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“Pop Song Piracy, Fake Books, and a Pre-history of
Sampling”
Barry
Kernfeld, “Copyright and the Networked Computer: a
Stakeholder's Congress,”
Washington, DC, November 6, 2003. To read this paper in PDF format,
click here
“Napster in the 1930s:
Bootlegging
Song Sheets”
Barry
Kernfeld, Atlantic Chapter, Music Library
Association, University Park, PA, October
17, 2003
This
paper resurrects the forgotten story
of bootleg song sheets (initially,
newspaper-sized
sheets of pop-song lyrics, and then, from
the mid-1930s, song-lyric magazines).
The bootleg sheets, which emerged in 1929,
elicited a hysterical response from the
music industry, which fought vigorously against
these products for roughly a decade, using every
legal ploy available, before discovering,
extremely reluctantly and somewhat
inadvertently, that assimilation was a much more
successful policy than prohibition. The
simple and obvious historical lesson to be
drawn from this story, is that the essential
nature of the American music industry is
to defend deeply entrenched interests, without
regard for change, and in its current-day
reactions to Napster and Kazaa, the industry
is re-living an expected and already
well-established
mode of behavior.
Pop Song Piracy: A History of Fake
Books and America’s First
Criminal Copyright
Trials
Barry
Kernfeld, fifth Jyväsklyä Summer
Jazz Conference, University of Jyväsklyä,
Finland, June 5, 2003
This
paper is abstracted from the central
chapters of my book Pop
Song Piracy: Bootleg Song Sheets, Fake Books,
and America’s First Criminal
Copyright Trials
. The factual portions of the paper trace
the story of bootleg fake books from the
appearance of the Tune-Dex in the spring
of 1942, to the first bootleg volumes of
Tune-Dex cards in 1949, through failed
FBI investigations into Tune-Dex
bootlegging
in the early 1950s, and finally to the
government’s prosecution of fake-book
bootlegging
in three cases from the 1960s. The first
of these three, in Chicago in 1962, was
aborted when the defendants changed their pleas
from not guilty to guilty at the last moment,
but the other two, in New York City in 1966 and
1969, were full-blown events which raised
significant issues with regard to copyright
infringement. In relating this story, I endeavor
to address the changing nature of pop song
during these decades, the rise of
“cocktail
music,” and the function and
nature of fake
books in their relationship to sheet music
and to professional music-making.
More broadly,
I strive to say something about the role
of bootlegging in the American marketplace,
and to situate the fake-book trials of the
1960s within the history of criminal copyright
infringement cases in America.
The Making of
The Real
Book
Barry
Kernfeld, fifth Jyväsklyä Summer
Jazz Conference, University of Jyväsklyä,
Finland, June 6, 2003
Abstracted from the final chapter of
Pop Song Piracy, this paper picks
up the story of fake books in the 1970s,
after the government abandoned its effort
to prosecute fake-book bootleggers through
the criminal infringement clause of the
Copyright Act. To begin, I briefly outline
the appearance of legitimate, authorized,
copyrighted pop-song fake books, and
I speculate
on the audiences for such books. The bulk
of this paper is devoted to excerpts from
an interview with Steve Swallow and
correspondence
with Pat Metheny, both of whom contributed
to the making of a bootleg jazz fake book,
The Real Book, while teaching at the Berklee College of Music
in Boston during the academic year
1974–75.
In presenting that story, I consider reasons
why the arena for fake-book bootlegging
shifted from pop music to jazz. Swallow
describes how the book was made. He explains
issues of printed-music and recorded-music
licensing and royalties that influenced
decisions which he made to contribute lead
sheets directly to The
Real Book, and which he then explored in
consultation with Metheny, Carla Bley, Steve
Kuhn, and others, who chose to follow that same
path, and he examines, from the perspective
of later years, the consequences of these
decisions. Both men address the contentious
question of the
“accuracy” of
The Real Book. Swallow offers,
from the experience of his career as
a professional jazz bassist, thoughts
on changing attitudes toward the use
of printed music in jazz performance.
