Larry Young - Unity
Released - August 1966
Recording and Session Information
Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, November 10, 1965
Woody Shaw, trumpet #1,2,4-6; Joe Henderson, tenor sax #1,2,4-6; Larry Young, organ; Elvin Jones, drums.
1676 tk.5 If
1677 tk.17 Beyond All Limits
1678 tk.18 Monk's Dream
1679 tk.21 The Moontrane
1680 tk.22 Zoltan
1681 tk.25 Softly, As In A Morning Sunrise
Session Photos
Track Listing
| Side One | ||
| Title | Author | Recording Date |
| Zoltan | Woody Shaw | November 10 1965 |
| Monk's Dream | Thelonious Monk | November 10 1965 |
| If | Joe Henderson | November 10 1965 |
| Side One | ||
| The Moontrane | Woody Shaw | November 10 1965 |
| Softly, As in a Morning Sunrise | Oscar Hammerstein II, Sigmund Romberg | November 10 1965 |
| Beyond All Limits | Woody Shaw | November 10 1965 |
Liner Notes
THE continuing growth of Larry Young is compellingly clear in this album, which is regarded by Young as the most mature set he’s recorded. It’s called Unity because, Larry points out, “although everybody on the date is very much an individualist, they were all in the same frame of mood. It was evident from the start that everything was fitting together.”
As I noted on Larry’s first album as a leader for Blue Note, Into Somethin’ (4187), he is a remarkably flexible and attentive organist. Unlike too many of his contemporaries on the instrument, he doesn’t swallow up his colleagues in a torrent of notes and volume. Or, as Joe Henderson puts it, “With some organists, it’s hard to compete against all that juice. But Larry listens to you and complements you.” Also characteristic of Young’s playing, as Don Nelsen observed in a Down Beat review of Into Somethin’, is “his deft, controlled touch... Young treats his notes...respectfully, articulating them clearly and with a laudable sensitivity to dynamics.”
It’s difficult, moreover, to imagine a more apt choice of musicians for the particular challenges of this session. Elvin Jones, a drummer to whom the words “flexible” and “attentive” apply fully, lays down the quality of pulse that, as Young observes, “lets you do whatever you feel on top of the rhythm.” As for Joe Henderson, it’s by now an established fact that he is one of the more original and persistently evolving of the newer tenor saxophonists. He contributes substantially to the Horace Silver quintet with which he’s been for about a year and a half; and he has also proved more than equal to a wide variety of Blue Note settings — from basic blues to the most advanced, exploratory jazz.
Woody Shaw, a member of the Silver unit since June, 1965, is one of the new generation of jazzmen who — like drummer Tony Williams — reveal such stunning technical skill and conceptual inventiveness while still in their teens. Joe Henderson first heard Woody when the latter was seventeen, and, says Joe, “he shocked me then. He’s got all the basics down, he’s developed his own style, and his future is without limits.”
Woody was born in Laurinburg, North Carolina, on December 24, 1944, but was raised in Newark, New Jersey. In the sixth grade he was drawn to the trumpet, his earliest favorites having been Louis Armstrong and Harry James. Then he heard Dizzy (“I flipped”), and by the time Woody was thirteen, he was also listening hard to Lee Morgan and Donald Byrd. Thereafter “a whole lot of cats” influenced him — among them Kenny Dorham, Clark Terry and Nat Adderley. As for his current shaping forces, he lists the late Booker Little, Freddie Hubbard and Miles Davis (“the way he’s playing now”). Almost entirely self-taught as an instrumentalist and composer, Shaw believes that “it’s not what you learn in school but what you hear musically in what’s happening around you that counts.” He listens a great deal to classical music — particularly Bartok, Hindemith, Kodaly and Schoenberg — and to the jazz avant-garde. Shaw left Newark Arts High School at the age of sixteen because “I had to play,” and has since worked with Willie Bobo, Eric Dolphy and Rufus Jones before joining Silver. He was supposed to have joined Eric Dolphy in Europe in the summer of 1964, but Dolphy died just before he arrived. Shaw came anyway, and free-lanced there with Larry Young, Kenny Clarke, Donald Byrd and Nathan Davis before being invited by Horace Silver to join him.
