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Showing posts with label DEXTER GORDON. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DEXTER GORDON. Show all posts

GXF-3055

Dexter Gordon - Clubhouse

Released - 1979

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 27, 1965
Freddie Hubbard, trumpet #1-3,5,6; Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Barry Harris, piano; Bob Cranshaw, bass #1,3-6; Ben Tucker, bass #2; Billy Higgins, drums.

1586 tk.3 Hanky Panky
1587 tk.5 Devilette
1588 tk.7 Clubhouse
1589 tk.14 Jodi
1590 tk.17 I'm A Fool To Want You
1591 tk.22 Lady Iris B

See Also: LT-989

Session Photos

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

Track Listing

Side One
TitleAuthorRecording Date
Hanky PankyD. GordonMay 27 1965
I'm A Fool To Want YouWolff-Herron-SinatraMay 27 1965
DeviletteB. TuckerMay 27 1965
Side Two
ClubhouseD. GordonMay 27 1965
JodiD. GordonMay 27 1965
Lady Iris BD. GordonMay 27 1965

Liner Notes

When Dexter Gordon came to New York from Copenhagen in 1976 for appearances at Storyville (now Storytowne) and the Vanguard, he was given a hero’s welcome. In 1965 his visit to Manhattan was not as widely celebrated. He had taken up residence in Europe in 1962, finally settling in Copenhagen where he became a fixture at the Club Montmartre and one of Denmark’s favorite adopted sons. The series of albums he had commenced recording for Blue Note in 1961 — beginning with Doin’ Aliright — had put him back into the jazz listeners’ consciousness but club owners weren’t waiting in line to book him nor were customers standing patiently outside clubs in order to be able to catch his next show. Those who come, however, usually filled the club and left fulfilled, for to be present at one of Dexter Gordon’s performances is to be in the presence of a preacher who disseminates messages of warm, love feelings and robust, witty celebrations of life (not expressions of undisciplined emotion). One usually leaves Rev. Gordon’s temple in a state of exaltation.

Dex’s physical appearance — tall, tan, and handsome — has always been imposing. When his musical talent caught up to the edifice in which it was contained, a powerful combination was established.

I didn’t hear him when he was with Lionel Hampton. His only solo outing in that band was as part of a tenor battle with Illinois Jacquet on a never recorded number called “Pork Chops.’ I did see him in his Billy Eckstine and 52nd Street days at the Sunday afternoon jam sessions standard at the time. His charisma was as evident as the wide-brim hats he used to sport, and his magnetism came through on those first Savoy recordings.

I didn’t know him in those days, but when he came from California to record Doin’ Allight and Dexter Calling, I did a feature on him for Down Beat. It was like a reunion with an old friend rather than meeting with someone for the first time. This was not completely unique, for wherever Dex plays, old friends come up to greet him. Some actually know him; others are connected to him by his music. They are the people who grew up on the Savoy and Dial 78s. Now they are also the younger generation who hos heard those sides on the LP reissues of the ‘70s.

Doin’ Allright and Dexter Calling were followed by a string of excellent albums taped in the U.S. (Go! and A Swingin’ Affair) and Paris (Our Man in Paris and One Flight Up). His 1964—65 trip to America produced Gettin’ Around with vibist Bobby Hutcherson. Little did we know that on the day before the Gettin’ Around date, Dex, with Freddie Hubbard and the same rhythm section (Barry Harris, Bob Cranshaw, and Billy Higgins), had done another session. Finding a Dexter Gordon album is like finding gold, even at a time when he is more than well represented on record. Whether it contains material done elsewhere (there are two such here) is not the point. It is the interpretation of that moment — what Dex was into at that particular time — that is important.

Hubbard, one of the significant trumpeters to follow in the wake of Clifford Brown, wasn’t always a star but he always could play. Some purists didn’t core for his CTI period; others, more justifiably, have turned up their noses at his Columbia fusions. Whatever his current persuasion he remains a giant trumpeter. This unearthed outing should accommodate all his fans.

Harris, bearer, protector, and enhancer of the bebop gonfalon, has persevered, enduring much job insecurity during the lean rock years, and triumphed as o recording leader in his own right. True to his musical ideals, he now occupies a position as a young elder statesman whose wise words and knowing notes are listened to by young as well as veteran.

Cranshaw has continued to be one of the most sought after bassists in the highly competitive New York arena. Sharp eyes can pick him out in the band on NBC-TV’s Saturday Night Live, but he’s usually busy Sunday to Friday, too, in a variety of musical situations.

Higgins had already collaborated with Gordon several successful times before this recording. Hig is spirited as he is precise; as sensitive as he is swinging. When the groove is really happening, you can look to the back of the bandstand and see the big smile on Billy’s face. His uplifting beat helps to make everyone else happy, too.

Gordon’s “Hanky Panky” could be subtitled “Chunky Funky” for its solid, bluesy, marching beat. Dex comes out stating a basic idea and then proceeds to elaborate and expand on it as he builds his solo, chorus by chorus. Hubbard also shapes his solo thoughtfully, alternating upward bursts with simpler phrases. There’s on implicit link to Louis Armstrong in his brassy brilliance. Then o relaxed Harris, sitting just behind the beat, seems to contemplate the scenery, commenting on it as it goes past his window at a comfortable pace.

Someone once wrote that Coleman Hawkins turned the saxophone into the “sexophone,” and we’ve often heard Ben Webster’s tone described as a “boudoir sound.” Dex displays his romance-cum-sexuality on “I’m a Fool to Want You.” Macho tenor, yes; but for all to shore in. Freddie, with a hint of “Nature Boy.” plays a tender, yearning solo before Dexter returns. Dig his friendly growl like a big tiger purring.

