In honor of Victor Goines’ 54th birthday, I’m posting the uncut proceedings of a DownBeat Blindfold Test that I conducted with him in 2002, in his office at Juilliard School of Music, where he was then directing the jazz studies program. Below that, I’ve appended the first of two liner notes I’ve written for VG—in this case, for the 2005 Criss-Cross CD, New Adventures. It contains a fair amount of biographical information on this master reed and woodwind player and excellent arranger-composer, a mainstay of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra since 1991.
1. Jimmy Hamilton, “Mr. Good Blues” (from CAN’T HELP SWINGIN’, Prestige, 1961/1999) (Hamilton, ts, cl; Clark Terry, tp; Britt Woodman, tb; Tommy Flanagan, p; Wendell Marshall, b; Mel Lewis, d) – (4-1/2 stars)
Well, you’ve got me stumped already. It’s in that ’60s vibe. Some Ben Webster up in there definitely. That’s Ben Webster. [No.] Mmm! Now, I know we’re in the school of Texas tenor playing, so then next it makes me think of somebody like Arnett Cobb. Now, that sounds like C.T. I’m not sure who the trombone player is. C.T.’s killing. His sound jumps out at me already in the first couple of notes. I did a gig with him this past weekend. It was that exact sound; you can hear it immediately. Now you’re telling me it’s some kind of Ellington all-stars or something. I had a feeling you’d throw some clarinet players in there! [LAUGHS] Is this Jimmy? [Now all you have to do is guess who the tenor player is.] Yeah! It’s not that syrupy Paul Gonsalves sound, so it’s somebody like Ashby. Who played tenor in Duke’s band? Was that Britt playing trombone? I don’t have the pianist down yet. You got me on the rest of them. Only to reserve something for the greatest of the greatest, I give it a 4-1/2. They were playing the essence of the blues, and everything that came out of them, the feeling was completely relaxed. Some of the greatest players in the history of jazz music, led by C.T. on the top floor. An extraordinary recording. Swinging from start to finish. I heard different aspects. I heard the Texas tenor sound, and I heard things that were indicative of Ben’s way of playing. It’s somebody who actually checked out Ben, of course, but all of them checked each other out during that time period. It’s not like now; we’re spread out all over the place. But I can’t remember who played tenor with that particular set of people. [AFTER] I wouldn’t have figured it out. So he doubled on it. [Like you.] He was a great tenor player, but I haven’t heard a whole lot of his tenor in Duke’s band. Flanagan makes sense. I wouldn’t have guessed the bass and drummer, but I can hear Tommy. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. But Jimmy playing tenor! Great. Cool. Fantastic.
2. Alvin Batiste, “Reflections” (#5) (from THE VILLAGE, Impulse!, 1997) (Batiste, cl; Henry Butler, p, comp.); Ron Carter, b; Jack De Johnette, d) – (4-1/2 stars)
[IMMEDIATELY] Alvin Batiste. Mr. Fourths. He has a sound like nobody else. I grew up with that sound. I can remember hearing Alvin when I was in 9th grade. It’s fantastic. He’s one who always did a lot with the groove. He really understood how to deal with the grooves and plays the clarinet in a very unique way, but at the same time understands the tradition of the instrument. Is Herman Jackson playing drums? He obviously is coming out of that Coltrane tradition of playing the groove and the vamp. Is that Ron Carter playing bass? So that’s his album “Imp and Perry.” I don’t think that’s “Imp and Perry,” though. But Ron played on that one. Somebody who studied McCoy on the piano, if not McCoy. That’s not Henry Butler? [LAUGHS] Okay. I’ve got three of them. Henry’s a fabulous player. A great educator, too. I envy the fact that he moved back down to New Orleans. Now, who’s playing drums? Just in the style of all the rest of the musicians, he’s checked out Elvin Jones. But his beat is too tight to be Elvin. Elvin would play a whole lot looser than that. He plays the cymbals in a unique way; he has a different sound from most cymbals, too. They’re tight. They don’t reverberate like most of them. It almost sounds like it’s got some James Black influence in there. Because James always played tight in terms of his concept of the rhythm. I got to play with him about two or three years with Ellis, even though he was much more technical than this particular person. But I can’t figure out who it is, unfortunately. I don’t know this particular recording. I don’t recall the melody enough to figure out the composer. But it’s the kind of music that Bat would write, with those open fourths. It’s not his composition, though. I don’t think Herlin ever recorded with Bat. It’s typical Alvin Batiste, in terms of the influence John Coltrane’s music had on him, and being a clarinet player, he definitely approaches it in a much different way. Clarinet players tend to avoid those fourthy type of intervals, but Bat embraces it in every possible way, and it leads to a very unique way of playing the clarinet and the sound of the instrument. He has a voice all his own. It took about two or three notes, as you said, for me to really immediately know that it was Bat playing on that particular piece. I like what they were dealing with. I’d give them a 4-1/2, too. I’m going to save my 5 for something that’s going to be great. I know you’ve got something laying back for me.