The opening track, Zoltan, is Woody’s. It begins with the march from Zoltan Kodaly’s Hary Jonas Suite “because I liked the way he used the bass line.” Then comes Shaw’s own material which is based on the Lydian mode. Note the crisp authority of Elvin Jones, the tangy blend of the horns, the disciplined power and stinging clarity of Shaw, the fire and searing beat of Joe Henderson along with the concise structural unity of his solo, and the singular expressivity of Young. As Woody Shaw says of Larry, “his technique is out of sight, he has very big ears and a beautiful time conception. Larry is where jazz is going on the organ!”
Thelonious Monk’s craggily evocative Monk’s Dream reveals Young’s understanding of the essence of Monk’s conception, including his wit, the asymmetrical logic of his lines and the leaping, jagged momentum of his time. With only Elvin Jones accompanying Young on this track, the performance was made in a single take — a remarkable demonstration of the complex affinity between these two complicated musicians in one of the most absorbing jazz conversations on record in recent years.
If is Joe Henderson’s tune. A 12-bar song, it has a blues feeling but the changes move differently than the conventional blues patterns. “I wrote it,” Henderson says, “in a way that permits the soloist a wider choice of notes.” The first solo is by Joe — blistering incisive, big-toned, and with a fusion of beat and sound that recalls those years in which the highest accolade one could give a jazzman was that he was o “hot” player. Listen particularly to Elvin in the background for an illustration of how astutely he can stimulate a soloist without getting in his way, Woody Shaw comes on with an authority, a brass-proud tone and a firmness of ideas that make him sound — in view of his youth — as if he’d started playing before he could walk. And then there is the building, spiraling, swirling warmth and inventiveness of Larry Young who is one of the very few organists who sound as if he’s actually telling an evolving story — and not just pounding out a repetitive message — as he improvises. Note too that even when his volume and emotions rise, he doesn’t sacrifice clarity of line.
The Moontrane was written by Woody Shaw when he was about eighteen. “It’s dedicated,” the composer explains, “to John Coltrane, as can be heard by the harmonic cycles in it. And with regard to the melodic development, I tried to capture the kind of feeling that would result if he were to have played the tune.” Especially vivid here is Woody’s lyricism — flowing and virile, clean-edged but passionate. Henderson too has the capacity to envelop the deep “cry” in his playing within a strong, personal, malleable but never fuzzy framework of style and Conception. And once more there is the continually exploring, continually building — and continually self-controlled — passion and acute musical intelligence of Larry Young. For a climax, Elvin Jones explodes in ordered ardor.
Softly as in a Morning Sunrise is reanimated here in a sizzling performance begun by Joe Henderson who gets more from the tune than I thought there was to be taken. Worth digging is the swift, sure, economical camping of Larry Young. Woody comes on with staccato force (and listen to the whirlpool below set by Young and Elvin Jones). Young’s solo is, ¡n part, a fascinating dialogue with Jones, both moving inexorably forward. Then, the tension rising, Young talks with the riffing horns, and the record seems to be populated by a blazing big band. Woody returns us to the melody — or rather, more than the melody — and there ends what strikes me as a burningly durable performance of Softly As In A Morning Sunrise.
The swift Beyond All Limits is by Woody, and was also composed when the trumpeter was eighteen. The chord changes are challenging but once mastered, are intended to lead the soloist to a relatively free modal concept using the different possibilities endemic to the pentatonic scale. “By the title,” says Shaw, “I meant that once the inherent difficulties of the tune are solved, there are no limits as to where you can go with it.”
In the last track, as throughout the album, everyone plays with an infectious, almost overpowering zeal to meet and fulfill musical challenges. I’ve rarely heard an album with as much sustained, collective spirit as this. Spirit, moreover, that is allied with technical prowess, originality, individuality and yet collective identity. From note one, the music takes hold and never drops into the routine. Larry Young is not one for long-range planning. His philosophy is that you keep trying to get things together — in your own playing and in the men with whom you choose to play. “At one point,” he adds, “when things ore ready, they happen!” They happened here.
—NAT HENTOFF
RVG CD Reissue Liner Notes
A NEW LOOK AT UNITY
From its first appearance in the world of jazz, the Hammond B-3 organ has been a controversial instrument.