Finally, we suggest possible reasons for the
ongoing widespread proliferation of
The
Real Book, even in the face of legitimate,
authorized, copyrighted competitors which
have emerged within the realm of jazz in
recent decades.
“John Coltrane in Rudy Van Gelder's Studio"
Names &
Numbers, no.33 (April
2005): 2–7; no.34 (July 2005):
3–9, errata 14–15
Introduction.
In
September 2004 the New York
City auction house Guernsey’s
asked me to serve as a
historical consultant,
cataloguer, and writer in
preparation for its first jazz
auction, to be held February
20, 2005, at the new jazz venue
at Lincoln Center. The auction
embraced materials from the
estates of John Coltrane,
Charlie Parker, Thelonious
Monk, Benny Goodman, Eric
Dolphy, and Gerry Mulligan, as
well as items from Louis
Armstrong in the possession of
his manager Oscar Cohen (who
became president of Associated
Booking Corporation following
Joe Glaser’s death in 1969),
and various images and a
trumpet from a living musician,
Clark Terry.
Early in
December 2004, as Guernsey’s
head Arlan Ettinger related it
to me, Naima Coltrane’s
daughter Saida* (also known as
Antonia Andrews) and Saida’s
brother Jamail Dennis were
delivering paper items to the
auction house: musical
manuscripts in John Coltrane’s
own hand; a letter from Bill
Evans to John Coltrane just
after Evans quit Miles Davis’s
sextet; a postcard from Wayne
Shorter, in Marseilles, to Mr.
and Mrs. J. Coltrane (“Europe
is a drag. I mean really. Just
another gig and a place to
practise and/or rehearse.”);
Shorter’s hand-drawn portrait
of Davis; and so forth. At this
point, Jamail said to Arlan,
“Oh, we have some tapes. Would
you be interested in them?”
“TAPES?!,” replied Arlan.
During the
last three weeks of 2004 I had
the unbelievable privilege of
identifying and cataloguing the
contents of digital copies of
35 reel-to-reel tapes, the
contents of which proved to be
mainly unreleased recordings by
John Coltrane for Impulse!
Records at Rudy Van Gelder’s
studio in Englewood Cliffs, New
Jersey, from 1962 to 1964. I
submitted my essay to
Guernsey’s the evening of
January 2, 2005. Coincidentally
the following morning
Guernsey’s phoned to report
that attorneys for the Impulse!
label had just threatened a
lawsuit if the reels were not
withdrawn from the auction.
This was done, and accordingly
the essay that appears below
was withdrawn from the auction
catalogue. Two home-made tapes,
respectively of Ornette Coleman
(tape AA28) and Bill Henderson
(AA32), remained in the
auction, since both were
private recordings and hence
neither evoked a contractual
dispute.
Hopefully
Arlan Ettinger can broker some
sort of deal that eventually
will lead to these recordings
becoming available to the jazz
public. In the meantime I find
myself in a position to make
rather monumental additions and
corrections to existing
Coltrane discographies.
The tapes
were badly disordered, with
wrong reels in the wrong boxes,
misidentification in listings
of contents on the tape boxes,
and mislabeling of the boxes.
In the essay that follows, “AA”
refers to Guernsey’s arbitrary
in-house cataloguing of
materials received from Saida
(i.e., Antonia Andrews). “JD”
refers to materials received
from Jamail Dennis. Headings
such as “Tape 7 of 1962” refer
to labels that Saida put on the
tape boxes. These labels proved
often to be incorrect or out of
order, but I have given them
nonetheless, because they are
attached to the artifacts. In
nearly all instances, Rudy Van
Gelder may be heard giving tape
master numbers, titles, and
take numbers. Of course his
announcements from the control
booth take precedence over any
other sort of ad hoc
cataloguing of these materials.
