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Bob Brookmeyer & Friends is a wholly appropriate title for this record. The album features musicians to whom the much abused term “all stars” could be applied without fear of contradiction, and yet—because of the performers’ mutual sympathy—the prevailing atmosphere is remarkably relaxed and unified and warm.
Of course, Bob Brookmeyer and Stan Getz have made music together before. The valve trombonist (who is also a gifted composer, arranger and pianist) was a member of the Stan Getz Quintet, vintage 1953, a group fondly remembered by all who had the pleasure of hearing it—on records or in person. This recording marks one of their infrequent reunions since then, but though their individual conceptions have matured and developed, the old empathy remains.
One reason for this is that both men are essentially melodic improvisers. They don’t just play around with chord changes; they give the melodic lines a chance to sing. And both Brookmeyer and Getz have ideas in which the production of warm and appealing sounds plays a considerable role.
The supporting cast assembled by Brookmeyer for himself and his erstwhile boss is much more than just that, and all its members get a chance to step out on their own. Miles Davis’ pianist and bassist, John Coltrane’s drummer, and Stan Getz’ vibraharpist is not a bad lineup, to say the least.
It is interesting to hear these men our of their usual context, and they all prove their adaptability to the new surrounds with flying colors. Fanciers of Elvin Jones’ work with Coltrane, for example, will be intrigued by his playing on this session, which is quite different from his norm and yet bears the unmistakable stamp of his highly individual musical personality. Carter’s bass is solid as a rock, and his ear is exceptional. Herbie Hancock and Gary Burton, the youngsters of the assembly, both have a strongly lyrical vein to their playing, making their background and solo work a perfect foil for the horns.
The program consists of several first-rate popular standards, three Brookmeyer originals stamped with his accustomed inventiveness and wit, and a pleasantly nostalgic but swinging tune, “Sometime Ago,” by the Yugoslav bassist and composer Sergio Mihanovich.
All the performances are of a remarkably sustained quality, but if one were asked to point out some of the highlights, attention could be called to the tongue-in-cheek country flavor of Brookmeyer’s opening “Jive Hoot;” the beautifully balanced solo work of Getz and Brookmeyer on Hoagy Carmichael’s “Skylark” (a fine old tune); Getz’s three stomping choruses on “Who Cares;” the remarkable interplay between the horns on “Sometime Ago,” on which Herbie Hancock takes an outstanding solo; Gary Burton’s work on “The Wrinkle,” a piece which makes deft use of “stop-time” devices; Elvin Jones’ “fours” on “Bracket.”
There is much more, but this is not the kind of jazz that needs play-by-play program notes. The music speaks for itself, in accents, aware of the present but informed by the past, warmly and with conviction. And the playing of Getz should be a lesson to those who tend to equate great popular success with a lessening of creative ability.
Bob Brookmeyer And Friends have here provided a most pleasant and rewarding musical companionship.
Dan Morgenstern |
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| | Jive Hoot |  | | Misty | | | The Wrinkle | | | Bracket | | | Skylark | | | Sometime Ago | | | I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face | | | Who Cares | | | Day Dream | | | Time for Two | | | Pretty Girl | |
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Bob Brookmeyer, valve trombone
Stan Getz, tenor saxophone
Gary Burton, vibraphone
Herbie Hancock, piano
Ron Carter, bass
Elvin Jones, drums
Tony Bennett, vocal on “Day Dream” only |
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