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 Drawn
In
By
Mike Hotter
White Magic
Dat
Rosa Mel Apibus (Drag City)
The most one can ask from any music is to be transported to
someplace rare, and at that the full-length debut from Brooklyn
neo-folkies White Magic succeeds admirably. Album opener “The
Light” sets up a mood for mind alteration, all nimble drums
and snaky vocals, and by the final “Song of Solomon,” one
may have grown antennae and a fondness for hookahs. The songs
are built predominantly upon band leader Mira Billotte’s sturdy
and strident piano riffs, upon which are layered guitar, violin
and (on two tracks) sitar arabesques. Billotte has a strong
and supple alto that is all her own, but finds some comparison
with early Sinead O’Connor and Chan Marshall. There are two
songs that forego the somewhat ornate instrumentation elsewhere
for a bare-bones acoustic approach, a cover of Karen Dalton’s
“Katie Cruel” and the standout original “What I See.” While
the songs start to blend into each other by the album’s midway
point, this also tends to add thematic heft to a song cycle
which has a visionary and almost pagan world view. From its
Rosicrucian-inspired title and cover art to the glimpses of
mystical union trapped within the tunes, Dat Rosa Mel Apibus
can draw you, like the titular bees to the honey, to these
light-filled songs as if cast under their spell.
 |
 Norah
Jones
Not
Too Late (Blue Note)
Norah Jones is nice, and it’s nice to hear new Norah. Mellow
of voice, kindly and just kittenish enough to titillate the
jazzbos she affects to represent, she’s a craftsperson (political
correctness comes so damn dear) who perfects small forms.
Her songs are wistful, yearning and very occasionally upbeat.
Her delivery is so assured, yet modest, she seems to let the
listener in on deep secrets. On her third album, she’s comfortably
ambiguous (is “Wish I Could” about Iraq or war in general?),
reportorially acute (“Until the End” approximates a rich character
study), and passive-aggressive enough to not offend anyone,
intimates likely included. Beautifully produced by boyfriend-bassist
Lee Alexander, Not Too Late glides by like a summer
afternoon and, like its two predecessors, rarely ruffles the
feathers. There’s some politics, in “My Dear Country,” one
of Jones’ more expressive tunes. There’s plenty of rue, and
there’s affection. Cellos spell emotion, horns shadow rhythm
and blues, and the rare drums suggest, more than lay down,
a backbeat. Tempo, as usual, is resolutely mid, but this time
out, Jones varies texture every so often: “Sinkin’ Soon” (is
this about Katrina?) has a New Orleans feel, complete with
mandolin and “guitjo.” Just about everything is nice about
Jones’ subdued world, it seems, even when she tackles gnarly
topics like war, insanity and homelessness. To her credit,
she sings so pretty and her friends play so sweet, sharing
her space can be comfy.
—Carlo
Wolff
Dizzy Gillespie
Verve/Philips
Dizzy Gillespie Small Group Sessions (Mosaic)
Dizzy Gillespie’s legacy has been undermined by circumstances
that shouldn’t affect our enjoyment of his magnificent music
making. Unlike Charlie Parker, alongside whom he worked to
develop bebop, Gillespie didn’t romantically die young. Dizzy’s
chops, like Louis Armstrong’s, changed as he aged, and he
gets unfairly compared with his younger self.
And there’s also the difficulty of appreciating the recorded
legacy of an artist whose recordings are many and varied and
often hard to find. Mosaic Records has taken care of a chunk
of that by issuing a seven-CD set of small group sets Gillespie
recorded between 1954 and 1964—132 sides in all.
It bears repeating that Dizzy not only established the look
and sound of bebop during the 1940s, but also simultaneously
ushered in the Afro-Cuban sound. His early hits included “A
Night in Tunisia,” “Anthropology,” “Groovin’ High” and the
wacky “Salt Peanuts,” all of which are included in this set,
along with standards like “Moonglow” and “St. Louis Blues”
and even a collection of movie themes, legacy of a 1963 concept
album that’s more about arranging than improvising but still
lets Gillespie group of the moment swing out.
Gillespie was a superb bandleader, and eventually put together
several excellent groups, but in 1954 he was newly returned
from Paris and seeking a measure of the success he’d won in
Europe but was eluding him here.
It made economic sense to take a small group into the studio,
but it also made artistic sense. As one of a quintet, Dizzy
is relaxed without sacrificing any of his antic creativity,
as the first sides, cut in May 1954, attest. With Hank Mobley
on tenor and drummer Charlie Persip laying out a boppish beat,
he takes a doo-wop hit, “Money Honey,” and gives it a Calypso
beat; he also revives one of his own numbers, “Hey Pete! Let’s
Eat More Meat.”
Quintet sessions in February 1959 include more standards,
including several takes of an Isham Jones tune, “There Is
No Greater Love,” that show how seriously he pursued his solos,
while “Willow Weep for Me” is a study in skilled balladry.
Variously configured quintets are the dominant ensemble on
this set, putting Dizzy alongside such key players as James
Moody, Kenny Barron and Bud Powell.
A couple of larger ensembles intrude, small enough still to
stay within Mosaic’s theme. Eight players, including sax-playing
arrangers Gigi Gryce and Benny Golson, put together eight
more formally plotted numbers in 1957 for an album titled
The Greatest Trumpet of Them All. Heard in the context
of the smaller groups, it’s an impressive reminder of Dizzy’s
skill as a more featured soloist, helped by tight, lively
charts.
Five years later, Gillespie recorded with another octet, Charlie
Ventura and Lalo Schifrin among the players along with a trio
of percussionists to flesh out the rhythms for Dizzy’s latest
craze, the bossa nova. “Desafinado,” “Manha de Carnival”
and “No More Blues” (“Chega de Saudade”) were among
the titles, but, thanks to some bad career advice, Dizzy held
on to the tapes while Stan Getz scored a big hit with his
first bossa nova release.
The late ’50s and early ’60s were an arid period for jazz,
as vocalists took the limelight and dorky Ray Conniff arrangements
actually charted. While not the most innovative material,
this set offers a valuable look at what one particularly worthy
artist was playing during that time. It’s pleasant, virtuosic
stuff, skillfully remastered for excellent sound, intelligently
annotated and great fun to listen to.
(Mosaic Records, 35 Melrose Place, Stamford, CT 06902; (203)
327-7111; mosaicrecords.com.)
—B.A.
Nilsson
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