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Vinyl Freak | By john corbett
Baikida Carroll
The Spoken Word
Hathut, 1979
That’s what happens when a record label waits
so long to reissue a great LP—the music gets
posted on YouTube. You can listen to all of St.
Louis trumpet player Baikida Carroll’s late ’70s
solo record, nicely transferred from the gatefold
double LP, on your laptop or PC. Nobody
would argue that the fidelity is as good as the
original (let’s face it, MP3s just mash out the
acoustics), but then again, thanks to one
13Samarkand, the beneficent soul who has
taken the time to upload the vinyl, now anyone
in reach of a computer can hear it. It definitely
deserves a listen.
Carroll was part of the Black Artists Group
(BAG), St. Louis’ equivalent to Chicago’s Association
for the Advancement of Creative Musicians.
He joined BAG in ’68 and quickly became
a central figure alongside Julius Hemphill, Oliver
Lake, Joseph Bowie, Charles “Bobo” Shaw
and Luther Thomas. He played on Hemphill’s
monumentally important debut, Dogon A.D.,
and, following the lead of the Art Ensemble of
Chicago, left the United States for a year, along
with several colleagues, to play in Europe in the
early ’70s. While there, in ’73, he led the collective’s
first record, Black Artists Group In Paris,
an incredibly rare slab of wax. I’d never heard
it until I got the reissue, which finally
came out last year. It confirms what a
forceful and unique voice Carroll had on
his instrument.
That’s amply demonstrated on The
Spoken Word. Solo trumpet records
are rare enough and were even more so
30 years ago. Carroll would have had
Lester Bowie’s broad, hilarious “Jazz
Death” (from the 1968 Roscoe Mitchell
LP Congliptious) to consider, a few Leo
Smith outings, but for the most part solo
wind was reserved for the reeds. The
Spoken Word is less bodacious than Bowie,
sparer, in places even quite aggressively experimental.
On “The Spoken Word I,” which starts
with some quiet burbling mouth noises, Carroll
uses a tube extension to create a bleating
saxophone sound. On the other hand, Carroll
approaches “Rites And Rituals” with the beautiful,
radiant tone that most recalls Smith, using
measured, phrase-by-phrase introspection
and leaving odd spaces between his gorgeous
lines. With crickets in the background laying a
pulse bed, Carroll plays gentle, sweet and sour
melodies, adding Harmon mute, then bathing
his soft calls in reverb. It’s a very special record,
extremely approachable, lovely and refreshing.
Hathut’s early years included a great
number of wonderful releases that have
never been made officially available in digital
form—numerous Joe McPhee LPs, a revelatory
solo David S. Ware twofer and a Philip
Wilson record with a youthful Olu Dara. It’s
certainly one of the most important archives
of untapped vinyl, gaining in obscurity with
each year, aching to be reissued. Until then,
happy hunting! DB
Email the vinyl freak:
vinylfreak@downbeat.com
More than 60 years separate the first jazz recording in 1917 and the introduction of the CD in the early ’80s. In this column, DB’s Vinyl Freak unearths some
of the musical gems made during this time that have yet to be reissued on CD.
Annual ‘Great Night in Harlem’ Benefit Rallies Surprise Lineup
No one knew who was going to
pop up unannounced at the
Apollo Theater to join the top-notch
roll call of artists at the May 19 Jazz
Foundation of America’s (JFA) annual
“A Great Night in Harlem” benefit
concert. This year offered many
surprises, as Donald Fagen lifted
off into “Hesitation Blues,” Ronnie
Spector strutted the stage to a doowop-inspired
“You Belong To Me”
and NRBQ pianist Terry Adams
leaped out of semi-retirement to a
good-times, jazzy spin of “Hey, Good
Lookin’.”
Even the spirited house band, the
Kansas City Band, provided a jolt for the entire
show. The members weren’t from the city but
were reunited all-stars from Robert Altman’s
1996 jazz-infused film of the same name. The
lineup included James Carter, Geri Allen,
Curtis Fowlkes, Don Byron, Nicholas Payton
and Christian McBride, conducted—just as in
the film—by Steven Bernstein. It also helped
Richard Conde
Dr. John (left) and Nicholas Payton
that the Apollo event’s musical supervisor was
mover-and-shaker producer Hal Willner, whose
resume includes the Altman movie.
In its early days, the event could ramble on
for disorganized hours, but Willner made sure
the music, awards and testimonies finished in
exactly two. He also directed the assembled talent
to bring out the best of their repertoire for
an organization whose sobering but
joy-making call to mission is to provide
in-need jazz and blues elders with
healthcare and rent as well as create
gigs in schools (jazzfoundation.org).
Highlights of the announced acts
included a grizzled-blues duo medley
by Dr. John and Payton, a moving souljazz
take on “God Bless The Child” by
Macy Gray and a performance by Lou
Reed. Reed first electrified the audience
with “Night Time” and ended
the evening with “Perfect Day” (from
his 1972 Transformer LP), concluding
with an all-band singalong of the chorus
lyrics, “You’re going to reap just
what you sow.”
The show’s execution was a mammoth
undertaking, but it was pulled off successfully.
In her introductory remarks that evening,
JFK Executive Director Wendy Atlas
Oxenhorn said simply and wisely, “Tonight
is to remind us to be human beings, not
human doings.” —Dan Ouellete
SEPTEMBER 2011 DOWNBEAT 15