A winsome introduction by Harris leads into Gordon’s “Clubhouse,” a lithe, skipping Dameronian theme. The way it lays is arranged perfectly for commentary by Higgins and this is fully realized at the piece’s conclusion. “Clubhouse”s harmonic structure allows for the most elegant, sophisticated bebop invention. Dex is at his suavest; Freddie fiddles fleetly; and Barry distills the Bud-Monk essence to its inevitable, logical beauty. Sometimes there are “perfect” solos and Harris’s is just that. After Cranshaw picks one, Higgins gets a chance to swing into full play.

“Devilette,” by bassist Ben Tucker, is a mixture of a “soul” feeling with a modal mood. It first reached record through Gordon in The Montmartre Collection for Black Lion in 1967, but this one was done two years earlier. Cranshaw and Higgins do not solo but they are a strong force throughout as they expertly underpin the principal soloists.

At this writing we don’t know the composer of “Lady Iris B.” (Hubbard perhaps), but it is a saucy blues with a Silver (Horace, that is) twist at its tail. Dex tips his cap to Pres along the way and Freddie is bluessential, as is Barry with Billy “sticking” it to everyone.

Dexter’s beautiful ballad, "Jodi" was first recorded by him in 1960 on The Resurgence of Dexter Gordon album for Jazzland and dedicated to his then wife. Dex has help from Hubbard and Harris (flashing a Monkish run) but he occupies center stage for the most part in this lovely portrait.

The Resurgence, produced by Cannonball Adderley, marked Dex’s first recording in five years. Since that time he has surged and resurged, growing in grandeur with each successive tidal wave. Like the others, this 1965 breaker is just right for ear-surfing.

— IRA GITLER



LT-1051

Dexter Gordon - Landslide

Released - 1980

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 9, 1961
Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Kenny Drew, piano; Paul Chambers, bass; Philly Joe Jones, drums.

tk.4 Landslide

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 5, 1962
Tommy Turrentine, trumpet; Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Sir Charles Thompson, piano; Al Lucas, bass; Willie Bobo, drums.

tk.11 Serenade In Blue
tk.12 You Said It
tk.19 Love Locked Out

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, June 25, 1962
Dave Burns, trumpet; Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Sonny Clark, piano; Ron Carter, bass; Philly Joe Jones, drums.

tk.6 Blue Gardenia
tk.12 Second Balcony Jump
tk.21 Six Bits Jones

Session Photos


Photos: Francis Wolff

Track Listing

Side One
TitleAuthorRecording Date
LandslideDexter GordonMay 9 1961
Love Locked OutM. Kester-R. NobleMay 5 1962
You Said ItT. TurrentineMay 5 1962
Serenade In BlueH. Warren-M. GordonMay 5 1962
Side Two
Blue GardeniaB. Russell-L. LeeJune 25 1962
Six Bits JonesDexter GordonJune 25 1962
Second Balcony JumpB. Eckstine-G. ValentineJune 25 1962

Liner Notes

DEXTER GORDON: LANDSLIDE

Dexter Gordon is a weaver of spells and teller of tales. He begins weaving his spell even before he's played a note, with his radiant, room-lighting smile, his velvety speaking voice, and the sheer magnetism of his presence. In interviews, he's often stressed his interest in musical storytelling. He once explained his infatuation with the playing of Lester Young by asserting that "Pres was the first to tell a story on the horn," and of the trumpeter Roy Eldridge he remarked, "I used to get the same thing listening to Roy as I did listening to Lester — the same 'story' feeling."

"Telling a story" is such a cliché of "jazz talk" that one rarely thinks about what it really means. On one level, it's a survival of an attitude common in blues, in which the guitar or harmonjca often "talk back to" the singer, or answer his vocal lines, and that attitude in turn is a survival of the close connections between music and speech found in many African cultures. Among the many African peoples who speak pitch-tone languages, a musical phrase may literally tell a story; It may have a verbal meaning, which most listeners can easily decipher its pitch configuration. There's a great deal of this marvellous tale-telling quality in Dexter Gordon's playing. He's an unusually expressive saxophonist, and often he quotes the lyrics to a standard before improvising on it, drawing an explicit connection between the import of the words and how he will shape and develop his musical ideas.

Jazz improvising is a "language" in another and equally interesting sense. A musician who develops his art in the way Dexter did — studying harmony and theory initially, picking up pointers from older musicians while serving an apprenticeship doing big band section work, listening to the idiom's recorded masterpieces and studying their details and construction — eventually creates his own individual style out of these diverse influences and experiences. But the original influences are never entirely subsumed in an individual's particular stylistic synthesis. A musician will retain phrases, personal timbres, and even entire solos associated with the many players he's listened to somewhere in the recesses of his memory, just as he retains the meolodies and chordal layouts of a number of standard tunes and jazz compositions. In the course of an improvisation, which is a kind of spontaneous composition using a prearranged framework, the musician will draw on the information he has filed another player, what he's actually hearing are either ideas found in the work of the other player or the improviser's personal but still recognizable transformation of those ideas. In this sense, a superior, seasoned jazz improviser "tells a story" every time he solos, a story of the music's rich traditions and of his own encounters with the bearers of these traditions.

