Billboard : 09/15/1956
Score of 75

“Primitive modern” is a rather misleading way to characterize baritone saxophonist Gil Melle‘s kind of music. Modern, yes; but primitive, no. In the liner notes, Melle explains, “My idea is to combine the simplest heavy-swinging rhythm with the most complex harmonies.” The end result is a dissonant, polytonal style that successfully weds complementary classical techniques with jazz emotions and beat. One of the most creditable of recent “experimental” type albums.

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High Fidelity : December 1956

Despite its ominous title, Primitive Modern by the Gil Melle Quartet is very listenable, rhythmic jazz featuring the leader’s baritone saxophone and a buoyant guitarist named Joe Cinderella.

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Saturday Review
Wilder Hobson : 10/27/1956

The ultra-modern wing of jazz this month produces works by the Gil Melle Quartet. Melle is a baritone saxophonist who has been strongly affected by Béla Bartók, and who is surrounded by Joe Cinderella, guitar; Billy Phillips, bass; and Edmund Thigpen, drums. Melle’s extensive program notes show him to be an exceedingly self-conscious and literate musician. His beautifully played music is a compound of intricate linear exercises (the Bartók comes through, to be sure), and improvisation in the same spirit. This may be wrapping the matter up altogether too neatly – I merely wish to say that I find the music full of fascinating texture and real jazz-rhythmic impulse. There are musical brains at work, and there is also spirit. The disc can be safely recommended to anyone interested in the movement of jazz into modern musical procedures.

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Down Beat : 10/31/1956
Nat Hentoff : 4 stars

Primitive Modern (an unfortunate and misleading title) is easily Melle‘s most substantial LP thus far and one that deserves to rescue him from the scuffling he’s had to battle through for too long. His associates are the unusually lucid and imaginative Joe Cinderella; bassist Billy Phillips, who has continued to grow and is, incidentally, very impressive bowing (Dominica); and the invariably tasteful, swinging drummer Ed Thigpen.

All the compositions are by Melle, and he explains both his general musical credo and his intentions for each work in a detailed set of notes that are longer than even George Avakian’s usually are. (The notes contain one appallingly uninformed assertion that Bach is “metronomic” and doesn’t swing.) Melle describes his desiderata concerning “the perfect admixture of classical techniques with jazz emotion and beat.”

He feels besides that the jazz rhythm section needs more polyrhythms and more “raw sounds” and accordingly has added an effective (in these pieces) two foot iron pipe that sounds a concert D and serves as a “low register triangle.” He also invented a drumstick with a metal collar “to permit the drummer to play the triangle without having to switch to a striker.” He uses the guitar both for melodic and contrapuntal purposes and for chording; he utilizes dissonant counterpoint, bitonalities, tritonalities; sometimes devises new scales to coincide with uncommon chords and will often “compose a special chord progression for use during the improvisatory phase of a work.”

All this would mean little emotionally if the works and the musicians didn’t take on jazz life. They do, and largely in fresh, many-mooded directions. The “jazz-dirge” Dominica, made up of contrasting sensitive phases is deeply affecting. The good-humouredly percussive. Ironworks is a challenging ball (despite Melle’s taking pains to point out that he wants never to write or sound like Mulligan, Ironworks is based on a very Mulliganesque theme). Ballet Time and Adventure Swing are sound pieces with stimulating Cinderella and indications of Melle’s growing authority as a jazz soloist although Cinderella is still the better, more distinctive soloist.

The rocking Dedicatory is again more Mulliganesque, including Melle’s playing in part, than Gill may realize. Mark One is a simple, flowing, two-line success. The LP is recommended as the emotional product of a thinking, unafraid-to-reach musician, but I’d also recommend you listen to the music before reading the notes.

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Liner Notes by Gil Melle

One of the rarest creatures in the world is a satisfied musician. At the completion of this album, our first for Prestige, we find ourselves experiencing that unusual moment in a musician’s life when he feels his work is well done. The music that you hear on this recording is the beginning of what I have striven for all of my musical life. It is a result of concentrated thought and experimentation, through a method of trial and error to unite the best of jazz with the most important musical developments of the twentieth century.