3. Artie Shaw, “Don’t Take Your Love From Me” (from SELF-PORTRAIT, RCA, 1954/2001) (Shaw, cl; Hank Jones, p; Joe Roland, vb; Tal Farlow, g; Tommy Potter b; Irv Kluger, d) – (4 stars)
One of my fears was that you were going to pull out some of these clarinet players, and my study of the history of the clarinet is not as in-depth as my study of the history of the tenor saxophone. But I’m getting there. But we’re going to work on this particular clarinet player. Is that Buddy? It’s somebody who’s checked out Lester Young. I thought about Lester, but Lester wouldn’t play that many notes, and his sound would be a whole lot lighter, like his tenor playing. Obviously there’s not a lot of recordings of him playing clarinet. But I know that wasn’t him. It was somebody who was coming out of there. It’s also someone, I think, who played the saxophone, because he doesn’t go into the upper register of the clarinet at the original statement of his solo. Now, you’ve got the guitar and the vibes in there. That’s unique. I think the time period is in the ’40s. Great block chords in the piano. It’s the kind of stuff George Shearing would do. The other reason why I say this person plays saxophone, while their technique is really great, just the pure clarinet sound is lacking. The thing that a clarinet player would hear. It sounds like he’s really dealt with the instrument in terms of… He gets all over it, too. It’s a quartet without the drums. Fabulous piece. Very, very melodic in the way they all played. The balance of everything was even throughout. It was one of those, like we used to say, three-minute masterpieces. So obviously, that dates it as well, that the recording is not ten minutes long. I can’t tell you who the musicians were. I’d be shooting out in the dark. I have no idea who the clarinet player is. [AFTER] All the Artie I heard was always exploiting the mere fact that he was all over the place, and I haven’t heard any of his music that was as lyrical as that and just purely melodic. I liked the group as a whole. I would give this one a 4, though. But I thought it was great in terms of the citing of the ballad melodically and the way he developed it. It obviously speaks about the music in a way that has kind of become a lost art form in terms of people always keeping the melody inside of what’s going on in the solo. It was clearly stated at all times.
4. Ken Peplowski-Marty Ehrlich, “The Soul In The Wood” (from GRENADILLA, Concord, 1998) (Peplowski, cl; Ehrlich, b.cl, comp; Ben Aronov, p; Greg Cohen, b; Chuck Reed, d) – (3-1/2 stars)
Did the person overdub the clarinets? No? They play a lot like each other, though, interestingly enough. Sounds like some Easley or something like that. Was this recorded in the ’80s? The way and the what they’re playing tells me about the ’80s. I knew it wasn’t the ’70s. It wasn’t about the fusion era. There’s another guy named Bud Revels who used to live in New York, but he used to play kind of open fourths. It kind of reminded me a little bit of Bud, but not so. I find it more difficult to really identify who these people are because I’m not a product of the fusion of funk and jazz too much. So their personalities, for me, don’t come out in their sound as easily as Clark Terry’s did at the sighting of three notes, or Alvin Batiste. Even the piano player. Its’ not that they don’t have command of their instruments. It’s just much more difficult for me to hear the personality inside of their sound. It sounds something like Joe Temperley playing bass clarinet on some of this. He deals with a certain vibrato that Joe has. But Joe would be swinging, though. That’s the only thing that’s different about it. Like, you didn’t throw my bandmate Ted Nash’s music in here, huh? This piece reminds me of cats who are coming together trying to work on some new ideas and whatnot, with some different ensemble approaches in terms of grooves and different ways of playing on the drums and bass and piano, along with two clarinets, which is a very unusual instrumentation in and of itself. I give it a 3-1/2. It sounds good. I’m not opposed to that music. But I’d just like to hear them swinging. Then I’d really be able to hear their personalities coming out in their sounds — in my ears anyway.
