Straight Life (27 page)

After he left the movies he had to find something to do. Les was a person that liked good things. He liked art; he liked good writing; he loved music. And so he started Contemporary Records. Les was the first to record the legendary Ornette Coleman when no other company would touch him. He recorded many young, far-out people and gave them their first opportunities to be heard. And he recorded Sonny Rollins, Shelly Manne, Andre Previn, Hampton Hawes, Barney Kessel, and many more. I had made albums for different companies, but I'd never gotten the right shake on my royalties, things like that. (In fact, all the records I made prior to my association with Les are still being sold in this country or in Europe, in Japan, and I don't get a penny in royalties from them to this day.) I just figured that was how the record business was. Then I was approached by Les. He offered me a contract, and his whole operation was very different. I saw that here was an honest man, and I felt very safe with him, and so I signed, and I've never had any regrets. We developed a beautiful friendship over the years. When I was really troubled, I could talk to him. He helped me a lot.

So here he is at the door, and I walk in, and I'm afraid to meet these guys because they've been playing with Miles and they're at the pinnacle of success in the jazz world. They're masters. Practicing masters. But here I am and here they are, and I have to act like everything's cool-"Hi" and "What's doin'?" "Hi, Red, what's goin' on?"

When the amenities are over and Les gets everything set up, the balance on the horn and all the microphones, then it's time to start making the album. Red Garland is looking at me, and my mind is a total blank. That's always been one of my faultsmemory. I have a poor memory, and I can't think of anything to play. Red says, "Well, I know a nice tune. Do you know this?" He starts playing a tune I've heard before. I say, "What's the name of it?" He says, "You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To." "What key?" "D minor."

It came out beautiful. My sound was great. The rhythm was great. And I remember in the reviews, by people like Leonard Feather, Martin Williams, they said, "The way Art plays the melody is wonderful. He's so creative. He makes it sound even better than the actual tune." Well, what I'm doing, I don't know the melody so I'm playing as close to it as I can get, and that's the creativity part. It does sound good because I play it with a jazz feeling, and it's like a jazz solo, but I'm really trying to play what I recollect of the song.

Les suggested we try a ballad for the next side, so Paul Chambers said, "You know what would be a nice tune for alto and the way you play? 'Imagination.' Do you know that?" I "aid, "Yeah, I've heard that. Bah dah dah dahhhh dah... " Red said, "That's A flat." I said, "Well, I was just goofing around." We ran through the melody and the bridge and then I said, "What should we do at the ending?" Red said, "Just do a little tag kind of thing. Just make it a free kind of thing." I played the melody and then I blew; Red played; Paul played; I came in and just followed along, a little series of chords; and then they stopped and I played a little ad lib kind of thing and we went into the ending. It was just fantastic. "Imagination" on Art Pepper Meets the Rhythm Section. It sounded as if we'd been rehearsing for months.

That's the way the whole thing went. We played a lot of things I'd liked but never done. And I really moved them, you know. And that's something. They'd been playing with Miles! And me being white! They were all real friendly and said it was beautiful, and they dug the way I played. Diane looked at me, like, "Would I forgive her?" and "Wasn't I happy?" And I was so relieved it was over I told her, "Everything's cool." So that was the session, and when it came out the people really liked it.

ART PEPPER

ART PEPPER MEETS THE RHYTHM SECTION-Contemporary C 3532: You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To; Red Pepper Blues; Imagination; Waltz Me Blues; Straight Life; Jazz Me Blues; Tin Tin Deo; Star Eyes; Birks' Works.

Personnel: Pepper, alto; Red Garland, piano; Paul Chambers, bass; Philly Joe Jones, drums.

Rating: * * * * *

At time of writing, this album is exactly one year in release. Why it has not been reviewed until now is quite unfathomable, for it certainly was one of the best jazz albums of last year and probably Pepper's most mature recording to date. The session was held Jan. 19, 1957, when Lester Koenig availed himself of the Miles Davis rhythm section, then in Hollywood with the trumpeter to play a local night club.