In numerous instances where
variant titles occur or where
an entirely unreleased session
has now emerged, Van Gelder’s
numbering accords with tape
master numbers given in David
Wild, The Recordings of John
Coltrane (Ann Arbor, MI:
2nd. ed., 1979). Consequently I
am deeply indebted to David for
the extent to which his work
has enabled me to sort out
these tapes.
-----------------------------------------------
*She
appears as Saida in Cuthbert O.
Simpkins’s biography
Coltrane (New York, 1975),
p.54; as Saeeda in Lewis
Porter, John Coltrane: His
Life and Music (Ann Arbor,
MI, 1998), p.96; and as Syeeda
in the tune on Coltrane’s
Giant Steps album,
“Syeeda’s Song Flute.” By
chance, her son and her brother
were present when I telephoned
Guernsey’s in mid-December, and
I asked for the correct
spelling: “S-a-i-d-a.” The
auction offered confirmation by
way of a lead sheet for the
composition in Coltrane’s own
hand, “Saida’s Song Flute.”
-----------------------------------------------
The
essay intended for Guernsey’s
catalogue.
Hiding
these past forty years in the
homes of John Coltrane’s first
wife Naima, her daughter Saida
(Antonia Andrews), and Naima’s
son Jamail Dennis, are the
crown jewels: perfect
high-fidelity 7-inch monophonic
reel-to-reel tape copies of the
master tapes of many of John
Coltrane’s recordings for
Impulse! Records during the
first half of the 1960s. The
collection includes numerous
magnificent unissued new titles
and alternative takes. On top
of that, there is the Holy
Grail (yes, another one):
perfect 10-inch stereo copies
of the master tapes of all six
takes (four complete and two
fragments) of the presumed lost
sextet version of the first
movement of A Love Supreme.
Among the
jewels: Five reels hold the
complete session of Coltrane’s
quartet with singer Johnny
Hartman—“These do not exist,”
LP and CD notes state baldly.
Ah, but they do, including the
“lost” version of “Afro Blue.”
“Afro Blue” is not a great
recording, but many of the
other rejected performances are
gorgeous, and although it may
be hard to imagine, given the
lofty stature of the John
Coltrane and Johnny Hartman
album, the sound on these reels
is far better than the sound on
that album, with none of the
phoney echo heard there.
Instead these and other reels
offer a presence and clarity
that makes it seem as if the
group were in the room with
you.
Portions
of several reels hold
unprecedented material, a taped
record of Coltrane practicing
tenor saxophone, soprano
saxophone, and piano. He is
known to have routinely taped
his playing, as a manner of
self-criticism and improvement,
and to preserve ideas. Here,
for the first time, are actual
examples of it.
Reels of
complete sessions, including
not only the date with Hartman,
but others by the quartet on
its own in 1962 and 1963, offer
incredible windows into the
process of making jazz.
This
bundle of tapes holds numerous
takes of Coltrane compositions.
There are nine (!) entirely new
versions of “Impressions,” from
four different sessions, as
well as multiple takes of
“Tunji” and other pieces that
remain untitled and have never
been issued in any version.
A
seven-inch tape holding a
second copy of takes 3 through
6 of the sextet version of A
Love Supreme continues with
vocal overdubs to the quartet
version from the previous day
(with the men chanting “a love
supreme, a love supreme”). A
reel from that previous day has
the quartet version of parts 3
and 4 of A Love Supreme,
and it provides an explanation
to the mystery of the two
saxophones heard at the very
end of the album.
Elsewhere,
six takes comprise a
spectacular unissued romp
through the pop standard “All
the Things You Are,” as the
quartet reinvents composer
Jerome Kern’s piece. Only the
longest of Coltrane’s three
ecstatic versions of Harold
Arlen’s song “Out of This
World” has been released; here
are all three. There is an
astounding and completely
unflawed rendition of “Body and
Soul”; why it was never
released is difficult to
imagine. Yet another reel
supplies vividly contrasting
interpretations of “Vilia” in
two complete takes, the first
with Coltrane playing this pop
song on tenor and the second
with him on soprano.
