Mr./Ms.: Ms. B.C.

Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers: Ms. B.C.
[purchase] 

When you’ve been a theme-oriented blog for as long as Star Maker Machine, it is not surprising that we occasionally repeat themes, or in this case, have a theme that nudges up against an earlier one. Almost exactly two years ago, for our “Titles and Honorifics” theme, I wrote about Fela’s “Mr. Follow Follow,” which would work for this theme (although my colleagues seemed to write mostly about doctors or royals, which itself was another theme….) 

But it isn’t so much the theme that matters, but the music, and the writing, right? 

I like jazz, but I don’t know an enormous amount about it because there’s only so much time in the day, and most of my music listening is more in the rock genre. To some extent, I’ve found learning about jazz to be intimidating, but listening to the music can be amazing. I’ve written about non-fusion jazz a bunch of times, but considering my lack of deep knowledge, I’ve mostly focused on big names, unlike my rock or folk posts that often focus on lesser known artists. And I’m OK with that. 

We’ll continue in that vein today, with a song, “Ms. B.C.” by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. Blakey was one of the great jazz drummers, with a career that started in the big band era. In the 1950s, Blakey and pianist Horace Silver formed the Jazz Messengers, and over the next 35 years it became a primary incubator of talent, with nearly every famous jazz musician spending time learning from Blakey. In the late 1980s, there was a small jazz club, Mikell’s, on 97th and Columbus in Manhattan, just down the street from my apartment, and my wife and I and some friends went there a few times—but not nearly enough. One night, we saw one of the last, if not the last, version of the Jazz Messengers. While I don’t remember who was in the band that night, it was pretty amazing. 

“Ms. B.C.” appeared on a 1981 album, modestly titled, Album of the Year, featuring Blakey, alto sax player Bobby Watson, Billy Pierce on tenor, James Williams on piano, bassist Charles Fambrough, and a barely 20 year old Wynton Marsalis. Written by Pamela Watson, wife of Bobby, and a composer, arranger, pianist, singer and music educator, it was dedicated to Betty Carter, a singer who, like Blakey, had a reputation for discovering and nurturing young jazz talent.   It's pretty great.

And just because, here’s an intense version recorded at the Village Vanguard in 1982, with most of the same band, but with Branford Marsalis on alto and Donald Brown on piano:

Shadows: Shadows In The Rain

 
Sting: Shadows In The Rain (studio version)
[purchase]

For those who remember 2012, I mentioned in a post that one of the first dates I went on with my now wife was to see the movie Bring On The Night, which was the Michael Apted-directed documentary about the creation of Sting’s first solo album The Dream of the Blue Turtles and the subsequent tour. We loved the movie, and I still have fond memories of seeing it, both because of the film and my date.

I enjoy learning about how music is created, probably because my love of music is not coupled with any real ability to make it. I’m jealous of those who can, so this movie was right up my alley. I was also a big Police fan and had heard, and liked, The Dream of the Blue Turtles. I know that Sting has gotten a reputation for arrogance and pretension over the years, but as someone who likes the often pretentious prog rock, it didn’t bother me that for his first solo album, Sting tried to move beyond the reggae flavors of the Police and try to push the boundaries a bit. As a brief aside, I had the chance to briefly interview Sting the summer before my senior year in college, backstage at an outdoor concert at Liberty Bell Race Track in Philadelphia. He was extremely genial and answered all my probably dumb questions, and readily recorded a station ID that we ran regularly — Stewart Copeland, on the other hand, had to be shamed into even doing a station ID for us. But he did two. You can hear them here.

In addition to wanting to expand his musical palette (which the Police had begun to do as time went on), Sting decided that his band wouldn’t be The Police Mark II (or III, for those few Henry Padovani fans out there), and instead chose young, hotshot jazz musicians. This isn’t as strange as it sounds — Sting’s earliest gigs were playing jazz and fusion music in Newcastle during his free time during college and while working as a teacher. Here's a jazzy tune from Sting's last pre-Police band, Last Exit—the melody of which was used in Blue Turtles' "We Work the Black Seam."

The people that he chose were all extraordinary musicians. Keyboard master Kenny Kirkland had played with Wynton Marsalis, bass player Daryl Jones had been in Miles Davis’ band, and Branford Marsalis, on sax, had been in Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, and played with his brother Wynton, Herbie Hancock and Dizzy Gillespie. Drummer Omar Hakim, who was in Weather Report (with Mino Cinélu), was the only member with significant rock credits, having backed Carly Simon, David Bowie and Dire Straits. In addition, Sting brought on veteran backup singers Janice Pendarvis (who was in another of my favorite documentaries, 20 Feet From Stardom) and Dolette McDonald (who worked with the Talking Heads, but was not in another of my favorite music films, Stop Making Sense, or on my favorite Talking Heads album).

The film shows how this mostly non-rock band fused with Sting to create a sound that was still identifiably rock, but had some elements of jazz. Maybe the easiest way to see what Sting was after is to compare the original Police version of “Shadows In The Rain,” a somewhat meandering, spooky dub track, with the studio version from Blue Turtles, which was reportedly based on the original demo that Sting wrote. Amusingly beginning with Marsalis asking frantically what key the song is in over a funky Hakim groove, a harsh voiced Sting enters, and the song turns into an exuberant, upbeat soulful and jazzy tune with solos from Kirkland and Marsalis.

