Adios Gato & Jeremy

The year that just ended can hardly be described as a good one. The carnage of the civil war in Syria

and the siege of Aleppo are on top of our minds – or at least should be. The situation in places like Iraq, Afghanistan and Yemen remains precarious. Natural disasters caused an estimated US$175 billion in damages around the world, with floods in China, hurricanes and typhoons in the Philippines and Haiti, earthquakes in Japan, and many others. Terrorists attacked Nice, Berlin and Istanbul (right on New Year’s Eve!) – not to mention Baghdad. The influx of refugees hardened attitudes towards foreigners in Europe and voters in the U.K. opted for BREXIT. Russia continues to flex its muscles – as concretely personified by its often shirtless leader – flaunting human rights, threatening its neighbors and even influencing the US elections through hacking. And partly as a result, the worst disaster of the year, the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States supported by millions of misguided and misinformed people in this post-fact world.

The rock music world experienced many notable losses, as well, starting with David Bowie who died on January 10 at age 69, ending with George Michael passing away on Christmas Day at just 53. In between, Prince’s death on April 21st (at 57) probably received the highest attention, as did that of Leonard Cohen (November 7^th at 82). Other notable departures from the popular music scene included the pianist Leon Russell (November 13^th at 74) whose sound was more influential than many listeners realized; another highly influential behind-the-scenes force, Rod Temperton (October 5^th at 66); the laid back southern pianist/singer Mose Allison (November 15^th at 89); and Greg Lake (December 7^th at 69), the fabulous bassist, vocalist and composer of King Crimson and Emerson, Lake and Palmer fame. Others, such as the Belgian-born harmonica master, Jean ‘Toots’ Thielemans (August 22^nd at the tender age of 94) whose music everyone has heard, whether they realize it or not; the magical Brazilian percussionist Nana Vasconcelos (March 9^th at 71), and the legendary drummer Alphonse Mouzon (also on Christmas Day at 68) were great losses to the musical world. Finland lost one of its more prominent jazz musicians, bassist Make Lievonen (December 14^th at 69). Although I grieve for all of these fabulous artists, I will here briefly focus on two forceful creators who were amongst the most important to me personally: Gato Barbieri and Jeremy Steig.

The saxophonist Leandro ‘Gato’ Barbieri (b. November 28^th, 1932, in Rosario, Argentina; d. April 2^nd, 2016, in New York) was my hero during my teenage years. I remember the first album I heard from him, ‘El Pampero’ (1971). It completely blew my mind. It still holds a central place in my record shelf. This was a live recording. The tunes were long – just two to a side – with nearly constant soloing by Gato against a South American beat provided by three percussionists, Bernard Purdie, Sonny Morgan and the above mentioned Nana Vasconcelos. The band was completed by electric bassist Chuck Rainey and Lonnie Liston Smith whose piano added freer fills into the mix. I was sold. Especially, the tune ‘Mi Buenos Aires Querido’ with the gorgeous saxophone intro caught my heart and made me long for the sensuous capital of tango on Rio de la Plata. Gato in his trademark black fedora hat was the coolest cat I knew (apologies for the pun). Even my mother warmed up to his warm, huge and highly distinguishable sound on the tenor sax.

I immediately went back to look for his earlier recordings to find that they were mostly free jazz, inspired by Ornette Coleman. In the mid-1960s Gato divided his time between Rome and New York performing and recording with Don Cherry, Carla Bley and others in the avant garde movement. Only with the 1969 album ‘The Third World’ did he find the voice that would combine elements from Coltranesque jazz with tunes and rhythms from South America. Other recordings followed, including ‘Bolivia’ (1973), which brought forth the lyrical side of Gato, with melodies borrowed from the South American jungles and pampas. Mind you, this was not what you would normally call ‘Latin jazz’, because Gato’s music never flirted much with salsa or even bossa nova. His roots were more firmly in the music of his native country, Argentina.

This was most clearly demonstrated by the film score Gato made for Bernardo Bertolucci’s scandalous ‘Last Tango in Paris’ (1972) for which the composer won a Grammy. The dramatic and sexy score became an international hit record with Gato’s powerful tenor at the lead accompanied by a tango orchestra featuring a bandoneon and strings. Its melancholy laments of forbidden, fleeting love pulled my heartstrings more than most other music ever. The legend has it that Bertolucci had planned a role for Gato in the film but the latter turned out to be such a wooden actor that the plan was scrapped. Nevertheless, when he made a cameo appearance as a stranger practicing the saxophone, whom the lovers, the middle aged Marlon Brando and 19-year old Maria Schneider, could see through a window, I was I heaven.