Except
where noted, the recordings are
all of John Coltrane’s famous
quartet at Rudy Van Gelder’s
studio in Englewood Cliffs, New
Jersey, with McCoy Tyner on
piano, Jimmy Garrison on string
bass, and Elvin Jones, drums.
The collection of tapes that
Saida has brought into the
auction also includes
recordings without Coltrane: a
broadcast by Art Blakey’s Jazz
Messengers; a delightful
rehearsal involving singer Bill
Hendson and an as-yet
unidentified pianist; a concert
by Ornette Coleman’s trio of
1966; and a performance by
trumpeter Jimmy Owens’s group.
Tape
AA30b (without box); Tape AA30
= “Tape 10 Coltrane”; Tape JD35
(two-inch reel)
Live at
the Village Vanguard.
November 3, 1961. This earliest
part of the collection of
Coltrane tapes is the least
significant, the only portion
of that collection that does
not contain unreleased
recordings. The words
“Greensleeves QTET LIVE” are
affixed to the first reel, tape
AA30b, which holds the issued
versions of “Greensleeves” and
“The Red Planet” that Coltrane
recorded in performance at the
Village Vanguard in New York on
November 3, 1961.
“Greensleeves” (4:51) is in a
quartet version with Coltrane
on soprano sax and Reggie
Workman rather than Garrison on
bass. “The Red Planet” (15:12),
also known as “Miles’ Mode,”
has Coltrane on tenor sax and
Eric Dolphy on alto sax,
alongside Tyner, both bassists,
and Jones. There is no box for
this reel of tape.
The second
reel, with its contents listed
as “India” and “Impressions,”
holds the master takes of these
two tunes as heard on
Coltrane’s album Impressions
(Impulse! 42). “India” (13:55)
is by the sextet, but with
Dolphy on bass clarinet.
“Impressions” (14:45) is by the
quartet, but with Garrison on
bass.
A tiny
two-inch reel from Saida’s
brother Jamail Dennis holds
another copy of this
performance of “Greensleeves.”
Tape AA07
= “Tape 7 of 1962”
Unissued
session of April ?16, 1962, and
an unidentified unaccompanied
fragment. Coltrane on tenor sax
throughout.
Discographies of Coltrane’s
recordings list four titles
corresponding to the contents
of this session as having been
made on April 12, but the
annotations on the box of tape
give the date April 16,
together with a succession of
tape master numbers that follow
upon those listed for April 13,
so the slightly later date
seems reasonable. In any event,
a few days one way or the other
do not really matter. What
matters are the contents: four
tracks, never released,
according to Coltrane’s
principal discographer David
Wild, at the Coltrane
discography on the internet.
The first
title is a new version of Mal
Waldron’s ballad “Soul Eyes.”
Following a hard-to-hear
fragment of laughter and
conversation in the studio, the
quartet plays a new version of
“Impressions,” here listed
under its temporary working
title, “Excerpt,” as Wild
explains. The fidelity is a bit
harsh at the start of
“Impressions,” but there is
nothing wrong with the playing.
The third
title from this date is a
spectacular new version of
“Body and Soul” (identified on
the tape box as “Band S”). This
performance is clean—no
mistakes at the start or the
end, and no break downs in the
body of “Body and Soul”—and it
is as fine as any rendition
ever made of this classic
American ballad. Why either
Coltrane or the Impulse! label
chose to ignore it, why this
“Body and Soul” was never
released, is beyond
comprehension.
The
session ends with “Neptune,”
which Wild identifies as
“probably an interim title for
‘Brasilia’.” Wild is right. A
version of this piece was first
issued as an “Untitled
Original” on the double-LP
The Other Village Vanguard
Tapes (Impulse! 9325),
recorded by the quintet
including Eric Dolphy at the
first Village Vanguard
recording session of November
1, 1961. Reissues of this
material give the untitled
piece a name, “Brasilia.” Here
in the studio is that very same
piece, but entitled “Neptune,”
in a quartet version that is
much more languid than the
live-at-the-Vanguard date of a
half year earlier.
