Vinyl Me Please Anthology

agutierrezb said:
Let me echo what others here have said: Your content is great. I have some formal musical training, and I think your videos and explanations hit the sweetspot between musical theory and your plainsman's explanation.
I would love it if you could post somethin explaining the difference between Hard Bop and BeBop, because I think the boundaries between both can be pretty blurry. I struggled to hear the difference for a while, until a (pretty theory-oriented) video helped me appreciate the blues, r&b and gospel influences on hard bop.
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A good rule of thumb is that bebop tends to have more complex chord sequences and shorter solos, while hard bop tends to have less complicated chord sequences and longer solos.

A much longer take on it:


Today, we might use the terms “album,” “record,” “LP,” and “vinyl” interchangeably when referring to the now-familiar 12” discs that contain music. In doing so, it can be easy to overlook the fact that there were several competing formats between Edison’s wax cylinders and the standard 33.33 RPM record we tend to take for granted. The idea of an “album,” for example comes from the era of 10” 78 RPM shellac records that held approximately 3 minutes of audio per side. When record companies began the practice of releasing records in collections, housing the discs in individual paper sleeves and sewing the sleeves into handsome leather bindings, the term “album” was applied just as it was to books with pages used to contain stamps and baseball cards. If you’re having trouble picturing an album of 78 records, there’s a good chance that there are several languishing on the shelves of your local thrift store (charity shop, for the British folks reading this).

In 1948, Columbia Records unveiled a new “Long Playing” (or “LP”) record format. These new records were made of a different material (PVC vs. shellac) with better acoustic properties, and used a narrower “microgroove” and a slower speed (33 RPM vs. 78 RPM) to attain playing times of roughly 22 minutes per side of a 12” record. While the suitability for music in this format may be obvious to the casual listener today, the value of the LP over its competitor formats (and therefore the need to purchase new playback equipment) was far from self-evident to consumers in the late 1940s who were accustomed to shorter-playing shellac records and plenty of free music broadcast on the radio. Ultimately, Columbia records would get a clever idea to start the Columbia Record Club (later Columbia House – yes, that Columbia House) as a way to make the LP the industry standard. In the interim, however, Columbia made a calculated decision that fans of classical music would be the audience who would most appreciate uninterrupted sides of records. The first 12” LP release was the Mendelssohn violin concerto in E minor on Columbia’s Masterworks label.

For fans of jazz, the ability of the LP to capture performances longer than 3 minutes in total duration would make it the obvious choice over the RCA Victor’s 7” 45 RPM format. Remarkably, however, Columbia issued 418 12” LPs on its Masterworks imprint before they got around to recording an album of extended jazz performances. Masterpieces by Ellington, released in 1951, was worth the wait. Duke Ellington’s and Billy Strayhorn’s lavish arrangements were the perfect foil for showcasing just what the listener is missing in anything less than a 15-minute version of Mood Indigo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yrt79lROIaA
). For listeners who may have considered themselves Ellington fans but had never been able to see a live performance, the sheer scale of the music must have been overwhelming. It is the very definition of unhurried, and the music reveals itself in dense waves of horns and reeds. The four songs on the album stretch to a total of 47 minutes and—while Ellington’s band (Paul Gonsalves, in particular: https://youtu.be/MemoebN05yM?t=264 ) was more than capable of stretching out into epic solos—the music is very much built to showcase the interactions among the members of the orchestra more than the virtuosity of its individual players.

Four years later at the 1955 Newport Jazz Festival, Miles Davis wowed fans and critics alike with a cameo performance during a short set (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UxxXnfgmmU&t=1126s
). Although the characteristically lugubrious Davis bristled at the idea that he had done anything other than play like he always did, a plurality of listeners came away with the feeling of having witnessed something important. One of those listeners was Columbia Records executive George Avakian. On the strength of Davis’s 3-song set, Avakian was interested in discussing the possibility of bringing Miles to Columbia records, on one condition: he first put together a stable touring band.

