Alexander Scriabin; Leoš Janáček - Sonatas & Poems

"Alexander Scriabin was born into a wealthy Russian family; he was of delicate build and health and full of mystical self-importance. Leoš Janáček was the son of a schoolmaster in Moravia, then part of the Austrian Empire, and financial constraints hindered his musical education. The closest he came to self-delusion was his long-term infatuation with a woman thirty-eight years his junior - which hardly compares with Scriabin's messianic pretensions. Scriabin published ten piano sonatas; Janáček one. Yet it would be difficult to find a more apt pairing of composers so surefooted in handling a style of their own forging.

"Scriabin's Piano Sonata No. 5 is intimately linked wit his twenty-minute orchestra score 'Le poème de l'extase'. The two pieces share adjoining opus number (Opp. 53 and 54 respectively), and Scriabin attached to the sonata part of the rather embarrassing literary poem he wrote to accompany the orchestral work. Despite the opus numbers, the sonata was written down after 'La poème de l'extase' had been composed and revised. However, parts of it had been sketched two years earlier, and Scriabin's wife, Tatyana, wrote in a letter that the composer could play the sonata through before he came to put it on paper in December 1907. In the same letter she wrote: 'I cannot believe my ears. It is extraordinary! That sonata pour out of him like a fountain. Everything you have heard so far is as nothing. You cannot even tell it is a sonata.'

"The most obvious way in which No. 5 differs from Scriabin's previous sonatas is in its one-movement form - a pattern that the composer maintained for his subsequent five sonatas. Whether or not one can tell 'tell it is a sonata' might depends on whether one attempts to analyse it aurally or through study of the score. There is a slow introduction, an exposition, a development section and recapitulation. Opposing key centres (principally F-sharp and B-flat) are utilized. Bookending this structure is an upward-rushing figure heard first and last in the work. But so fragmentary are the melodies, and so frequent the changes of time and key signature (along with specified rubato), that the architecture remains a background presence. What registers instead is the omnipresent tingle of dissonance, the twelve minute approach to a cadence that never happens, the sensually ecstatic delay of a full climax. The return of the opening gesture brings the work to a close that is quite unexpected but immediately convincing; instead of crashing out a few major chords, Scriabin snatches the music away from our hearing and into another realm.

"To attempt an alternative description of that ending, the music takes flight and disappears into the skies. The idea of flying preoccupied Scriabin - he and Tatyana reportedly undertook experiments in self-levitation, though the closest he seems to have come to achieving it is curiously light-footed way of walking. The second and final movement of his Piano Sonata No. 4 (1903) is marked 'Prestissimo volando' ('Flying as fast as possible'), so in a sense the upward rush with which the fifth sonata begins and ends is a logical progression from this. However, hearing No. 4 after No. 5 emphasizes how right Tatyana was to coo over the originality of the later work. The fourt sonata fits comfortably into one's picture of a Russian composer-pianist who favoured repertoire comprised Schumann, Chopin and Liszt. Well, perhaps not so comfortably. Once again an accompanying poems makes clear that this is intended to be music of eroticism, transfiguration and ecstasy.

"This time, though, the structure is a foreground presence. Although the fourth sonata is in two movement it is of shorter duration than the fifth, and is in fact the briefest of all Scriabin's sonatas. Concision is achieved partly through the dominance of a single theme. This is heard awaking from a dream at the beginning of the opening movement and is ruminated on until the second movement takes flight without a break. The composer really meant his 'Prestissimo' instruction: 'It must fly at the speed of light right at the sun, straight into the sun!', he exhorted one performer. The movement achieves its solar impact with a clangourous reprise of the first theme.

"The 'Deux poèmes', Op. 32, were written in 1903, the same year as the Sonata No. 4. The first shares the key of F-sharp major with the fourth and fifth sonatas - a favourite key signature for Scriabin, if for a few other composers. It is a work of grace and liquid lyricism; the composer frequently included it in his recitals. 'Vers la flamme' ('Towards the flame') is a late work, written in 1914. It was apparently intended to be an eleventh piano sonata, but was published as a 'poème'. It has been suggested that Scriabin was short of income and did not have time to work it into finished form, but it is hard to think of it in these terms. Rather, it is Scriabin's - and piano music's - 'Rite of spring'. One again we are taken on a journey to conflagration, but the process is altogether more shattering than in the fourth sonata. Melody is reduced to its primitive minimum. There is no key signature because there is no key. In a crescendo from glowing quietude to vibrating violence, all we take for granted about pianism reaches meltdown.

