Elvin Jones - The Prime Element
Released - 1976
Recording and Session Information
Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, March 14, 1969
Lee Morgan, trumpet; George Coleman, tenor sax #1-4; Joe Farrell, tenor, soprano sax, flute, alto flute; Wilbur Little, bass; Elvin Jones, drums; Candido, congas #1,2,4,5; Miguelito Valdes, percussion #1,4,5.
3852 tk.1 Dido Afrique
3853 tk.4 Champagne Baby
3854 tk.8 Inner Space
3855 tk.14 Raynay
3856 tk.18 Once I Loved (O Amor Em Paz)
A&R Studios, NYC, July 24, 1973
Frank Foster, Steve Grossman, tenor, soprano sax; Pepper Adams, baritone sax; Jan Hammer, piano, electric piano, synthesizer; Cornell Dupree, guitar; Gene Perla, bass, electric bass; Elvin Jones, drums; Candido, congas; Warren Smith, timpani; Omar Clay, Richie "Pablo" Landrum, percussion, programmable rhythm box.
13432 (tk.2) The Whims Of Bal
13431 (tk.2) The Prime Element
A&R Studios, NYC, July 26, 1973
Frank Foster, Steve Grossman, tenor, soprano sax; Pepper Adams, baritone sax; Jan Hammer, piano, electric piano, synthesizer; Cornell Dupree, guitar; Gene Perla, bass, electric bass; Elvin Jones, drums; Candido, congas; Warren Smith, timpani; Omar Clay, Richie "Pablo" Landrum, percussion, programmable rhythm box.
13429 (tk.1) At This Point In Time
13430 (tk.1) Currents/Pollen
Track Listing
| Side One | ||
| Title | Author | Recording Date |
| At This Point In Time | Frank Foster | July 26 1973 |
| Currents / Pollen | G. Perla | July 26 1973 |
| Side Two | ||
| The Prime Element | O. Clay | July 24 1973 |
| Whims Of Bal | O. Clay | July 24 1973 |
| Side Three | ||
| Inner Space | C. Corea | March 14 1969 |
| Once I Loved (O Amor Em Paz) | A. C. Jobim | March 14 1969 |
| Raynay | Elvin Jones | March 14 1969 |
| Side Four | ||
| Champagne Baby | Joe Farrell | March 14 1969 |
| Dido Afrique | Elvin Jones | March 14 1969 |
Liner Notes
ELVIN JONES
Elvin Jones, the courageous giant of modern percussion, now offers two previously unreleased productions. That they are major productions goes without saying - the listener has only to note the weight of the two ensembles and there's a special bonus in the opportunity to hear Jones explore further with multi-percussion groups. This is a development that I suspect he anticipated almost from the beginning of his musical maturity, and these two records are the musical choices of a rare self-made craftsman, one of the genuinely necessary drummers in modern jazz.
His biography has been so often retold that perhaps we need only recall the highlights. Born in Pontiac, Michigan in 1927, brother of noted pianist Hank and trumpeter-bandleader Thad, Elvin Jones taught himself drums and began performing professionally in his hometown while in his early teens. He played with army bands, then gigged in and around Detroit for six years before making the big move to New York in 1955. Ex-Detroiters Donald Byrd and Pepper Adams were among his employers in the free-lance years that followed; he appeared on noted recordings with Miles Davis, Lee Konitz, and the classic Sonny Rollins 1957 Village Vanguard dates (Blue Notes 81581 and BN-LA475-H2). Most importantly, he joined John Coltrane's quartet in 1960 remaining with the apocalyptic tenor saxophonist until the latter part of 1966. These years of growth and consolidation found him with a wide personal following; he has led a series of trios and quartets since, and the popularity of his own combos has carried him to the present.
He is two years younger than Max Roach, the first master of modern drums; eight years younger than Art Blakey, who brought the bop drum style to its peak of perfection; four years younger than Philly Joe Jones, whose often assymetric approach makes him the nearest, it seems, to a direct ancestor of the Elvin Jones style. It was Roach, playing with Charlie Parker in 1948, who announced the mainstream of percussion development by breaking the traditional four-beat time with a system of accents to complement the freshly-accented eight-beat of the post-war generation of melodic soloists. Blakey raised this method to the level of polyphony through heavy syncopation and accenting designed to control and anticipate the soloists' line.