There's an interesting example of this aspect of Dexter's story telling on 'Love Locked Out," the second of seven previously unreleased performances on this welcome new album. Gordon has never been thought of as a Coleman Hawkins disciple. He himself says that he loved Lester Young's playing more than that of any other tenor saxophonist, and of course his style was shaped further by Charlie Parker and the advent of bebop; he was the first really authoritative bop tenor stylist. But as we've noted, a jazz musician absorbs and retains something from just about everything he hears, and like any other young saxophonist of his era Gordon listened carefully to Coleman Hawkins, the undisputed tenor boss before Lester Young's arrival and a major architect of jazz ballad playing. Hawk's way with a ballad entailed various combinations of warm melodic exposition with arpeggiated playing; he would "spread" a chord by stating its notes in sequence, almost as one might do when practicing an instrumental exercise. In his ballad performance "Love Locked Out," Dexter begins with a very straightforward melodic exposition, employing a plaintive, veiled sound, and then, as he begins to develop the melody, he works his way through a succession of arpeggiated phrases, clearly acknowledging Hawkins's contribution to ballad playing and to his own evolution.

I've emphasized this aspect of Dexter Gordon's music because Landslide, drawn from three different 1961-62 sessions, gives a particularly good account of it. When Dexter is at work, he seems to access the material in his memory bank very directly, so that his playing reflects with unusual honesty the mood he's in at the moment. I've heard him, for example, quote a single fragment — "Here Comes the Bride," say — two or three times in the course of a single evening, and returned the following night to find him in a very different frame of mind. For this reason, Dexter Gordon albums drawn from a single session tend to have a unity of mood, to present their own distinct perspective on the Gordon style. This album has more variety Gordon is caught on three different days, telling different kinds of stories.

The early sixties must have been an uneven period for Gordon emotionally. After establishing himself as a modern master in New York during the forties, he spent much of the fifties back in his native California, where he had to overcome both a drug habit and the indifference of a jazz public that was preoccupied with the so-called "cool school." He returned to New York in the early sixties to record some of the finest albums of his career for Blue Note; "Landslide," written by Dexter with fellow tenor saxophonist Harold Land in mind, is an unreleased tune cut at the session for the second of these albums, Dexter Calling. Making these albums, after having recorded very sporadically for a decade, must have been extremely satisfying, and in concert and at occasional night club appearances Dexter was very warmly received. But the cabaret card law, which forced entertainers working in places that served liquor to apply for cards and routinely denied cards to anyone who had been in trouble with the law, especially on drug-related charges, kept Dexter from working steadily. In the study of Gordon included in Jazz Masters of the Forties, Ira Gitler suggests that Dexter's failure to obtain a cabaret card was one of the main reasons he left for Europe later in 1962 and decided to stay there.

After the exuberant, hard-toned tenor solo on "Landslide," the saxophonist's work on the next three numbers sounds somewhat subdued. In part this difference can be ascribed to the difference in the accompanying groups. "Landslide" features the extroverted rhythm section of Kenny Drew, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones. On "Love Locked Out," "You Said It," and "Serenade In Blue," Willie Bobo, better known as a conga player, is on trap drums; Bobo also played traps on Blue Note sessions by Grant Green and the much underrated tenor saxophonist Ike Quebec during this period. Sir Charles Thompson, who now lives and works in Switzerland, had appeared on several Blue Note sessions during the forties and returned to the studio to record for the label on a 1959 Ike Quebec date. Together with bassist Al Lucas, Bobo and Thompson provided spare backing on this date, and on the two ballads Dexter played gently and sadly, with deep feeling. "You Said It," a Tommy Turrentine composition recorded several months later by the trumpeter's brother Stanley and available on Jubilee Shouts (Blue Note BN LA 883), is more "up." Dexter's solo begins with tumbling strains that cascade downward, pulling at times against the forward push of the rhythm, and then opens out into some expansive, intelligent eighth-note patterns. The tune's composer, making his only appearance of the set, solos briefly, and Thompson's solo includes reminders of both Bud Powell and Thelonious Monk.

The second side of the album features a really exemplary rhythm section. The enlivening Philly Joe Jones is back on drums, the estimable Sonny Clark is the pianist, and Ron Carter's bass provides a big, hard bottom. Dave Burns, the trumpeter, had been featured on three earlier Blue Note sessions — James Moody in 1948, George Wallington in 1954, Leo Parker in 1961. A veteran of the early Dizzy Gillespie big bands, he's an individual, assured player, and this date provides a welcome chance to hear him improvise at some length. The material is varied and cleverly arranged, and Dexter plays with a tougher tone and more aggressive attack than on the previous session. "Blue Gardenia" sounds like a small-band version of a big band arrangement, with its harmonized verses and unison bridge. "Six Bits Jones" is in 6/8, although the way Philly Joe accents it makes it sound almost like a straight waltz at times. Here Dexter echoes Burns's theme statements of the minor-key melody in chase fashion before jumping into the first solo, one of his best of the album. The way he cuts across the bar lines, building his improvisation out of chunky phrases of unequal lengths and making good use of his lower, buzz-saw register, is a delight. "Second Balcony Jump" was recorded by Dexter again two months after this session and issued on his classic Go (Blue Note BST 84112). But this version doesn't take a back seat to the later one. Dexter's sound is scorching, and he swaggers through his solo, scatteing blues riffs, downturned inflections, jagged runs, and bottom-of-the-horn honks, Yeah! Here Dexter isn't just telling a story, he's preaching it, weaving that almost mystical spell of his. This performance alone is worth the price of admission. It's our great good fortune that Gordon decided to return from Europe, after a decade in exile, so that we could hear more like it.

—Robert Palmer









LT-989

Dexter Gordon - Clubhouse

Released - 1979

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 27, 1965
Freddie Hubbard, trumpet #1-3,5,6; Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Barry Harris, piano; Bob Cranshaw, bass #1,3-6; Ben Tucker, bass #2; Billy Higgins, drums.

