BLP 4079

Lou Donaldson - Gravy Train

Released - October 1961

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, April 27, 1961
Lou Donaldson, alto sax; Herman Foster, piano; Ben Tucker, bass; Dave Bailey, drums; Alec Dorsey, congas #1,2,4-7.

tk.1 Glory Of Love
tk.7 Gravy Train
tk.11 Polka Dots And Moonbeams
tk.12 Candy
tk.14 South Of The Border
tk.15 Twist Time
tk.19 Avalon

Session Photos

Photos: © Francis Wolff/Mosaic Images 
https://www.mosaicrecordsimages.com/

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
Gravy Train	Lou Donaldson	27 April 1961
South of the Border	Michael Carr, Jimmy Kennedy	27 April 1961
Polka Dots and Moonbeams	Johnny Burke, Jimmy Van Heusen	27 April 1961
Avalon	Buddy DeSylva, Al Jolson, Vincent Rose	27 April 1961
Side Two
Candy	Mack David, Alex Kramer, Joan Whitney	27 April 1961
Twist Time	Lou Donaldson	27 April 1961
Glory of Love	Billy Hill	27 April 1961

Liner Notes

IT seems that anyone writing about alto saxophonist Lou Donaldson feels irresistably compelled to throw in a few words about Charlie Parker. By now, Lou has been around quite a while, having performed on some of the classic early Blue Notes With Thelonious Monk and Milt Jackson (1509 and 1511) and, in one sense, all that talk should have been dispensed with quite a while ago. For, on the basis of this album, Lou Donaldson owes much less of a direct debt to Parker — particularly in terms of tone — than many other altoists in connection with whom the name ¡s never mentioned. (There is actually only one major altoist working today who does not owe such a debt, and his name would be anathema to most readers of these notes, so let it pass.) In another, more important sense, however, it is obvious that jazz as a whole is very far from moving out from under Parker’s enormous shadow, and that is a situation by no means confined to saxophonists. Some of the stylistic postures which young musicians have adopted in an attempt to escape this situation reminds me, in a way, of some of the tricks of style young singers adopt in a desperate, ¡f futile, attempt not to sound like Sinatra.

But rather than go into all this again, it makes more sense to look at the music of Lou Donaldson on its own terms, and see what it is that he is doing.

Definition of terms in jazz is always a somewhat tricky matter, especially since the word in question is likely to be twisted around to suit whatever point the particular writer is attempting to make. One of the words which has received this treatment is “mainstream”, and although it is generally used to apply to such players as Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster, it seems to me to apply much more accurately, at least in the sense of contemporary mainstream, to the style which characterizes the majority of Blue Note’s recent output. In other words, the retrenchment which took place among the followers of Parker in the middle fifties, the growing concern with a more direct statement of sources — roots, ¡f you will. It is the movement spearheaded by the various groups led by Art Blakey and Horace Silver, and one form of it is the music played by Lou Donaldson.

One measure of the growing stature Lou has achieved is that he is now in the position of fostering musicians younger than himself, seeing that they come to the attention of recording executives and get their opportunity to show what they can do, just as he once did. Two Blue Note regulars who hold that status largely because of Donaldson are pianist Horace Parlan and guitarist Grant Green.

As it happens, neither of them are on this record. The present pianist, Herman Foster, recorded for the first time as a member of o Donaldson group (Wailing With Lou, 1545), ¡s also to be heard on Swing and Soul (1566) and Blues Walk (1593), both of which also feature the drummer on this set, Dave Bailey. Foster has since come into considerable prominence of his own, and Donaldson’s preoccupation with the “mainstream” ¡s nowhere better attested to than the fact that he chooses to record with Bailey, a drummer who worked with Gerry Mulligan for many years. In another area, Mulligan holds incontestable title to the “mainstream” tag.

The mention of Blues Walk calls to mind another matter. Recently, we have seen, for the first time since the heyday of the great swing bands, a situation in which jazz has made considerable inroads onto the nation’s jukeboxes. At present, as a reflection of the times, it is small group rather than big band jazz which is to be found. The situation is a mixed blessing. Of course, one would much rather be able to get Donaldson, Blakey, or Silver for one’s dime than Ricky Nelson or Bobby Rydell. and jazz has won many new fans because of this phenomenon. Some listeners may even have heard a now-favorite musician for the first time because they paid their dime primarily for the privilege of not having to hear Nelson or Rydell for three minutes. The situation, however, is a mixed blessing, because on a few occasions we have seen musicians consciously strive for a jukebox hit, at the expense of their music. But Blues Walk did very well on the jukeboxes, and brought Lou Donaldson to a wider audience than had previously been exposed to him. Gravy Train, which leads off the present set, is an extremely direct blues in a somewhat similar vein, and Blue Note’s Alfred Lion has high hopes that it may do even better than its predecessor — perhaps it even received its title in that expectation.