In relatively short order, Davis assembled the band who would become known as “the first great quintet.” Comprising Davis, John Coltrane (tenor saxophone), Red Garland (piano), Paul Chambers (bass), and “Philly” Joe Jones (drums), the band that was assembled to secure the Columbia records deal would help define both Hard Bop and Modal Jazz. Avakian’s insistence that Columbia would only record the Miles Davis band was incredibly forward-looking because band identities for ensembles smaller than “big band” orchestras had not had much commercial importance. Take, for example, Walkin’ – a foundational hard bop tune written by Davis and performed by “the Miles Davis All Star Sextet:” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMW3RloxEyA
). Here, “all-star” is a euphemism for recording artists who may not perform together outside of the studio and may not share much synergy while in the studio. Going further back and into the bebop proper, it’s easy to come away with the impression that the soloists are talking past each other, rather than talking to one another. Given the lengths he went through to move Davis to Columbia, it seems as though Avakian must have foreseen the commercial potential of the band interplay of something like Masterpieces by Ellington realized in a smaller, more cutting-edge format.

With only five members in Miles Davis’s working band for the early Columbia records, it’s possible to really consider their individual contributions to the whole. Coltrane’s “sheets of sound,” for example, are a great counterpoint to Davis’s spacious and sometimes hesitant-sounding playing. A creative entity that played together for hundreds of gigs before their first Columbia album (‘Round About Midnight) was released, the members of the band anticipated the others’ next creative move and create music that does something no “supergroup” of “modern jazz giant” (https://www.youtube.com/watch…
) “all-stars” (https://youtu.be/srMZYVW0T4c) ever could. This feature of hard bop is not unique to Davis’s band. Although the name “hard bop” suggests something rough and aggressive (and it sometimes is), the commonality among hard bop ensembles and songs is the sensitivity with which the musicians play. They push one another and respond to the movements of their bandmates. Even on well-worn favorites, listening to a song with a focus on one of the performers almost always yields some new detail. One of the joys of hard bop is that it is possible to access the music on a deeper level by using the same method as the musicians themselves: bringing one’s awareness to what each member is contributing in a given moment. While the musicians have the upper hand of intimate familiarity with each other and years of musical training, we have the enviable ability to listen repeatedly and revisit the same musical moment and build our sense and appreciation of the music over time.
 
(loooong post continued):


Musically, the typical listener finds hard bop is to be more accessible than bebop. While bebop is an intellectualized form of music made primarily for other musicians, hard bop is made with listeners in mind (both listeners in the band and in the audience).


I created a series of annotations for three Hard Bop songs that I hope will serve as an interesting guided tour of the music. The annotation tracks don't contain the actual songs, so you'll have to queue those up in your own library, streaming service, or on YouTube. There are YouTube links to each song below each of the annotation links. When you start the annotation track, you'll hear a short intro and then a countdown. When the countdown ends, push play on the song. If that's confusing, don't worry - I made a short video tutorial that you can view at the end of this thread.

I hope these tracks provide some interesting ways into the music and that you'll let me know what cool things you hear in the comments.

Moanin' - Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nIvJrEt3zc&feature=youtu.be

https://youtu.be/fsJ3JjpZyoA

All of You - Miles Davis Quintet:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8D9bZWp14p4&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Di16W_std0c

Blue 'N' Boogie - Miles Davis All Star Sextet:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsmrVj-oONM&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4WlRa-arFc

How-to tutorial:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuEIkABParg&feature=youtu.be

I made this companion video that uses I Got Rhythm and All The Things You Are to show why popular song forms could feel limiting. There's also a separate, more detailed, breakdown of All The Things You Are. These are made to cater to people without any musical training so, if that's you, I hope this helps give you sense of why hard bop eventually fractured into at least three offspring genres.

https://youtu.be/4g8BmNbFop4

https://youtu.be/iPSFk4kClkc


The third point of entry: understanding hard bop as a clash between artistic expression and popular song forms

Bebop, one of the forebears of Hard Bop, was simultaneously too complex and too simple to remain at the forefront of contemporary jazz. Its complication stemmed from the fact that the bebop idiom evolved into a fairly rigid system of outlining dense thickets of chords. Its simplicity stemmed from the same requirement and—once the various changes (i.e. chord progressions) got under the fingers of a player—it was easy to tell if the player was successfully playing in the bebop idiom but not always easy to hear if it was being done particularly better than anyone else. Even for fans of bebop, it can be difficult to articulate what you like about one player’s soloing over another. Bebop, after all, is not primarily music for listeners.

