Into The Vaults

Aired February 23, 2000

One of the joys of jazz comes after you've explored the pantheon: Armstrong, Ellington, Basie, Tatum, Hawkins, Young, Parker, Powell, Monk, Davis, Rollins, Coltrane, et. al (feel free to add your own deities). The recordings by the giants will often lead to you seek the albums by the musicians who have accompanied them who also catch your ear and interest.

While not as influential as the heavyweights, many of these players have crafted bodies of work that are well worth exploring. With the reissue of two albums previously only available in Japan, Blue Note has gone a long way in calling attention to two such musicians: pianist Sonny Clark and tenor saxophonist Tina Brooks. As part of its Connoisseur Series, Blue Note has released Clark's My Conception (BN 22674) and Brooks' Minor Move (BN 22671).

The two artists had a several things in common. Both were second generation modern jazz players. "Bebop" provides the framework for their approach, but their sounds were leavened with gospel, funk and a deep sense of the blues, which places them squarely in the"hard bop" camp . Clark and Brooks did their best work on Blue Note from the mid 50s to late 50s and through the early 60s. Neither ever gained much recognition outside the admiration of their fellow players, and a devoted coterie of hard core fans. Clark's career ended in 1963 with his early death. Brooks continued to play until he passed away in 1974, but did not record after 1961.

Sonny Clark

Clark was born in the coal-mining town of Herminie, Pennsylvania in 1931. When he was 12, Clark's family moved to Pittsburgh where he began his professional career while still in high school. At age 20 , he and his older brother traveled to the West Coast to visit an aunt. The visit was scheduled to last a few months but lasted several years. Clark worked around Los Angeles until he joined bass player Oscar Pettiford's band in 1953, and headed with the group to San Francisco. Toward the end of the year he became a member of Buddy DeFranco's quartet. He spent two and a half years with the clarinetist then returned to California, where he joined Howard Rumsey's Lighthouse All Stars. Clark began to long for a return to the East Coast. The laid-back sound of West Coast jazz was in full swing at the time, and Clark missed the fire and bluesy directness that was more of a feature in East Coast groups. So he joined Dinah Washington's band early in 57, as much for the ride back east as the chance to play.

It didn't take long for Clark to become an in-demand player following his arrival in New York. By the summer of 1957, he had landed a recording contract with Blue Note. Between June 1957 and March 1959, Clark headed up eight Blue Note dates, and appeared on another fifteen for the label as a sideman. He then took a hiatus from the label for about two and a half years, returning in the fall of 1961. Over the next year the pianist played thirteen dates for Blue Note as a sideman and made another session under his own name. Clark suffered a heart attack in the fall of 1962. He was released from the hospital early in 1963. A few days after his release, Clark died of a drug overdose.

Harold Brooks

Harold Brooks was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina in 1932. The family moved to the Bronx when he was 12 where he began studying the C Melody saxophone. The diminutive boy picked up the nickname "Tina" (pronounced Teena) which was a derivation of tiny or "teeny." Brooks small stature caused him problems. He only lasted a few years in New York because the bigger kids kept beating him up at school. He returned to Fayetteville until his senior year when he moved back to New York. By that time Brooks had mastered the alto and tenor. In the early 50s, he began working R&B circuit playing behind singers. In 1955, Brooks landed a job with the Lionel Hampton band but found the music too confining.

Things changed the following year, when Brooks became friends with trumpeter Benny Harris. He taught the young tenor saxophonist many of the elements of modern jazz. Pianist Elmo Hope also became a friend and mentor. Late the following year, Harris convinced Blue Note owner Alfred Lion to come to a club to hear Brooks. Lion was taken with his playing and hired Brooks for a February 1958 recording session under Jimmy Smith's leadership, that produced the popular albums, The Sermon and House Party. Brooks would record four albums under his own for the label from 1959 to 1961, but only one 1960's True Blue would actually be released during the tenor saxophonist's life. Brooks gained further notice for his contributions to Freddie Hubbard's first album, Open Sesame. He also recorded with alto player Jackie McLean, and pianist Freddie Redd, but by mid 1961, his recording career was over. He continued to work in clubs for the next few years, but poor health and his shy personality, limited his activity on the New York scene. Brooks died of kidney failure in 1974.

About the Recordings:

My Conception, recorded in the spring of 1959, was the final session Clark made for Blue Note during his first go around with the label. Minor Move, from March 1958, was to have been Brooks first album under his own name, but some slightly sloppy ensemble work probably displeased Blue Note producer Alfred Lion enough to have the recording shelved. Both Clark and Brooks recordings first saw of the light of day when issued in Japan in 1980. The Brooks recording was included in a box set The tenor man's work was released by Mosaic a few years ago.