1586 tk.3 Hanky Panky
1587 tk.5 Devilette
1588 tk.7 Clubhouse
1589 tk.14 Jodi
1590 tk.17 I'm A Fool To Want You
1591 tk.22 Lady Iris B

See Also: GXF-3055

Session Photos



Photos: Francis Wolff

Track Listing

Side One
TitleAuthorRecording Date
Hanky PankyD. GordonMay 27 1965
I'm A Fool To Want YouWolff-Herron-SinatraMay 27 1965
DeviletteB. TuckerMay 27 1965
Side Two
ClubhouseD. GordonMay 27 1965
JodiD. GordonMay 27 1965
Lady Iris BD. GordonMay 27 1965

Liner Notes

When Dexter Gordon came to New York from Copenhagen in 1976 for appearances at Storyville (now Storytowne) and the Vanguard, he was given a hero’s welcome. In 1965 his visit to Manhattan was not as widely celebrated. He had taken up residence in Europe in 1962, finally settling in Copenhagen where he became a fixture at the Club Montmartre and one of Denmark’s favorite adopted sons. The series of albums he had commenced recording for Blue Note in 1961 — beginning with Doin’ Aliright — had put him back into the jazz listeners’ consciousness but club owners weren’t waiting in line to book him nor were customers standing patiently outside clubs in order to be able to catch his next show. Those who come, however, usually filled the club and left fulfilled, for to be present at one of Dexter Gordon’s performances is to be in the presence of a preacher who disseminates messages of warm, love feelings and robust, witty celebrations of life (not expressions of undisciplined emotion). One usually leaves Rev. Gordon’s temple in a state of exaltation.

Dex’s physical appearance — tall, tan, and handsome — has always been imposing. When his musical talent caught up to the edifice in which it was contained, a powerful combination was established.

I didn’t hear him when he was with Lionel Hampton. His only solo outing in that band was as part of a tenor battle with Illinois Jacquet on a never recorded number called “Pork Chops.’ I did see him in his Billy Eckstine and 52nd Street days at the Sunday afternoon jam sessions standard at the time. His charisma was as evident as the wide-brim hats he used to sport, and his magnetism came through on those first Savoy recordings.

I didn’t know him in those days, but when he came from California to record Doin’ Allight and Dexter Calling, I did a feature on him for Down Beat. It was like a reunion with an old friend rather than meeting with someone for the first time. This was not completely unique, for wherever Dex plays, old friends come up to greet him. Some actually know him; others are connected to him by his music. They are the people who grew up on the Savoy and Dial 78s. Now they are also the younger generation who hos heard those sides on the LP reissues of the ‘70s.

Doin’ Allright and Dexter Calling were followed by a string of excellent albums taped in the U.S. (Go! and A Swingin’ Affair) and Paris (Our Man in Paris and One Flight Up). His 1964—65 trip to America produced Gettin’ Around with vibist Bobby Hutcherson. Little did we know that on the day before the Gettin’ Around date, Dex, with Freddie Hubbard and the same rhythm section (Barry Harris, Bob Cranshaw, and Billy Higgins), had done another session. Finding a Dexter Gordon album is like finding gold, even at a time when he is more than well represented on record. Whether it contains material done elsewhere (there are two such here) is not the point. It is the interpretation of that moment — what Dex was into at that particular time — that is important.

Hubbard, one of the significant trumpeters to follow in the wake of Clifford Brown, wasn’t always a star but he always could play. Some purists didn’t core for his CTI period; others, more justifiably, have turned up their noses at his Columbia fusions. Whatever his current persuasion he remains a giant trumpeter. This unearthed outing should accommodate all his fans.

Harris, bearer, protector, and enhancer of the bebop gonfalon, has persevered, enduring much job insecurity during the lean rock years, and triumphed as o recording leader in his own right. True to his musical ideals, he now occupies a position as a young elder statesman whose wise words and knowing notes are listened to by young as well as veteran.

Cranshaw has continued to be one of the most sought after bassists in the highly competitive New York arena. Sharp eyes can pick him out in the band on NBC-TV’s Saturday Night Live, but he’s usually busy Sunday to Friday, too, in a variety of musical situations.

Higgins had already collaborated with Gordon several successful times before this recording. Hig is spirited as he is precise; as sensitive as he is swinging. When the groove is really happening, you can look to the back of the bandstand and see the big smile on Billy’s face. His uplifting beat helps to make everyone else happy, too.

Gordon’s “Hanky Panky” could be subtitled “Chunky Funky” for its solid, bluesy, marching beat. Dex comes out stating a basic idea and then proceeds to elaborate and expand on it as he builds his solo, chorus by chorus. Hubbard also shapes his solo thoughtfully, alternating upward bursts with simpler phrases. There’s on implicit link to Louis Armstrong in his brassy brilliance. Then a relaxed Harris, sitting just behind the beat, seems to contemplate the scenery, commenting on it as it goes past his window at a comfortable pace.

Someone once wrote that Coleman Hawkins turned the saxophone into the “sexophone,” and we’ve often heard Ben Webster’s tone described as a “boudoir sound.” Dex displays his romance-cum-sexuality on “I’m a Fool to Want You.” Macho tenor, yes; but for all to shore in. Freddie, with a hint of “Nature Boy.” plays a tender, yearning solo before Dexter returns. Dig his friendly growl like a big tiger purring.