Modern jazz at it’s best is a wedding of the classics with the more modern developments native to jazz. This is the simplest explanation I can think of. Of course it is more or less a generalization. What I consider to be the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow is, as I have already stated, the amalgamation of the best of all jazz phases with the important musical developments of the twentieth century classical masters. “Why the twentieth century composers?” you may ask, “What of the great works of Bach, Beethoven and may others?” My answer is this. The intangible element that jazz centers itself upon, what is known as “jazz feeling” or “swinging” or “soul”, the element that is found in jazz and no other music; this same factor that cannot be taught by one musician to another or even learned in the most respected conservatory is present in spirit and essence in the works of several modern classicists. Bach’s work, being of metronomic character and in use as pianistic exercises, proves itself to be the antithesis of the very foundation of jazz. His work exemplifies the pre-1900 order of things musical, with the exclusion, of course, of such iconoclasts as Wagner and Debussy. Once, in 1949, I was listening to the Miraculous Mandarin Suite by Bela Bartok and suddenly found myself snapping my fingers to a section of the work which actually “swung”. Since then I have done a lot of probing into the works of this great genius, and so have the other musicians on this date. If any classicist could have written jazz, it was he.

From this you will no doubt gather that Bartok is my strongest influence classically. As for jazz influences the list would be far too long to include here, but you could be certain of finding the names of Ellington (the only true jazz composer) Parker, Konitz, Oliver, Basie, and more recently the wonderful Herbie Nichols.

I have found that many jazz men who have utilized the classical factor in their creations have leaned far too heavily on it, thereby over-shadowing the powerful swing possible in jazz. On the other hand, there are many “jazz modernists” who are unaware of the asset of knowing modern classical harmonies and devices. Their music is, of course, devoid of intellectual content. I have always tried to avoid these pitfalls but is is not always easy. The choice of musicians to perform the ideal music is difficult. Each must have in his mind a perfect sense of proportion of such, in order to create and recreate the perfect admixture of classical techniques with jazz emotion and beat. I know through long association with the musicians on this date that they have this ability.

Many people feel that “long-hair concoctions” have no place in jazz. I have often been confronted with “What are these guys trying to prove?” or “Why don’t you play something we all know?” I wonder if an earlier or the same generation said that upon first hearing the Potato Head Blues by Louis Armstrong? These people are half right in this sense. Classical innovations, as such, have no place in jazz, but they do have a very important place when they are transformed into a working part of speech of the jazz language. In their original state, rarely. Let me also make this very clear. I have never written or used a “different device” simply for the sake of being different. This would be wrong and completely contrary to my way of thinking. If jazz is to become a complex art-form of permanent stature, then the music departures I have used fill a very definite need.

If what we played here is in need of a nomen, I think that primitive modern jazz would render an adequate description. My idea is to combine the most simple heavy-swinging rhythm (bass and drums fulfilling this requirement) with the most complex harmonies and melodic structures for baritone and guitar. The next logical step would be to reverse these conditions. We now have two possibilities:

1. Simplified rhythmic pattern/Complex harmonic and melodic pattern

2. Simplified harmonic and melodic pattern/Complex rhythmic pattern.

The reader can readily see the remaining possibilities,

3. Simplified rhythmic pattern/Simplified harmonic and melodic pattern.

4. Complex rhythmic pattern/Complex harmonic and melodic pattern.

The above combinations are calculated in my compositions. During improvisation they are more or less done at will, a feat accomplished only by prolonged playing together, with these objects in mind.

