Billboard : 08/26/1957
Special Merit Jazz Album

A modern blowing session notable for its discipline and depth of improvisation. Jones is in excellent form, equally facile on ballads and brisker tempos, but most memorable on Ill Wind. Supporting cast is almost as striking as star.

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Cashbox : 09/21/1957

The pressing is titled after a previous Jones’ set. With one exception (I’ve Got A Crush On You) a quintet supports the artist in a 4-tune bill that varies in approach from punch (Let’s) to easy-going pleasantries (Ill Wind). The moods are met with striking jazz artistry by Jones. Personnel on the date include Jones’ brother, drummer Elvin Jones; alto saxist, Gigi Gryce; and on the poignant I’ve Got A Crush On You, bassist Percy Heath; pianist Barry Harris; and drummer Max Roach. Fine jazz issue.

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Audio Magazine
Charles A. Robertson : October, 1957

Already firmly established as a challenging figure on trumpet, Thad Jones gains considerable stature in his third LP on this label as the leader of a small group. The deep-rooted rigor of the Basie sideman flourishes on four numbers with a sextet and reaches prime state in his solo interpretation of I’ve Got a Crush on You. His unfolding of some latent beauties in the verse and chorus of the Gershwin tunes bids fair to make this record a jazz classic.

It is also representative of the work optometrist-engineer Dr. Rudolph Van Gelder does for several companies in the studio of his Hackensack home and elsewhere. A jazz enthusiast and electronics hobbyist since high school days, he began to make a career of his two avocations in the early days of LP. When interviewed at his home, on a comparatively calm day set aside for mastering, he recalled: “The new medium brought about a big change for the jazz companies. Though there were many problems they were not equipped to handle, the opportunities for those with foresight were great. It became possible for the independent to make records that really meant something. I was fortunate enough to be in a position to grow with the industry and help some of the companies develop.”

Like many a youth who grew up in the 1930s, Van Gelder, now thirty-two, followed the swing favorites and collected their records. He played trumpet in the school band and tried to emulate Bix Beiderbecke and Bobby Hackett by way of the phonograph. He still holds the radio amateur call letters W2TMD, which he earned at the same time as he began to make home recordings of local groups. Most of these interests went with him to the Pennsylvania State College of Optometry in 1942, along with an early Rek-O-Kut 12-inch 78-rpm recorder.

When he was graduated soon after the close of World War II, his father allowed him to design a huge studio room as the central portion of their new home. Shortly before he opened optometry offices in Teaneck, N.J., he made his first professional recording in 1946 for the Carousel label. “Joe Mooney was playing at Sandy’s in Paterson,” Van Gelder said, “and it featured him at the organ as he sang We’ll Be Together Again. Al Collins was just starting with WNEW and took a liking to it. It was a great thrill to hear it on the radio nearly every day.”

He continued to record for countless small companies and social functions in his spare time, while putting his spare cash into equipment. “I acquired one of the first Ampex tape recorders,” he related. “The old Rek-O-Kut was presented to Stevens Institute and replaced by a Fairchild lathe. But it was not until LP got underway that my schedule was reversed. Three-hour sessions stretched to nearly six, and there is still a backlog of remastering. I am in my Teaneck offices only on Saturdays now, mostly for a change of atmosphere and to see old patients.

“Mine is a one-man operation and I don’t have time for all I would like to do. I devote a minimum of one day each week to Blue Note, Prestige, and Savoy, my three oldest clients. The jazz labels I have recorded are too numerous to mention. They include Atlantic, Coral, Debut, King, Pacific Jazz, Riverside, and ABC-Paramount. My latest is Signal and I just finished a Lee Konitz date for Norman Granz’ Verve label.

“Then I master everything pressed for Westminster by the Abbey Record Manufacturing Company in Newark. Also the Music Treasures of the World, a classical mail-order firm. I do considerable work for Vox. I went to West Point for their recording of the organ, besides dates with George Feyer and others. I recently recorded the organ in Madison Square Garden in the quiet, early morning hours for ABC-Paramount. These are the sorts of things I am always willing to fit into my schedule. I would like to do more of them, along with classical engagements, as I don’t want to restrict myself to jazz. As it is, I am usually busy six days and four nights.”

The control room, adjacent to the studio, is a compact workshop for the completion of a disc through the cutting of the master. Though it was set up on a temporary basis for stereophonic sound some time ago, the new control console was complete last January, after a year spent in designing and building it. “It is a real bit of craftsmanship by Rein Narma,” said Van Gelder. “I first became acquainted with his abilities as a design engineer when I acquired a Grampian cutterhead. I think mine was the second in this country, the first going to Reeves Sound Studios. I thought the companion amplifier was inadequate and suggested that he design and build one of 150 watts. It is the one I still use. He also designed and installed the control console in the home studio of Les Paul and Mary Ford.”