Clark favors long flowing solo lines, which at times prompt a listener to think of Lennie Tristano, but the similarity ends at that point. Clark's major influence, like many of the pianists of his generation, is Bud Powell. But there are differences. Clark doesn't reflect the influence of Art Tatum as much as Powell does in his work. He's less of a virtuoso and employs less dissonance than Powell. Clark's playing exhibits a stronger emphasis on making it sound "bluesy", which was common in the hard bop 50's and 60's. In many respects, Clark's solo work sounds like a meeting of Powell and Horace Silver. Clark is more streamlined and direct than the former, and less overtly funky than the latter. To his credit, Clark never allows his playing to descend into "soulful" cliches that marred many a hard bop session.

Like Clark, Brooks also plays the long lines that are common among his generation. And also like Clark, Brooks shows his connections to his predecessors - you can hear Lester Young, Bird, and Dexter Gordon in his work. Being a hard bopper, Brooks comes with a darker tone, his playing was once described as mix of "muscle and melancholy". Like Lester Young, Brooks has a smooth rhythmic feel that gives his work a sense of floating swing. He crafts solos that might not have the melodic invention of Pres -how many do? - but the force of his presence gets his point across.

So what of the albums?

Both recordings are very representative of the sound of jazz on Blue Note during the time. These albums are hard bop, pure and simple. A track-by-track breakdown is kind of pointless for either session. The title tune on the Brooks date is a good example of what you'd hear on either date. A minor theme which moves to major bridge, with a bit of a Latin feel, is stated by the horns. Solos for the Brooks, trumpeter Lee Morgan and Clark, who serves as pianist for the date. Following solos, the theme is restated and on to the next tune. Typical Blue Note fare of the period, right? Exactly, which is what makes it appealing. You know what you are going to get on these albums. The players are comfortable with the forms which allow them to craft statements that are direct and filled with feeling, but always in control. The musicians swing with force, but there seems to be a natural, almost conversational quality to their playing. These guys know what story they want to tell, and they tell it.

Both sessions have a modified march (Brooks/"Nutville" and Clark/"Junka"), and a ballad (Brooks/ "Everything Happens to Me" and Clark/"My Conception"). The Clark date features more originals including three of his more memorable pieces, "Minor Meeting," "Royal Flush" and "Some Clark Bar". Brooks chooses standards with a up tempo romp through, "The Way You Look Tonight", and "Star Eyes" is played with comfortable loping groove, which you don't hear much of these days.

Tenor saxophonist Hank Mobley (Clark) shares a number of stylistic similarities with Brooks. Doug Watkins (Clark) and Paul Chambers (Brooks) have easily defined roles - making sure things keep swinging by walking the bass to death to provide rock solid time, and by breaking out the bow for a tune or two. Art Blakey is the drummer for both dates. He propels players into solos with his patented press roll, thunders through his trading of fours with the soloists and generally plays in a style that is interactive but isn't as conversational as the drummers we've become used to hearing- be it Jack DeJohnette, Billy Higgins or Tony Williams.

So which one to get?

Depends on what you want. Trumpeter Donald Byrd acquits himself nicely on the Clark date, reminding us why he was so highly in demand as a sideman during the period. However, I'd give the nod to Brooks choice of the young Lee Morgan. Morgan reflects his debt to Clifford Brown. But unlike Brown, whose playing always had a smooth polish, Morgan's playing tends to have less gleam and more of the crackle of youthful exuberance. You can also start to hear the sardonic side of Morgan's sound that would become more apparent in the 1960's when it begin to show itself.

Clark's session is a more varied program, with its original tunes and the inclusion of three bonus tracks from a 1957 date with guitarist Kenny Burrell and tenor saxophonist Clifford Jordan. The pianist's album has more of a hard bop feel than Brooks, whose approach to standards tends to reflect a bit more of a straight bop groove. Clark's session also seems to have a bit more polish in the ensemble work.

As with any art form, occasionally among jazzers you'll find aficionados who try to equate obscurity with a genius that the commoners just weren't hip enough to discover. They try to elevate lesser known performers to a higher level to make themselves feel that they are on to something that no one else knows. Not the case here. Both these dates are solid, sometimes special recordings by two musicians who played solid, sometimes special jazz. No more, no less. Clark and Brooks played finger popping, bluesy hard bop. Bottom line? You won't go wrong with either of these sessions if you like the sound of jazz, as heard for the most part, from 1955-to 65.