In order to make these valuable tools a reality we must think of the bass as more than a pizzicato instrument capable of producing only an unending supply of quarter notes. The possibilities of expanding the duties of modern drumming also becomes apparent. Primitive fire reminiscent of African native drumming is essential. Complete dynamic control is a must. Modern polyrhythmic conception beyond the timeworn dactylic approach is a necessity. To the drummer belongs the world of Edgar Varese and his realm of raw sounds. The use of friction devices, chains anvils and sirens is not a crazy, far-fetched idea for a jazzman. It is rapidly nearing reality. In this album you will hear my first steps in this direction. One is the use of a two-foot iron pipe, approximately six inches in diameter, mounted in a wooden frame and suspended by wires, which sounds a perfect concert D. Its purpose is that of a “low register triangle.” It makes its debut in Dominica in the opening section. It is used here in conjunction with harmonics played by the guitar. The closing section of the same work also utilizes what I consider to be a valuable addition to the group, an iron pipe. I also designed a special drumstick with a metal collar whose purpose is to permit the drummer to play the triangle without having to switch to a striker. This is invaluable in a fast-tempo piece such as Ironworks in which triangle effects are called for throughout.

As I have stated in a previous album, the instrumentation of my group has no bearing on the Gerry Mulligan Quartet venture. The motivations and principles are not the same. He has eliminated the piano, I have substituted for it. In the case of a baritone saxophone accompaniment, the piano is unsatisfactory because it’s range coincides with that of the horn causing muddiness. Although it is possible for the pianist to play out of the baritone’s range, it is not practiced because pianists rely on the central and lower portions of the keyboard to lend body to their playing. The effective range of the guitar, on the other hand, is out of the baritone’s register. It can play the role of a “horn” for melodic and contrapuntal purposes, as in Mark I or can supply irreplaceable full chords when needed as in the release of the same selection. Normally it lends a light sound to the group, but it can also “blow you out of the room”. In any event, Mulligan is a good musician, but I entertain no desires to ever write or sound like him. Incidentally, and for the record, my first “pianoless” sides were on my first album which was released within a few days of Gerry’s first. The real credit for this idea goes to Ike Quebec who had been doing “pianoless” stints since 1940. Since the inception of my idea, that is the use of the guitar in place of a piano, many artists, jazz and otherwise, have made extensive use of it. In fact, Lars Gullin, who is my favorite baritonist, complimented me by duplicating my quartet a year later.

To continue with the primitive modern concept, I cannot possibly go into all of the details here but I shall list some of the devices heard in this album. My scale of harmonic function begins with the sounding of a single note, the pinnacle of consonance, and ends with a combination of all of the twelve tones sounded simultaneously at half-tone intervals apart, the ne plus ultra of modern dissonance. Frequent use is made of dissonant counterpoint. A good example may be found in bars 117-123 of Adventure Swing. We often use this device as our point of climax. The preceding and succeeding bars of this example illustrate our idea of successful pre-climax and anti-climax. This high point is of course of improvisatory nature. It can be found in preconceived form after the close of the guitar solo in Ironworks. Throughout the selections played here frequent use is made of bitonalities and tritonalities, the former throughout the latter in the themes and during the contrapuntally improvised sections. The “blue notes”, so essential to jazz, are based many times on the superimposed tonalities. Often when using uncommon chords, I am obliged to devise new scales to coincide with them rather than use a basic chord as a substitution during improvisation. These uncommon chords offer problems in notation, so I have worked out a system of musical shorthand to facilitate reading. Below are a few examples:

[Illustration]

Complete dynamic control is exercised, especially during improvisation, to create color and contrast. Only the bass is kept at a constant fff to compensate for the dynamic shortcomings of the instrument, thus maintaining balance, so essential in our harmonic structures throughout. Perhaps you have noticed after hearing the record, that our style of improvising is a bit different. The fact is that Joe, Billy and I have similar styles, each adopted to his own instrument. The reason for this is quite simple. We all play with a percussionistic approach to our instruments, a sound that we like and believe to be the coming trend in improvisation. Another idea that we use frequently is that of composing a special chord progression for use during the improvisatory phase of a work. Many times a progression that lends itself well to the theme falls short in providing an incentive-creating foundation for improvisation. I started doing this in 1952 on a slow piece entitled October and many times since it has proved successful in helping to create a good performance. In this album a special progression of this type is used on Ironworks. I believe it is the only instance in jazz in which an already difficult progression, being played at an extremely fast tempo, is made more difficult for improvisational purposes.