Some revere it as a natural platform for blues expression, or a keyboard approximation of big-band dynamics, or the harbinger of old/new acid grooves; and others, many of whom fashion themselves the most "serious" of jazz fans, consider it a whiny, unsubtle, roller-rinky contraption deserving neither attention nor respect. For nearly a quarter century, the surest way to make listeners in the latter category do an about-face has been to play them this album. Organ fans think it's pretty swell, too.
Jack McDuff once likened Larry Young's conception to that of John Coltrane, and Unity, with drummer Elvin Jones in the •rhythm section and both compositions and horn soloists reflecting Coltrane's example, really reinforces Young's connection to the most powerful influence of the time. The point, however, is not simply that an organist can employ the harmonic language and the incantatory patterns that Coltrane favored, just as the point of the incredible "Monk's Dream" is not simply that Young can develop ideas thematically and use space like Monk. These concepts are integrated first and foremost into a voice totally personal to the player and his instrument, voice that happened to be one of the most empathetic in a period when stress was placed upon doing one's own thing. Young had a gift for hooking up with his fellow musicians, and he does not play a single selfish note on this album. His feeling for Jones, previously demonstrated on four sessions where they were joined by guitarist Grant Green, is only magnified here, especially on what is truly a "dream" duet.
The seriousness of Young's intentions are reinforced by the presence and performance of his accompanists. Jones, who was concluding a five year tenure with Coltrane at the time, brings his superhuman technical and spiritual strength to the music. Joe Henderson, whose growing popularity as a leader on Blue Note was aided tremendously by his galvanizing contributions to such hits as Lee Morgan's "The Sidewinder" and Horace Silver's "Song For My Father," proves again to be one of the great interpreters of the era. Henderson's capacity to ground his most eccentric flights with nods to jazz tradition (as when he quotes and then transmogrifies Charlie Parker's "Buzzy" on his own blues "If"), his unflappable poise on the three challenging Woody Shaw originals and his capacity for finding something totally personal to say on the oft-played "Softly As In A Morning Sunrise" confirmed the growing suspicion that he was one of the giants.
Woody Shaw, only 20 years old at the time and known primarily for recording with Eric Dolphy two years earlier, was the real surprise on Unity. His playing had gained in assurance and individuality since his appearance with Dolphy (when some listeners suspected that "Woody Shaw" was a pseudonym for Freddie Hubbard), and his writing proved to be equally bold and distinctive. The ascension of Shaw's Coltrane tribute "The Moontrane" to the jazz standard pantheon should not obscure the excellence of "Zoltan" and "Beyond All Limits." Unity was a breakthrough album for Shaw to an even greater extent than for his Newark pal Young, and it is unfortunate that commercial shifts in the jazz business did not allow the trumpeter to expand upon the promise of his contribution here with albums of his own for several years.
In rereading Nat Hentoff's original liner notes, one senses an enthusiasm tempered only by the knowledge that music must withstand the test of time before it can be considered classic. In rehearing Unity (which I eagerly purchased upon its initial release) for the umpteenth time, I can only second Hentoff's superlatives. Treasure this album, and share it with an organ-averse friend.
— Bob Blumenthal, 1999
Blue Note Spotlight - May 2013
http://www.bluenote.com/spotlight/the-jazz-organ-shake-up-larry-youngs-unity/
If you happened to be a fan of the jazz organ sound in 1965, you knew exactly what to expect when you stepped into a club – greasy blues, ballads and jazz warhorses played at racecar tempos.
Unity changed that. In one elegant stroke. All by itself.
Embracing modal harmony and the freer, more open structures/language favored by the rising crew of post-bop musicians, Larry Young expanded commonly held notions of what was possible on the instrument; his brisk, restless, masterfully syncopated performances on this album brought the organ into the modern post-bop conversation.
The Newark-born Young started out like just about everyone who aspired to B3 greatness – contending with the towering presence of Jimmy Smith, the trailblazer who defined jazz organ. Young learned the basics, and developed a credible approach within the tradition – his recording debut, in 1960, shows a surprisingly individual take on the “grits and gravy” sound.