The tape
ends with a fragment of solo
tenor saxophone playing (1:20).
Is this Coltrane practicing at
home?
Tape master 10876,
“Soul Eyes”
take 2—6:13
laughter/conversation—0:20
Tape master 10877,
“Excerpt” (“Impressions”)
take 2—6:37
Tape master 10878,
“Body and Soul”
take 1—9:37
Tape master 10879, “Neptune”
fragment—0:04
take 1—6:59
Tape AA05
= “Tape 5 of 1962”; Tape
AA33
Session of
June 19, 1962. Coltrane on
tenor sax throughout.
The first
of these two reels holds two
titles. One is an aborted
attempt at a piece entitled
“Not Yet.” That title may well
have resulted, in good humor,
from what happened at this
session. After numerous brief
failed takes in the space of
less than four minutes, one of
the musicians says, “Let’s do
something else,” and on they
went, reserving “Not Yet” for
the following day (see
immediately below).
The
“something else” was out of
this world, both literally—a
rendition of Harold Arlen and
Johnny Mercer’s pop song “Out
of This World”—and
figuratively—two absolutely
spectacular complete takes
representing the quartet’s
finest, most impassioned
playing, with Coltrane driving
the group as it piles climax
upon climax. Take 2 was issued
on the LP Coltrane
(Impulse! 21). The opening
fragment and take 3 are
unreleased.
Still
hiding in someone’s home, no
doubt, is a reel for the third
title from this session, tape
master 10981, listed in David
Wild’s discography as “Soul
Eyes.” The master version of
“Soul Eyes” from this date was
also issued on the album
Coltrane. The alternative
takes remain lost, at least for
the time being. Materials in
the present auction leap from
10980, “Out of This World,” to
“10982 ‘Excerpt’ take 1,” as
announced at the beginning of
the tape. These versions of
“Impressions” include four
false starts, as the quartet
experiments with different
tempos. Take 6 is a
substantially complete version
that breaks down only towards
the end. Takes 3 and 7 are
clean, start to finish. The
fertility of Coltrane’s
imagination is breathtaking.
Here, and at the previous
session, and in the two further
sessions that follow below, he
charges through “Impressions”
with a ceaseless flow of
ever-changing ideas. For just
about any other musician, the
cumulative effect of listening
to nine full versions of
“Impressions” might be numbing,
but when the soloist is
Coltrane . . . well, just sit
back and let your jaw drop. And
to think that Coltrane set the
bar so high for himself that
none of these takes were
deemed worthy of issue. Mind
boggling.
Beginning
on tape AA05:
Tape master 10979,
“Not Yet”
numerous brief takes—3:46
Tape master 10980,
“Out of This World”
take 1—1:19
take 2—13:56 (master take)
take 3—8:56
And
concluding on tape AA33:
Tape master 10982, “Excerpt”
(“Impressions”)
take 1—0:39
take 2—0:36
take 3—6:28
take 4—0:31
take 5—0:35
take 6—4:16
take 7—6:28
Tape AA03
= “Tape 3 of 1962; Tape AA03B;
Tape AA29 = “Tape 9 Undated”;
Tape AA04 = “Tape 4 of 1962”
Session of
June 20, 1962. Coltrane on
tenor sax throughout.
These four
tapes contain a wealth of
unknown recordings. Only take 1
of “Miles’ Mode” (“The Red
Planet”) appeared on LP, on the
album Coltrane (Impulse!
21). Only one further item,
take two of “Impressions” was
released later, in fact decades
later, on a CD, The Very
Best of John Coltrane
(Impulse! 314-549-913-2).
Everything else remains
unreleased, including not only
the material from this studio
session, but also passages of
Coltrane practicing tenor
saxophone, soprano sax, and
piano.
Having
failed to get started on a
suitable version of “Not Yet”
the previous day, June 19,
1962, the quartet returned to
the studio on June 20 and
immediately made a single
complete take of this title.