5. Benny Golson, “The Man I Love” (from Ron Carter, STARDUST, Blue Note, 2002) (Golson, ts; Carter, b; Roland Hanna, b; Lenny White, d.) – (4-1/2 stars)
You can’t miss a tune like “The Man I Love.” I know the tenor player’s sound, first of all; I’m trying to remember the player in my mind. Again, it sounds like Ron is playing bass. That smear there is a Ron Carter trademark. I can see the tenor player’s embouchure. That’s the strange thing about it. I can see his embouchure in my mind. I’m going to work out the tenor player; give me a minute. I’m listening to the drummer and the piano now. This is Ron’s record. Immediately after the tenor solo player came the bass solo. This is another ’80s recording or so, no? Initially, I thought the ’60s, but technology… The drummer is young. Because he started turning the hi-hat around. He’s not older than fortyish. He has enough tradition in his sound, but he has enough creativity to deal with what stood before him in these times. The tenor player is confusing me because he’s really disciplined to deal with the melody. Most people in modern times will want to be so creative and improvise something on the melody. It’s really refreshing to hear them play just what the melody is. I can see the embouchure of this person in my mind, but I cannot figure him out. And I have no clue who’s playing the piano. See, the tenor player’s eighth notes were on the straighter side of things, you might say. But he played with a certain history that says he’s an elder statesman — in my mind anyway. So who is still playing out there in that particular format? In interest of time, we should probably move on. 4-1/2 stars [AFTER] Oh! Aggh! I can see the embouchure. Sorry, Benny. I love your playing, I really do, so I do apologize. I have all kinds of records of yours, so forgive me. Just the attention to detail in the tune is amazing, and it’s a tribute to Ron and Benny. It’s just what they’re all about.
6. Joe Lovano, “Soltanto a Tte (Only To You) (from VIVA CARUSO, Blue Note, 2002) (Lovano, ts; Byron Olson, cond.) – (4-1/2 stars)
First off, the composition and the counterpoint they’ve written is extraordinary. It’s so well written that it pulls me to all kind of instruments back and forth. I try to concentrate on the saxophone player, then I hear the flutes. So the composition thus far has been great. Go ahead, Joe Lovano! Again, that’s what I was speaking about in terms of the personality of the sound. Even as a tenor player, his sound is so personal. It has a mixture of the baritone and the tenor to me. I had questions originally. The thickness of it kind of told me it was bari, but the range… I was hearing the exact notes, saying it was tenor, but then immediately when he got to the signature type of melodic riffs and motifs, it’s undoubtedly Joe Lovano. If I remember correctly, this might be arranged by this guy who’s out of Cleveland, Ohio. His “52nd Street Themes” record was arranged by this guy. Not this one? But he’s been managing to put himself in contact with great arrangers now, and they not only have taken his strong playing that he does even in a quartet setting, or even in trio, for that matter, but it has put Joe in a whole nother vibe and level in terms of what he’s been able to voice from his instrument. I love his playing. What’s the tune? I heard the accordion, or accordion type instrument in the background. But I don’t really hear it. Again, it’s another way that Joe has been creative in terms of picking the ensemble he’s dealing with these days. I like his choices. I give him a 4-1/2. Definitely an outstanding musician. I got to play a gig with Joe at Jazz at Lincoln Center. Having stood next to him, it really gives you an opportunity to get inside of his sound, truly, in every possible way. He’s a great, great musician.
7. Buddy deFranco, “Do Nothin’ Til You Hear From Me” (from DO NOTHING TIL YOU HEAR FROM US!, Concord, 1999) (DeFranco, cl; Dave McKenna, p; Joe Cohn, g) – (4 stars)
Now I’m going to try to go back to my Buddy DeFranco thing? Is it him? I met his wife, and she mentioned his involvement in the bebop era on the clarinet, and that’s immediately what I was hearing there. Just the way he played, he exhibited the sense of the virtuosity of the clarinet, in terms of dealing with the complete register, not limiting himself to an octave-and-a-half. As I reflect back on Buddy’s solo, while I’m listening to the piano solo, he was dealing with some pretty modern things for the time, in every way. No matter when he was playing, he was always superimposing different harmonies and whatnot. This is not too long ago for him, it sounds like. He was dealing with his fourths also! I’m going to give this one a 4. I’m not sure who the pianist and guitarist are, but I like their respect for the tradition of the music. The guitar player deals with Freddie Green’s style of playing, and the piano is recognizing his Erroll Garner style of playing as well. It’s one of those things where you can’t hear everybody. But fine players all across the board.