Fast forward a few years. By the time of this, his second Blue Note date, Young was determined to push beyond what had been done before, and was well-equipped, from a technique standpoint, to do that. He was conversant in free jazz, as well as the plateauing chord voicings used by John Coltrane’s pianist McCoy Tyner and the polyrhythmic roiling of Coltrane’s drummer, Elvin Jones, who is behind the kit on Unity. Young “got” the new jazz aesthetic, and used both unique chord voicings and basslines handled via footpedals to create his own sound for it. Young choreographed elaborate agitations, all by himself: Starting with a terse rhythmic motif behind a soloist, he’d knead and develop a phrase over an extended period until it sent the group’s efforts into collective frenzy. His secret weapons included perpetually oscillating, color-changing chords, and he used them with painterly precision, shaping dramatic peaks and valleys behind a soloist. Lots of organ demons dropped bombs at key moments; Young’s crisply executed devices arrived with galvanic force, their sophisticated harmonies suggesting thrilling and profoundly new pathways.
From the opening war-dance taunt of “Zoltan,” written by the trumpet player Woody Shaw, it’s clear that Young wants Unity to be more intellectually challenging than the typical Blue Note blowing session.
The melody, handled by Shaw and the tenor saxophonist Joe Henderson, is a study in fits and starts. Young’s jabs land across and against the beat, hinting at – but never fully tipping into – anarchy. Henderson seizes this instantly, and within the first measures it’s clear that his notions of agitation align with Young’s; his spiraling lines fit uncannily into the terse offbeats from the organ. This isn’t solo dazzle – it’s a conversation between well-matched modernists.
Young’s own solos – particularly those on “Softly As in A Morning Sunrise” and the electrifying duet with drummer Elvin Jones on “Monk’s Dream” – contrast powerfully with the fast-talking daredevil approach popularized by Smith and emulated by every other organist. Young can do that – there are more than a few breathless extended runs here – but he mostly concentrates on wide intervallic leaps and fitful, unexpected changes in mood. And like all the great post-Coltrane soloists, he’s inclined to shift tactics at will: His choruses on “Monk’s Dream” hit outbreaks of dissonant tumult and sullen areas of introspection and points along the spectrum in between – at each stop, he executes with snapping intent, an audible sense of purpose.
Anyone who ever longed to shake up a set-in-its ways tradition can relate to Young’s attempt to update jazz organ. He started with a powerful idea, blending hard bop, Coltrane harmony and “new thing” rhythm on an instrument uniquely suited to such a mix. But that’s just the concept stage. What makes Unity such a landmark is the way Young involves these incredible players in his quest – they seize his vision, then work together (hence the title) to overhaul the status quo of the jazz organ world. It’s a shame Young died young (at 38, from complications of pneumonia), because as is unmistakable here, this bold musician had a lot of upheaval in him.
75th Anniversary CD Reissue Liner Notes
After a trio of solid but unexceptional albums for Prestige, organist Larry Young's musical identity began to emerge in 1964 when he signed with Blue Note Records. He, Grant Green and Elvin Jones made four albums in rapid succession including Young's debut for the label with saxophonist Sam Rivers. Young was taking the organ out of the conventional mainstream at a rapid rate of development.
His second album as a leader, "Unity" was not an especially big seller at the time, but it was highly regarded and influential among the next generation of musicians who emerged in the '780s. "Unit" launched the careers of young and Woody Shaw, who contributed three brilliant and contrasting originals to the album. Shaw was a friend and collaborator of Young's from Newark. And they'd working together intensively in Europe heading up to the recording of this album. Shaw and Joe Henderson were Horace Silver's front line at the time.
Young's kinship with Elvin had already been established. Give the enormous influence that John Coltrane had on Young, that affinity makes a lot of sense. Ironically, exactly two weeks after this session, John Coltrane would expand his quartet to a sextet to record "Meditations", which would set in motion the circumstances that led to Elvin Jones leaving that group.
What every piece on this album suggests is that there are infinite possibilities in music and these four brilliant players were among those who embraced breaking the rules and finding new musical territory. Perhaps that's why this album was so influential on later musicians. Added to the original album are four newly discovered alternate takes; two takes of Joe Henderson's "If" and one take each of two of Woody's compositions.
- Michael Cuscuna
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