A winsome introduction by Harris leads into Gordon’s “Clubhouse,” a lithe, skipping Dameronian theme. The way it lays is arranged perfectly for commentary by Higgins and this is fully realized at the piece’s conclusion. “Clubhouse”s harmonic structure allows for the most elegant, sophisticated bebop invention. Dex is at his suavest; Freddie fiddles fleetly; and Barry distills the Bud-Monk essence to its inevitable, logical beauty. Sometimes there are “perfect” solos and Harris’s is just that. After Cranshaw picks one, Higgins gets a chance to swing into full play.

“Devilette,” by bassist Ben Tucker, is a mixture of a “soul” feeling with a modal mood. It first reached record through Gordon in The Montmartre Collection for Black Lion in 1967, but this one was done two years earlier. Cranshaw and Higgins do not solo but they are a strong force throughout as they expertly underpin the principal soloists.

At this writing we don’t know the composer of “Lady Iris B.” (Hubbard perhaps), but it is a saucy blues with a Silver (Horace, that is) twist at its tail. Dex tips his cap to Pres along the way and Freddie is bluessential, as is Barry with Billy “sticking” it to everyone.

Dexter’s beautiful ballad, "Jodi" was first recorded by him in 1960 on The Resurgence of Dexter Gordon album for Jazzland and dedicated to his then wife. Dex has help from Hubbard and Harris (flashing a Monkish run) but he occupies center stage for the most part in this lovely portrait.

The Resurgence, produced by Cannonball Adderley, marked Dex’s first recording in five years. Since that time he has surged and resurged, growing in grandeur with each successive tidal wave. Like the others, this 1965 breaker is just right for ear-surfing.

— IRA GITLER

RVG CD Reissue Liner Notes

A NEW LOOK AT CLUBHOUSE

The music in this collection sat in the vaults for more than a decade and a few changes in ownership of the Blue Note catalog before seeing the light of day. Under such circumstances, it is hardly surprising that full details were not available when Ira Gitler wrote the original liner notes.

It has since been established that Ben Tucker not only wrote “Devilette,” but also spelled Bob Cranshaw on this track only, a fact that the sound of the bass on “Devilette” confirms. The piece quickly entered Dexter Gordon’s repertoire — he taped a version when back in Copenhagen 10 weeks after this one, with the Montmartre version that Gitler references dating from 1967. Other musicians also took to “Devilette.” Donald Byrd taped a version, still unissued, for Verve in 1964, and Dave Pike the first released version in October ‘65 on Jazz for the Jet Set, where Bob Cranshaw is the bassist. Another Tucker tune, “Flick of a Trick,” was included among titles recorded the day after Clubhouse, and only surfaced in 1988 with the CD reissue of Gettin’ Around.

The composer of “Lady Iris B.” is also now known to be Rudy Stevenson, the guitarist and flutist (jazz knows no flautists) who wrote frequently for Wynton Kelly and others, and was a longtime accompanist of Nina Simone before success as a musician and contractor of the Broadway musicals Bubbling Brown Sugar and Sophisticated Ladies. Tucker had previously recorded “Iris B.” on drummer Dave Bailey’s Two Feet in the Gutter in 1961.

A better sense of the circumstances surrounding this recording session, and possible factors behind its belated release, emerge from the selected correspondence of Gordon and Blue Note’s Francis Wolff, included in the boxed set Dexter Gordon: The Complete Blue Note Sixties Sessions.

Gordon left the U.S. for Europe in the summer of 1962, and for the next two years fulfilled his Blue Note contract with projects recorded during trips Wolff made to Paris. In 1965, Gordon made the first brief Stateside visit of many that would precede the triumphant 1976 return tour commonly called his homecoming. Seizing on the saxophonist’s sudden and brief availability, Alfred Lion scheduled three days at Rudy Van Gelder’s studio with the intention of producing two albums. It was an efficient strategy that had worked when Gordon was travelling east to New York from Los Angeles, and one that would be followed on subsequent visits after Gordon had signed with Prestige in 1969.

One of the two May 1965 volumes, Gettin’ Around, appeared as scheduled, but there were problems on both projects to which Gordon admitted once he returned to Europe. “Somehow we got through the dates which I think were O.K.,” he admitted to Wolff in a letter of July 13. “Too bad I wasn’t really in good shape because the albums would have been a bitch.”

Alfred Lion took a less sanguine view of the present music. “[Lion] says that he was very disappointed in [Clubhouse],” Wolff wrote back on December 15. “The rhythm is not together and the whole thing sounds bad. In other words, the session was no good and we do not plan to release it. Therefore, we will just have to make another session to replace this one.”

Gordon expressed his surprise at Lion’s rejection in a subsequent letter (3/20/66), and the saxophonist ultimately approved the release of the music in the late-1970s.

Was the rhythm section the problem. as Wolff noted? Or was he simply being diplomatic? One need not read too much into this and subsequent correspondence to conclude that Gordon was still using narcotics during the May 1965 visit, a situation that led to a possession arrest in Europe a year later. Lion and Wolff may have simply concluded that they could get a superior performance out of a healthier Gordon, but the subsequent Blue Note date they discussed never took place. The saxophonist and the producers differed over whether to record in Europe or to wait until Gordon’s next U.S. visit; then the label was sold and the saxophonist became a former Blue Note artist.

In retrospect, this music lacks the charge of Gordon’s best Blue Notes, and Freddie Hubbard is uncommonly conservative at a moment when he was creating the likes of Herbie Hancock’s Maiden Voyage, Bobby Hutcherson’s Components, John Coltrane’s Ascension, and his own The Night of the Cookers; yet the rhythm section sounds together enough, and even an impeded Gordon creates such memorable performances as “I’m a Fool to Want You” and the boisterous "Hanky Panky." Like so much of what Dexter Gordon recorded, Clubhouse is a definite keeper.