Part of the tension in Bring On The Night, beyond the question of whether the whole concept would work, is that the band was scheduled to play some live shows on little rehearsal. As you can see from the video above, they had no problem with the performance, and the exuberance of the album track is even more apparent.

Another part of the tension in the movie is that it shows, in pretty graphic detail, the birth of Sting and wife Trudy Styler’s son Jake, who is now this guy.

Darkness: The Dark Knight

Branford Marsalis Quartet: The Dark Knight [purchase]

Today is Harvey Day. That means that Matt Harvey will be pitching for the New York Mets tonight. As a baseball fan, there are some pitchers whose starts cause excitement, and it isn’t just because they are good pitchers. There’s something else, an X factor that creates the extra anticipation. Although the Mets have had good pitchers in the intervening years, and even finally had one pitch a no-hitter, it really hasn’t been since Doc Gooden’s first couple of seasons, in 1984 and 1985, that we have had someone like Matt Harvey.

Now, I will be the first person to say that press coverage of Harvey, whose career began only in 2012, and who sat out an entire season recovering from “Tommy John” surgery, has been over the top. Where he would rehab. What sporting events he attended, and what supermodel he was dating. And whether or not he would eventually break Mets fans’ hearts and sign with the Yankees, the team he rooted for as a child, and which would, traditionally, provide an even bigger spotlight than the perennially overshadowed Mets. And yet, here he is, after sitting out a year, and apparently not missing a beat. Undefeated, dominant and scary. His dark complexion, intimidating intensity and powerful pitching has led him to be dubbed the Dark Knight of Gotham, and in an era in which colorful sports nicknames have become scarce, it seems to have stuck. Thus, the Sports Illustrated cover above.

I’ve been a Mets fan all my life. I’ve referred to it as my longest relationship other than with my family, and like a family relationship, it has its ups and downs. Unfortunately, it has mostly been downs for us, but as I have said too many times, being a Mets fan builds character. One of my earliest memories is going to a Mets game with my father in 1968, when I was 6 or 7 years old. My strongest recollection of that day, though, is coming home in the car with my first yearbook, with its picture of Gil Hodges on the cover. I’m sure that I didn’t realize that the Mets were a bad team that year, and had been bad, even historically bad, every year of their existence since 1962 (just a year after I was born). But the next season, 1969, was the first year that I followed baseball as a fan, and the Mets rewarded me with a Miracle. I remember being allowed to stay up late to watch them clinch the pennant, and even watching post-season games in school (when they still had day games). I was hooked, but unfortunately, it was downhill from there for a while (with a slight blip in 1973 when they surprisingly made the World Series, but lost).

And yet, I persevered. Every season, I started out with hope, but usually I found myself disappointed. When I went to college, my roommate and I handed in our senior theses a day early so that we could drive up to Shea Stadium for the home opener in 1982, even though the team stunk. But shortly after that, we got the swaggering, fighting, dominant Mets that went wire to wire in 1986.

Since then, though, it has mostly been disappointment. Occasionally, we have been good, but have fallen short (1988, 2000, losing the World Series to the hated Yankees, to boot). But mostly bad, making even mediocrity seem good. And then there was 2006, when, in a packed, deafening and shaking Shea Stadium, I sat with my father, son and brother, and watched the Cardinals snatch victory, and the NLCS, away from us. We were there again at the last game in 2007, when the Mets completed an epic collapse and were eliminated from the playoffs, and again, in 2008, in the last game ever at Shea, when they were again eliminated from the playoffs on the last day of the season. But despite the heartbreak and another stretch of awful baseball, I keep watching, confounding my wife.

Yet being a Met fan is also something that my father, my son and my brother bond over. Like my family, there may be times that the Mets anger, annoy or even disappoint me, but I remain loyal. Maybe, the Dark Knight of Gotham will lead the charge to greatness again. Based on history, it isn’t likely, but if it happens, that would be pretty amazin’.

Branford Marsalis comes from a prominent musical family, to say the least. His parents, Dolores and Ellis are musicians, and his brothers, Wynton, Jason, Ellis and Delfeayo, are also musicians. Wynton, of course, is maybe the most famous contemporary jazz musician, and is considered to be a purist. Branford, on the other hand, while also an incredible player and composer, is a bit more flexible, having played with Sting (which led to well-publicized tension with Wynton), fronted the Tonight Show band and led a jazz/funk/hip-hop band, Buckshot LeFonque. He is also the subject of this very odd song by Dan Bern, also a huge baseball fan, in which Bern equates seeing Marsalis in a club in Prague with, among other things, seeing Babe Ruth in Yankee Stadium.

This song, “The Dark Knight,” is from the Branford Marsalis Quartet’s Crazy People Music, recorded in 1990, right around the time that Matt Harvey celebrated his first birthday, and was written by the group’s bassist, Robert Hurst. It is a long, straight ahead jazz piece featuring, not surprisingly, the bass. I have no idea if this song has anything to do with Batman, but I know that it has nothing to do with Matt Harvey, even though Marsalis is a Mets fan. I also know that all Mets fans will be anticipating tonight’s start against a weak Phillies team. And, unfortunately, I know that due to an important family event, I will not be watching, although my phone may get a workout when I can get away with checking the score.