"Always in the tango is tragedy — she leaves him, she kills him. It's like an opera but it's called tango … The lyrics and the melodies are very beautiful. It's very sensual," Barbieri is quoted as having said in 1997 (Billboard, April 2, 2016).

Then followed in rapid succession the series of Chapter albums recorded for Impulse!: ‘Chapter One: Latin America’, ‘Chapter Two: Hasta Siempre’ and ‘Chaper Three: Viva Emiliano Zapata!’ (1973-1974). The third introduced a large orchestra arranged and conducted by Chico O’Farrill, and some truly beautiful music, such as a version of the classic ballad ‘Cuando vuelva a tu lado’. A fourth in the series, ‘Chapter Four: Alive in New York’, released in 1975, was as the title suggests a concert recording.

Not all Barbieri records were masterpieces. Having earlier recorded for the jazz labels Flying Dutchman and Impulse!, his new label, A&M took Gato to a more commercial smooth jazz direction. I could still find great merit in records like ‘Caliente!’ (1976), even if I missed the earlier rougher productions. The intensity, lyricism and warmth never disappeared from Gato’s playing. His collaboration with Carlos Santana on a rendition of the latter’s composition ‘Europa’ can still bring tears to my eyes.

There was a long hiatus in his recording after a dispute with the record label in 1982. During the 1980s he released a couple of albums that received little attention. Throughout the period he toured extensively performing around the world. His wife of 35 years, Michelle, died in 1995, and he himself went through the first of his bypass heart operations. His comeback album after the break was the 1997 ‘Qué pasa.’ By that time, Gato had married again, to Laura, with whom he would spend the remaining two decades of his life. During the 2000s he would only release a couple of albums, but he continued to perform in concerts. I last saw him at the Blues Alley club in Washington, DC, more than a decade ago. He was in great form performing the music that he loved, not the smooth jazz version of it.

"Music was a mystery to Gato, and each time he played was a new experience for him, and he wanted it to be that way for his audience,” Laura Barbieri is quoted as saying (Rolling Stone, April 3, 2016). In 2015, Gato Barbieri received a lifetime achievement Grammy Award from the Latin Recording Academy. He is greatly missed but the consolation may be that there is no better way to remember him than through his sensuous, melancholy music.

Another artist and human who made a huge impression on me was Jeremy Steig (b. September 23, 1942, in Manhattan; d. April 13, 2016, in Yokohama). I also started listening to him as a schoolboy in Finland in the 1970s. I often biked over to my friend Timo’s house on afternoons to listen to music. We’d have a wide scale, ranging from Edgard Varèse to Eric Dolphy to Frank Zappa, as long as it was novel and interesting. Timo was the one who introduced me to the records of Jeremy Steig and the music hit me like a rock from the very beginning. Both Timo and I were aspiring flute players, so discovering a rare jazz flautist who was as versatile and creative as Steig was a real treat for us. At that time, almost all jazz flutists were primarily saxophonists who doubled on the smaller instrument, but Jeremy Steig was a flutist first. The first record I remember hearing was ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ (1971), which featured a small group of leading contemporary jazz musicians, such as Eddie Gomez and Don Alias, but playing to a funky rock beat. The music was free in a loose format with largely improvised interplay. Again, I went back to older albums by Steig, such as the 1968 ‘Jeremy & The Satyrs’ which embodied the psychedelic spirit of the era.

Jeremy Steig had grown up in the straight jazz tradition and had been on the New York scene since the early-1960s. He released his first album as a leader, ‘Flute Fever’, in 1963. The album featured a traditional piano trio with young Denny Zeitlin. His greatest claim to fame in mainstream modern jazz was, however, ‘What’s New’ recorded with the pianist Bill Evans, backed by Eddie Gomez and Marty Morell, in 1969. The song list consists of standards, such as ‘Straight No Chaser’, ‘Lover Man’ and ‘Autumn Leaves’ but the treatment was novel and the playing enormously creative and interactive. Jeremy later told me how in those days, there were no fancy music schools for jazz musicians to take a shortcut to fame; the only way was just to practice and play and try to get the chance to be accepted to sit in with the established stars in clubs. To me, one of the best collaborations was the rather free form album ‘Outlaws’, recorded in 1976, with just Eddie Gomez on bass and Jeremy Steig on flute and alto flute.