"Compare any photographs of Scriabin and Janáček and you immediately know these are contrasting characters. Scriabin, with his haughty manner and waxed moustache, looks like a stage magician - or, more accurately, he was exactly the kind of eccentric aristocrat on which a conjuror might base his stage persona. Janáček, solid and buff, with unruly hair and a scrubbing brush moustache, looks more like the proprietor of a successful brewery, with a seat on the local council. Yet his music, too, could have visionary qualities. His piano music in particular is haunted by tragic recollections and anxious foreboding.

"Whereas the piano was a central focus for Scriabin throughout his career, Janáček's solo piano compositions were largely confined to the period 1900-1912. These years were a turning point for the composer personally and professionally. His 1904 opera 'Jenůfa' was successfully premiered in Brno, but for the time being rejected by Prague. The bitterness Janáček felt about this was intensified by the identification in his mind between the opera and the death of his beloved daughter Olga, aged twenty-one, in 1903. He had already lost a song thirteen years earlier. This second blow contributed to the breakdown of his previously happy marriage. Though he and his wife Zdenka stayed together, the bond between them was gone.

"The cycle 'On the overgrown path' cannot be separated from these circumstances. The picturesque titles were added late in the day at the request of a friendly critic; despite their gnomic quality there are keys to the heartache within the music. The origin of the work lies in contributions to anthologies of harmonium music: three of the pieces appeared in this form in 1901, already with the 'Overgrown path' title, which is a Moravian equivalent of 'down memory lane'. By 1911 the cycle has become a ten-movement piano work and was published as such. Without cataloguing the precise sequence in which the individual pieces were composed, it is worth noting that the first and last pieces - 'Our evenings' and 'The barn owl has not flown away!' - were written before Olga contracted typhoid fever. Therefore the anguish that disturbs the recollection of summer evening walks, and the ill omens associated with the appearance of the owl in folklore, were premonitions before they became memories.

"Only one title needs further explanation. Frýdek was the home town of the composer's grandfather, where the Basilica of the Visitation of the Virgin Mary was a place of pilgrimage, hence the hymn tune in 'The Frýdek Madonna'. Other than that, one detail might be taken as emblematic of the chilling presence that dominates the cycle. In 'The barn owl has not flown away!' the harbinger of death, with its flapping wings and two-note cry, first appears separately from a calmer, consoling chordal theme. Within this tranquil second subject is a curious single-crotchet bar of silence. In subsequent reprises even this silent beat is invaded by the owl's music.

"We owe it to the pianist Ludmila Tučková that we can hear Janáček's Piano Sonata '1.X.1905, From the street' today. She gave its first performance, in Brno on 27 January 1906. When rehearsals began the sonata had three movements. But, racked with self-doubt, the composer ripped out the third movement, a funeral march, and burnt those pages. The premiere did nothing to assuage his depression, and after it he flung the remaining movements, torn to pieces, into the Vltava river. Regret at his own actions afflicted him even while his eyes retained the impression of the pages 'floating like swans'.

"However, Tučková had secretly copied the first two movements, fearing the worst after the destruction of the third. It was not until 1924, the year of Janáček's seventieth birthday, that she had the courage to tell the composer. Fortunately he sanctioned publication and performance as a two-movement work. Its violent history befits an inspiration: on the date the work commemorates, a Moravian carpenter, František Pavlík, was bayoneted to death by the forces of the ruling Austrians for supporting the foundation of a Czech-speaking university.

"The first movement ('Presentiment') opens with a plaintive treble melody that tries to rise free as rumblings in the bass threaten to engulf it. Bass and treble are briefly locked together in a panic-stricken trill that resolves into the chordal second subject, which becomes more emotionally disturbed than first impressions suggest. After an exposition repeat the development proceeds in eruptive fashion, its energies troubling the recapitulation's opening. The final chord is a solemn bell toll.