For a time, hard bop seemed to be a way forward for players to be better understood as individual artists with various styles and personalities. Hard bop allows for players to use the language of bebop, or not. Take Sonny Rollins’s playing on St. Thomas, for example: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UA2XIWZxMKM). His improvisation begins exploring brief two-note snippets, and he spends almost 30 seconds exploring what he can do by bouncing around in that motif before launching into material built on a more sustained use of bebop lines. Rollins finishes his first chorus of soloing with the same two notes he used to begin the form. Later in the song, after beginning his second round of soloing by playing approximately 8 notes every four beats, Rollins holds one note for 14 beats. Less rigid than bebop, hard bop invites musicians to use greater quantities of musical space and time to develop their ideas (it is not uncommon for hard bop songs to be upward of 7-minutes in duration).

The combination of a less dogmatic idiom and the growing ubiquity of the new 12” LP format brought a limitation of hard bop into sharp focus: the popular song form itself. Although It’s with Duke Ellington’s big band, and not hard bop, here’s a legendary live performance by Paul Gonsalves at the Newport Jazz festival in 1956: https://youtu.be/MemoebN05yM?t=264 . For over 6 minutes, Gonsalves solos over a song form that repeats every 14 seconds. It is the improvised tenor saxophone equivalent of singing 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, although 6 minutes is merciful in that it only amounts to 26 bottles of beer on the wall. The length of time soloing is not the only factor that can lead to a sense of monotony and repetition for the player; it is not uncommon for the song form itself to have repeats built into it. You do not need to sing 26 choruses of Old MacDonald Had a Farm, for example, before it is likely to be wearing on your last nerve.

The beauty of hard bop, then, is that it is a style that allows artists so much freedom that they may find they have done everything there is to do with a particular song form. The structure of the music itself is the last remaining impediment to their creative vision. What does that sound like? Different things for different musicians. The arc of Gonsalves’s performance at the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival is fascinating because it starts off with a strange and unique melodic statement, then moves through several minutes of invention before he appears to lose a little steam. Around 4 minutes in to his solo, Gonsalves begins to rely on clichés here and there, though he uses these as springboards for invention. Finally, at around 10:27 in the video, you can hear him reach the limit. Rather than a capitulation that he is out of ideas (he certainly could have kept playing), it feels like Gonsalves is telling us that he has said everything there is to be said by varying notes and varying rhythms; the only thing left to say can only be said with one long note. He holds the note for six seconds, momentarily returns to playing a melodic and rhythmic line, and then doesn’t even bother to finish the final statement. Everything had been said.
 
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The limits of hard bop were more typically chronic (i.e. playing the same songs night after night for years), than acute like Gonsalves at Newport, but they were very real. Hard bop is a music of artists pushing themselves and each other into new territory and, for a few at least, into exasperation with popular song form. Ultimately, bebop was a scapegoat. The perceived limits of the codification of the harmonic additions and substitutions, and the rules of playing in the style were a red herring. The real culprits were the songs themselves. As you listen to hard bop, one thing to consider is how many distinct ideas a musician seems to throw into a solo. How many times do you get the sense that the soloist is “changing gears” or setting off in a “new direction?” How do the other musicians respond to these changes? Do they get louder? Softer? Play more evenly? Play with more abrupt accents? Do they play more notes? Fewer? How are they supporting one another? How are they pushing one another? Hard Bop is for listeners. Both listeners in the audience, but also listeners within the band.