An array of four Ampex tape recorders consisting of two 300s and two 250s line one wall and are interconnected for the varied requirements of stereophonic sound and mastering at 30 ips. Two portable Ampex 350s are kept ready for field assignments. For the past two years, Van Gelder has owned a Scully automatic lathe for mastering. Two bass-reflex cabinets fitted with Altec Lansing 604C speakers are fixed to the wall near the ceiling for monitoring in the control room. For playback in the studio, there are two back-loaded-horn cabinets with Jim Lansing 15-inch woofers and acoustic lens tweeters.

Air conditioning keeps the studio at a temperature of 70 deg. the year around. Focal points are a Steinway concert grand piano and an impressive marshalling of microphones, including six Telefunkens. “There is no universal microphone,” he said, “and I wouldn’t want to describe one of my set-ups as it might seem to commit me to one particular technique. As for some of my theories, I think learning the sounds a mike can give is of first importance. Then it should be utilized to fit the music, with the same care a photographer employs in selecting a lens. Of course, the Telefunkens are likely to appear in a photograph of a date, but that reminds me of the story of the company which recorded with one make of microphone and then brought out another make for pictures.

“Just to keep abreast of the times in equipment is not enough. It must be used creatively and I find more than twenty years of listening to jazz musicians a help and inspiration. I know what they are trying to do and the way they like to sound on a record. And I pride myself on the attention I give new talent. It often happens that a young musician comes to his first date as a last minute replacement. I like to think my experience is valuable in determining his proper balance in a group he has not regularly played with. Should he fail to come through on his first record, it will do him more harm than good. He might better stay home.

“When one mike will do the job, I never use two. Much of my planning today involves stereo. I have an echo chamber and use it when necessary. Like the microphone, it is a tool that can be put to good or bad use. I try to avoid anything that seems artificial.”

When asked to cite an example of the importance of knowing musicians, Van Gelder considered a moment and said: “Thelonious Monk, Horace Silver and Mal Waldron all come under the general classification of modern pianists. Yet each has an individual touch, a different sense of dynamics and distinct ideas as to the use of the piano in a group. If they are all recorded the same way, an exact comparison of their sound might be provided, but the result would be fair to only one of them. I try to give their separate styles full value, according to the framework of the music. I may also vary my set-up from track to track, not treating rhythm numbers and ballads the same way.

“I worked many years before I first felt satisfied with a record. It was the Walkin’ date with Miles Davis. When transferred to 12-inch this year, it was listed among the first ten in the jazz bestseller list for a time, an unusual distinction for a reissue. It is my wish not to become set or sterile in my approach, though I seem to have formed a style of my own from my sense of how a record should sound. Or so some of the words of my critics would lead me to believe. I am more interested in the opinions of the artists on the date. Happily, I am still able to relax and enjoy the work of other engineers. Should it ever come about that we all think and operate alike,” Van Gelder said with a chuckle, “it would be a dull day for the record buyer.”

The shift to LP brought a special set of problems and a series of crises to the independent jazz producer. Classical companies had a backlog of longer works, or could turn to European tapes. But the new medium saw the collapse of many of the small jazz concerns which mushroomed after the war. That Blue Note was among the more fortunate stems in part from the fact that its first session in 1939, with Meade Lux Lewis and Albert Ammons, resulted in the first 12-inch 78-rpm jazz piano discs. Alfred Lion, its founder and head, believed jazz should not be confined to 10-inch space and assembled an imposing catalogue of five-minute sides. These proved economically attractive on 10-inch LPs and served as a stopgap until new methods of production could be established.

As Lion tells the story of those days: “With several other companies, we used a Broadway studio employing as engineer Doug Hawkins, who has since gone to Mercury. Around 1952, I learned it would not give its engineers the modern equipment needed for high-fidelity sound on LP. I had liked the sound on a Gil Melle record and this led to Van Gelder. I found that, like Hawkins, he combined technical skill with a good feeling for jazz. He also had top-notch equipment and was intent on making better LPs. If there was anything new in the wind as to equipment, Rudy would get it, no matter what the cost. In that respect, he is still a pioneer and tries to be a step ahead. But Rudy is more than an ordinary engineer in his knowledge of jazz, and the way he applies it to the recording of different musicians puts him, to my mind, in the class of a creative artist.

