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I’ve always thought I heard Ornette Coleman before I know for sure I heard him, because I was a kid in Fort Worth, Texas in the late 1940s, when he was playing in little jump bands around town. I know I didn’t really hear him in any of those bands, but I like to believe there was something in the air in Fort Worth in those days other than Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys and whatever else came out of the family radio victrola combo that seemed to be on most of the time. I’ve always wanted to ask him about those days in Texas, but, based on the few conversations I’ve had with him, my guess is the answers might be a little obtuse. I heard Ornette for real in late 1959 or early 1960. It was concert at Town Hall, not the famous one in 1962 that was later released on ESP-Disc; no, the one I saw was about the time he was just coming off the famous run at the Five Spot, where he had excited and frightened and maddened a lot of listeners in New York City. It was when he first emerged in New York City, when everyone had an opinion, pro or con. Nobody was in the middle on Ornette. It was a pretty fancy concert; there were four groups, and all were or would become legendary. I wish I’d saved my program. Cecil Taylor opened for Dizzy Gillespie’s group and played so long Dizzy only had time for a few numbers before intermission. Cecil was supposed to have played twenty minutes or so, maybe even a half hour. But he went over and I remember Dizzy coming out and the first words he said were, “Well, goodnight!” Ornette began the second half, opening for Mile Davis, who had a remarkable sextet in 1959, maybe the best group he ever had. Ornette was far better behaved than Cecil, played a short set and that was that. I don’t remember much other than the music was pretty out there for my nineteen-year-old ears. I don’t remember if the drummer was Billy Higgins, who I later got to know a little, or Ed Blackwell who I didn’t. I do remember Don Cherry because he was unlike any trumpet player I’d ever heard. Then it was pretty much recordings. By the time I came to New York City full time in 1967, the concert scene as it existed in 1950s had changed a great deal and I saw few ads for Ornette concerts and he certainly wasn’t doing many club dates in those days. In fact, the next time I saw him live was in June 2006, when George Wein invited me to a concert he was presenting in Carnegie Hall as part of that year’s JVC Jazz Festival. As I expected would be the case, the hall was less than half full; Ornette is still a hard listen, but I thought the music was terrific. I had an advance copy of his new Sound Grammar CD and he played most of the material he’d recorded for his new release, with essentially the same group. The audience response was enthusiastic and prolonged. The following year a similar group was featured at the 50th Monterey Jazz Festival, but now he used three bass players instead of two. Most bands need one bass; two’s one too many, but somehow Ornette found a way to make it work with three. Ornette was scheduled for an afternoon concert on the Jimmy Lyons Stage. The concert went well and much to my surprise, Ornette even spoke briefly to the audience. There was plenty of light and I took photographs from the wings. The after concert plan was to arrange an interview between Ornette and Clint Eastwood, one that could possibly be used in a film being made about the fifty years of the Monterey Jazz Festival. It almost didn’t happen; the only reason it did was because James Jordan, formerly of the New York Council On the Arts, now full time manager of his cousin, Ornette, was on board. When asked Ornette if he’d like to do the interview with Clint, he replied, “No” but then added, a pause and a half later, “But I will.” The interview lasted about half an hour and was not what anyone expected. Clint and Ornette rarely touched on jazz, the Monterey festival, or even anything that related to music. It was all about life, death, assorted metaphysical theories and concepts as well as a fair amount of hokum. Clint clearly enjoyed himself and kept the conversation moving along until it became too convoluted. There may well be a remarkable small film hiding somewhere in those digital files, but that will take some work. It was much less work for me to take photographs and document the event. A couple turned out and my guess is there won’t be too many more opportunities to take many more of possibly the most remarkable, and certainly most unusual musician to come out of Fort Worth, Texas. |
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Ornette Coleman at The Monterey Jazz Festival, September 22, 2007