Deep listening can yield deep insight, but there are plenty of superficial Easter Eggs to be found for deep listeners. Take, for example, the sparring between Art Blakey and Miles Davis on Love for Sale from the 1958 Blue Note album Somethin’ Else (Cannonball Adderley was credited as the band leader): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tSYXpq2kW0 . After a short piano intro, Art Blakey (the drummer) lays down a very busy Latin beat. When Davis enters to state the main melody with his muted trumpet, Blakey switches to brushes and straightens out the beat to a more typical medium swing feel. At 1:16 you can hear his rhythm change as he switches the brushes out for sticks (presumably to reintroduce the Latin feel). Davis doesn’t appear to go for it, so Blakey switches back to brushes after a few measures of music. Blakey tries again when Adderley takes his saxophone solo, and again when Davis comes back at the end of the song. What do you hear? Interestingly, pianist Hank Jones adopts the Latin feel every time Blakey tries, but Blakey doesn’t introduce it for Jones’s solo! We can clearly hear Blakey straining. Perhaps against Davis (this isn’t the only version of Love for Sale to showcase Davis-induced tension, so there must have been something about this particular tune that brought out the worst collaborator in him.), and not Cole Porter’s songwriting, but it is an apt metaphor for one of the challenges of being at the cutting edge of jazz in the mid-to-late 1950s and the joys of listening to it today.
 
Enoch said:
I believe the comment is gone, now - I think you have an excellent question
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It's still there because I just now have seen it and reported it as well. This guy has been doing stuff like this for a while and I believe he must have been temp banned for a few days because I saw a post from him yesterday saying that he must have ruffled a few feathers and is back now. Seems he didn't learn his lesson at all.
 
Clint Howard said:
I think the forums are just highlighting how out of depth all of the VMP staff are. Storf picked Juvenile's first album cause he remembers buying the CD at best buy as a kid meanwhile @The_Stoned_Ape gives us a thorough history of the label and potential releases. qed.
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storf doesn't pick the hip hop ROTMs. he only does the classics ROTMs, it was probably another person if not multiple people who chose it for other reasons than just buying it at best buy

just wanted to get that fact out. no hard feelings
 
duke86fan said:
storf doesn't pick the hip hop ROTMs. he only does the classics ROTMs, it was probably another person if not multiple people who chose it for other reasons than just buying it at best buy

just wanted to get that fact out. no hard feelings
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That's fair.. but Storf was the only one active in the hip-hop threads so maybe pick someone who knows about hip-hop to represent the company? In the same way that they apparently have no one that knows about jazz to write about it. I don't think that's too much to ask of a $10 million company.
 
MadLucas said:
@seeirwin, do you write jazz history textbooks or simply study the hell out of it?
Because you hit EVERY 👏 NAIL 👏 ON 👏 THE 👏 HEAD 👏 that I would have expected to be in there.

Well spoken, sir!
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Thanks! I'm glad you feel like my posts are contributing to meaningful dialogue. I have read and enjoyed Ashley Kahn's books on Kind of Blue and A Love Supreme, and I recommend those to anyone who is interested in reading jazz history through a specific lens. I appreciate their writing because it's something other than what you can assemble from reading Wikipedia articles. That's the type of angle I've tried to take in framing some aspects of the VMP Blue Note Anthology. I actually haven't read much jazz history beyond those two books, so I'd be interested in any recommendations you all might have.
 
Clint Howard said:
That's fair.. but Storf was the only one active in the hip-hop threads so maybe pick someone who knows about hip-hop to represent the company? In the same way that they apparently have no one that knows about jazz to write about it. I don't think that's too much to ask of a $10 million company.
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i'd say that thats more because storf was like the only actual staff members who was on the forum besides pauly.. so its more just that he was the only exposure to the VMP staff we got
 
seeirwin said:
Thanks! I'm glad you feel like my posts are contributing to meaningful dialogue. I have read and enjoyed Ashley Kahn's books on Kind of Blue and A Love Supreme, and I recommend those to anyone who is interested in reading jazz history through a specific lens. I appreciate their writing because it's something other than what you can assemble from reading Wikipedia articles. That's the type of angle I've tried to take in framing some aspects of the VMP Blue Note Anthology. I actually haven't read much jazz history beyond those two books, so I'd be interested in any recommendations you all might have.
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Ted Gioia - The history of Jazz
 
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