—Bob Blumenthal, 2006







BN-LA-393-H2

Dexter Gordon

Released - 1975

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 6, 1961
Freddie Hubbard, trumpet; Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Horace Parlan, piano; George Tucker, bass; Al Harewood, drums.

tk.12 You've Changed
tk.20 It's You Or No One

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 9, 1961
Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Kenny Drew, piano; Paul Chambers, bass; Philly Joe Jones, drums.

tk.8 Modal Mood
tk.13 Clear The Dex
tk.28 Ernie's Tune
tk.34 The End Of A Love Affair

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, August 29, 1962
Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Sonny Clark, piano; Butch Warren, bass; Billy Higgins, drums.

tk.15 Soy Califa
tk.22 Don't Explain

Studio Barclay, Paris, France, June 2, 1964
Donald Byrd, trumpet; Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Kenny Drew, piano; Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen, bass; Art Taylor, drums; Frank Wolff, producer.

1386 tk.17 Tanya

Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, May 29, 1965
Dexter Gordon, tenor sax; Bobby Hutcherson, vibes; Barry Harris, piano; Bob Cranshaw, bass; Billy Higgins, drums.

1595 tk.10 Shiny Stockings

Track Listing

Side One
TitleAuthorRecording Date
Modal MoodKenny DrewMay 9 1961
The End Of A Love AffairM. Laub-E.C. ReddingMay 9 1961
Ernie's TuneDexter GordonMay 9 1961
Side Two
Soy CalifaDexter GordonAugust 29 1962
Don't ExplainA. Herzog, Jr.-B. HolidayAugust 29 1962
Shiny StockingsFrank FosterMay 29 1965
Side Three
It's You Or No OneJ. Styne-S. CahnMay 6 1961
You've ChangedB. Carey-C. FischerMay 6 1961
Clear The DexKenny DrewMay 6 1961
Side Four
TanyaDonald ByrdJune 2 1964

Liner Notes

Dexter Gordon, the most influential voice among tenor players of his generation, was until the last decade the least known and least appreciated tenor player of any stature; receiving only passing mention in a number of histories of jazz and articles on the bebop movement of the 40's, Gordon's great harmonic awareness made him the first major tenor soloist in the bop idiom. He synthesized the musical elements of Hawkins, Young and Parker into a sound all his own.

Gordon grew up in the late 30's during the period the Count Basie band came roaring out of Kansas City with Lester Young creating an entirely new tenor sax sound. Dexter reflected, "For musicians of the generation before mine, Coleman Hawkins was the one and only model. Lester changed all that. Everybody of my generation listened to Lester and almost no one else. We bought all of his records and when he appeared anywhere in our area we all turned out and stood in front of the bandstand to listen and figure out what he was doing and how he was doing it." Gordon did listen to a few others such as Dick Wilson of Andy Kirk's Clouds of Joy and Lester's Basie partner, Herschel Evans, But as the years passed the rapid ascendancy of Charlie Parker's work began dominating the jazz scene and Gordon's ears immediately picked up on the new style. Dexter became the first to successfully transfer the characteristics of bop to the tenor.

During the early BeBop Era (1945-9), Dexter in turn influenced the fledgling talents of John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins and Jackie McLean. Gordon is the musical link on tenor between the 30's and 50's. However, he is a musician who continually grows and today you can hear traces of Coltrane and Rollins in his music.

Dexter Keith Gordon was born in Los Angeles on February 27, 1923. His father was a prominent doctor whose patients included Duke Ellington and Lionel Hampton. At thirteen, Dexter began studying clarinet as well as harmony and theory, Two years later he began to study alto sax and played in a band comprised of students from Jordan High School and Jefferson High School. Among these players were Ernie Royal, Charles Mingus, Britt Woodman, Buddy Collette and Chico Hamilton.

At seventeen, Dexter quit school, took up the tenor and joined a local band, the Harlem Collegians. In December, 1940, Marshall Royal, Ernie's older brother, offered Dexter a job in Lionel Hampton's band, "I went over to Hamp's pad, and we blew a while, and that was it," he remembers. "We went right on the road, without any rehearsal, cold, I was expecting to be sent home every night," Dexter claims "about the only thing I had to play" was a number, "Po'k Chops," featuring Gordon and Hampton's principle tenor soloist, Illinois Jacquet, In May, 1942, George Simon reviewed the Hampton band at the Savoy Ballroom for Metronome. He wrote: "Young Dexter a handsome six-foot-four (sic, 6'5) eighteen year old, comes across with some fine melodic ideas as well as a mighty pretty tone."

In 1943, Gordon quit the band and went back to L.A. He played with Lester's brother, Lee Young, and then Jesse Price before joining the Fletcher Henderson Orchestra in April, 1944. During the few weeks he stayed with the band, they recorded a couple of AFRS transcriptions which give evidence of Lester's influence on Dexter's solo work.

In the late spring, Gordon joined Louis Armstrong. He stayed with the big band and although Louis made a point of featuring Dexter on a few numbers, Gordon found the musical experience unsatisfactory.

The musical winds changed in December to Dexter's advantage. Lucky Thompson vacated his chair in the recently formed Billy Eckstine Band, the first big band devoted to the new music, Dexter replaced him at their Howard Theatre gig in Washington, D.C. Right from the start he could feel the new energy surging through this band of pioneers. He became close with three members of the sax section: John Jackson, Sonny Stitt and Leo Parker. Their extra-curricular activities eventually earned them the name "Unholy Four."