Jeremy Steig’s flute playing was truly unique. He had perfected his jazz chops but then moved more towards a crossover style, adopting techniques that incorporated singing into the flute and ample use of overtones. What contributed to his special sound was a motorbike accident at 19 that left a side of his face paralyzed. He re-learned to play and rebuilt his face muscles, but never fully recovered from the damage. In the 1960s Jeremy would sit in with both jazz and rock groups at live performances in New York’s Greenwich Village. He observed that he could still solo “with integrity” over the funky beats of rock bands. “We decided that we’d invented jazz-rock … Of course, there were about 50 other people who had come to the same conclusion,” he later mused (New York Times, June 2, 2016).

It was in Greenwich Village where I caught Jeremy Steig on one of his rare live appearances in 2007 (see my review of the gig). The gig was amazing, with Jeremy playing as innovative music as ever, alternating between the regular and alto and bass flutes (one of his last records – the 2007 ‘Pterodactyl’ – consisted of only overdubs with flutes of different sizes from piccolo to bass). After the show I went to talk with him and his wife Asako who was acting as his manager. We established a good rapport and followed up with a dinner in a nice restaurant in the Village on another evening not long after. A common element was found in the fact that we both had spent a lot of time in Japan. As it happens, Asako hails from Morioka, not far from my wife’s hometown in the same northern Japanese prefecture, Iwate. Asako and Jeremy established a home in Yokohama, which is where Jeremy passed away.

Over the long dinner we discussed many matters, around and beyond music. Jeremy considered himself retired, “senior citizen”, as he repeatedly mentioned. He hadn’t made new records since the above mentioned ‘Pterodactyl’ and the excellent 2007 quartet recording ‘Flute on the Edge’, both produced and released on his own label. He seldom performed but he continued to paint, which had long been his other artistic passion. In fact, he produced the cover art for several of his albums and lately he and Asako created a series of ‘digital picture books’ with his art. Jeremy’s interests were wide and included politics. I remember him raving about the book, Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins, which detailed how American firms had taken over developing countries by convincing them to take huge loans for construction and infrastructure projects.

Sadly, Jeremy Steig never became a household name, even amongst jazz aficionados. Still his music was highly influential in many respects. He made appearances as sideman on recordings by famous artists ranging from Art Farmer and Urbie Green to Johnny Winter and Tommy Bolin. One of my favorites is his performance on a rather obscure, but lovely pop tune, ‘Hurricane’ by Dee Carstensen. As Jeremy would tell, the most money he ever made through his music was in 1994 when the Beastie Boys sampled his 1970 ‘Howlin’ for Judy’ for their hit ‘Sure Shot’.

Sadao Watanabe @ The Blue Note, September 8, 2008

Sadao Watanabe is one of the grand old men of Japanese jazz, so when I saw that he would give one of his increasingly infrequent performances on this side of the globe I decided it would be an event not to be missed. It was also opportune since my old friend Pekka was visiting from Helsinki and wanted to hear some good live music. So we headed to the Blue Note in West Village. Luckily we arrived early as the place was quickly getting crowded. We were still able to secure stools at the bar with a perfect view of the stage; had we arrived 15 minutes later this would not have been possible. Needless to say, as is always the case at New York jazz clubs, many in the audience were Japanese, either locals or visiting. Jazz is a major Japanese interest and famous clubs like the Blue Note are a must for many tourists from the Land of the Rising Sun. However, word of the rare performance had spread in the Big Apple music circles and the performance was soon sold out to a thoroughly mixed audience.

The 75-year-old master entered the stage quite promptly on schedule. He was in a joyful mood and thanked the sponsors of the trip, as this had allowed him to travel with his own band from Japan, as opposed to putting together a group of local musicians on the spot. Playing with his own band guaranteed the performance’s tightness.

The first number, as well as the one that followed it, were light hearted romps. Watanabe’s alto sax sound was as clear and beautiful as ever. The youthful band played the rolling funk so cheerfully, prompting Pekka to suggest that it sounded almost vacuous and that especially the guitar played by Jun Kajiwara was even too light. I had to agree. Luckily, this mood was only for the beginning. Already the third tune, a version of Dizzy’s classic Salt Peanuts, carried much more weight. Even if the piece is not known for any manner of serious-mindedness, it provided the sax man a chance to show off some serious be-bop chops.

This was followed by the lovely ballad You Should Go Now, which Watanabe interpreted wonderfully. His alto was crisp singing the melancholy melody with lyrical determination. The keyboardist Akira Onozuka, now on acoustic piano, was equally expressive in his solo demonstrating some highly original harmonies.