8. Louis Sclavis, “Contre, Contre” (from L’AFFRONTEMENT DES PRETENDANTS, ECM, 2001) (Sclavis, cl; Jean-Luc Capozzo, tp; Vincent Courtois, cello; Bruno Chevillon, b; Francois Merville, d) – (3-1/2 stars)
That’s Alvin again, playing clarinet. No? Particularly the way he plays with still(?) tones, too. I just went purely on the content of the sound, not even the melodic ideas. But he does play some of the same ideas. Now, I’m just going to go out on a limb, and say that because of the kind of technique I know the person has… I haven’t listened to a lot of their music. But I have to start breaking down players. I’m used to somebody who… This wasn’t recorded too long ago, right? Don Byron has all kinds of technique to get up and down the horn. This is one of those recordings I’m going to come up not knowing all the musicians on it. I can this about it, though. It’s not a road I’ve traveled, but I like some of the things they’ve done so far on it, and just the way the clarinet is played will make me go out and get this recording to explore it a little bit more. They do their experimentation within the groove, and that’s truly, I think, one of the definite elements of jazz music. It takes it out of that realm of being potentially “avant-garde” or “free jazz,” as they call it. Interesting intervals on the melody, the way the trumpet player and the clarinet player interact. He’s playing bass clarinet now, but he took the solo on B-flat clarinet. Just because I want to hear some more of what they do, I’ll give them a 3-1/2. But I definitely will go out and buy that, and check it out to see where they’re coming from completely.
9. Sidney Bechet, “Weary Blues” (from JAZZ CLASSICS IN DIGITAL STEREO: SIDNEY BECHET, 1924-1938, ABC, 1938/1989) (Bechet, Mezz Mezzrow, cl; Tommy Ladnier, tp; Cliff Jackson, p; Teddy Bunn, g; Elmer James, b; Manzie Johnson, d)
[IMMEDIATELY] Sidney. [I have to throw you a softball here.] I appreciate it. The hardballs were all over the place! So every once in a while I like a pitch I can really hit. I can tell you I don’t know the name of the tune. Unfortunately, the titles escape me on that. It’s a blues! [LAUGHS] Oh, I do know this tune. I don’t know the name of it. [SINGS] We’ve played this!! Oh, wow. I don’t know the title, but I know the tune. Sidney was just a bundle of intensity in every possible way — rhythmically, melodically, harmonically. Again, he’s one of those people who you can hear the personality right off the bat. He played just as they say he was, with a lot of fire. Everything about him. I’m working on the trumpeter. Everybody checked out Pops at that time. I can’t hear enough of the other clarinet player to really distinguish who he is. You don’t hear many recordings of Sidney on clarinet, because obviously the soprano became his life. But as a clarinet player, he really dealt with the whole of the instrument. He left no stones unturned. He understood everything about the instrument and what it could do. Again, he had no limitations. Unfortunately, we didn’t get enough recordings of him on the clarinet. 4-1/2 stars. I’m sure you still have one ultimate.
10. Ivo Papasov, “Mladeshki Dance” (from BALAKONOLOGY, Hannibal, 1991) (Papasov, cl; Youri Younakov, sax; Neshko Neshev, acc; Andrei Kamzamalov, g; Radi Kazakov, b; Stefan Angelov, d) – (2 stars)
You should feel confident that I haven’t heard this one before, Ted! I’m just going to sit through all of it and check it out, though. [AFTER] We can start out by saying confidently that I don’t know anyone — to my knowledge — on this recording. I don’t recognize them anyway. But we’ll have to see afterwards. But they obviously feel passionate about what they do, because I figure that any time someone documents something in a long-lasting format, they definitely have a certain passion for what they do. But in terms of how I critique things, the great John Lewis once told me that the three elements of jazz are… He actually put it in terms of swing, which I consider in a more general term to mean the groove. He said the element of surprise, which I call syncopation… First, which I’m actually mentioning last, is the groove. So while it had a groove in it (one was a funk groove and I don’t have a term for the other one), it definitely had no element of the blues in it for me, and it had no element of syncopation in it, the element of surprise. For those reasons alone, I’ll give it a 2. While they are playing the instruments in ways that reflect what they’ve listened to, I’d like to hear more of the command that reflects not just how they can manipulate the instrument, but the original or true sounds of the instrument as well. Then it would give it a reference, so to speak. Because those people who play out, if they never play in, then Out becomes In and In becomes Out. So it’s difficult sometimes to grab hold of that because they don’t really state it in a term that I necessarily relate to. [Where do you think they were from?] Well, they’re dealing with an Eastern European type of sound. But they’re probably American, though! Where are they from? Bulgaria? Obviously, he feels passionate about what he’s dealing with. [Well, that music is syncopated for the people in the Balkans hear the dance.] You’re right. It has its references of syncopation. [And he puts a lot of interesting double-reed effects on the clarinet that I thought you’d find interesting.] Well, i can hear some of the shakes and trills he’s dealing with. He’s got something of his own he’s dealing with, and again, I do respect that. Yeah, in the world’s view.