The altoist and rhythm section are indeed well met in this balanced set of eight tunes ranging from a purely played Imagination to some intriguing three-quarter jazz in Waltz Me. The solos of all con cerned are of consistent interest, with Pepper at times reaching heights he's seldom attained even under most congenial conditions in a club. In Red Pepper, a down-homey blues, Art's Lester Young-like phrasing in his opening chorus clearly shows where the roots lie.

As soloist and comper, Garland is authoritative and original. He can be alternately strong and delicate, sparely laconic, and ripplingly virtuosic. The bass-drums team here is peerless, with Chambers getting off some well-conceived pizzicato and arco solos. Jones' brush chorus in Waltz Me bears endless replaying for its taste and humor.

This memorable meeting deserves a favored place in anybody's collection. (J.A.T.) down beat, June 12, 1958. Copyright 1958 by down beat. Reprinted by special permission.

(John Koenig) My father always told me Art was the best alto player in town. He responded to Art early. And he told him early on, "Look, if you respect anything about my judgment, you better stop taking dope. It's gonna mess you up." Art said, "Yeah." And that was that.

They recorded a few albums in the early fifties. He thought Art wasn't getting a chance to play with people that were up to him, which was why he wanted to make those records like Meets The Rhythm Section and Gettin' Together. But, unfortunately, Art started getting into trouble, and that effectively took him off the scene. He would come back for a brief stay and try to get something together. Les was genuinely disturbed but he couldn't prevail upon Art to stop.

I'd say the first thing Les liked about Art was that he didn't play like anybody else. He wasn't anybody's man but his own. Art was the best player around then. (I'm not saying that he isn't now.) There were a couple other good alto players in the country at the time: there was Cannonball, and there was Jackie McLean, Phil Woods. It's hard to think of anybody else that you could identify as a powerful individual force. And Art was here. Les responded to Art basically because Art was something special.

Les was always interested in-whatever the human endeavor, he was interested in something unusual. Even to the extent that he would prefer an unusual idea that wasn't carried off as well to one that was normal and carried off letter-perfect. That's probably what made his identity as a collector and a record producer. He was kind of contrary, you know. He was the first person to record Ornette Coleman. And Les was the most meticulous person I ever saw. He was meticulous, and, if known for nothing else, at least in this business he's probably remembered for being about the most honest person in the record industry.

I was a little kid when Art started coming around. I heard stories that he was a dashing kind of guy, in a way a stereotype of a hard-living jazz musician of the time, with all the dope and all the women and all the playing. But I think Art was a more legitimate jazz player than any of the other ones out here. He went along with the life-style. I don't mean the dope, but Central Avenue and that whole thing; whereas I listen to the other records of white players in town at the time-they're good records but Art came from a tradition. He was the genuine article.

Art was very unsure of himself after he got out, after his big ordeal. He'd come around, and my father would ask him how he was doing, how he was playing, and my father would try to encourage him. Every time Art would leave, you'd get the feeling, what a waste. My father was genuinely upset. They developed a personal rapport which was a kind of private thing.

PEPPER'S PROGRESS By John Tynan

"For the first time in my 32 years I've got a piano at home."

Art Pepper smiled happily, snuffed out a cigarette and continued, "I got it in August. You've no idea how much it means to me-not only where my music is concerned, but psychologically. It's like a symbol of a new life."

Symbol of a new life ... a phrase in which the key word stands out in brilliant contrast to the living death of heroin addiction which entombed the altoist for some of the most vital years of his young manhood and musical creativity.

It has been truly opined that, to an artist, the "public" is a most fickle mistress. Consider the following statistics:

In 1951, when Art Pepper was alto star of the Stan Kenton band, final tabulation for first and second places in the alto sax division of down beat's Readers Poll read as follows: Charlie Parker, 957 votes; Art Pepper, 945.

In 1955, when Pepper was imprisoned in the federal penitentiary for violation of parole stemming from his first arrest two years previously, he had plummeted in public favor to 18th place in this magazine's annual poll with votes totaling 31.

But in 1956, just a few months after his return to music, with no out-of-town appearances for new albums on the market to his credit, he had soared to 9th place. In the just-finished 1957 poll, he moved all the way to second.

