Lee Morgan - The Procrastinator
Released - 1975
Recording and Session Information
Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, July 14, 1967
Lee Morgan, trumpet; Wayne Shorter, tenor sax; Bobby Hutcherson, vibes; Herbie Hancock, piano; Ron Carter, bass; Billy Higgins, drums.
1916 tk.2 The Procrastinator
1917 tk.9 Stop-Start
1918 tk.19 Rio
1919 tk.20 Soft Touch (aka Slumber)
1920 tk.24 Party Time
1921 tk.25 Dear Sir
Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, September 12, 1969
Lee Morgan, trumpet; Julian Priester, trombone; George Coleman, tenor sax; Harold Mabern, piano; Walter Booker, bass; Mickey Roker, drums.
5142 Stormy Weather
5143 Mr. Johnson
5144 Untitled Boogaloo
Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, October 10, 1969
Lee Morgan, trumpet; Julian Priester, trombone; George Coleman, tenor sax; Harold Mabern, piano; Walter Booker, bass; Mickey Roker, drums.
5284 Free Flow
5285 Uncle Rough
5286 Claw-Til-Da
5287 The Stroker
Session Photos
Photos: Francis Wolff
Track Listing
| Side One | ||
| Title | Author | Recording Date |
| The Procrastinator | Lee Morgan | July 14 1967 |
| Party Time | Lee Morgan | July 14 1967 |
| Dear Sir | Wayne Shorter | July 14 1967 |
| Side Two | ||
| Stopstart | Lee Morgan | July 14 1967 |
| Rio | Wayne Shorter | July 14 1967 |
| Soft Touch | Lee Morgan | July 14 1967 |
| Side Three | ||
| Free Flow | George Coleman | September 12 1969 |
| Stormy Weather | T. Koehler-H. Arlen | September 12 1969 |
| Mr. Johnson | Harold Mabern Jr. | September 12 1969 |
| Side Four | ||
| The Stroker | Julian Priester | October 10 1969 |
| Uncle Rough | Harold Mabern Jr. | October 10 1969 |
| Claw-Til-Da | Mickey Roker | October 10 1969 |
| Untitled Boogaloo | Lee Morgan | October 10 1969 |
Liner Notes
Lee Morgan
Should Hollywood ever choose to film a melodrama on the life and times of a black post-bop musician, it's unlikely that a more made-to-order protagonist could be found than Lee Morgan (1938-72). The Philadelphia trumpeter made his name early and passed on far before his time; in between, his life was marked by extreme reversals. The details of the biography — from his national debut at age 18 as the featured soloist on "Night in Tunisia" with Dizzy Gillespie's orchestra to his Frankie-and-Johnnie-like murder during a gig at New York's Slugs' Saloon — seem to carry a mythic significance. Neglect is also a thread in the Lee Morgan story, from high-minded jazz critics as well as the public at large, but the consensus has begun to form (especially, as is all too often the case, posthumously), that during the 16 years of his recording life Morgan was one of the premier musicians in contemporary jazz.
No one really expects Hollywood to put Lee Morgan's life on film, however, which may be just as well. Those of us who love Morgan's music are sent back to the music itself for the biography; and given the overwhelming sense of personality Morgan's playing conveyed at every stage of his career, his recordings provide an unusually comprehensive picture of the artist and man. Morgan was under contract to Blue Note from 1956-8, and again from 1963 until his death, and even during his 1959-61 affiliations with Vee Jay and Jazzland he made some of his finest recordings for Blue Note as a part of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. Thus we can assemble a musical biography by drawing solely from the Blue Note vaults, with the enclosed previously unissued sessions adding valuable chapters.
Morgan, born July 10, 1938, was one of the toasts of talent-laden Philadelphia by the time he was 15. This incredibly fast starter joined Gillespie's big band in late 1956 and began recording for Blue Note at the same time. Given the passing of Clifford Brown the previous July and Morgan's similarities to Brown at this early stage of his career, it was inevitable that the teenage trumpeter would be hailed as "the new Clifford." His playing conveyed the crackling fire of Brownie, even if the latter's unalloyed optimism was tempered with a brash streak that many commentators saw as a sign of Morgan's youth. Terms like cocky, sarcastic, swaggering, impetous, ebullient and expubident (this last coined by Babs Gonzalez and used to title one of Morgan's Wee Jay records) were applied to his style, and the characterizations stuck with him through the later stages of his career.
