LT-1091

Lee Morgan - Infinity

Released - 1981

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, November 16, 1965
Lee Morgan, trumpet; Jackie McLean, alto sax; Larry Willis, piano; Reggie Workman, bass; Billy Higgins, drums.

1682 tk.1 Infinity
1683 tk.5 Growing Pains
1684 tk.17 Miss Nettie B.
1685 tk.25 Portrait Of Doll (aka My Lady)
1686 tk.26 Zip Code

Session Photos

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

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
Infinity	November 16 1965	November 16 1965
Miss Nettie B.	November 16 1965	November 16 1965
Side Two
Growing Pains	Lee Morgan	November 16 1965
Portrait Of Doll	Jackie McLean	November 16 1965
Zip Code	Lee Morgan	November 16 1965

Liner Notes

LEE MORGAN

The jazz trumpet has suffered far more than its share of tragedies. Consider the untimely deaths of Clifford Brown, Fats Navarro, Kenny Dorham, Booker Little, Don Ellis, and Lee Morgan; the stylistic commercialization of Freddie Hubbard, Donald Byrd, and Maynard Ferguson; and the retirement of Miles Davis (rumors are that he's given up the trumpet for the electric organ anyway). Despite the impressive crop of young talent, it's no wonder that there is no undisputable, authoritative voice on trumpet now — someone who can both summarize the achievements of its illustrious past and suggest its vast untapped potential. Dizzy Gillespie probably comes closest by dint of his longevity, prodigious technique, and irrepressible personality.

Gillespie's career, among many others, has benefitted enormously from the recent renewed interest in be-bop (1980 was proclaimed "Year of the Bird"). And it's especially sad that Lee Morgan did not live to enjoy it too, having been senselessly murdered in 1972. For Morgan was clearly one of the preeminent exponents of bop and hard bop from his years with Dizzy Gillespie's orchestra (1956-58) and Art Blakey (1958-61) on.

It's interesting to recall the mystifying critical reception to hard bop in the late 1950's ("the funky-hard bop regression" was the description of one leading detractor). True, hard bop could be self-conscious, monotonous, and contrived, but so can any style of music in untalented hands. One can only imagine what so many found "shocking" about hard bop's return to the roots of gospel and spiritual music. Perhaps it was that hard bop was the first intentional "fusion" music in jazz, which showed fresh economy, heartfelt emotional simplicity, and sinewy rhythmic propulsion.

In fact, hard bop provided the essential link between be-bop and the far-reaching developments of the 1960's: John Coltrane, Eric Dolphy, Charles Mingus, and many other innovators all found expressive freedom in hard bop early in their careers. Like the blues, hard bop freed the soloist and rhythm section from the fearsom melodic saturation and often maze-like harmonic complexity epitomized by Charlie Parker and Bud Powell. What else could jazz do after the baroque splendor of mature be-bop except simplify, sit back, and reappraise its long-forgotten roots? And few had the technique to compete with the be-bop masters, in any case.

Lee Morgan was at the center of hard bop, and as his recordings demonstrate, he made some of the most distinguished contributions to the style—even throughout the 1960's, when hard bop was superseded by a baser, commercialistic fusion with rock music. Much of Morgan's best work, like this date from late 1965, was done with saxist Jackie McLean (Consequence, Blue Note LT-994, also features the two and was recorded just two weeks after).

To effect the stylistic changes noted above, hard bop needed a new repertoire — the bop classics based on swing tune changes and popular songs would hardly do. While one cannot say that Lee Morgan's compositions are especially notable (jazz's truly great composers can be counted on the fingers of one hand), they did provide the springboard for his impeccable improvisations. And they are airy, intensely swinging, and "easy listening" in the best popular sense of that much-maligned phrase (rather like Horace Silver's works).

The most ambitious piece on the record is "Growing Pains," basically a standard 32-bar AABA form, but with two measures tacked on to each of the A phrases. The theme features unusually angular and dissonant interplay between Morgan and McLean, a strong suggestion of whole-tone scales (the normal scale without the chromatic half-steps, as in the opening of Ellington's "Chelsea Bridge"), and repeated modal-sounding chords reminiscent of what McCoy Tyner was doing with John Coltrane at the time. Morgan never showed much sympathy for the sixties avant-garde, unlike many of his contemporaries, and this is about as close as the composer of "The Sidewinder," "Cooker," "Cornbread," "Gigolo," "Rumproller," and other popular hits ever came to it.

"Growing Pains" also elicits the finest solos from both horns. McLean, first up, launches precipitous charges with his characteristic burin-edged tone, and ends his phrases with Coltrane-like flourishes. Morgan, beginning on McLean's last note, builds the momentum masterfully through a series of ever-rising peaks. Here one can see how superlative Morgan and McLean are at sustaining long lines in the best original bop style, even though their themes are often short, tightly-phrased figures.

"Infinity" also features hypnotically repeated modal chords behind an exotic-tinged theme. The form is an interesting variation of the 32-bar AABA: the A phrases in this case are 14 bars long, subdivided into phrases of 6 plus 8 bars. Without a doubt, this piece and "Growing Pains" represent Morgan's greatest development as a composer, unfortunately cut short by his death and diverted by his more popular works, Morgan's solo is acutely balanced in tone, range, and gesture—with unpredictable jumps, marvelous half-valved notes (note Morgan's "Miss Nettie B." solo for more), and rebounding off the dynamic rhythm section. Pianist Larry Willis' solos are particularly strong throughout, drawing the most relentless drive out of the repeated chords, but never letting that overwhelm his always inventive right-hand work. At this time, he was working regularly with McLean, and appeared on three of his Blue Note dates. What a loss jazz suffered when he drifted over into various commerical musics like rock! Fortunately, in 1979 and 1980 he joined trumpeter Woody Shaw's quintet. McLean has also leaned in the direction of commercialism recently.

Anyone who fears that hard bop is all hell-fire and brimstone should go right to the lyrical, laid-back "Miss Nettie B." Although the theme is perhaps a little too pat with its mellifluous thirds in the horns, listen to the swagger and sass of Morgan's solo, the wit and grace with which he seems to be talking to her. The finesse of his phrasing and slurs recalls some of Miles Davis' best solos. (Perhaps it is no coincidence that the tempo, bass line, and chords closely resemble 'All Blues"). McLean and Willis apparently also enjoy talking to Miss Nettie B.; more relaxed, funky work from either of them would be hard to find.

"Portrait of Doll" is McLean's contribution: a lovely, wistful ballad, yet with a sudden unexpected departure in the theme. The horn writing is among the most interesting on the record. Good as Morgan's and Willis' solos are, they are nevertheless overshadowed by a transcendent, heartbreaking utterance by McLean, who begins as if he had been waiting a long time to bare his innermost feelings about someone dear to him. It is as close to a perfect McLean solo as I can remember (perhaps excepting his wonderful rendition of "My Old Flame"). Note the one double-time passage near the end of his solo, which stands out brilliantly among the surrounding reflections. And the pearly upward runs beginning many of his phrases. But I could go on and on about this gem. Savor it. As if to ease the almost unbearable tension, the album ends with an uptempo blues, "Zip Code." A fine romp is had by all, but particularly notable is the abundant high-note work by Morgan. Many trumpeters lose all tone and accuracy in the high ranges, but no so with Morgan. Listen to his stunning exchanges with Higgins, and you'll realize what a major voice we've lost. But he will surely remain a living presence and standard to all trumpeters through recordings like this one.

—Roy Chernus