They then made two complete
versions of a tune announced by
Van Gelder as “10984 ‘B minor’
take 1.” This proves to be
“Miles’ Mode,” aka “The Red
Planet.” After the end of the
second take there is a bit of
blank tape and then a very
special moment in which
Coltrane may be heard for two
minutes practicing “Miles’
Mode” alone on tenor saxophone,
presumably at home.
After
recording “Miles’ Mode,” they
alternated between taking
multiple stabs at Coltrane’s
composition “Two Three Four”
(which later took its permanent
title, “Tunji”) and recording
two full versions of
“Impressions.” At the start of
the first of these two takes,
Van Gelder asks “What are we
doing?” The reply is “Excerpt”
(i.e., “Impressions” under its
initial working title).
“Two Three
Four” / “Tunji” offers deep
insights into the process of
making jazz. On the one hand,
the first take has an awkward
and abrupt transition from a
long droning passage into McCoy
Tyner’s solo on a 12-bar blues
form. Over the course of the
session the quartet works hard
on smoothing this out,
eventually coming up with a
clever and effective design in
which the droning bass line
carries on into the 12-bar
blues section. The musicians
and Van Gelder try other things
as well, including an idea that
they discuss during takes 8 and
9, bringing up the introduction
from silence (a “fade in”). And
they record four endings, one
of which was intended to be
spliced onto the end of the
piece.
On the
other hand, this great
improvement in overall flow and
structure came at a heavy
price. None of the succeeding
takes have the raw power of the
quartet’s first take. Unlike so
many of the other titles in the
collection of Coltrane tapes,
for which their disappearance
is inexplicable, here, on “Two
Three Four” / “Tunji,” there is
perhaps a good reason that this
conglomerate version was never
issued. But it is an absolute
gem for people interested in
hearing how jazz works.
Beginning
on Tape AA03:
Tape master 10983,
“Not Yet”
take 1—6:18
Tape master 10984,
“B minor” (Miles’ Mode”; “The
Red Planet”)
take 1—7:30 (master take)
take 2—7:11
Coltrane practices this
piece—2:04
Continuing on Tape AA03B,
which has the title “Tunji”
affixed to the reel:
Tape master 10985,
“Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)
take 1—10:29
take 2—1:02
take 3—1:59
take 4—7:53
Continuing on Tape AA29:
Tape master 10985,
“Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)
take 5—7:11
Tape master 10986,
“Excerpt” (“Impressions”)
take 1—7:07
Tape master 10985,
“Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)
take 6—0:52
take 7—7:50
Tape master 10986,
“Excerpt” (“Impressions”)
take 2—4:51 (issued on CD)
And
concluding on Tape AA04:
Tape master 10985,
“Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)
take 8—1:46
take 9—9:06
take 10, insert 1—0:28
take 11, insert 2—2:26
take 12, insert 3—1:22
take 13, insert 4—0:53
The last
reel from the session of June
20, 1962, has two separate
monophonic tracks. The first
track concludes with Coltrane
practicing soprano saxophone
(4:39) and, after 45 seconds of
silence, both soprano and tenor
sax (8:30). The second
monophonic track is entirely of
Coltrane practicing at home on
saxophone and piano.
In John
Coltrane: His Life and Music,
Lewis Porter wrote: “Coltrane
regularly recorded himself
while practicing, from the late
1950s through the 1960s. Often,
I believe, he would reuse the
same tape, recording over it
each day. But there are at
least a few surviving hours of
practice tapes that remain
unavailable” (p.255). Here is
one. Another example, a
minute-long fragment, appears
above on tape AA07, and others
follow in the reels detailed
below, at times with Coltrane
practicing the music heard on
the group’s studio albums.
Tape AA02
= “Tape 2 of 1962”
Unreleased
track of June 29, 1962.
Coltrane on tenor saxophone.
This reel has one
piece of music, yet another
outstanding unreleased
interpretation of “Out of this
World,” recorded ten days after
the version that was released
on LP.