It's typical of their generation that both conceived of solos in multiples of two-measure sections. Melodic soloists, meanwhile, were now accustomed to using substitute changes to break through bar lines and crush chord barriers, and it was inevitable that the likes Coltrane and Cecil Taylor should emerge in the latter stages of this period. Taylor in particular disdained the given outlines of his standard material; the importance of their pre-1960 work cannot be overemphasized in this discussion. The soloing of Roach had begun to frequently reject the tradition of climax-building: the rhythmic line in itself was becoming all-important, Certainly Elvin Jones' recordings from this period demonstrate discomfort with the postwar tradition, for his accompaniments tend to be unpatterned, uncomplimentary and his solo moments are merely the embryo of his soon-to-mature style.
The inevitable revolution of the jazz sensibility began around 1960, for all practical purposes, with the first eastern recordings of Ornette Coleman, who completely rejected the harmonic- and outline-rhythm methods of the entire history of the music that preceded, Make no mistake: sensibility, the pure, unrestrained structuring and expression of emotion, was all that defined and limited the vast unknown vistas that suddenly opened to jazz. Taylor's steady and rather spectacular growth to freedom assumed new importance; Coltrane, prepared to begin a new exploratory stage of his career, formed a quartet with Elvin Jones. From now forward, jazz would not be an art pre-determined by given forms. That freedom did not mean excursions into pure wilderness was demonstrated by the interplay of Coleman and his pioneering drummer Ed 'Blackwell. But the revolution in no way depended on the insights of these two: Coltrane and Elvin Jones, both intellectual romantics, had other trails to blaze.
Critic Herb Nolan asked Elvin to comment on Coltrane. "He's probably the biggest contributor to our contemporary understanding of music, " the master drummer said. "I like Ornette Coleman, but Coltrane to me, at least after my brothers, my mother and father, was the best teacher I had, The communication was there, the rapport was there, If anything, it was a relationship of mentor and pupil," A significant adjunct to these remarks is the two old Blue Note LPs Elvin made with Ornette's group. Through the greater portion of the recordings the drummer is at his best, and curiously, Coleman's line demonstrates odd hesitations and developments. Conversely, when the altoist is at his most flowing, Jones appears ill-at-ease: he is unusually sensitive to others' conceptions of pulse, Coleman the builder, Jones the pure romantic individualist—never shall the two qualities of personality meet.
And this is the point where Elvin Jones becomes rather an enigma in the music's evolution, Anthony Williams, Elvin's stylistic contemporary; Blackwell, the first full-bloomed free drummer; the revolutionary Sunny Murray, then Milford Graves and the other innovators who followed him — including Rashied Ali, who assimilated many Elvin Jones ideas in a highly-structured way—all had developed ensemble styles. Murray's art of total accent was the logical end of the trail Jones had begun, Yet the individual quality of freedom in Jones' art has precluded his becoming such an ensemble player, however rich his exchange with other musicians often was and is. In fact, were it not for Elvin's exceedingly brave example (remember the Elvin Jones controversy of the early '60s) modern percussion may well have grown a mainstream of development similar to what now exists — though not, I think, anywhere nearly so rapidly. Elvin, then, is a lonely artist creating his monuments in a state of solitary splendor. Or is he?
Some partnerships in jazz are crucial to the development of both parties and Coltrane and Jones in the '60s without each other is inconceivable. The tenorist would otherwise have been shackled to a drummer with an immobile beat. For Elvin's part, to paraphrase author Jack Cooke, modern jazz drummers had relied on the basic cymbal beat while using the rest of their kit to extend the essential time-keeping duty; the development of drumming lay in the extension of non-time-keeping creation until, with Elvin the previously secondary element became primary. You could fairly say that Elvin Jones' great contribution was his suppressing the tyranny of the regular beat in order to emphasize accents, polyrhythms, and percussion movement. Coltrane was necessary for this achievement: both he and his pianist, McCoy Tyner, instinctively emphasized the beat in their playing, explicitly or implicitly This made the ideal foil for Elvin's explorations.