“The association has been happy in every way. Even the news that the 10-inch LP was on the way out turned out to be a boon. There were 120 of them in our catalogue and a program of remastering was started. It is enabling us to get rid of early LP sound as, thanks to Rudy, the 12-inch reissues are a big improvement.” Prestige, another of Hawkins’ clients, soon followed. Its head Bob Weinstock, who remembers that trying period well, recalled, “It was discouraging to have a good date spoiled by poor sound. I was thinking seriously of getting out of the business when we tried Van Gelder. Not only did he give us good engineering, but he has a thorough understanding of how a session should be handled. I always feel he has a personal interest in what we do.” On the recommendation of Marian McPartland, Savoy became a client soon after.

As the oldest jazz label in uninterrupted operation, Blue Note still reflects the perspective of the record collector. For Alfred Lion began to delve into the archives of jazz in Berlin, where he was born forty-nine years ago, when the Sam Wooding band paid a visit in 1925. He began recording with the idea of preserving something that might otherwise be lost. The first sessions with Ammons and Lewis were made with just enough money to pay the musicians and the studio. The capital for the pressings came later. Since then, he has presented an impressive list of artists, from Art Hodes to Horace Silver, on their first dates as leaders. Many were recorded when they were known only to other musicians, often Lion’s best talent scouts. But the final criterion is his own judgment, based on a knowledge gained as a collector who has owned or heard every worthwhile jazz record.

Francis Wolff, a boyhood friend of Lion, joined the firm in 1940 and has made good use of his hobby of photography. He takes his Rolleiflex to every session and all cover photos are his. As art director, he consults with various typographers on the layout. A design by Reid K. Miles for the George Lewis album, Vol. 2, won the current Billboard award as the best jazz cover of the year.

As for the future, Lion intends to go along uncovering new talent and giving established musicians a platform to speak from. “We have firsts by pianist Sonny Clark and trombonist Curtis Fuller coming up,” said Lion. “Horace Silver is now under contract, along with Jimmy Smith, Johnny Griffin, Hank Mobley, and others. The Art Blakey percussion date was a little out of the ordinary for us. If the opportunity develops, we will do more things like it. Personally, I am devoted to the small groups.” With Van Gelder and Lion teamed together, a dull day for the jazz collector seems remote.

Illustrative of the benefits of giving a jazz musician his head on his own session are the three collections by Thad Jones on this label. They are uncensored expressions of the progress he has made in his three years with the Basie band and as sideman on numerous recording dates. Such estimable training grounds can be stagnating for the bright student, unless he is allowed to do some original research, as here, and turn in a thesis or two. His fluid improvisation and rounded tone indicate that the big band is still an excellent school for a trumpeter.

On four numbers, Jones is joined by trombonist Benny Powell, an associate in the Basie brass section, altoist Gigi Gryce, pianist Tommy Flanagan, bassist George Duvivier and drummer Elvin Jones, his brother. His originals Slipped Again and Thadrack are bright exercises for all, taken at a fast clip, as a warmup for inventive choruses on a rhythmic theme in close to nine minutes of Let’s, where his powerful horn extends the microphone. Ill Wind is a melodic introduction to the sublime I’ve Got a Crush on You. Accompanied by Max Roach, Percy Heath and pianist Barry Harris, Jones gives it a classic sweep that is not to be missed.

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Down Beat : 10/17/1957
Don Gold : 3.5 stars

This three-original (all by Thad), two-standard set features the efforts of inventive professionals. There is consistent musicianship throughout, and there are several outstanding moments.

For me, the finest track is Crush, featuring Thad’s lovely, full-toned horn line and chord changes. It is an imaginative, moving tour for Thad, with with Harris soloing melodically in complementary fashion. Thad’s use of the verse is particularly effective. This is one of the finest ballad interpretations I’ve heard in many months.

On Let’s, Gryce lets loose with three volcanic choruses that impressed me for their disciplined fury and cohesive quality. The other soloists manage to communicate satisfactorily in the other tracks but without the meaningfulness of the Jones and Gryce solos noted. Slipped and Thadrack seemed to me to be routine performances for these able men. Wind is, essentially, all Thad, with a 16-bar Flanagan solo.

Duvivier, in relaxed form, and Thad’s younger brother, Elvin, make up the virile rhythm section, together with Flanagan’s fluid comping. If all the tracks were equal in quality to Crush, this would have been a more valuable LP.

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Liner Notes by Leonard Feather

Not so long ago, in the comparatively recent bad old days, it took many years for a new and enterprising jazz musician to break into the public print. The opportunities for discussing him in black and white were almost as infrequent as the occasions for committing him to records. Nowadays, the situation seems virtually to be reversed, for no sooner does one of these future stars loom on the horizon than he is subject of discussion in magazines from continent to continent, and in liner notes from record album to record album. Such, fortunately, has been the case with Thad Jones. Almost completely unknown when he joined the Basie band in May, 1954, he can now boast a scrapbook of hundreds of adulatory analyses.