11. Paquito d’Rivera, “Birks Works” (from HABANERA, Enja, 2000) (d’Rivera, cl; Kenny Drew, p; Michael Formanek, b; Clarence Penn, d; Mino Cinelu, perc; Dizzy Gillespie, comp.) (4-1/2 stars)
[AT SOLO] So we’ve got Paquito. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind when he started. I just wanted to get into what he was dealing with from a melodic point of view. He’s definitely one of my favorite players and people. He’s full of life. Life comes out in his music in every possible way. I don’t want to undermine any of the rhythm section players, because they’re completely important to every solo there is that ever has taken place in the history of jazz music. Unfortunately, I haven’t put a recognition with their names, but I want to say it publicly so that they will know that a soloist is not out there by themselves without a rhythm section, but it’s that interaction that we all know and love and support and NEED from the rhythm section to make us do what we do in front of the band. So while I may not be able to recognize any of these guys with Paquito on this particular recording… I’m not sure if it’s Paquito’s band. When the tune comes back around, I’ll tell you what it is. Oh yeah, it’s Dizzy’s tunes. And Paquito played with Dizzy, obviously; they had a great love and mutual respect for each other. I like the fact that the percussionist is not overbearing with all the things around him. He’s playing with brushes in a very relaxed form. He’s got his special percussion around him, too. Interesting. There’s no bass in it. I hear the pianist dealing with the harmony. He was playing the “Manteca” theme up in there, too. This is “Birks’ Works,” right? Paquito’s way of phrasing is just Paquito. It’s just like I was saying about Joe Lovano and his uniqueness. It’s just Paquito. He’s personalizing what he does. And then he’s a true virtuoso, just all over the place. 4-1/2 stars.
12. Michael Moore, “2 Degrees East, 3 Degrees West” (#8) (from BERING, Ramboy, 1999) (Moore, cl; Fred Hersch, p; Mark Helias, b; John Lewis, comp.) (3-1/2 stars)
I don’t know if I’ve played this tune, but Wess Anderson always plays melodies that sound like this tune. But the one thing I do like about the melody is that it’s one you can walk away whistling. For me, that’s always the sound of a great melody. That’s recorded recently, right? It sounds like someone around my age, one of my colleagues. Is someone like Ben Wolfe playing bass? I haven’t got the clarinet player together yet. But he’s doing fine! I like what he did! Again, he brought that element of the blues back in. So that was great. [AFTER] Ted, I don’t know about that one, now. You caught me on every one of them, and that’s right in my pocket with all that swing that was taking place. 3-1/2 stars. I like what they were doing. They sounded great. I like the element of the blues and the relaxation they had, and the fact that they were doing it without having to have that drummer. We love the drummers, but it’s good to play sometimes without them, so when we get them, we appreciate them. Unfortunately, I do not know the musicians on this one at all. Nor the tune.
13. Don Byron, “One Finger Snap” (from ROMANCE WITH THE UNSEEN, Blue Note, 1999) (Byron, cl; Bill Frisell, g; Drew Gress, b; Jack DeJohnette, d; Herbie Hancock, comp.) – (4 stars)
There’s obviously indications of “One Finger Snap” in there. It’s hip how they came from that out thing and then got into their groove that was going on. I don’t know many guitar sounds; this sounds like Scofield or somebody like that. I like that the clarinet player has a lot of patience. Obviously, he can play the instrument, because he’s up and down the horn, and a great thought process without playing fast. But I don’t have any idea yet who he is. I like how the clarinet keeps interacting inside the guitar solo every once in a while, just a little pedal tone, so to speak, up in there. Who’s the cat that Joe Lovano used to come out with in his trio, with guitar, tenor and drums? It’s out of that Paul Motian drive. Ah, the guitarist is Frisell. Okay. [AFTER] All I know is that it was “One Finger Snap” and it was Bill playing guitar. I don’t have the clarinet player down. I’ll give them a 4. I like the creativity they had happening in there. They started way out west and came back. That was Don! The thing I liked is that Don didn’t necessarily make his trademark of being able to play the clarinet. He dealt with the music. I like that. He didn’t have to demonstrate all his technical ability. But it was obvious to me where he was at in the ranges of the instrument and things of that nature.