"The second movement ('Death') broods over a single melodic phrase. Though context and expression change, the sad truth it contains will not go way. In the central section, which grows to a tragic climax, this phrase develops into a coherent melody, jangling with the rhythms of Czech speech; musical characteristics of both these section combine in the closing stanza. Finally, another eerie bell-chord brings the darkness." (Brain David. From the liner notes.)

Performer: Stephen Hough

1. Alexander Scriabin - Piano Sonata No. 5, Op. 53: Allegro. Impetuoso. Con Stravaganza – Languido – Presto Con Allegrezza

2. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: Our Evenings

3. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: A Blown-away Leaf

4. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: Come With Us!

5. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: The Frýdek Madonna

6. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: They Chattered Like Swallows

7. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: Words Fail!

8. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: Good Night!

9. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: Unutterable Anguish

10. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: In Tears

11. Leoš Janáček - On The Overgrown Path, Book 1: The Barn Owl Has Not Flown Away!

12. Alexander Scriabin - Poème In F-Sharp Major, Op. 32 No. 1: Andante Cantabile

13. Alexander Scriabin - Poème 'Vers La Flamme', Op. 72

14. Leoš Janáček - Piano Sonata '1.X.1905, From The Street': I. Presentiment. Con Moto

15. Leoš Janáček - Piano Sonata '1.X.1905, From The Street': II. Death. Adagio

16. Alexander Scriabin - Piano Sonata No. 4 In F-Sharp Major, Op. 30: I. Andante

17. Alexander Scriabin - Piano Sonata No. 4 In F-Sharp Major, Op. 30: II. Prestissimo Volando

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Alexander Scriabin - Preludes; Etudes; Piano Sonatas Nos. 4 & 5

"A classmate of Rachmaninoff's at the Moscow Conservatoire, where his professors were Anton Arenski and Sergei Taneyev for composition, and Vassili Safonov for piano, Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915) occupies a place totally apart in Russian music. Rejecting vocal music and borrowing of elements from folk tradition, he wrote exclusively for the piano and for the orchestra. His music language followed a long and constant evolution, showing the influences of Chopin and Liszt during the early years, then going through Wagnerian period before reaching an atonal style, looking far ahead toward the sound world of the twentieth century. His ouput for solo piano is made up of a large number of miniatures often grouped into sets: preludes, etudes, mazurkas, nocturnes, waltzes, poem, as well as various isolated pieces and ten sonatas, a genre which had been clearly neglected during the second half of the nineteenth century and to which Scriabin was one of the first to return regularly.

"His Sonatas nos. 4 and 5 are representative of the evolution of the form, which tends to abandon the traditional cycle in several movements in favour of the sonata-poem and at the same time they reflect the philosophico-spiritual thinking of the composer, known as an emblematic representative of Russian symbolism, with his inclination towards cosmic mysticism. The Sonata no. 4 in F-sharp major, op. 30 (1903) is in two movements. Its programme was defined by the composer as: 'Man's exhilerating race towards the star, symbol of happiness.' An 'Andante' serving as an introduction allows a glimpse of the star through its delicate shimmering, hardly rising above the nuance of pianissimo; the harmony feels a lot like Wagner - 'Tristan!' The principal movement 'Prestissimo volando' follows on, taking up the theme and bringing it to a climax in an intoxicating ecstatic surge.

"The Sonata no. 5, written as a single movement, does however juxtapose several episodes with different tempi; it is the last to possess a key signature, initially the same F-sharp major, associated by Scriabin with spirituality, but afterwards a series of several different tonalities, followng the progressive principal. Contemporaneous with 'The Poem of Ecstasy' for orchestra, it uses four lines from the latter's program: 'I summon you to life, O mysterious forces! Swallowed up in the dark depths of the creative spirit, preliminary signs of life, to you I bring audacity'. Occasionally the Sonata no. 5 reminds us of no. 5, of which the beginning can be deciphered in the long episodes (marked 'Languido'). For the most part, it is animated by a powerful vitality, with leaps and repeated energetic jolts, stamping chords and eloquen indications of interpretation: 'Allegro impetuoso con stravaganza', 'Allegro fantastico', 'Leggerissimo volando', 'Presto giocoso, estatico'... The syncopated rhythms abound and the superposition of different rhythmic formulas is a sign of the wider application of this manner in the later works of the composer.