All of which means that by now the chances are that you know all the essential biographical details concerning Thad. If you didn’t hear an exciting LP he made entitled Detroit-New York Junction on Blue Note BLP 1513, you must certainly have caught The Magnificent Thad Jones on BLP 1527, and in either event, you would be better off if you had.

The men who surround Thad on this new collection are also familiar to those whose musical microscopes follow the trails of modern jazz.

Alto saxophonist Gigi Gryce, a Lionel Hampton alumnus who studied in Paris under a Fullbright scholarship, distinguished himself in what has now become the Clifford Brown Memorial Album on BLP 1526. Benny Powell, an associate of Thad’s in the Basie brass section, won a recent Down Beat Critic’s Poll as the best new star on trombone. Pianist Tommy Flanagan is the Detroiter featured in the above-mentioned Junction LP; the magnificent George Duvivier’s bass sound has graced Bud Powell’s finest performances on Blue Note. Thus, the only comparative newcomer on these sides is Thad’s brother, Elvin, who, following in the footsteps of Thad himself and Benny Powell, seems a good bet for the new star drum chair in the next critics’ poll.

Elvin Jones was born September 9, 1927 in Pontiac, Michigan, four years after Thad and nine years after their brother, pianist Hank Jones. Self-taught, he played in Army bands from 1946-9, then spent three years at the Blue Bird in Detroit with Thad and Billy Mitchell, the tenor player heard on both Thad’s previous Blue Note LPs. He moved to New York a year or so ago, worked with Bud Powell, then joined the J.J. Johnson quintet. Elvin names Max Roach, Art Blakey, Kenny Clarke, Philly Joe Jones and Roy Haynes as his favorites; his remarkable work in this album shows how diligently he has drawn from these various sources.

Slipped Again, for example, features Elvin off and on throughout. His breaks lead into successive solo stretches by Thad, Gigi and Benny, later he has a couple of fours with Duvivier and then with each of the horns.

Ill Wind, after an introduction in which the melody is backed by bowed bass, goes into rhythm with spare but ingenious use of the horns, and a gentle changing or rephrasing of the tune’s charming bridge. Notice how subtly Elvin edges into double time with his brushes on the second chorus. Thad, having played a full chorus of near-melody and a second chorus of astonishingly fluid improvisation, cedes the mike to Flanagan for sixteen bars, then resumes for the last sixteen bars and for the fading series of tags that bring this track to a quiet conclusion.

Thadrack, a fastish minor theme, is mainly a solo workout for all, in the following sequence: Thad, Gigi, Benny, Tommy, Thad, Duvivier, and a return to the theme. Notice particularly the melodic and fast-fingered work of Duvivier on his chorus here.

Let’s, another minor theme, shows one of the pleasant idiosyncrasies of Thad’s writing – his tendency to introduce sudden breaks in the rhythm before tearing off into wild four-four ad libbing. The odd series of open spots by the horns, with the rhythm section in a state of suspension, ends up in a series of unison tonics and dominants underscored by Elvin on each beat; then, before you know it, Thad is off and leading the field at a fast canter for a couple of choruses. Gigi has three choruses that rank among his best recorded work, more like Gigi Gryce and less a shadow of Charlie Parker as are so many modern altos. Benny Powell, too, is fleetly inventive on his two choruses (despite his exception technique, he is not unaware of the value of simplicity, employing rhythmic variations on a single note for eight entire measures during the second chorus). Tommy Flanagan’s three choruses included some interesting passages in which the bass is suspended for four measures at a time for contrast. Then it’s Elvin and George walking, Elvin walking on his own for one, and three choruses by Thad with some really wild bass and drums. A four bar drum break leads into the last ensemble, which has the same interestingly chopped-up ensemble effects as the opening. For a performance that runs almost nine minutes, Let’s does a commendable job of accentuating variety and avoiding monotony.

I’ve Got a Crush on You was made at an earlier session, with the rhythm section Thad used on 1527 (Barry Harris, Percy Heath, Max Roach). As usually happens when Thad is in his ballad mood, the verse is included. He dwells lingeringly on the major seventh that opens the chorus, then plays a beautifully controlled series of discreet variations on the melody. In the second chorus the variations are on the chord changes rather than on the tune itself, while Max nudges his way into a double-time feel in the background. Barry Harris, on the third chorus, makes fine harmonic use of the tune’s natural resources and plays in a generally rubato style, then, unexpectedly, to close the performance, Thad returns to the verse.

Following Thad’s principle, I think I will close by returning to my own verse and reiterating the thought expressed in the opening paragraph, but with an extra added afterthought. The reason people like Thad Jones don’t take as long to earn the appreciation of the fans, and of fellow musicians and critics, as would have been the case with a new musician a decade or so ago, is that talents of Thad’s dimensions were not appearing that often or developing that fast.