14. Dr. Michael White, “A Song for George Lewis” (from A SONG FOR GEORGE LEWIS, Basin Street, 2000) (White, cl; p; Rickie Monie, p; Detroit Brooks, g; Kerry Lewis, b) – (4 stars)
Is that some Bob Wilber? This is a recent recording. My first instinct is to say my homeboy, Michael White, just from the way he deals with the spirit… His phrasing, for one, and his articulation. And that smear says Michael White actually. [LAUGHS] I don’t think Don Vappie is playing banjo with him these days. Oh, that’s Detroit Brooks! He usually plays guitar. That’s why I didn’t recognize him. Is that his brother Mark Brooks playing bass? Kerry is a former student of mine! Right on, Kerry. We were talking for a long time about getting into the tradition of the music. So obviously, he decided to check it out. Michael is the epitome of having checked out all the great clarinetists in New Orleans. He’s a great spokesman for the music. He understands the history of it. And he can play. He comes out of the George Lewis tradition. I’m not so familiar with it, because my man was Omar Simeon. I really like what Omar was dealing with, more or less. But from what I know about George Lewis’ music, it was blues-based in every possible way. Simeon played very technical and all up and down the instrument, but he had a lot of little smears and the blues was a heavy part of everything that he did play. [Simeon came out of a similar school to Jimmie Noone and George Lewis was more in the Johnny Dodds line.] Exactly. 4 stars.
What’s interesting about this is that Michael has taken the New Orleans tradition and modernized it in terms of a quartet situation. Because the clarinet in New Orleans music always had to deal with the polyphonic interplay with the trombone and the trumpet, obviously, with a few exceptions, like when Sidney Bechet was featured on “Petite Fleur” or something like that. So he managed to take the music and make it fit his needs without having to be refined or restricted by the other two instruments in New Orleans music, the trombone and trumpet. And at the same time, he maintains the spirit of the music inside of what he’s dealing with. From the musical content and stating the melody, I like the way he deals with it in terms of the majestic vibe he keeps on the clarinet at all times. It has that history in it, but it has that modern aspect. The beginning, if I remember, has that same kind of cadenza Sidney Bechet played on “Dear Old Southland.” I like the way the rhythm section is dealing with the discipline of the groove, because that’s something that’s lost in modern music. Everyone is so busy trying to set their own sound that being able to have the discipline just to deal with one vibe at any one time has become a challenge for younger musicians. The function of your particular instrument inside of the band. The bass player is no way trying to imply that he is a soloist or a lead instrument in this. There’s the blues or George Lewis right there, in the bending that Michael was doing. It’s good to see Detroit in that scene, because I knew him from playing the rhythm-and-blues scene. Kerry Lewis is a young player who came up under Leroy Jones from Harry Connick’s band. Shannon Powell is one of the great New Orleans drummers, without a doubt. I went to junior high school with Shannon. Even in junior high school, he was playing on Bourbon Street. So he has great tradition inside what he does as well. It’s great the way Michael has taken something that’s an original tune of his and made it sound very much like something George Lewis would have wrote.
Victor Goines (Notes for New Adventures):
“It was instilled in me early on that you should never get on a bandstand with anyone you’re not willing to get into a foxhole with,” Victor Goines remarked a few years ago, in an acute moment of self-description. “You have to believe that the person next to you is going to try to make you sound better at all costs. I’ve never been an ‘all for me’ kind of person. I’ve been an ‘all for one’ kind of person.”
An unwavering team player, whose capacity for sustained work rivals and perhaps surpasses that of Wynton Marsalis, his kindergarten classmate and employer in the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra and Wynton Marsalis Septet since 1993, Goines often submerges his own tonal personality to LCJO band responsibilities, which involve playing Marsalis’ notoriously difficult scores on tenor, soprano and baritone saxophones, clarinet and bass clarinet, and a variety of flutes, as well as music copying and score-vetting. Adding to his duties, in 2000 he took on the task of building the Jazz Studies Program at Juilliard School.
In fact, Goines’ busy schedule at Juilliard eats up much time that he might otherwise devote to doing projects as a leader, so New Adventures, his Criss Cross leader debut, is a welcome event. Spurred by an A-list rhythm section (pianist Peter Martin and Greg Hutchinson from singer Diane Reeves’ rhythm section, and LCJO bass stalwart Carlos Henriquez), Goines displays world-class improvisational skills, performing three selections on clarinet, two on soprano saxophone, and four on tenor, and playing each instrument with authority and an individualized voice. It follows two Goines-led dates with combos comprised of Juilliard faculty, and three late ‘90s combo sessions with such LCJO all-stars as Herlin Riley, Wycliffe Gordon, Reginald Veal, and Eric Reed for his imprint label, Rosemary Joseph Records.
Goines blossomed in the ‘80s under the mentorship of Ellis Marsalis, who first met the youngster as a teenage friend of his oldest sons, Branford and Wynton. “On one fateful day when we were about 14, I was hanging out with Wynton at his parents’ home, and he played to a recording of John Coltrane’s Countdown,” Goines recalls. “I remember it like yesterday, hearing someone my age be able to play this particular solo—a saxophone solo on the trumpet—so well. Then Branford started exposing me to people like Stanley Turrentine. They turned me on to all kinds of recordings from Ellis’ collection, and I was infected by all of it, checking out as much as I could.”