Although most of the band recordings featured Eckstine vocals, Dexter's sax can be heard soloing on "Lonesome Lover Blues." "Blowing The Blues Away" featured a tenor sax battle between Dexter and teammate, Gene Ammons. Although it wasn't the first sax battle, it made Dexter an integral ingredient of a new trend.

While still with the band, Gordon played in his first bop combo recording session led by Dizzy Gillespie in February of 1945. In late summer of the same year, Gordon left the band in St. Louis and headed back to New York. He joined Charlie Parker at the Spotlite on 52nd St. and in September he and Bird appeared under the leadership of the group's pianist, Sir Charles Thompson. They did four sides for Apollo with Buck Clayton on trumpet. It was a strange combination of swing and bop musicians, a clash of styles which quite often marred early bop recordings.

After five years in big bands and working in other people's combos, Dexter finally began to appear under his own name. The previous experience had taken an immature seventeen year-old and put him through an intensive "music school." As he grew older more chances to express himself were made available and a voice heavily influenced by Lester Young evolved through other influences including bop to find its own sound.

Beginning in late 1945 Dexter began recording for Savoy and he took his own group into the Three Deuces. He also played regularly in the all-star line-ups at the weekly Sunday afternoon sessions at the Fraternal Clubhouse on West 48th St, and Lincoln Square Center, an old ballroom that was on the site of the present Lincoln Center Complex. Jackie McLean remembers one afternoon at Lincoln Square Center very well. "I was too young and too young-looking to get in, I had on dark glasses and a hat, trying to make it, but I couldn't and the guy at the door refused me. I started to walk away, but I saw Dexter Gordon coming down the street, and I ran up to him and told him the situation, Dexter recognized me as the little pest who played alto saxophone, and said, 'Give me your money, man, and I'll take you in.' I gave him my $1 and I went in as his cousin. That gave me a very proud feeling as I walked by the guy who had refused me," That afternoon among the several all-star groups playing was one consisting of: Parker, Dexter Gordon, Ben Webster, Kenny Clarke, Freddie Webster on trumpet. Jackie recalls, "Then Bird came in, and they played "Cottontail." I'll never forget that, man, like they played as soon as he came in, I think that's the first time I ever felt the true influence of Charlie Parker. Charlie Parker overwhelmed me, And I sat with my mouth open listening to Dexter Gordon, too."

Gordon now had a recognized position; he was a major figure in the growing bop movement. Dexter's early recordings were starting to have some influence which was particularly apparent in the recordings of tenor saxophonists Stan Getz and Allen Eager at the time.

In the summer of 1946, Dexter returned to the west. For a couple of months he worked with bandleader Cee Pee Johnson in Hawaii. When he returned to Los Angeles, Dexter started to jam at weekly sessions at places like Jack's Basket: "There'd be a lot of cats on the stand, but by the end of the session, it would wind up with Wardell (Gray) and myself. "The Chase" grew out of this." "The Chase," one of the most memorable tenor sax battles on record, was cut by Ross Russell of Dial records in June of 1947.

During the next six months, Dexter made several more sessions for Dial including a quartet, a quintet with Melba Liston and a tenor sax duel with Teddy Edwards. Immediately after the Edwards session in December, Dexter returned to New York to gig around 52nd Street and do a Savoy date with Fats Navarro. About this time, the young promoter Monte Kay along with disc jockey Symphony Sid convinced Ralph Watkins of the Royal Roost to give them a Tuesday night for a session. Seven hundred people packed the "bleachers" at 90c admission to see Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Fats Navarro and Tadd Dameron. At 2 A.M., Gordon, who had been booked, appeared and like a "Pied Piper of Hamelin" led the fans through a merry chase for the next hour and a half.

In 1948, he recorded sax battles with baritone saxophonist Leo Parker for Savoy. Parker was the last of the four saxophonists Dexter was to do battle with on record.

Gordon returned to the west coast to work with small groups on and off. In December, he appeared at the Clique (later called Birdland) in a fabulous but short-lived all-star group led by Oscar Pettiford. Other members included Bud Powell, Miles Davis, Fats Navarro, Lucky Thompson, Kai Winding, Milt Jackson and Kenny Clarke. Later Dexter played in front of Machito's Afro-Cubans. He joined Tadd Dameron's 10-piece group in January at the Royal Roost and recorded two numbers with them for Capitol, One of them, "Sid's Delight" (later known as "Tadd's Delight" includes a lovely solo by Gordon.

Dexter returned to Los Angeles shortly afterwards but it was to be eleven years before he would travel east again. The BeBop Era was dying and Gordon's first five great years were behind him. In 1950 he revived his association with Warden Gray. They recorded in a jam with one of Wardell's groups at the Hula Hut on Sunset that year and made a few sides for the obscure Swingtime label. Their recording career together ended in February, 1952, with a Pasadena concert recording on Decca. Their association was the last vestige of Gordon's recent importance. The Gordon-Gray tandem was never to be renewed because of Gordon's incarceration and Wardell's death.

Gordon was having problems by this time. Some stemmed from the sudden public interest in "West Coast" jazz which was predominantly played by whites in a "cool" fashion. His other problems stemmed from heroin, a habit he had picked up around 1945. From 1953 to early 1955 he was an inmate at Chino. During his stay he appeared in a low-budget prison movie, Unchained, as an actor and musician although someone else is heard playing on the soundtrack.

Within the first year of his release from Chino, he recorded three albums on Doo-Tone and Bethlehem which received little attention. During the next few years he sporadically worked in combos or Onzy Matthews' big band but his hard-swinging style, like that of many other black horn men on the west coast, was out of favor.

