' daughter, Monique Rivers Williams, offers a richer window into Rivers' musical outlook and remarkable career.

I have some recordings in which Rivers is a featured musician. I liked his work, but never went out of my way to accumulate more music than I had. He was a key figure in jazz's so-called loft movement of the late 1970s, but I never saw Rivers perform. The one time I did see jazz in a loft was in TriBeCa. At that time, TriBeCa had not yet become a playground for zillionaires. Jane, whom I knew through an Italian friend, invited me to a loft performance by the jazz pianist Don Pullen. I had admired Pullen's work for years, and was happy to attend the event. The performance was interesting, in that the event was an ensemble performance combining Pullen's wonderful music with the accompanying movements of a female dancer. The event also wasn't very crowded, which created a sense of artistic intimacy that I've rarely experienced since that evening.

Later that month, I met Jane at a Mexican coffee shop on Church Street. She would often stay there for hours, because the establishment's food and ambience reminded Jane of her hometown, San Diego. The coffee shop also had heat, which was more than what Jane got in her tiny, dilapidated Little Italy apartment. It also served excellent huevos rancheros, a dish I thoroughly enjoy when it's done well.

Since that time, TriBeCa and the New York arts world have evolved into something I don't think Don Pullen or Sam Rivers might have recognized as related to their aspirations. It's notable that, in Rivers' later years, he moved to the Orlando area, got musicians together, and continued exploring the musical frontiers of jazz. It's a spirit that seems largely diminished in New York today, replaced by a general sense of uptightness about exploration without compensation. Sam Rivers fought the good fight, a kindred spirit to the jazz musicians who played because there was "something inside of them" that just had to come out.