He applied the lessons in the St. Augustine High School jazz band, taught by Carl Blouin, his clarinet and mathematics teacher and a consequential role model. He played in local jazz bands and in honors ensembles around Louisiana, and matriculated at Loyola University in 1980 as a Music Education major, where he avidly attended all the jazz courses he could find. Three years later he asked Wynton Marsalis, in town on break, “What do I need to do to get to the next level of playing?” “You need to study with my Dad,” Marsalis responded.
After a year of lessons, Ellis Marsalis recruited Goines to join a new quartet with bassist Reginald Veal and drummer Noel Kendricks. They worked steadily, Goines supplementing income with a day job as a mathematics instructor at St. Augustine until 1987. That year he followed Marsalis to Virginia Commonwealth University, where he earned a Masters in Music. In 1988 he moved to a New Jersey suburb of New York City, found employment at a local supermarket, and spent nights networking in the jazz capital. Saxophonist Steve Wilson, a Virginia native, recommended him to clarinetist Bud Revels, who was subbing for sax-clarinet doubling maestro Bill Easley on the Broadway show Black and Blue, and needed a replacement. Over the ensuing year on the show, Goines soaked up information from the likes of Easley, Jerome Richardson, Roland Hanna, and Al McKibbon. He also began a long-standing association with singer Ruth Brown.
“With Ruth’s band, I learned about how to play the blues,” Goines says. “You had to understand what the gig was about. When you play rhythm-and-blues, you can’t play blues in a bebop style. For one, you won’t get 12 choruses to get to your climax. You might get two. Then you have to play stylistically inside the framework of the blues as a rhythm-and-blues musician, not so much as a jazz tenor player playing swing music.”
In 1989, Goines returned to New Orleans to work as a saxophone instructor at Loyola. The following year, relishing an opportunity “to put my mark on something from the outset,” and “to grow both as a musician and to the next level of education,” he moved to the University of New Orleans, which had hired Ellis Marsalis to reinvigorate their Jazz Studies program.
“I believe that the one way to realize how well you know what it is that you’re doing is to teach,” Goines says, explaining his commitment to education. “Also, I had great teachers, and I wanted to give something back to the education field. I always tell people I stepped into education; I didn’t fall back on it. That’s how I still approach it.”
In February 1993, on Wessel Anderson’s recommendation, Wynton Marsalis called Goines to play bass clarinet and baritone saxophone on the dance piece 6 Syncopated Movments. “Unbeknownst to Wynton, I’d never played bass clarinet,” Goines reveals. “But the opportunity being what it was and as hungry as I am, I said, ‘I’d love to do it; send the music.’ He said, ‘Look, it’s very difficult.’ I said, ‘I can play it.” I called Ellis Marsalis, who had just acquired a brand new Yamaha bass clarinet, and asked if I could borrow it. Ellis said, ‘It’s broken.’ I told him I’d have it fixed. The part was very difficult, but it worked out great. When I got home, I bought my own bass clarinet—I always say that if you don’t invest in yourself, nobody else should.”
With Ellis Marsalis’ blessing, Goines joined the Septet the following October. He covered the existed tenor and soprano saxophone parts for Todd Williams, while his formidable clarinet technique allowed the leader to let his imagination run rampant, much as Jimmy Hamilton, an antecedent clarinet-tenor doubler, had done for Ellington.
“Before I joined Wynton, I felt I had studied so much clarinet that I could play whatever I was hired to do better than the average tenor player,” says Goines. “But in the Septet, I had to practice clarinet again because Wynton’s book makes extraordinary demands upon it. My skills were not up to its demands, particularly from an improvisational point of view, and I had no intention of going home.
“Wynton’s music is what I had been practicing for all along. I felt it was where I was destined to be, because I understood—in my mind anyway—the logic of the music. I knew everything he and Branford had recorded up to that time, and I understood how they extended the New Orleans style of collective improvisation between trombone, clarinet and trumpet. Branford was willing to respond to the trumpet as opposed to feeling like he had to compete with it, so to speak, but also was able to express himself individually as a soloist at the appropriate time. With the Septet, Reginald Veal gave Wynton a stable bass chair, and you could hear Ellington’s influence start to take hold in the way he used the grooves. The stability of personnel allowed Wynton to write for the individual personalities, I made a point of telling him, ‘My learning curve has not peaked yet. Write whatever you want. Don’t pigeonhole me.’”
