31875

Donald Byrd - Kofi

Released - 1995

Recording and Session Information

A&R Studios, NYC, December 16, 1969
Donald Byrd, flugelhorn; William Campbell, trombone #1; Frank Foster, tenor sax; Lew Tabackin, tenor sax, flute; Duke Pearson, electric piano; Ron Carter, bass; Bob Cranshaw, electric bass #2; Airto Moreira, drums.

4615-4 Kofi
4616-4 Fufu

A&R Studios, NYC, December 4, 1970
Donald Byrd, trumpet; Frank Foster, tenor sax; Duke Pearson, electric piano; Wally Richardson, guitar; Ron Carter, bass; Mickey Roker, drums; Airto Moreira, Dom Um Romao, percussion.

6879 tk.2 Perpetual Love
6880 tk.7 Elmina

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
Kofi	D. Byrd	December 16 1969
Fufu	D. Byrd	December 16 1969
Side Two
Title	Author	Recording Date
Perpetual Love	D. Byrd	December 4 1970
Elmina	D. Byrd	December 4 1970

Liner Notes

Among the more impressive things about most Of the music here is how contemporary it sounds, particularly on "Elmina" where Donald Byrd's solo is declarative and bold against a fuzzy but luscious backbeat. It is amazing that a batch of tunes cut in 1969 and 1970 has such a fresh, edgy appeal. If not exactly of the moment, the music certainly anticipates much of the innovative stylings - that synthesis of jazz and rock - eventually termed fusion.

"We were already experimenting in so-called fusion before anyone else," Byrd says in a recent interview. "If it didn't get out there ahead of the others, you can blame that on the record company. Trying to get Blue Note to release my material was always a struggle. It took me three years to talk them into recording 'A New Perspective,' which they finally did in 1963."

Now, after some twenty-five years, we can hear what Byrd was formulating just about the time Miles served his seminal "Bitches Brew." And where the tableau of sound here is not up-to-date, Byrd and flock capture the essence of the hard bop phase which by 1970 was losing its primacy in the jam sessions at the same rate it was being absorbed by Madison Avenue for background music on automobile commercials. And, of course, it is difficult to ignore those traces of Lee Morgan's seemingly ubiquitous "Sidewinder" that filters through from time to time on these recordings. Which is nothing to be ashamed Of: for me Byrd and the late Lee Morgan epitomize the wide-open trumpet sound of that vibrant, post-Clifford Brown period.

"Some of the tunes from these sessions in the late sixties and early seventies were released," Byrd adds. "Several tracks on 'Electric Byrd' came from these sessions. What I was trying to do then was to blend the James Brown sound into our music, but the folks at Blue Note tossed it aside with little interest. So, you can see the direction in which I was going at this time."

James Brown, notwithstanding, the project has an intriguing transitional feel. It seems to reprise the end of one era while exemplifying the beginning of another, although on the title tune "Kofi" and "Fufu" the mood and tempo are reflective of the Third World. Lew Tabakin's flute darts and flutters above a steady electrified pulse, then gradually surrenders the motif to an assertive Frank Foster on tenor. Byrd's opening remarks are brief but pungent. For the most part this is Tabakin's moment and he makes the most of it, providing an assortment of trills, overblowing, and octave filigree - everything but humming along with himself. In the Twi language of West Africa, Kofi means Friday, and the simple repetition of fragments by Duke Pearson on the electric piano and Ron Carter on bass invokes an alluring scene reminiscent of the market places Of Ghana or Nigeria.

In a much more lively, rapid manner this image is extended on "Fufu," (a basic African foodstuff concocted from cassava) to perhaps suggest later in the day when the market place or bazaar gathers intensity. "The scenes I had in mind on these first two tunes," Byrd explains, "was the Black Star Square in Accra, Ghana. I had the opportunity to spend time there studying with such noted African musicologists as J.H. Kwabena Nketia and Fela Sewande. In fact, the entire album was to have a focus on Africa. Even on the ballad 'Perpetual Love' which has no real tonal center and has a rather circular theme without resolution, I had in mind the mournful chants that figure so prominently in African folk and religious music." He might have also been recalling how these moans and joyful noises unto the Lord transpired in his father's methodist church. Byrd has always been at the forefront in his comprehension of world music, whether refining the techniques Of European classicist Nadia Boulanger or deciphering the cult music of Brazil.

Elements of his evenings in Bahia surface on "Elmina," where there is a judicious use of space and Byrd toys with the implied beat, tossing off a series of swift slurs and obbligatos. Foster enters with an expressively low, raucous tone that he slowly stretches until it resembles the high notes of Byrd's trumpet. These lines are fully conceived and fuel enough for Ron Carter's relentless pace, which is the consequence of Mickey Roker's furious summaries. At this stage the ensemble is tight to the point of breaking, with Duke Pearson adding an occasional shimmering vibrato to Wally Richardson's smear of chords. "One of the reasons the group has such a flawless blend is because we had rehearsed," Byrd points out.

This date marked as well the debut of Airto, the Brazilian percussionist. "Thanks to the suggestion of bassist Walter Booker's wife," Byrd notes, "I invited Airto and Other Brazilians to my various sessions. Many of them had no idea that their music was derived from Yoruban culture and that the instruments they played - like the Berimbau - came from Africa."

There is a tantalizing whiff of samba on "Elmina" and Byrd is at his best extending the lovely melody, cresting with the vivid sonorities so characteristic of his playing on the ever-popular "Cristo Redentor." But the faint bossa beat - which in Byrd's estimation is another extension of African rhythms in the diaspora - quickly fades and gives way to Foster's whining sax and a collective drone with all the earmarks of 'St. James Infirmary.' Pearson's solo is remarkably subtle and exquisite, and presages Byrd eloquent final stanzas.

For all of its historical importance, the way this music documents a former period, this album is by no means a mere artifact. Indeed, it has been rescued from oblivion, but a careful listening will disclose how favorably it compares with much of today's mainstream jazz — and how, as Byrd's music often does, it signals some genres to come. Or genres currently in vogue, such as the convergence of jazz and hip hop, where Byrd is again in the vortex of a developing form. In effect, Byrd's musical history has not been as much circular as it has been spiral, suggesting progression rather then repetition. It has taken a quarter of a century to resurrect these precious gems, and they affirm once again Byrd's wizardry and prescience.

Herb Boyd
12/1/94