Where the mystery lies: Goodbye, Bobby Hutcherson

One of my favorite sound series in recorded music occurs during a five-second span here, from 6:11 to 6:16:



Bobby Hutcherson: Clang!
Tony Williams: Thud-thud

Bobby Hutcherson: Clang!
Tony Williams: Thud-thud

Bobby Hutcherson: Clang!
Tony Williams: Thud-thud

That passage, to me, epitomizes Blue Note's glorious mid-'60s flowering, of which Hutcherson was such a vital part: this quality of poised, wired, almost perverse exploration that, on records like Out to Lunch!, contrasted with breathtaking cohesion and musicality. (The title track of Dialogue and "The Omen" from Happenings — recorded, respectively, roughly a year and two years after OTL!, and featuring Hutcherson on marimba as well as vibes — embody a similarly adventurous spirit while pursuing a spookier mood — free jazz that had nothing to do with Fire Music, per se; this was genuine collective, spontaneous, open-ended, genre-transcendent soundmaking.) These are the records that made me a Jazz Person, all honorary Bobby Hutcherson Dates whether or not he was the nominal leader: Evolution, One Step Beyond, Judgment, Andrew!!!, Dialogue, Components, Happenings, Destination Out and others that I'd discover later on, like Time for Tyner, Oblique and Patterns.

Hutcherson also had a knack for a very unguarded sort of tenderness — hear his own joyful waltz "Little B's Poem" — as well as an almost psychedelic command of texture. Hear Andrew Hill's "Alfred," on which he doesn't solo but nevertheless brings to the theme statements a magical quality of otherworldly singing — that sense of shimmering space, a quintessential expression of the vibraphone's potential. (Walt Dickerson was another vibes player who loved to build up waves upon waves of a kind of sonic gel, inviting the listener to come and float and surrender.)

Listen, for example, to what happens around 3:20 here:



Bobby Hutcherson goes texture-mad, exploding his solo into a ringing, singing soundmist.

And at the other end of the spectrum, you have his somewhat more conventional contributions to an album like Destination Out, where he plays a pianist's role in the ensemble but still revels in his instrument's idiosyncrasy.



Hutcherson was integral to the Jackie McLean / Grachan Moncur III concept, explored here as well as on One Step Beyond and Evolution; his odd, bulbous protrusions, metallic yet also pillowy, helped to sharpen the bracing whiff of eccentricity these records give off. Like Out to Lunch!, these are piquant albums, subtle in their way but insistent in the way they stand apart from hardbop convention. Almost like a synth player or electric guitarist might function in a jazz group several years later, Hutcherson helped to give this music an almost sci-fi quality. He sounded like the future.

Many of the albums discussed above are compiled into this Spotify playlist.


I'm no expert on Hutcherson's later work, such as the celebrated band with Harold Land, in which he seemed to lay back a bit more, elevating the jazz mainstream with his ever-classy approach rather than exploring the margins. This would be the kind of track that my younger self would have been likely to gloss over or even dismiss, but now I just hear it as a consummately well-rounded musician exploring another side of his talent:



For more of Bobby in the '70s, check out this great archived WFIU radio show hosted by David Brent Johnson. Hutcherson's discography starts to get a bit unwieldy in this later Blue Note period and beyond. I'd be grateful for any recommendations re: his essential albums that fall outside the "classic" mid-to-late-'60s phase discussed above.

Thank you, Bobby Hutcherson, who helped to draw me in closer to what, for me, is the very center of jazz, where the mystery lies.

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*Nate Chinen's very eloquent NYT obit, which hits on some excellent descriptions of Hutcherson's textural command: "luminescent and coolly fluid"; "resonating overtones and chiming decay"; "coloristic range of sound."

*Peter Hum's remembrance, featuring a collection of musician tributes, is a great read.

*A fascinating Hutcherson anecdote concerning the rehearsals for Out to Lunch!

 

Now's the Time: Richard Davis at 80 [revised]

[Below is an expanded version of the original Richard Davis post of Thursday, May 6.]

I couldn't be more excited to announce that my friend Russell Baker and I will spin five straight hours of Richard Davis recordings on WKCR, this coming Sunday, 5/9, from 2pm to 7pm EST. [UPDATE--Sunday, 5/9: The first portion of the broadcast has been preempted by a Columbia University baseball game; we should be underway by 3:30 or 4pm EST. If you tune in and hear play-by-play instead of Richard Davis, please check back soon afterward.] Listen at 89.9 FM in NYC, or tune in online here. We'll hit Out to Lunch!, Astral Weeks and as many points in between as we can. Plus, we'll play excerpts from an interview I conducted with Mr. Davis on April 25.

A preview is up now at Destination: Out, featuring rare tracks from Davis's 1973 curio classic Song for Wounded Knee and a clip of him discussing the session.

For the record, Richard Davis is one of my very favorite musicians. I've been a Davis fanatic since college, when I discovered his beautiful mind-meld with Andrew Hill during the '60s, a partnership that yielded a run of some of the most distinctive jazz albums I know: seven full-lengths in all, from '63's Black Fire to '65's Compulsion. Learning to love Astral Weeks around the same time, and realizing what a crucial role Davis also played on that holy record--this is not received knowledge; get past the "iconic rock album"-ness and try develop a personal relationship with this inexhaustible document--upped my fascination exponentially.

Who was this rare bassist, I remember thinking to myself over the years, who always seemed to leave a mark on the proceedings? In my mind, I have called him Spider-Hands, for the way he weaves these thick, sticky, creepily intricate webs of notes when playing pizzicato. It was almost as if the instrument were smaller, more pliable in his hands, something to be manhandled rather than merely tamed. And then the arco work of unthinkable solemn dignity and depth, and also bow-hair-shredding grit. ("Wailing Wall" from Hill's Smokestack was the kicker there.)

And the discography, shockingly vast. It's been a joyously Sisyphean task trying to make sense of it all, but Russell and I have been trying our best. You could do five days' worth of Richard Davis rather than five hours and never get bored, but we'll try to make our show worthwhile and fitting. You'll hear some of the Davis you know and love, and (hopefully) some you never knew existed. Happy 80th birthday, sir, and thank you for transcending style for so many years, for being yourself and simply playing.

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Some great Davis reading and watching:

*A recent and very lengthy Davis video interview from Wisconsin public TV

*A nice 2005 Davis profile/interview by Andrey Henkin, via All About Jazz

*A comprehensive Jazz Times piece from right around the same time

*And lastly, probably the greatest thing on YouTube: 1, 2, 3, 4 videos of Richard Davis and Elvin Jones live in Japan in (I'm educated-guessing) the deep '70s

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One question that keeps coming to mind as I research RD: Are there any recorded documents of his classical work, e.g., perhaps this Stravinsky Conducts Stravinsky set? Dying to hear what he sounds like in that context, but I imagine it would be hard to pick him out of an orchestra.