"We go a decade back in time with the two sets of Preludes op. 13 and op. 16, composed in 1895 as a continuation of the great collection of the 24 preludes of op. 11, an homage to Chopin, which Scriabin then wanted to duplicated, dividing up his inspiration over several sets (op. 12, 15, 16, 17). The Preludes of op. 13 follow on the the first six keys, alternating between major and minor (C, a, G, e, D, b). The first is a 'Maestoso', very diatonic in texture, with chords in dotted rhythms moving in march tempo. The 'Allegro' which follows is very different, it is a virtuoso piece, in a finely crafted design with semiquavers in the right hand. After a discreet and rocking 'Andante', the three final pieces - two 'Allegros' and a final 'Presto' - resemble piano 'Studies', focusing respectively on the superposition of quintuplets onto triplets, sixths, and octaves with huge leaps in the left hand.

"The Five Preludes of op. 16, lacking any virtuosity, essentially cultivate a lyrical vein. The 'Andante' (B major) is calm and majestic with a dialogue between the intermediary voice and the melody of the highest voice. In the enigmatic 'Allegro' (g-sharp minor) short bursts begin pianissimo before a double-'forte' affirmation. The tonal purity of the 'Andante Cantabile' (G-flat major) creates a contemplative atmosphere which carries through to the total austerity of the 'Lento' (E-flat minor) which follows. The cycle concludes on a lighter not, in the F-sharp major on an 'Allegretto', bathed in freshness.

"At the heart the Scriabin Etudes are eight pieces from op. 42 (1903) which are a reflection of the evolution of his language during the course of this central period of his creative life. The Etude no. 1, 'Presto', exploits the superpositions of rhythms, which is already beginning to become a constant feature of his writing. The very brief Etude no. 2, lacking any verbal indication of tempo, presents quintuplets in the left hand over which is added a motif initiated by a dotted rhythm. The Etude no. 3, 'Prestissimo', is also short because of its rapidity and is sometimes nicknamed 'The Mosquito', it has a delicate texture of shimmering triplets in the upper register of the keyboard. With the Etude no. 4, 'Andante', we come back to some of Scriabin's lyrical writing which likens this study to a romance or a nocturne. The apex of this cycle is the Etude no. 5, 'Affanato', which its author frequently played himself; a striking, obsessional theme appears over rumbling arpeggios, before being answered by a beautiful vibrant melody. The Etude no. 6, 'Esaltato', seems to contain within the contour of its theme a few reminisces of the previous study, as well as the second of the set. Extremely short, the Etude no. 7, 'Agitato', in triplets over semiquavers, requires the hands to stretch wide. The last, 'Allegro' in ABA form, begins in the manner of an 'impromptu', then in its central section provides a contrast with a solemn song.

"As well as the pieces assembled into cycles, we can also find in Scriabin a certain number of isolated works. It is to the year 1903, visibly a very productive year, that the 'Tragic Poem' and the 'Satanic Poem' can be dated. The first begins abruptly, without an introduction, diving immediately into the heart of tumultuous events. The almost incessant hammering chords, then the large and rapid arpeggios in the left hand hardly give any respite to the pianist. In this central section appears a declamatory melody in the medium register of the keyboard (indicated in the score as 'Irato, fiero'), which lends the piece a certain theatrical dimension. As for the 'Satanic Poem', it serves as a response to the diverse variants of Liszt's 'Mephisto-Waltz'. Playing on the homogeneity of contrasts and the subtle logic of unpredictable juxtapositions, it gives us a glimpse of all aspects of the evil spirit, in turns enigmatic, insidious, cunning and lethargic, sneering and sardonic (with the indication 'riso ironico'), which loses control in a frightening frenzy.