After this, the mood turned outright festive with tunes like the Brazilian favourite Chega de Saudade (which aptly translates into ‘end of melancholy’) boosting the rhythm section, consisting of Kiichiro Komobuchi (electric bass), Masaharu Ishikawa (drums) and N'diasse Niang (percussion), into infectious samba swing.

Around this time one Japanese customer was forcibly removed from the club by two large security guards. I did not see what caused this incident, but I had earlier paid attention to the middle aged man when he was hanging around the bar before the performance. It was not only his somewhat unusual outfit – a fedora and a leather vest on top of a tank-top – but the threatening way he was eyeing the other customers. This was the first time I had witnessed anything similar at this venue – or with Japanese customers.

Nevertheless, the show went on and the audience was growing more and more enthusiastic. To me, the high point of the evening was a tune, which Sadao Watanabe explained he had heard a young woman sing on the Indian Ocean beach in Tanzania years ago. He had approached the beautiful lady and asked about the song. He later adapted the traditional tune to this new format. He played the haunting melody with a breathy flute before turning back to his sax for the solo. The piece also highlighted the percussionist, N'diasse Niang, who was the only non-Japanese player in the band. Watanabe had originally encountered him in the National Ballet of Senegal but the man now lived in Yokohama. His solos throughout the evening received some of the most enthusiastic applause.

This was all in all a lovely performance by an old Sensei surrounded by a select group of his disciples.

Svajanam/Kinsmen – Dakshina Ensemble featuring Kadri Gopalnath and Rudresh Mahanthappa @ Asia Society, New York, November 7, 2007

The evening was truly unique. Two alto saxophone masters with both their roots in South India on the stage together: Kadri Gopalnath and Rudresh Mahanthappa – hence the title of the collaboration: Svajanam means ‘kinsmen’ in Sanskrit. But as to their approach to the saxophone, in many ways, the similarities between the two ended with their instruments and ethnicity. Despite this, the music that followed presented an amazing amalgamation of classical Indian tradition and that of American jazz.

The collaboration in practice brought together two bands each led by the respective sax masters. Kadri Gopalnath is celebrated as the first person to play Indian classical music with the decisively Western instrument, the saxophone. His renditions of Carnatic music of South India have brought him fame in his home country, as well as abroad through his many recordings and concerts in North America, Europe, Australia and Asian countries. On this night, his cohorts included the renowned female violinist A. Kanyakumari and Poovalur Sriji on various Indian percussions and electronics. Dressed in traditional garb and seated on rugs placed on a small stand on the stage, the trio could have performed pure Indian classical music.

To their left stood Rudresh Mahanthappa with his New York-based jazz quartet, consisting of guitarist Rez Abbasi, Carlo De Rosa on bass and royal hartigan on drums. Mahanthappa is by many considered one of the most original young voices on the alto sax and has been recognized as such by the prestigious Down Beat magazine over the past several years. Elegant in a black suit and dark blue shirt, wearing his wavy hair long, he looked the part of the young jazz lion that he is.

I am only making this distinction between the two sides to emphasize the varying starting points of the musicians. In reality, on stage the two musical traditions melded seamlessly into one, flowing in and out of the moulds. Both leaders, each of them masters of improvisation, soloed powerfully throughout the evening. Gopalnath blew lengthy raga-like scales covering the full range of the instrument from the honking low register to whining laments on the upper reaches. Curiously, he would sit back and remove the headjoint of his colourfully decorated sax every time any of the other musicians would start soloing.

Deeply rooted in be-bop, Mahanthappa’s playing was bluesy and his articulation more syncopated than that of his older kinsman. Mahanthappa’s alto sound is clear and unsentimental even when soaring through fast and complex runs.

The concert was paced to alternate heated rhythms created by the Indian team with Gopalnath and A. Kanyakumari’s flexible solos and pensive moods when the two traditions merged to produce new and often hauntingly beautiful moments. Some of the highlights featured Mahanthappa’s solo ballads that were matched by the inventive guitar of the Karachi-born Rez Abbasi, a rising star in modern jazz guitar in his own right.

The two Americans forming the jazz foundation of the band demonstrated their sensitivity and big ears throughout the evening. Both De Rosa and royal hartigan responded to the challenges created by the musical adventure in an extraordinarily imaginative way. Their collaboration with Poovalur Sriji’s complicated and impressive rhythms was both respectful and adding nuance to the melange. Sriji’s own credentials, ranging from performing with Western artists, such as Yehudi Menuhin and Bela Fleck, as well as with leading Indian musicians, speak for themselves. Carlo De Rosa produced one of the most memorable solos of the evening on his upright bass.