His style was quick to expand. The elements included, and include, a stated cymbal time that, however, is extremely erratic in its relation to the beat, frequently enough skipping beats, often eliminated entirely when the primary beat is merely implied in the course of dense polyrhythms. His distinctive sound derives from his huge cymbals and personal way of striking them, often with the butt end of the stick, and his personal method of tuning his drums that gives especially the deeper-pitched ones a kind of muffled resonance. The specific figures he plays, if isolated from context, are extremely simple, the most sophisticated of them drawing from the vocabulary common to all early bop drummers. Yet the juxtaposition of a figure in one tempo against another, and then against others, can lead to a dense whirlpool of interplay as the ever-emotional Elvin feels and expresses a multiplicity of rhythms. There is no question of multiple meter here: by the time the recordings in this album were made the subliminal thrust of his work had become arhythmic.
Accompaniments are often not designed to interact with a melodic soloist, though a soloist can readily inspire accents and development in Elvin's line and, as we hear here, soloists can be inspired by him. In solo himself, Elvin's contrasts, particularly his remarkable contrasts of sound are more clearly made, and the density of rhythms becomes heavier. His solos are never structured about climaxes, they seldom develop his material very much, and conclude either abruptly or by dissipation. The entire content of his work is assymetric, of course — after all, he is the original avant-garde drummer, I realize these generalizations oversimplify a multi-colored music without dwelling on the craftsmanship and frequent subtlety involved, for Elvin is ever ready to invent and juggle ideas without any sense of heaviness. The consistent features, though, are his persistent urge to create, the avoidance of form, and the definite attitude that rhythm in itself is more important than the individual components.
This is the heart of Elvin Jones' art, then, and it has certainly become chosen for himself he offers wider emotional range of material than Coltrane usually offered, More often than not his rhythm sections have consisted of only a bassist and himself: of what use is a piano when the drummer is so inventive? More to the point, the average keyboardist could very well clog the accompaniment with a threatening secondary pulse. Note how Hammer plays synthesizer only in solo, switching to piano to join the Latin percussionists. It is not surprising that his chosen saxophonists share characteristics with Coltrane, including Coltrane phrasing jn greater or lesser degree, but most importantly, offering much the same emphatic appreciation of the beat.
This album is an expansion of Elvin's post-1966 groups, using typically modal material, Saxophonists Foster, Coleman, Farrell and Grossman all once were his melodic leads; Perla and Little were his bassists; Candido and Hammer have previously worked and recorded with Elvin; Morgan and especially Adams had recorded with Elvin as sidemen for other leaders, Despite the virtues of his colleagues these were Elvin's sessions, and it is his work in particular that engages the listener.
To the music, then. At This Point In Time (a popular 1973 slang expression, for you nostalgia fans) has an imaginative Frank Foster theme over a soulful beat, stated by the entire rhythm section, and after leading a brief collective improvisation the composer offers a tenor solo. When he ends there is a complete break, for when his ten mates stop, Elvin chooses a much faster tempo that's not quite double-time for his solo's theme. Note that while the thrust of his line is carried by his snares, a great variety of other drum sounds and momentary alternate tempi appear for shading, Soon the ancillary drums and tempi come into play on an equal basis, another tempo even dominates momentarily, cymbals are used only in individual crashes to release the tension of specific drum statements. Cross-patterns appear before he returns to the theme's tempo, as if to say, "See, friends? I'm with you all the way."
The drum solo that opens Currents/Pollen is a dark challenge, the vivid opening manifesto is echoed in the insistence of repeated 2 or 3 note figures that break his fast, urgent line. When the Latin percussion bring a cheerful medium-fast contradiction, Elvin, determined on his rightness of purpose, looms over, referring to his opening remarks, haranguing with thumps and smacks, meanwhile menacing with alternating gong-like cymbals, a superb assertion of his individualism. As suddenly as the Latin percussion began, the synthesizer (with only Perla and the quiet Elvin) invents a springtime waltz, gaily bending notes, and suddenly again, Elvin's extended triplet rolls lead to an arhythmic flux of crosslines separated by the saxophones' brooding held notes. Then a simple, gay, medium tempo theme leads to solos by guitar, Hammer again (this time on electric piano), and after the theme returns Adams, at length, takes the song out.
Elvin's counter-rhythmic work makes life behind the medium Latin tempo and two-note theme of The Prime Element. After the synthesizer makes its merry upward sweeps, Elvin's solo rolls and tumbles with and against the other percussionists, offering a surprising dynamic range (note the quiet snare lines) considering Candido's enthusiasm. Herein lies the promise of the recording date, after all: Elvin's arhythmic impulses are freed by the others' rhythm patterns. His drum line ebbs and flows, now accenting the other percussion, now ignoring them, now introducing altogether different subjects. He hovers over the theme's extended recall like a mother bird.