This image of Lee Morgan the strutting world-beating youth has led some listeners to take his work less seriously than that of more introverted musicians, which may simply be a sign of the times. Soaring, confidently expressive trumpeting has been a hallmark of jazz from the music's inception, but since Clifford Brown's death there hasn't been a dominant brass extrovert whose influence could contend with the many innovative saxophone masters. Several trumpet players among Morgan's contemporaries (and Brown's immediate successors) carried the torch — Freddie Hubbard, Booker Little and fellow-Philadelphian Ted Curson — and the '70s have seen the arrival of further fire-breathers like Jon Faddis and Hannibal Marvin Peterson, but no one has made exultation a meaningful emotional stance as convincingly as Morgan. A month before Morgan's death, Freddie Hubbard remarked in an interview that "the critics call me firey, but I think Lee plays with more fire, and he's always had a bigger sound'."
While Morgan was clearly under the sway of Brown, Gillespie and Fats Navarro through his first four Blue Note albums (his finest work from this period is on John Coltrane's classic Blue Train, BST 81577), he quickly moved into more personal expression, On The Cooker (BST 81578), recorded in December 1957 shortly before Gillespie broke up his big band and Morgan began freelancing in New York, a new concentration on the special properties of the trumpet can be heard. Morgan became fascinated by the sonic variations one can produce by manipulating valves and embouchure, and from this point forward his identity became fixed.
Three years (1958-61) with the Jazz Messengers provided Morgan with regular work, greater public exposure, the constant challenge of blowing over Blakey's percussive cauldron, and the ability to build invaluable relationships with three tenor saxophonists/composers: Benny Golson (who worked with Morgan in Gillespie's band and did most of the writing on his first albums), Hank Mobley and Wayne Shorter. "Soul" was an extremely marketable jazz commodity during these years, and Morgan's increasing command of smears, half-valve effects and various other techniques blended light into the stress on blues and gospel-derived hard bop. Solos like "Moanin"' and "Chicken an' Dumplin's" with the Jazz Messengers, and "These are Soulful Days" from his own Leeway (BST 84034), confirm that Morgan was the most honestly soulful trumpeter of the period, but again this feeling for the blues idiom has somehow tended to discredit Morgan in certain circles. Even at his funkiest, Morgan never sacrificed his rhythmic agility or harmonic sophistication; and toward the end of this period a regard for economy of line signalled a new level of maturity. Morgan never mentioned Miles Davis as an influence in the notes to his first albums, but in a 1961 down beat interview with Don De Micheal he stressed the value of Davis's constructive criticism that Morgan should slow down and play less.
Freddie Hubbard replaced Morgan in the Jazz Messengers in the summer of 1961, and for two years he wasn't heard from on the national jazz scene (one radio announcer, thinking him dead, programmed a Morgan memorial show which Lee heard). Like too many of his friends and associates, Morgan had been using heroin, and during this period he fought to get himself together in his native Philadelphia. From this low point he returned to New York in 1963, reestablished the Blue Note affilation and, at year's end, recorded his greatest commercial success, The Sidewinder (BST 84157). The long-metered title blues was so popular that Chrysler Corp. used it behind an automobile ad shown during the 1965 World Series.
When The Sidewinder became a hit Morgan was back with Blakey; he left in 1965 to work with his own bands and pursue the larger success his record sales promised. If greater fame and economic security proved illusory, Morgan was able to turn out a series of beautiful albums with the help of some of the periods finest artists His playing was of a piece with his earlier work, only stronger; and aside from attempts to recreate the mood of "The Sidewinder," which became de rigueur on his and others' Blue Note sessions, the most notable change in Morgan was his involvement in composition. Morgan wrote minimally through 1961, using his early albums to spotlight the work of Philadelphia composers Golson, Owen Marshall and Cal Massey; beginning in 1963, however, Morgan let his own tunes be heard.
The first half of this album is prime mid-sixties Morgan, in the company of five stellar associates. Billy Higgins had been Morgan's drummer from The Sidewinder forward; thus he and Morgan had recorded with Wayne Shorter (on Search for the New Land, BST 84169 and The Gigolo, BST 84212) and Herbie Hancock (Search and Cornbread, BST 84222). Bobby Hutcherson was the leading vibes innovator of the era and (like Morgan, Shorter and Hancock) a Blue Note contract artist; he had previously worked with Morgan on Grachan Moncur's Evolution (BST 84153). While Ron Carter's bass had not previously been heard behind Morgan he was perfectly compatible and, of course, he worked with Shorter and Hancock in the immortal Miles Davis Quintet of the time. One fascinating sidelight of the session is that it took place in the middle of the production of Davis' Nefertiti.