There is one other Donaldson original on the set, another blues, Twist Time. The remainder of the set reveals what is evidently q major interest of Donaldson’s, o preoccupation with the better popular music of several years ago. This seems to me to be not quite the same thing as the usual run of standards which everyone plays, because a look over his post albums reveals that he has played many such pieces that have only been recorded infrequently in jazz contexts: I Won’t Cry Anymore; Autumn Nocturne; Tangerine; and Softly, As In A Morning Sunrise are a few of the titles. The conga, played here by Alec Dorsey, seems to me to be especially suited to such a recital, for it places on additional rhythmic emphasis on the music, and of course, all of these pieces began their careers as dance music. Among them, only Glory of Love has ever had the misfortune of being subjected to a rock-and-roll treatment; the rest have retained a relative purity. South of the Border — probably the most unusual choice of the set — and Polka Dots and Moonbeams are both closely associated with Frank Sinatra, which is likely to be the case with any song Sinatra sings, no matter who introduced it first. South of the Border, in this case, is an obvious choice because of Alec Dorsey’s conga; Polka Dots is primarily a showcase for Donaldson’s purely singing tone. Candy is a tune I remember as having been sung by Johnny Mercer several years back. Avalon is even older, having begun its career as a Jolson specialty.

Mention should be made of bassist Ben Tucker, for Donaldson’s oft-repeated penchant for strolling without piano places additional harmonic responsibility on whoever is playing bass, and Tucker fills that function admirably.

But this is, of course, o Lou Donaldson album. It seems pointless to argue about whether or not this is the best of the several Blue Note albums he has recorded, although in some places it may be. It is more to the point to soy that it is one more highly enjoyable statement from one of the most consistent, and consistently underrated, musicians on the current jazz scene.

—JOE GOLDBERG

Cover Photo by RONNIE BRATHWAITE
Cover Design by REID MILES
Recording by RUDY VAN GELDER

Herman Foster performs by courtesy of Epic Records

RVG CD Reissue Liner Notes

A NEW LOOK AT GRAVY TRAIN

Lou Donaldson's success as a popular artist, which Joe Goldberg emphasizes in his original liner notes, was driven in large measure by the addition of conga drums to the standard rhythm section. Donaldson introduced the format in 1957 on Swing and Soul, rode it to his first hit on Blues Walk a year later, then followed up with Light Foot, The Time Is Right, and Midnight Sun. At the same time, the saxophonist mixed in other configurations, including the organ trio accompaniment that Donaldson first employed for his own sessions on the January 1961 Here 'Tis. Funky organ jazz was riding high at the time, which may explain why Midnight Sun went unreleased for 20 years while Donaldson turned his attention to organ sessions, and why the present date represents the final Blue Note example of what to that point had become his signature format. There would be other Donaldson albums in the future with congas, including several that employed both organ and congas; but with the exception of Cole Slaw (1964) and Blowing in the Wind ('66), both on Argo/Cadet, this is the last of classic LD plus congas.

A major contributor to this particular Donaldson sound was pianist Herman Foster, who was reunited with the saxophonist here after an absence of over two years in which he did extensive work with King Curtis and launched his own brief career as the leader of a trio on record. Foster would continue to be the pianist of choice for Donaldson's occasional returns to the acoustic format in subsequent decades. The quintet is completed here by drummer Dave Bailey, a longtime Donaldson regular, plus bassist Ben Tucker, and percussionist Alec Dorsey. Tucker and Bailey were frequently heard together in this period, including two albums under the drummer's leadership and on Grant Green's Green Street, which was taped four weeks before the present music. The little-known Dorsey only made one other appearance on a jazz date, the 1962 Gerry Mulligan album Jeru that also includes Tucker and Bailey.

The program here, characteristically, mixes blues and standards with a touch of Latin, and, in this case at least, a titular nod to rock and roll. Two of the titles, "Avalon" and "Candy," had been included on the then-unissued Midnight Sun session, and both are treated differently here. The former adds instruments chorus by chorus, with alto stating the theme over bass and congas, drums joining for the first blowing chorus, and piano making it a quintet on the second. "Candy" is slowed down to what was once called a businessman's bounce, which turns out to be a more appropriate tempo than that of the earlier version. Donaldson, who avoided tag endings about as religiously as Sonny Stitt embraced them, steps out of character here in a postscript that lasts a full three minutes, and is as effective as it is unexpected.

Comparisons are also worth making between the two titles heard here both in master and alternate takes. The slow-rolling vamp of "Gravy Train" suggests "Blues Walk," with the alto sax theme making the connection explicit, and once the solos begin, the two takes adopt distinct rhythmic approaches. On the master, Foster comps in even quarter notes, making this more of a blues march than a walk, and Bailey's shuffle beat sustains tension through piano and bass solos. The alternate, recorded after the master, features a more straight-ahead feeling during the first alto solo, and replaces Tucker's chorus with a second Donaldson solo over a stop-time vamp. While the master take is more dramatic, the alternate has better solos. The fadeout ending was another unusual device for Donaldson, yet quite fitting in this instance. The alternate of "Glory of Love," again cut after the master, is slightly faster and has Donaldson strolling in his solo where Foster had been heard in support. Choosing between the two is more difficult here, yet it should be noted that the master was the first take of the session — an indication of how quickly these musicians could settle in and take care of business.

Another Donaldson signature of the time was the humorous album photo, as captured in such classic Francis Wolff images as those on Light Foot, Here 'Tis, and Good Gracious. Gravy Train is a part of that tradition, which makes it a feast for the eye and funny bone as well as the ear.

— Bob Blumenthal, 2007