The truth is that the musicians were truly able to cross over the musical barriers that lesser talents might find insurmountable. At the end of the evening, the listener did not think about the contrasting idioms of Indian classical music and jazz; one only remembered a rewarding musical experience in which the totality was distinctly larger than the sum of its parts. Svajanam first debuted on these same premises at the Asia Society in 2005. As the creators hoped writing in the concert leaflet, Svajanam truly highlighted the “multi-faceted intricacies and intersections of jazz and Carnatic music thus creating a sound that transcends the label of ‘Indo-Jazz fusion’.” I look forward to a long continuation of this fruitful collaboration. Kadri Gopalnath and Rudresh Mahanthappa truly are kinsmen.

© Juha Uitto 2007

Fred Ho and the Afro Asian Music Ensemble @ BAM Café, Brooklyn, NY, 12 November 2005

What a day! Only in New York City can you experience such a variety of performances in one day. This afternoon we went to the 1st Chinatown Asian Music Festival (see a separate posting); then saw two ballets, Les Noces & Petrushka composed by Igor Stravinsky, adapted in a contemporary fashion by the Italian Compagnia Aterballetto, performed at the Brooklyn Academy of Music; and then finished off the evening at the BAM café listening to a superbly entertaining performance by Fred Ho and the Afro Asian Music Ensemble. The Ensemble, led tightly through the occasionally complex arrangements by its leader, performed a unique blend of straight blown jazz, avant garde and funk, all deeply rooted in the traditions. Fred Ho has been a highly innovative musician, composer, arranger and bandleader successfully mixing idioms for more than twenty years (www.bigredmediainc.com). Tonight’s band lived up to its multicultural title: three of the performers were of Asian origin, three of African, and two white. The musical mix was amazing, although firmly rooted in jazz.

The set began with a suite from Fred Ho’s (then called Houn) first album in the mid-1980s. The three-saxophone lead was strongly reminiscent of Duke Ellington’s harmonies, occasionally lapsing into a free format, while vocalist Jennifer Kidwell recited poetry. Next came a rendition of Billie Holiday’s God Bless the Child beautifully and powerfully sung by Kidwell. Billie Holiday classics returned with Strange Fruit Revisited, a rather ambitious arrangement of the tune with the three reed players producing exhilarating sounds with interesting combinations, such as clarinet, soprano sax and baritone sax. In between the interesting interludes in different tempos and timbres, the skillful Kidwell was allowed to swing with the original tune.

The saxophones, anchored firmly by the leader’s thick baritone, provided the main timbre of the evening. Fred Ho is as solid a baritone player as you’d ever find in a band. I’ve always admired the sound of this large horn, having played it in various bands during and after high school (I hasten to add that any comparison of my playing to Fred Ho’s would be badly insulting to the composer and band leader). There are too few players who master the big horn. Fred Ho’s sound on the baritone is big and solid, and he plays the parts firmly and tightly, but seldom ventures into extended solos. The main solo role tonight was left for Ed Jackson, the versatile alto saxist who played the ensemble leads with a beautiful sweet tone and the solos equally fluently in a post-bop as well as free modes.

One of the highlights of the evening was when the band played excerpts of Ho’s Black Panther Suite, with allusions to James Bond themes, but in 5/4. Jackson blew some amazing lines in his solo. Another extended piece was the Free Mumia Suite dedicated to Mumia Abu-Jamal, a black journalist on death row since 1982 for allegedly shooting a police officer.

The band was then augmented beyond the usual jazz setting by the Japanese stringed instrument Koto played by Yumiko Ozawa. Her slender figure appeared on the stage dressed in a long pink dress that was more reminiscent of romantic Shanghai images than Japan. Her electrified instrument provided a colorful backdrop as the ostinatos she played blended with those by the leader on his baritone and the rhythm section. Fred Ho’s composition from the martial arts-sword epic Deadly She-Wolf Assassin at Armageddon again blended highly original music with innovatively treated influences, such as quotations from the Juan Tizol classic Caravan played in 10/4 against an electric bass pattern.

The set ended with Fred Ho’s tribute to the recently deceased altoist entitled Sweet Sam Fernis that again highlighted Ed Jackson’s considerable skills and sensibilities as the soloist. The tune moved between sounds and rhythms ranging from swing to waltz to Latin beat.

The evening proved that Fred Ho is still one of the most innovative composers and bandleaders on the scene. His complex and skillfully delivered music is artful and serious; yet, hearing Fred Ho will guarantee that everyone in the audience leaves with a smile on the face.