"The Procrastinator" is a stunning Morgan composition with a variety of strengths. During the slow section, the main theme conveys a majesty akin to the classic "Search for the New Land? while the countermelody on the bridge could pass for the work of John Lewis; once the tempo arrives, however, the line shows how perfectly it assumes a relaxed hard-bop lope. Morgan is extremely poised and, the pinpoint brilliance of his sound notwithstanding, mellow Shorter sounds very Traneish, as he did on some of his own Blue Note dates of the time (and for the most part didn't with Miles), and Hutcherson is Joyously fleet. Blue Note's "house" pianists of the time (Hancock, McCoy Tyner, Andrew Hill) always brought out the best in the vibist, and the value of Hancock's support here is unmistakable. The pianist lets his own lines soar, with minimal use of the left hand, and comments pithily behind the ensemble as he does throughout the session.
"Party Time", a staccato medium blues, shows the ability of these men to get into a groove without affectation. Hancock's subtle voicings and shifts in attack sound easy but are actually quite sophisticated, as are Shorter's beautiful simplicity and Morgan's tonal innuendos.
Shorter's "Dear Sir" takes the sextet into the ethereal atmosphere of the Davis quintet The slow, calmly twisting 16-bar line floats in characteristic Shorter fashion with harmonic modulations and rhythmic emphasis appearing at unexpected places. In the tenor solo we hear a different Shorter from "The Procrastinator," a quietly compassionate and highly intelligent voice that has synthesized Coltrane, Rollins, Young and Getz. Hutcherson, whose approach is quite different, achieves an incredible unity of mood, and Hancock is this mood. The trumpet player on a piece like this must obviously confront Davis' example. and Morgan does sound uncommonly close to Miles in a solemn solo.
Morgan's bright "Stop-Start" does just what the title implies. Everyone digs in and flies here (note the change in Shorter), with Hancock bouncing ideas between left and right hands in what might be called his "Blue Note style" (with Davis he often played what amounted to right-handed solos), Morgan breaks up his lines in order to play with the beat, creating the impression of a man whipping the music with controlled fury. There are moments of disorganization in the fours with Higgins, but they hardly impair "Stop-Start's" glowing energy.
Carter begins "Rio" with some characteristically reverberating lines. Shorter's melody is a terse quasi-bossa nova, 14 bars in length, which has an infinite quality akin to so many of Wayne's pieces (like unravelling an onion skin), Hancock and Shorter are most adept in this setting, with the composer working in his enveloping lower register and displaying his elegant thematic bent.
With its off-center intro by piano and bass and its stealthy theme, Morgan's "Soft Touch" displays some Shorterish sensitivity. This was the last recorded meeting of the two horn men, who had complemented each other so brilliantly since 1959 in the Jazz Messengers, and "Soft Touch" reminds us how each (in different ways) was a master of tantalizing ambiguity Morgan's casual cockiness and Shorter's gruff nonchalance both work, aided by the taut rhythm section, Hutcherson piggy-backs phrase on phrase and shows off his bright metallic sound, while Hancock seems to buff his already lucid ideas through repetition.
The last four years of Morgan's life saw him become increasingly vocal about the neglect of jazz by American society in general and the media in particular. In liner notes the interviews he argued for government and media support, and he was one of the leaders of the Jazz and People's Movement which demonstrated during the taping of talk and variety shows during 1970-1. This increased social awareness seemed to signal a new era for Morgan where self-indulgence (characterized in the '60s by his song titles, which were often word-plays on his name) gave way to communal concerns, Again, the musical changes were less overt, as he retained all of the earlier passion and straight- ahead swing but now shared compositional responsibility among several members of his working quintets.
This writer's only opportunity to hear Lee Morgan in person occurred a few months before the second half of this album was recorded, at a Newport "Counter-Festival" concert which also featured Charles Mingus. While Mingus hadn't made an East Coast appearance in nearly three years, Morgan was hardly upstaged; his horn soared through two sets and, on "Search for the New Land? seemed to take the audience with it. Both Harold Mabern and Mickey Roker, the pianist and drummer on the 1969 sessions, were featured with Morgan at Newport. Roker began receiving overdue recognition in 1971, when he left Morgan to join Lee's ex-boss Dizzy Gillespie, while Mabern worked with Morgan until the end.
Of the remaining three members of the studio sextet, bassist Walter Booker was at the front end of his seven-year stint with Cannonball Adderley's quintet, and trombonist Julian Priester was on the verge of joining Herbie Hancock's sextet. George Coleman, who worked with Morgan off and on since the tenor man's 1964 departure from Miles Davis' band, made his recorded debut in 1957 on Morgan's City Lights (BST 81575).