"'Toward the Flame' is one of Scriabin's last compositions, written in February 1914. We can follow the journey of a sonic entity from its conception to its spectacular blossoming. The first part, static with long chords punctuated by impulsions, give the impression of making an effort to break free and acquire an autonomous existence. Once this stage has been overcome, the movement takes shape and we can follow the metamorphosis of the theme through the flaring up of colours which turn into a blazing apocalyptic inferno characterised by trills, tremolos and rapid beating chords. 'Towards the flame' is a post-echo of the Symphonic Poem 'Prometheus' written four years earlier, in which the element of Fire was in the same way the vector of the messianic exaltations of the composer. (André Lischke, tr. Christopher Bayton. From the liner notes.)

Peformer: Vadym Kholodenko

1. Six Preludes, Op. 13: I. Maestoso In C Major

2. Six Preludes, Op. 13: II. Allegro In A Minor

3. Six Preludes, Op. 13: III. Andante In G Major

4. Six Preludes, Op. 13: IV. Allegro In E Minor

5. Six Preludes, Op. 13: V. Allegro In D Major

6. Six Preludes, Op. 13: VI. Presto In B Minor

7. Five Preludes, Op. 16: I. Andante In B Major

8. Five Preludes, Op. 16: II. Allegro In G-Sharp Minor

9. Five Preludes, Op. 16: III. Andante Cantabile In G-Flat Major

10. Five Preludes, Op. 16: IV. Lento In E-Flat Minor

11. Five Preludes, Op. 16: V. Allegretto In F-Sharp Major

12. Piano Sonata No. 4 In F Sharp Major, Op. 30: I. Andante

13. Piano Sonata No. 4 In F Sharp Major, Op. 30: II. Prestissimo Volando

14. Poème Tragique In B-Flat Major, Op. 34

15. Poème Satanique In C Major, Op. 36

16. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: I. Presto In D-Flat Major

17. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: II. In F-Sharp Minor

18. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: III. Prestissimo In F-Sharp Major

19. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: IV. Andante In F-Sharp Major

20. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: V. Affanato In C-Sharp Minor

21. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: VI. Esaltato In D-Flat Major

22. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: VII. Agitato In F Minor

23. Eight Etudes, Op. 42: VIII. Allegro In E-Flat Major

24. Piano Sonata No. 5 In F-Sharp Major, Op. 53

25. Vers La Flamme, Op. 72

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Charlie Haden & Hampton Hawes - As Long as There's Music

"Two or three years before his death in the Spring of 1977, Hampton Hawes was encouraged to take a musical direction that would theoretically attract a wider audience. Executives of his record company (not this one), evidently felt that electronics, popular repertoire, and slick studio arrangements would make this enormously attractive bebop pianist their answer to other labels' jazz-pop-rock crossover successes.

"Hawes, never having achieved popular acclaim in spite of or because of his pure and unwavering musicianship, undoubtedly found the prospect of earning a great deal of money in early middle age intriguing, at least. So he went along with their program. The albums that resulted had neither the burning creativity of his customary music nor the peculiar and unexplainable alchemy that creates pop heroes. The records, like one he had made of movie themes a few years earlier, could have been done by any competent pianist. Indeed, they were so colorless, it would have been difficult in a blindfold test for any but his most ardent followers to identify him.

"That period of attempted commerciality lasted only a short while, but it interrupted Hamp's recorded output during a time when his playing had taken on even greater depth and thoughtfulness than it contained in the 1950s and sixties. Fortunately, he return to recording uncompromising and uncompromised music, and we have evidence of how well he was playing during his final period. This album provides some of that evidence. There is more on the Art Pepper 'Living Legend' LP listed in the accompanying discography.

"Charlie Haden was another of the artists on the Pepper session, the first time he and Hawes had played together in a couple of decades. Their communion was so impressive, it seemingly became inevitable that the two of othem would make their own record.

