Jazz Review
Max Harrison : August, 1960

The artist who has gone on to further achievements will probably deplore critics returning to his earlier, less successful, less typical work. There seems especial point in doing so in this case, however, for this 1951 recording was the first to reveal the nature of Mulligan’s potential and to include all the elements—some still in provisional form—of his mature style. Insofar as a musician’s development can be documented with records we may, with our knowledge of his later work, point to this LP as the beginning of the real Mulligan, Until this time none of his records had given much indication of what direction he was likely to take. Items such as Waterworks and Night on Bop Mountain—recorded with Kai Winding in 1949—had no real group feeling; extemporizations like those on Chubby Jackson’t So What and I May be Wrong of 1950 contained some individual ideas but were not outstanding. On the other hand, Mulligan had contributed valuably to Miles Davis’ 1948 nonet. The records that group made for Capitol in 1949 and 1950 have become indisputable classics but in collective endeavors of that kind some compromises are unavoidable. Michael James put the matter very illuminatingly in his essay on Mulligan in the November 1957 Jazz Monthly: “The particular weakness of such experiments is the absence of a consistent emotional pulse. It is true Davis emerged as the leading soloist and that his contributions lend the recordings a sort of creative unity. No one need be reminded of the importance of the new scoring devices. Such commendable innovations are infrequent enough to warrant liberal praise. Nonetheless, every soloist makes some concession to the need for musical unity, and the result may conveniently be described as a brilliant compromise.” If these Prestige titles are Mulligan’s first to embody a coherent expression of a tangible and consistent musical personality, with at least some integration between writing and improvisation, it is because they are the first of which he had sole charge. The instrumentation is not as unconventional as that of the Davis nonet, nor does it have so wide a range of tone-color, but is unusual in employing two baritones and no alto. Mulligan no doubt had the Claude Thornhill and Elliot Lawrence bands of that time in mind when he decided to use two baritones to obtain a full, heavy, dark-toned ensemble sound.

Unity of conception is apparent both in the compositions, which are all Mulligan’s and represent the first real crystallization of this aspect of his talent, and in the almost uniform level of the saxophone solos. Bweebida Bobbida (originally called September Serenade) and Funhouse are the most interesting pieces. In the former, brass and saxes alternate two strong and contrasting figures over a neutral rhythmic background during the first sixteen bars. In the final eight of the theme chorus the same phrases are swung strongly as they lead into Eager’s solo. The references to the theme in Mulligan’s solo increase the feeling of continuity and the only weak link is the tense playing of Jerry Hurwitz. Funhouse was almost the first indication we had of Mulligan’s liking for the stark contrapuntal lines over a simple accompaniment, that were to become such a feature of his Quartet. These two also hint at later compositions: the ensemble bridge between Eager’s and Hurwitz’s solos in Bweebida is the origin of Western Reunion, while Funhouse reminds us of Bernie’s Tune—and of Jimmy Raney’s Minor too. Mullenium is the most attractive theme melodically and, together with Funhouse, foreshadows something of the Quartet’s emotional atmosphere, if not its musical organization. Kaper swings exceptionally well—always a prime concern with Mulligan—and Roundhouse is the only poor composition included. It is reminiscent of Shorty Roger’s banal efforts.

Most of the solos are by Mulligan, Eager and Wallington. Eager plays a personal variant and diminution of Lester Young and his best solo is on Bweebida. Wallington’s contributions are not representative of his real powers, and little he does here is really distinguished. In his solos Mulligan displays greater force and clarity in his thinking than he had shown before. Roughness of tone remained but the increased discipline in phrase formation was most notable in his thirty-five choruses in the eighty-one chorus Mulligan’s Too. He was at that time an inferior instrumentalist to Chaloff or Lars Gullin but the ability to sustain those thirty-five choruses augured as well for his future as a composer as his handling of the session did for his future as a leader.

-----

Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk, VA)
Robert C. Smith : 04/15/1956

Re-recordings of Imperfect Jazz Recordings are Imperative for Modernist Afficionados

The program devoted to re-mastering early and imperfect LPs on the more substantial and higher-fi 12-inch discs moves apace in key jazz companies.

None of the modern jazz companies has a more valuable library for these purposes than Prestige. Two of the company’s latest releases – Lee Konitz with Tristano, Marsh, and Bauer and Mulligan plays Mulligan – touch some of the finest chords in the contemporary tradition.

The historic Konitz session with Lenny Tristano, including Progression and Judy, cut January 11, 1949, the later date with Warne Marsh on June 28 of the same year, and the Rebecca and Palo Alto session with Billy Bauer April 7, 1950, are all included. Rudy Van Gelder’s brilliant re-mastering goes a long way toward bringing out live sound in releases which originally were recorded on noisy services. This LP is a must for anyone who values the experimental end of modern jazz. The Mulligan, also treated to the Van Gelder technique, consists of an Aug. 27, 1951, date in which Gerry blew with Allen Eager, George Wallington and others. One side is a long Mulligan-Eager duel, Mulligan’s Too, while the other includes FunhouseKaper, and others. It is interesting to hear Mulligan’s rougher, less melodically formed baritone driving solidly in this early session.

-----

Liner Notes by Ira Gitler

Before Gerry Mulligan went to California to found his pianoless quartet and find gold, there were many lean days in New York. Whatever his financial hardships were, Gerry always managed to keep active musically by jamming around town and rehearsing various size groups for gigs that were never even in the offing. The latter is a very difficult thing to do. Even when there is a tentative engagement in view, it’s hard to round up the boys for a rehearsal. Getting them together to read just for the love of music is really a problem. Gerry could always get them not because he was a great organizer but rather on the strength of his music. Everyone was interested in playing his compositions and arrangements. When there were no studios to be had, Gerry improvised. One afternoon he took a big band down by the lake in Central Park. It was an ideal location but the police thought otherwise. Out of these rehearsals grew his first tentette, heard here in six selections all written and arranged by Gerry.

The second side of this LP is an example of the sessions which Gerry participated in during this period. He combines swinging and thinking very effectively, and the composer in him is evident in that as he improvises, he constantly constructs lines which are food for new compositions. The general informality, and relaxed interplay between Gerry and Allen Eager reveal a climate of jazz not often caught on record.