On New Adventures, Goines follows that admonition with a diverse, ambitious set.
Hutchinson’s crispy snap-crackle enlivens “Stop ‘N Go,” a 32-bar song that opens with a stop-start motif over a drone before bursting into straight-ahead swing based on rhythm changes. The drone, says Goines, whose sound here is reminiscent of Sonny Rollins circa “The Eternal Triangle,” “is a vehicle to allow us to have more harmonic space, so the soloists could play inside the changes or go way outside them along the way.”
“Pres’ New Clarinet” is a Goines original intended, as the title would suggest, “to capture the spirit of Lester Young; I wanted something light, without playing it exactly as Prez would, but with that relaxed feel.” Within a delightfully tippin’ groove, Goines—who cites Omer Simeon, the Chicago-based clarinetist who played on Jelly Roll Morton’s ‘20s ensemble recordings and was a mainstay of the Earl Hines Orchestra in the ‘30s, as a primary role model—develops the melody, which bears hints of Gershwin’s “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.”
“It’s one of my favorite ballads,” Goines says of “The Nearness of You,” the Hoagy Carmichael standard that Sarah Vaughan immortalized in the late ‘40s and which Norah Jones cosigned on her 2002 best-seller Come Away With Me. Over Hutchinson’s nuanced rubato sound-painting, Goines lays on the romantic vibrato in the best boudoir tenor tradition of Ben Webster and Lucky Thompson, the latter a Goines favorite since the early ‘80s when Ellis Marsalis suggested he analyze Thompson’s recordings.
Originally composed as a trombone-clarinet vehicle for Wycliffe Gordon, “Eternal Devotion” features Goines on soprano saxophone. Framed by Hutchinson’s assertive Nouveau Swing groove, he displays characteristic thematic logic, telling his story with restraint and pellucid tone. “It’s in two parts, with the soprano having the lead in the first and the piano in the second part,” Goines says. “That comes from being involved in so many big band arrangements. Each instrument is a character, and if you listen for that, it can make the music less technical and more something we deal with on a daily basis.”
Switching back to tenor, the leader animates the slick changes of “Cochise,” an Alvin Batiste composition based on the harmonic structure of “Cherokee.” Batiste performed it on clarinet on a 1956 quartet date with Ellis Marsalis and Ed Blackwell.
Goines introduced “Waltz Beneath the Weeping Willow” on To Those We Love so Dearly, a remarkable 1999 session on which he played the entire clarinet family. Though New Adventures transpired before the catastrophic flood of August 29th, 2005, the piece, suffused with a relaxed, nostalgic ache, has the feel of a blues requiem. “It’s my impression of any place in New Orleans which has willow trees and the threads which hang off the branches,” Goines says. “Like a lot of my tunes, it’s kind of strange because it doesn’t climax at the top of phrases, but in the middle.”
Sidney Bechet’s “Petite Fleur” entered Goines’ repertoire during an Alvin Batiste-sponsored series on clarinet players from New Orleans. “I wanted to perform the ‘modern’ style of playing, but at the same time play some traditional New Orleans music,” Goines says. “It’s a great melody, and I was thinking about the way Branford plays Ornette Coleman’s version of “Lonely Woman,” the type of soul you can draw out of the long notes of a melody. I think that playing ballads very slow is a great art form. That comes from listening to Shirley Horn—for example, her recording of “It Had To Be You” with Branford Marsalis. I tell my students to play ballads like you’re dancing with somebody and you do not want the music to end.”
Of the kinetic title track, highlighted by a sweet Goines melody, the leader states: “The drum part is always the most difficult thing for a non-percussionist to put together, but Greg jumped in on it like he knew exactly what I was hearing. I wanted to maintain the 6/8 groove throughout the entire piece, to freely improvise without returning to the swing groove.”
The proceedings conclude affirmatively with “As We Mature, We Learn To Take Our Time,” a Wayne Shorteresque rolling blues that unfolds over an Elvin Jones triplet feel. Goines first recorded it in 1996 on Joe’s Blues. “Every record should have at least one blues on it,” Goines states. “Blues is the fundamental form of jazz music, and this was an opportunity to play inside a groove, and go into some hot swing at a medium tempo, with altered changes at the end of the form.”
“It’s difficult not to be influenced by a band with so many great players,” Goines concludes. “I drew from LCJO, and from the influences that Wynton drew from Ellington—and sometimes went directly to Ellington as well. So many people of my generation are trying to identify something ‘new.’ That’s going come about via historical exploration. You can’t dictate where innovation will go. If you’re creative, ultimately it will come out, but it comes about from studying what’s happened before you.”