Stanley Turrentine - The Spoiler
Released - September 1967
Recording and Session Information
Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, September 22, 1966
Blue Mitchell, trumpet; Julian Priester, trombone; James Spaulding, alto sax, flute; Stanley Turrentine, tenor sax; Pepper Adams, baritone sax; McCoy Tyner, piano; Bob Cranshaw, bass, electric bass; Mickey Roker, drums; Joseph Rivera, shakers, tambourine #1-3; Duke Pearson, arranger.
1788 tk.6 La Fiesta
1789 tk.8 Sunny
1790 tk.11 The Magilla
1791 tk.16 Theme From "The Oscar"
1792 tk.20 When The Sun Comes Out
1794 tk.32 You're Gonna Hear From Me
Session Photos
Photos: © Francis Wolff/Mosaic Images https://www.mosaicrecordsimages.com/
Track Listing
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Liner Notes
As these words are written, seven years have passed since widespread public interest in Stanley Turrentine was instigated by Alfred Lion's release of Stanley's first Blue Note LP. That was many albums ago, and in the interim much has happened to the evolution of the tenor saxophone in jazz. Significantly, though, none of the subsequent developments has had the effect of invalidating, or rendering dated, the early sound of Turrentine.
His initial impact was so strong, and his level of consistency has remained so firm, that it would be difficult to select a vintage Turrentine year. You could point to 1960, which produced unmistakable signs of promise in Look Out! or 1961, the year of the memorable live session up at Minton's, or perhaps 1962, when Dearly Beloved was released. You could even move on down the line to 1963 for Never Let Me Go, or 1964 when Blue Mitchell, Shirley Scott (Mrs. Turrentine), and Stanley teamed so effectively in Chip off the Old Block. Perhaps someday we will look back fondly on 1965 as the vintage year, since it produced Joyride, the jubilant big band date with Oliver Nelson's charts, or even 1966, when Duke Pearson wrote the arrangements for Rough 'n' Tumble, a date largely similar in style and personnel to the present album.
Looking back over this list of achievements, you realize that the 1960s have been continually eventful in displaying the sturdy, full-bodied sound of the pride of Pittsburgh. For an artist who refuses to let up, who puts everything he can into each performance, every year is a vintage year.
Before the individual tracks are examined, a few words about the arranger would seem mandatory. Born Columbus Calvin Pearson Jr., he is of course better known in contemporary musical circles as Duke. Speaking of him when we were discussing the successful end-products of this LP, Stanley said: "Duke and I had a happy collaboration. He seems to know instinctively just what I want him to do; we get the same groove going, and I think it shows in the results."
Pearson's credits as pianist and composer are too well known to necessitate any listing. Since he came to New York in 1959 he has established himself, first through a fruitful association with Donald Byrd, and later in a variety of other contexts. In the six tracks on The Spoiler, he is heard just once as composer, but his presence is an integrating factor in the tying together, on the other tunes, of the personal characteristics of Stanley and his sidemen. His arrangements are a product of his thorough knowledge of the technique of each instrument and of the capabilities of the men playing them. (Though best known as a pianist, Duke played several horns in the course of his overall musical training, among them trumpet, mellophone, and baritone horn.)
It is Duke's original, "The Magilla," that sets the mood for the album on the spirited opening track. Notice how, with just five horns at his disposal, he manages to divide the line-up into two sections, one providing the opening figure, the other playing the melody, while the figure is continued in the background. The theme is an unpretentious, very basic long-meter sure) blues in G, with a downward-swooping main melodic statement.
When Stanley moves in for the first solo, you are immediately conscious of the characteristics that have served, as I mentioned above, to maintain his performance level and retain the interest of his listeners through the years. Though capable of using a big, full tone, he never overplays his hand; in this particular solo there is a feeling of latent strength, of warmth and intimacy, that starts on a very gentle level, the notes almost stroked rather than struck. Melodically, essence of the blues. The same observation might be made with respect to the trumpet solo by Richard Allen Mitchell; not Blue. The tension builds during Spaulding's somewhat more extroverted solo; then the theme returns, and Stanley eases in again before the fade-out.
The role of the rhythm section, here as in the other up numbers, is one of unmistakable importance. This is not a blues in straight four-beat fashion, nor is it a Latin blues; it has what has sometimes been called the "boom-chitty" rhythmic feel, aided in no small measure by the presence of an additional percussionist, Joseph Rivera. A little touch of the tambourine can do so much to lend a down-home, churchy flavor to a blues-rooted performance.
"When the Sun Comes Out," a superior popular song, dates back to around 1941, when it was recorded by the Benny Goodman band. "I heard Peggy Lee sing it at Basin Street East, accompanied by Benny Carter's Orchestra," Stanley recalls, "and I liked the melody and the whole feel of the song." After a relaxed introduction with McCoy Tyner's simple decorative fills, Stanley plays the melody and it's his track all the way. Duke sees to it, however, that the other horns complement the mood established, at just the right moments and never to the point of interference.
The next track introduces an obscure composition of unusual origin. "I was in Colon, in the Panama Canal Zone, in 1960," says Stanley, "when I heard the tune played by the local bands during the fiesta and I became very attached to it." The composer, Armando Boza, is said to have died, and little is known about him. Mickey Roker lays down the opening beat and plays an important part, along with Rivera, in underlining the thematic statement. Duke Pearson phrased and voiced the piece so that it comes in sounding like a slightly exotic neo-bop work, in the minor mode.
During Stanley's solo the other horns intervene here and there to sustain the mood. Then Pepper Adams takes over for one of those virile, rough-edged solos that established him during the 1950s as one of the most engaging (and instantly recognizable) of all the modern baritone saxophonists. Pepper's style, like Stanley's, has advanced in an undeviating direction without losing any of its original characteristics.
