In retrospect it is remarkable how the music world changed between 1962 and 1963. The Beatles had a lot to do with it, of course, but they weren’t a force in America until the following year, and yet there seems to have been a barrage of decent non-jazz albums issued during 1963. There were good jazz albums too. And of course, once the dam was breached the numbers just got bigger. In previous parts of this series I’ve managed to mention, if not feature, pretty much every LP I like from that particular year. From this point on it will be, by necessity, a mere selection, but hopefully a reasonably balanced one (all three featured records from 1962 were by tenor saxophonists, something I only noticed after I’d done it).
As far as I can ascertain these three records were all issued in the same week in February. Most 63 year old musicians, especially those who were considered a legend of twentieth century music, would probably be coasting, knowing that they’d achieved wonders already. Not Duke Ellington, as these three terrific albums prove. Hawkins was more or less a contemporary of Ellington’s, and the material they recorded with other veterans like Johnny Hodges, Ray Nance and Harry Carney was a comfortable fit for both. But this isn’t to say either was phoning it in, and this is a terrific album. The trio date was recorded in September and consists of seven Ellington compositions, four of them new. Ellington apparently told the other two to think of him as ‘the poor man’s Bud Powell’. He’s anything but, even though he was out of his comfort zone with this kind of improvisational playing. The three are quite loose, with each musician almost on a different wavelength, and yet it comes together beautifully as a piece. Just nine days later Duke was in the studio again, this time with an awestruck John Coltrane. Interestingly they used Aaron Bell and Sam Woodyard from Ellington’s band on some tracks, and Jimmy Garrison and Elvin Jones from Coltrane’s on others. Five of the cuts were new or old Ellington tunes, with one each by Billy Strayhorn and Coltrane. Of these three albums, this is my favourite. The two seem to click in a surprising way for two musicians whose usual ouevre was so different. Coltrane’s own album of 1963, Ballads (Impulse!), is a pleasing set of standards that is often overlooked, and his album John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman (Impulse!) breathes new life into the jazz vocal genre. Mingus’s The Black Saint And The Sinner Lady (Impulse!) is rightly regarded as a classic.
There’s very little new you can say about these records. Each has eight originals and six covers, and even if you don’t own them you’ll probably know nearly all the tunes. I would say that the first album is slightly the stronger of the two, but that’s probably because the cover versions are more interesting – there’s little pick between the originals. I used to be quite iconoclastic about the band, probably as a reaction to all the gushing hyperbole that’s been written about them in the last thirty years (something that didn’t really happen in the seventies and eighties). I think standards slipped after Pepper, but up till then they were THE pop group.
I’ve always loved the cover of this. There’s no air of studied cool that you get with any of the later sleeves, and it just seems such a natural portrait of a time long gone. If Dylan had only made the first album he’d have been long forgotten. If he’d only made this one he would still have been a legend. It has everything from the surrealism of “Bob Dylan’s Blues” and “I Shall Be Free”, to the wacky humour of “Honey, Just Allow Me One More Chance”, to the blistering anger of “Masters of War”. It’s baffling how he got typecast as a folk protest singer after this, because the subject matter and the tone is so varied, and there’s even a full rock band on “Corrina, Corrina”. Might be my favourite Dylan album of them all, but if not it’s up there.
The Motown pop juggernaut was up to nearly full speed by 1963. The company was singles oriented, with LPs on the whole just a collection of single A and B sides together with a few tracks not deemed strong enough to be either. This was, of course, an r ‘n’ b tradition. Marvin’s first album was actually a collection of supper club ballads. This was far stronger: short, taut and punchy, and full of hits. Come And Get These Memories has a similar MO (and a similarly shit sleeve). The other thing Berry Gordy had a habit of was quickie live albums, most of which sold pretty well, but few of which have remained in print. Recorded Live: The 12 Year Old Genius is an exception. It’s pretty skimpy, even by the standards of the day. Seven tracks over 23 minutes. But it does have the full six and a half minute adrenalin rush of “Fingertips” which shows not just how amazing Stevie was, but how awesome the Motown musicians were to keep up with him.
A few other things from 63. On Blue Note, Kenny Burrell’s superb guitar album Midnight Blue, Ike Quebec’s Blue And Sentimental and Dexter Gordon’s Our Man In Paris. Other notable jazz albums include Sonny Rollins’ Our Man In Jazz (RCA Victor), Stan Getz and Luis Bonfa’s Jazz Samba Encore (Verve), and Miles Davis’s Seven Steps To Heaven (Columbia). The Apollo Theatre Presents In Person The James Brown Show (King) is, of course, a classic. Baby Washington’s That’s How Heartaches Are Made (Sue) is much less well known, but is a great collection of early sixties pop-soul. Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem was given its premiere in 1963, and the Decca recording with the Bach Choir and the LSO, conducted by the composer, is still the definitive version. Davy Graham was famously discovered by Bob Monkhouse. His Guitar Player on budget label Golden Guinea is as good as anything he did subsequently. The Beach Boys albums prior to Pet Sounds are all very short, and even then bulked up with crap. Surfer Girl (Capitol) has less shit than most, and a handful of great tunes. Finally, Andy Williams fired out regular collections of classic and contemporary songs throughout the sixties. Days of Wine and Roses (Columbia) is one of the strongest.