Tape master 10993,
“Out of This World”
take 1—12:16
Tape AA01
= “Tape 1 of 1962”
Ballads
session of November 13, 1962.
Coltrane on tenor saxophone
throughout.
This reel
includes master takes used on
Coltrane’s LP Ballads
(Impulse! 32), but there is
much more to be heard here,
including an unreleased title,
“They Say It’s Wonderful,”
alternative takes of released
titles, and new insights into
the quartet’s music making.
The tape
begins with conversation and
the drums and bass introduction
to “All or Nothing at All.” Two
complete takes follow. The
second was issued.
The next
title opens with a moment of
rehearsal discussion (“There’s
no ritard . . .”), pre-empted
by the abrupt announcement from
the booth: “11163 ‘I Wish I
Knew’ take 1.” This breaks down
with a fragment of laughter and
conversation. The master take
follows, except that it turns
not to be quite right. They
discuss the ending (“wait,
wait, listen up man . . .”) and
record a new ending as “insert
1.” The version that we hear on
the Ballads album is a
composite of these two, the
original ending deleted, and
the new ending spliced onto the
rest.
Once
again, just as with some of the
performances noted above, there
is no obvious reason why the
single complete take of the
ballad “They Say It’s
Wonderful” would not have been
released. It is beautiful.
Tape master 11162,
“All or Nothing at All”
conversation and intro—0:26
take 1—3:44
take 2—3:35 (master take)
Tape master 11163,
“I Wish I Knew”
conversation and intro—0:47
take 1—4:54
insert 1—1:09
Tape master 11164, “They Say
It’s Wonderful”
Take 1—3:06
Tape AA10
= “Tape 1 of 1963”; Tape AA14 =
“Tape 5 of 1963”; Tape AA12 =
“Tape 3 of 1963”; Tape AA11 =
Tape 2 of 1963”
Unissued
session of March 6, 1963.
Spanning
these four tapes in a somewhat
scrambled overall order, but
with the annotated details of
contents in fairly good shape
on the tape boxes, is an entire
unreleased session consisting
of a succession of takes and
fragments from seven titles:
Frank Lehar’s tune “Vilia”;
Coltrane’s interpretation of
“Nature Boy,” a song that Nat
“King” Cole had made into a hit
15 years earlier; and five
compositions by Coltrane.
Rudy Van
Gelder mistakenly announces the
first piece as “11362 Vilia
take 1.” The correct tape
master number is 11382. Van
Gelder corrects himself at the
start of the next piece, an
untitled, moderately fast
12-bar blues played by the trio
of Coltrane (on soprano sax),
Tyner, and Jones. Following a
hard-to-hear fragment of
conversation in the studio, Van
Gelder gets this untitled blues
going with the announcement
“11382, uh, 383, original.”
The
stunners here are four new and
previously unknown takes of
“Impressions,” two of which
Coltrane does in trio versions,
without piano. For lack of
access to the tapes, these
versions of “Impressions” have
been cloaked in Coltrane
discographies as an “Untitled
Original.” Coltrane also offers
a sweet opportunity to compare
and contrast his playing style,
with one full take of “Vilia”
on tenor sax and the next full
take on soprano sax. The last
piece has a killer tenor solo
on the item announced by Van
Gelder in a rapid-fire voice
from the control booth, just
before the start, as “11388
original blues slow blues take
1.”