What of Pepper today, his problems and aspirations? What has kept him away from heroin-and inevitable further imprisonmentfor one-and-a-half years? As may be surmised, he is reluctant to discuss so painful a subject. He did, however, make the following observations with characteristic candor and the reiterated hope that others might profit from his own experience.

"So far as problems are concerned," he said thoughtfully, "the biggest one I've had since I got out was being back in the same environment. By that I mean night clubs, mainly. And having to contend with the creeps who approached me with the idea of selling some junk. At first, this was a constant problem and temptation. It wasn't until word got around that I'd put down that scene that the pushers began to ease up"

He raked his dark, unruly hair with nervous fingers and lit another cigarette. "My own personal problems, of course, also had to be met-the complexes I was left with after goofing for years; the inability to have confidence in myself and in my playing.

"In June of last year, for example, when I first got out, I felt it would take a long time to get back my chops. In fact, there were many times after that when I was convinced that I was through in music. I was nervous, unsure of myself, afraid I wouldn't know the new tunes, or that I no longer was hip to what was happening in jazz. Most of all, I guess, I was deathly scared that people wouldn't like the way I played."

His brow was deeply furrowed. "There were some people, too, who made it tough for me to make a living in music. But here I've got to draw the line. There's just so much I feel free to say ... "

Responsible medical opinion holds that an individual, once hooked on heroin, is forever unfree from the sometimes intolerable "yen" for just one jolt of the drug that once dominated his every waking moment. How does Pepper combat this tearing desire to "fix just once," that twists every addict after he has kicked?

"The yen is still there, of course," admitted Pepper grimly. "I dream about it. It's a very real thing. There are pressures within myself arising from the knowledge that once you've used, it's the simplest escape there is. You never forget that. You forget all the bad parts of being addicted; remember just the good. And the worst is, you rationalize about it until you've almost forgotten what it will lead to.

"But, like a person with a bad stomach, you learn to live with it and do what you can to take care of yourself. When the yen for a fix becomes bad, I've gotten into the habit of performing a sort of ritual that helps to keep me straight.

"It's just a thought process ... I think about the progressive steps that'll result from my goofing. First of all, I consider, the narcotics detail gets the word and before long I get picked up. This has got to happen; there's no escape. Then I get sent up for maybe 30, 40 years. My record takes care of that. I think about never again seeing my wife, my friends ... never again being able to play, which is the thing I want to do more than anything else. Well, by the time I'm through with this line of thought, I'm shaking with fear, so scared that the feeling is gone."

At 32, Art Pepper feels he is just approaching maturity. He now believes that you can't avoid the everyday responsibilities of living and that meeting them is actually easier than avoiding them. In this, he acknowledges his wife, Diane, as the constant stabilizer. ("You have to be loved; you have to know that someone loves you. When you do, everything is easier.")

Those early fears and feelings of musical inadequacy when he returned to professional life, seem now dreamlike and wispy to the altoist. Not only has he "got his chops back," but he is increasingly regarded by critical authority as one of the most important contributors to contemporary jazz. The ever-present depth and passion in his solo playing, stemming possibly from the suffering in his life, gives to his musical conception a strength and basic emotional quality possessed by few of his contemporaries.

Since last summer, Pepper has recorded for several west coast labels. When he badly needed funds, shortly after his release form the penitentiary, a tempting bonus offered by the owners of Intro Records (an Aladdin subsidiary) induced him to exclusively sign with that company. All but two of the albums he made for Intro have now been released. But that company has abruptly swerved from a jazz policy (its basic catalog is almost wholly rhythm and blues) and Pepper's contract is on the block to the highest bidder. At this critical point in his career, Pepper is without a home label.

Since his return to jazz, considers Art, he hasn't noted any pro gressive changes. "Matter of fact," he declares, "so far as I can see, the music has stagnated. Nothing new is happening now, there's no progress evident like when I was a kid. Another thing I've noticed is that there's no spirit of camaraderie among jazz musicians anymore. They all seem to follow the attitude of the nation: competition. 'Keeping up with the Joneses' is keeping down the jazzman.