Concerning tonal colors, one must realize that in a group of this size, they are very limited. Of the possibilities available I would like to say that none is prettier than the effect produced by baritone and string bass playing two part lines (throughout Dominica and at the very end of Adventure Swing) and in unison (bars 34-36 of Ironworks).

THE COMPOSITIONS

Dominica is the slowest of the six and is intended as a jazz-dirge. It is dedicated to and named after a dear friend who passed away recently. It is the only composition here that is not homogeneous in regard to the primitive-modern concept. It is divided into five phases, one, three, and five being predominantly classical and two and four completely in the jazz idiom.

Mark One is a two-part composition of simple and rather pure lines. I have described the guitars function and importance here earlier in the notes. In the first eight bars, the baritone carries the main theme while the guitar plays the secondary melody in the next ten bars this order is reversed. The melody of the bridge is supported by chords that grow progressively dissonant.

The ten bars following the release are similar to the opening eight.

Ironworks is what I would call a humorous piece of music. It is one of my most difficult compositions to perform. It opens with an eight bar introduction by the ensemble and this is followed by a four bar post-introduction by the triangle. Then the melody begins, played by the guitar for the first sixteen bars. The accompaniment to this theme is played by the baritone and triangle, used here in juxtaposition to create rhythmic accents on one and three of bars 13-16, 21-24, and 37-40. The baritone carries the bridge theme. Joe Cinderella takes the first chorus and it is magnificent to hear a musician play with such fire as he does here. Billy Phillips also displays his brilliant imagination on the bass solo before the closing melody.

Adventure Swing is of definite Lydian and Hypophrygian character. This becomes obvious during improvisation. It is here that a fine talent such as Edmund Thigpen‘s really shines for the melodic line is constructed so as to provide openings for his inventive drumming.

Ballet Time is a quiet, swinging piece in contrast to the other selections excluding Dominica. It opens with a rubato solo by Joe that is strongly reminiscent of an old Scotch air.

Dedicatory Piece To The Geo-Physical Year Of 1957. Based on antiquated jazz motives in a modern setting. Bars 7-14 are based on a North African rhythmic pattern. Bars 35-40 are a perfect example of old jazz phrasing coupled with modern dissonant counterpoint. Bars 7-14 and 35-48 are inserts which are later discarded to preserve metric “swing” or transformed through the principles of contraction and expansion of harmonic materials. The bulk of the soloing here is based on the formula stated before:

Simplified rhythmic pattern. / Simplified harmonic and melodic pattern.

THE MUSICIANS

Joe Cinderella is without a doubt a most astounding musician. It is a pleasure to work with him because he never lacks freshness, enthusiasm or diligence. By nature he is a quiet sensitive person, but his soul is completely the opposite, powerful and barbaric. His performances are brilliant, forceful and startling. I would not hesitate to say that he is the most truly modern guitarist I have ever heard. He is certainly the most revolutionary since Christian, not only in my opinion but in the opinion of a great many other musicians and listeners alike. He is also a fine composer and you will hear some of his works in the near future.

Billy Phillips has been with the group the longest. I have watched Billy’s bass playing develop since the quartet’s formation, over two years ago, and I know him to be one of the strongest, swingingest exponents of that instrument today. His solos on this album attest his unmistakable individuality.

Edmund Thigpen is the son of drummer Ben Thigpen, who sparked the Andy Kirk band for many years. When he first came to New York from St. Louis we were lucky enough to get him to come with our group. He has appeared with the quartet at numerous places including Birdland. His fire and finesse are evident throughout these sides, as he proves himself a drummer of impeccable taste.

In conclusion, I would like to thank Bob Weinstock, president of Prestige Records, for the complete freedom and cooperation he has afforded us in the production of this music.