In 1960 things changed. Dexter was asked to compose, lead a quartet and appear in the Los Angeles production of Jack Gelber's The Connection, a play about heroin addicts. The publicity made people conscious of Dexter again. Cannonball Adderley in October approached Gordon about doing an album for Jazzland. They couldn't have chosen a better title, The Resurgence of Dexter Gordon.

Then the new era broke. In May 1961 Dexter, still on parole, flew to New York for a short period to record two albums for Blue Note. His parole period over, he flew to Chicago in October to appear with Gene Ammons and overwhelmed the Windy City fans.

He moved to New York in Spring 1962 but could not get a cabaret card so only performed "one-nighters" at New York clubs and concerts and a few out-of-town gigs. During the summer he worked several times with the late Sonny Clark, Butch Warren and Billy Higgins, a magnificent rhythm section which backed him on two fine Blue Note albums before he left for Europe in late August.

Gordon set out for Paris but eventually found his haven in Copenhagen. The Club Montmartre became his club, a base of operations from which he travelled over the Continent.

In 1963 he was awarded the first general critical recognition of his work in years when the Down Beat Critics Poll announced him as New Star of the Year. He went to Paris in May to record for Blue Note — a lovely quartet album which reunites Gordon with Bud Powell and Kenny Clarke. Paris was also the sight of the next Blue Note album in 1964 with a quintet including Donald Byrd and fellow Copenhagen resident, Kenny Drew.

Gordon's increased emotional maturity and confidence are evident in the depth and breadth of his musical inspiration and expression. His individualistic solo conception encompasses the total horn. He cohesively constructs melodically resourceful and harmonically rich patterns in his big, sensuous sound.

This two-record set includes tunes taken from five of Dexter's Blue Note albums recorded between 1961 and 1965. It includes a variety of contexts in which his fine dark-toned tenor sings out with the enthusiasm and vitality that makes him one of the most affirmative voices on the jazz scene.

Two present residents of Copenhagen hold down the piano chair on sides 1, 2 and 4. Kenny Drew. an old Gordon friend, not only lends fine support on cuts such as the pop tune, "The End Of A Love Affair," but has contributed two originals, "Modal Mood" and "Clear The Dex." Horace Parlan, a recent expatriate who presently shares the piano bench with Drew at the Club Montmartre, was the mainstay of a trio that was a regular on the New York scene in the early 60's. They join Gordon and Freddie Hubbard on a couple of standards. Freddie Hubbard in fine voice, adds a few sparks to the Gordon fire in front of the Parlan trio kindling on "It's You or No One." The quintet's fire burns down to smouldering embers for the lovely ballad, "You've Changed."

December 1964, Dexter returned to the U.S. for six months of club dates on both coasts and in Chicago; and while in New York, he recorded his final Blue Note album with Bobby Hutcherson and Barry Harris. Upon his return to Europe, he continued to appear at various jazz festivals and work in Berlin, Stockholm, Paris and London. He took part in a Danish version of The Connection and was featured in a Danish film. Near the end of 1968 he taught for three months in a school in Malmo, Sweden.

He made his first trip to the United States after four years in 1969. He returned again in 1970 to receive many accolades (including Whitney Balliett's statement, "He is a musician's musician.") for his appearance at the Newport Jazz Festival. Many of Balliett's peers must have concurred because the 1971 Down Beat Critics Poll honored Gordon with the Best Tenor Sax award.

Dexter has settled down in a comfortable studio apartment in a Copenhagen suburb. He practices at least two hours every day on his saxophone and also works out on the piano.

In December of this year, Gordon returned to his birthplace, Los Angeles, and gave us the finest Christmas present he could possibly have given: his music.

Trumpeter Donald Byrd on one of his flights from these shores contributes composition and horn in the longest piece in the set, "Tanya." It is a haunting composition that allows both horns and Drew's piano to find their own introspective mood during the extended blowing. Dexter's solo is a long threnody for Coltrane which opens with a series of note clusters, then soars in a slowly ascending spiral that finishes with several high, murmured cries.

West coast vibist Bobby Hutcherson joins Barry Harris and Gordon on a swinging walk down Basie lane with Frank Foster's "Shiny Stockings." Dex moves at a relaxed pace with all members seeming to enjoy their promenade in search of the titled object.

Dexter the composer is represented by two tunes. The first, "Ernie's Tine," is taken from his score for The Connection and is a lovely floating ballad ably supported by Kenny Drew. His second, "Soy Califa." is a swinging Latin tune nicely spiced by one of the best rhythm sections he has worked with. The late Sonny Clark proves why he will be missed as he and cohorts Butch Warren and Billy Higgins swing the South of the Border flavor in back of the flowing Gordon.

Lester Young once suggested that musicians should know the lyrics of songs; that this would help their interpretations. Dex is a master ballad singer as he proves on Billie Holiday's ballad to a wayward man, "Don't Explain." Gordon breathes Lady Day's words before breaking off on his own poignant statement with able backing from Sonny and friends.

If you are new to Gordon, the ten cuts will be a well chosen surprise; and if you are an old friend, a welcome sign of his continual musical growth awaits you. Dexter has not stood still since his influential voice started turning heads in the late 40's. Traces of those he influenced such as Coltrane and Rollins appear in his playing. He is his own man; constantly searching for ways to improve. He is one of the giants who keeps jazz alive.

Joe Segal best summed it up: "Dexter Gordon, of course, is one of the very, very great — greater — greatest saxophonists who ever breathed."

Note: I am indebted to the original notes of Ira Gitler, Leonard Feather, and Nat Hentoff; to the writings of Ira Gitler, Ross Russell, Charles Edward Smith and A. B. Spellman for many of the factual details.

CHARLEY LIPPINCOTT