McCoy Tyner follows, with a light, breezy solo, a reminder of his adaptability. The percussion-and-ensemble focus of the opening passages is then re-established.
"Sonny" is a tune that has crept up on us as a jazz instrumental. It was written and introduced by Bobby Hebb, a singer and guitarist whom Stanley recalls hearing at the Blue Morocco in New York. Bob Cranshaw, one of the most flexible and propulsive of modern bassists, plays an important role on this track as he switches from regular bass to Fender. Stanley's romance with this attractive melody is suffused with warmth and passion.
This melodic quality in his work explains the inclusion, in so many of his albums, of at least one piece of material that might be classified as a standard, or popular ballad. The second track on this side is a pop song of more recent vintage, variously known as "Theme from The Oscar" or, more specifically, "Maybe September." Stan reports that he did not see the film, in which Tony Bennett had an acting role, but it was Bennett's recording that attracted him to the tune.
The treatment accorded this wistfully ingratiating theme is tailored perfectly to Stan's horn, thanks to the sensitive setting furnished by Duke Pearson. The use of James Spaulding on flute, along with McCoy's pretty chording, sets the mood right from the top. Notice that there is no attempt to complicate the background by doubling tempo, changing meter, or in any other way interfering with the beautiful groove established by Stan. "Duke sure makes the band sound big," he observed when I commented on the richness of the backgrounds here. Needless to say, he meant big in the sense of full rather than voluminous. Seldom has a four-horn background been put to such succinct use.
Finally there is another popular song, one that has grown with amazing rapidity to standard stature. André Previn's "You're Gonna Hear from Me" first came out in January of 1966, yet at last count there were no less than 75 vocal recordings of it, as well as a fair number of instrumental versions. Written for the film Inside Daisy Clover, it was first sung by Andy Williams. "I actually didn't know this tune," says Stan. "Duke introduced it to me in the studio, but I liked it as soon as I ran it down "
Perhaps the very unfamiliarity of the number presented a challenge, for after playing a melody chorus along with the ensemble, Stan blows an ad lib solo that digs most effectively into the guts of the tune's harmonic changes. Then comes a 16-bar series of exchanges between the horns and McCoy Tyner, who has the second half of this chorus to himself. Stan and the band take over again for the last chorus. Stan plays those concluding breaks as if he had just received a message from the melody saying: "Color me blue."
As a concluding note, I'd like to append some good news: this album is the second of four Turrentine-Pearson projects. It seems to me that they have partnership with strong prospects, and the longer they can keep it going, the better for 5tan, for Duke, and for the survival of good music.
— Leonard Feather
RVG CD Reissue Liner Notes
A NEW LOOK AT THE SPOILER
It is hard to imagine a musical setting in which Stanley Turrentine would not have excelled. As his discography indicates, he found himself in just about every context save a free-form blowout, and was never less than totally convincing. The little big-band environment of The Spoiler fit Turrentine particularly well. His early road experience with Ray Charles and Earl Bostic provided a familiarity with the general format, as well as a sense of the musical mix that the format best accommodates; and Turrentine's own catholic tastes allowed him to participate actively in the programming, serving up such winning suggestions as "When the Sun Comes Out" (which, in addition to the versions Leonard Feather mentions, had become associated with Barbra Streisand at the time) and "La Fiesta."
Experience and taste alone cannot explain why Turrentine sounds so right here. There is also the matter of presence. He clearly commands both the ensemble and the material with his sound, which extracts every ounce of meaning from these melodies. Again, the Earl Bostic experience was no doubt invaluable in learning how to communicate in a personal manner. "Maybe September" and "You're Gonna Hear from Me" are two of the best examples of how Turrentine embraces a tune without unnecessary distortion.
Another critical factor is the supporting cast, which to a man understands how to contribute selflessly to what is basically a star turn for the leader. Blue Mitchell, an associate from Turrentine's Bostic days, is the ideal trumpeter among those identified with Blue Note at the time, with a sound that centers each orchestration and a mix of the lyrical and the soulful that shines on each of his own solo turns. The perfection of McCoy Tyner's contributions may seem more surprising, given his background with John Coltrane; but Tyner has always known a lot of music and been willing to call upon that knowledge when situations such as this required. Saxophonists James Spaulding and Pepper Adams each add a bit of personal fire when given the chance; and the Bob Cranshaw/Mickey Roker rhythm section anchored arranger Duke Pearson's big band of the time.
Pearson wrote for a lot of small-band Blue Note dates in this period, and clearly related to Turrentine's mix of soul and song. The arrangements are colorful and subtle, with touches of flute from Spaulding that are something of a Pearson trademark. While the instrumentation looks standard enough, it is typically different from the previous Turrentine/Pearson set Rough 'n' Tumble, which employs guitar in place of trombone. Other collaborations that followed (and that can be heard on the saxophonist's New Time Shuffle and The Look of Love as well as Pearson's The Right Touch) continued to juggle formats by introducing additional brass and/or reeds as well as strings. This willingness to tweak a basic configuration is indicative of the undemonstrative way in which Pearson made each of the sessions he scored sound fresh.
The bonus track, which first appeared on the original compact disc reissue, harkens back to another chapter in Turrentine's history, his 1959—60 tenure in the band of drummer Max Roach. "Lonesome Lover" is a Roach composition, not to be confused with Billy Eckstine's "Lonesome Lover Blues," and was not recorded by the drummer until 1962, when it appeared on the Impulse! album It's Time with Abbey Lincoln singing the lyric. One suspects that Turrentine played the line while with Roach, and that he sounded just as good amidst the leaner surroundings and added drum thunder of the Roach band.
- Bob Blumenthal, 2006
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