Four of the band members contributed music to the date, "Free Flow" is Coleman's, an altered 24-bar blues played by the horns in unison after a suspended rhythm section introduction. The composer's stovepipe sound enhances his clearly developed lines, while Morgan, who is rung in by Booker, has brought his own tone to an even richer, more burnished state. Dig Coleman's second statement in the eights with Roker, and the distinctive use of Priester in the Silverish closing ensemble.
"Stormy Weather," the Harold Arlen standard, is a revered vehicle for jazz balladry thanks to the 1940 recording by Duke Ellington and Ivie Anderson, and a version Charles Mingus waxed 20 years later. Morgan employs a format to frame his solo which recalls the Jazz Messengers trumpet theme over a scored horn background and cushy piano chords, followed by a doubling of the tempo in the second chorus. The closing fade, however, is more reminiscent of his own "Ill Wind" solo on the Cornbread album. There is an assured stop-and-flow movement to the trumpet solo and a keening, fragmented bridge by Coleman.
Mabern's first contribution, "Mr Johnson," is in triple meter and also takes advantage of the three horn front line. Coleman gives a lesson in feeding into the suspended feeling of the vamp by building his phrases carefully, then adopts a more active Coltrane stance over the active encouragement of Roker. The modern melancholy which permeates the trombone solo reminds us that Priester spent valuable time in the Max Roach band, a far more stern group than the Jazz Messengers. Morgan's muttering entrance provides material for most of his superb solo; his attack and tonal flexibility are exemplary here, Mabern shows a liking for McCoy Tyner, a growing influence on his work during the period which added another nuance to Morgan's group music.
"The Stroker" is an airier piece by Priester, 20 bars in length with a prominent role for Booker and a Latin feel. The bassist makes his most prominent showing here, with a solo chorus and fine coda, and Mabern excels both behind Priester and in his own spot, but the leader takes honors once more. Again there is that knack for expressing more than one-dimensional emotion — the solo crackles, yet it is also tart. Morgan's closing smears are like an autograph.
The swaying funk of Mabern's "Captain Rough" can be a dangerous groove, one to which the composer tends to succumb with some McCannical licks; Morgan, on the other hand, accepts the blues mood and plays it to death. His allusion to 'And the Angels Sing" on the bridge is the album's clearest display of Morgan's sarcasm and an example of quoting at its finest. Ziggy Elman's hoary trademark tune was a favorite reference of Morgan's; he quoted a different snatch of its melody on a 1963 Hank Mobley session.
Mickey Roker, who had previously proved his expertise at calypso rhythms with Sonny Rollins, chose a Carribean ambience for his feature 'Claw-Til-Da.' His fine stick work enlivens the short track, which also sports Mabern using parallel octaves like the Latin pianists and a spry', declarative Morgan.
"Untitled Boogaloo" is one of those previously mentioned attempts to reproduce a "Sidewinder" feeling. the best thing about Morgan's composition is the playful suggestion of "The Theme" in the suspended introduction. All three horns transcend the line as Coleman works in his attractively pinched upper register, Morgan builds off a threenote phrase borrowed from the tenor, and Priester employs shakes and tonal manipulation worthy of Morgan. Everyone seems to have been listening to and appreciating each other on this successful session.
Morgan's later bands featured Bennie Maupin or Billy Harper in the reed chair, and maintained links with the leader's hard-bop heritage at a time when many of Morgan' peers began dabbling electricity An increased use of modes and complex rhythms plus his own innate intensity kept Morgan's music from sounding dated, but somehow he retained the image of his Jazz Messenger days. The cover of his last album. Lee Morgan (BST 84901), captures this slightly dated insouciance as Morgan stares cooly at the camera dressed in suit, tie and glasses. (I doubt that anyone else in his band was similarly attired.) Larry Mizell reportedly created the album that Donald Byrd recorded as BlackByrd (an album which revealed the growing jazz crossover market) as a vehicle for Morgan, but it remains questionable whether Morgan could have adjusted to the demands of contemporary pop stardom. For, as Freddie Hubbard noted in the aforementioned interview, "One reason I admire Lee today is that he's not jumping on bandwagons. He's sticking to Lee Morgan, and you either accept it or you don't."
Suddenly, though, Morgan was gone. On the evening of February 19, 1972, his common law wife shot and killed him during an argument at Slugs'. Only after this tragedy did his monumental talent, taken for granted during his lifetime, slowly begin to gain its proper share of recognition. Lee Morgan's presence on a record date is now viewed as a guarantee of quality, and deleted albums under his name are valuable collector's items. The respect many feel for his achievement, like the music on this excellent collection, was unnecessarily delayed. When will we ever learn?
— Bob Blumenthal
Issue Variants
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