Beginning
on tape AA10:
Tape master 11382,
“Vilia,” Coltrane on tenor sax,
take 1—0:13
take 2—0:08
take 3—5:28
Tape master 11382, “Vilia,”
Coltrane on soprano sax,
take 4—0:11
take 5—4:25
Tape master 11383, Untitled
Original, Coltrane on soprano
sax,
take 1—6:38
(inclusive of conversation)
Tape master 11384,
“Nature Boy,” Coltrane on tenor
sax,
take 1—3:16
Tape master 11385,
Untitled Original
(“Impressions”), Coltrane on
tenor sax,
take 1—4:07
Continuing on tape AA14:
Tape master 11385,
Untitled Original
(“Impressions”), Coltrane on
tenor sax,
take 2—4:30
Tape master 11385, Untitled
Original (“Impressions”),
Coltrane on tenor sax in a trio
with Garrison and Jones for
these two takes,
take 3—4:01
take 4—3:40
Tape master 11386,
Untitled Original, Coltrane on
soprano sax,
take 1—8:40
Continuing
on tape AA12:
Tape master 11386,
Untitled Original, Coltrane on
soprano sax,
take 2—8:37
take 3—1:12
take 4—0:26
take 5—8:22
Tape master 11387,
Untitled Original, Coltrane on
tenor sax,
take 1—7:02
And
concluding on tape AA11:
Tape master 11387,
Untitled Original, Coltrane on
tenor sax,
take 2—0:37
take 3—0:04
take 4—2:13
take 5—7:11
Tape master 11388, Untitled
Original, Slow Blues, Coltrane
on tenor sax,
take 1—11:28
Tape AA23
= “Tape 3 undated”; Tape AA24 =
“Tape 4 undated”; Tape AA25 =
Tape 5 undated”; Tape AA21 =
“Tape 1 undated”; Tape AA22 =
“Tape 2 undated”.
John
Coltrane and Johnny Hartman,
March 7, 1963. Coltrane on
tenor sax throughout the
session, except for “Afro
Blue,” on soprano sax.
In his
liner notes to the 1995 LP
reissue of the ballad session
recorded by John Coltrane’s
quartet with singer Johnny
Hartman, record producer
Michael Cuscuna describes the
genesis of this album: “All of
John Coltrane’s Impulse
sessions at Rudy Van Gelder’s
studio were done directly to
two-track stereo tape. After
completing this collaboration
with Johnny Hartman, a master
tape was assembled from the
original session tapes.”
“At a
later date, Coltrane decided to
overdub some additional
obbligato saxophone phrases
behind Hartman’s vocals on
My One and Only Love, Lush Life
and You Are Too Beautiful.
A new master was made by Rudy
Van Gelder, who added some
additional echo to the three
tracks. Although the first
release of the album used the
original master without
Coltrane’s additional
obliggatos, it was later
substituted with the new
master. This gave rise to the
rumor that alternate takes of
My One and Only Love, Lush Life
and You Are Too Beautiful
existed and were issued on some
pressings. No alternate takes
exist or have been issued.”
“A version
of ‘Afro Blue’ was recorded at
this session, but it was never
issued and no tape of this
performance exists.”
Collected
on these four reels are all
seven titles in their original
versions from this session.
This major rediscovery changes
the picture that Cuscuna saw a
decade ago. The tapes do indeed
hold both partial and complete
alternative takes of the issued
titles, as well as the lost
versions of “Afro Blue.” Along
the way, they provide rich
insights into the music-making
process, with conversation
among the musicians and Van
Gelder, and moments of
rehearsal.
How is it
that this was Johnny Hartman’s
one and only significant
recording session? He had such
a rare package of abilities: a
rich baritone voice, perfectly
in tune, with complete control
of nuances of expression and
dynamics, and these musical
qualities tied to an ability to
convey lyrics with deep
understanding. Hartman tosses
off “Lush Life,” a tune that
has eaten up countless other
jazz musicians, as if it were
effortless, and it is simply a
heart-stopper when he pauses to
sing “I was wrong . . . . . . .
. . again.” Partial takes and
alternative complete takes of
these six tunes are sensational
from one to the next, and of
course Coltrane as usual is
exploding with ideas as he
solos.
“Autumn
Serenade” is of special
interest. The 14 takes reveal
unrecognized tensions that the
musicians deal with in an
utterly polite and professional
manner, confirming just what
everyone knows about John
Coltrane’s temperment and his
impact on his colleagues. There
are no petty tantrums here—the
gentlemen just work out their
problems as best they can. The
instrumentalists know the piece
really well, but Hartman is
clearly unfamiliar with “Autumn
Serenade,” which is just as
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