Whims Of Bal has no theme, only held notes as each percussionist announces his wares. It's a medium tempo, one-chord piece; Adams' solo suggests hard black peppercorns and Foster, again on tenor, continues in much the same mood. The early portions of Grossman's soprano solo suggests the methods of Adams and Foster, before fast lines and trills dominate, and notice how, throughout these solos, despite the multi-percussion (Hammer duplicates the drum patterns) Elvin's free accompaniment is particularly distinctive, Tympani, then Hammer, announce a collective improvisation, each of the ten companions to his own tempo, Elvin to all his own tempi; soprano sax leads a distant beckoning passage, and the track ends with lone, even synthesizer notes.
In the 1969 sessions, with their rather brighter sound, I won't attempt to identify which tenor soloist is which in Inner Space and Raynay: Farrell and Coleman present styles so similar here, their rhythmic and harmonic urges and even their senses of humor so kindred that I imagine only those present at the dates could tell them apart. The theme of Inner Space is the familiar territory of hard bop, the second tenor solo leaping in directly after the first Elvin finds a height of excitement behind Morgan's solo, an ecstatic cross-section of cymbals, smatterings of triplet rolls, and double-time thunder on toms and bass drum. The headlong force of his solo whelms the listener through a series of quick step beginning, fast decelarando-decrescendo sequences that are led back to the original tempo each time by fervent raps, the last of these sequences letting in larger motes of space before the theme's return.
Candido and Valles are absent on this track, and Coleman lays out for O Amor E Paz. Muted trumpet weaves lovely melodic variations through the flute's long-noted theme statement, and the flute solo is caught in a mixture of feelings from his overview while Morgan, still muted, expands in more organic fashion from Jobim's original mood. The theme then returns played much the same as before, and the percussion are strictly subdued for this ballad.
All are together, finally, for Raynay, and I love Elvin's tough, swaggering theme. The drummer is relatively subdued during the first tenor solo, but the good vibes he gets from Morgan are then quickly evident. The trumpeter's themes and variations, his repetitions, then sudden introductions of fresh material, all are part of a structure that lends Elvin intensity as he makes perverse anti-rhythms and off-accents and major rolls at Morgan's modulations, favoring the cymbals for his outbursts. Behind the second tenor's solo, then, Elvin (still on cymbals) and Candido indulge in a bit of interplay.
The theme of Champagne Baby is simply a fanfare. Farrell, on soprano, is occasionally almost middle-period Wayne Shorterish, and Elvin makes cymbal excitement in accompaniment He makes vicious cross-rhythms, primarily on cymbal, behind the long, diffuse trumpet solo, quite involved in his own building, only barely glancing to accent Morgan's line, and the loose, wild drumming grows so self-engaged that it pays no attention to the double-timing in Coleman's solo. Elvin's most exciting solo of the album follows, opening with an extended roll that's varied and into which fresh figures intrude until they soon eclipse it, leading to a quite indescribable collection of rhythms and techniques during which the entire drum kit is brought into recurring play.
Afro-Caribe rhythms provoke Dido Afrique, with the sort of happy theme you'd expect, a theme that closes Coleman's solo and serves as the foundation for much of Morgan's solo. Farrell solos on flute this time, and Elvin takes advantage of spaces near the beginning to initiate an independent cross-rhythmic series of patterns The Candido-Elvin duet offers a fascinating interplay of rhythms, especially given Elvin's freedom with tempo, his multiple means of development, his tonal sensitivity and resourcefulness. Candido's solo, Elvin in accompaniment, is largely involved in multiplication and reduction of tempo.
I began by describing Elvin Jones' importance in the modern art of jazz percussion, As the discoveries in this album demonstrate, the Jones art is an immediately exciting one, the world Jones opens to us as drummer and director is full of color and an ever-fresh sense of life. A free, always open spirit is revealed here (as it is, indeed, whenever Elvin Jones performs), and it is, of course, the spirit of a master inventor He created these recordings impelled by intensity. emotion, concentration and craftsmanship, and now the music is ours to enjoy.
JOHN B. LITWEILER