"Haden has played with jazzmen of all styles and virtually all eras. One of his most impressive performances as a sideman was on a concert recording with Red Allen and Pee Wee Russell, then cursty and eccentric survivors of the rich classic jazz period of the twenties and thirties. This was at a time when Haden had make his reputation as a member of the Ornette Coleman Quartet, the most revolutionary, disturbing and iconoclastic band of the 1960s.

"Since, of course, it has become clear to all but the most reactionary that Coleman and his colleagues were working closer to the center and roots of jazz than most of us realized. Haden, for all his virtuosity and his identification with the avant garde, has always been a player in the central jazz tradition. Pee Wee Russell called him a stompin' bass player. Yet, he is capable of the most delicate filigree. Both aspects of Haden abound in the music at hand.

"Harmonically, Hawes was one of the richest jazz pianists, and among the joys of this album is Haden's ability to interact with him without conflicting with his harmonies. One of the great testimonials to the astounding speed and selectivity of the human mind is the superior jazzman's instant identification and execution of notes suitable to the harmonic choices of his companions. This is particularly impressive in the context of total improvisations like Hawes' and Haden's 'Hello/Goodbye'. With no preconceived melodic or harmonic plan, the musicians create a composition in which all of the parts fit as if they had been annotated.

"Yes, for many listeners, the most accessible music here will be 'Irene', with its deceptively simple-seeming melody and its gutsy blues choruses, and the familiar progressions of 'What Is This Thing Called Love?' That Cole Porter staple was a part of Hawes' first trio album for the Contemporary label in middle 1950s. It is a song that he, like most graduates of the bop era, loved for its qualities of order and contrast. It has served as the basis for Tadd Dameron's classic 'Hot House'. Hawes and Haden give it a varied treatment, from rhapsodic to straight down the middle, but the overall feeling is of contentment. Haden calls his treatment 'This Is Called Love'.

"This entire session, although it produced moments of unalloyed excitement, has the relaxed air only master improvisers can bring to a jazz performance. And the album, like all records of worthwhile music, reveals more with each hearing.

"At this writing, Charlie Haden has withdrawn from music for a period of contemplation and spiritual renewal. It would be unthinkable that he remain away from jazz for long: he is too vital a force in its development and too valuable a stabilizing link to its immediate past.

"Hawes, after a life packed with disastrous personal low points and glorious artistic peaks, is gone. He never made the charts of popular best sellers, and he was probably discouraged to the point of pain that he was not materially rewarded in proportion to what he knew to be the size of his musical contribution. His legacy is in the music that remains so fresh and alive in the best of his recordings, and in the influence his playing has had upon a generation of musicians. As the years go by, it will become increasingly clear that Hampton Hawes was a major contributor to the jazz tradition." (Doug Ramsay. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Charlie Haden (bs), Hampton Hawes (pi)

1. Irene

2. Rain Forest

3. Turnaround

4. As Long As There's Music

5. This Is Called Love

6. Hello/Goodbye

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Don Byas - Midnight at Minton's

"Of the great disciples of Coleman Hawkins - Chu Berry, Herschel Evans, Ben Webster, Don Byas - Byas was the youngest, two months short of 60 when he died on August 24, 1972 in Amsterdam, Holland.

"Unlike the other three, Byas came to national attention relatively late. He was past 28 when he joined Count Basie in January of 1941; by the end of that year, Basie's recording of 'Harvard Blues', with its beautiful opening tenor solo, had been released, and Don Byas was on the jazz map.

"It was during this key year in his career that Byas made the informal session recordings heard here. Minton's Playhouse wasn't far from the Savoy Ballroom, where the Basie band often played, and we already know from the very few pre-Onyx label things released from Jerry Newman's private collection that Byas was a Minton's regular.

"The Minton's sessions have become legendary as the supposed incubators of bebop, but it is not likely that the musicians jamming there in 1941 thought of them as anything but good sessions, period. Swing was at its peak, the war had not yet become a reality for America, and while every creative jazzman (then as now and always) was concerned with saying something new and personal, no revolutionary theories were being hatched.

"True, some unorthodox music was being played, but jam session music is by nature unorthodox - musicians happy to be away from routine playing situation want to take chances, try out ideas and experiment with new techniques. Still, the basic material - such as the five standards and one blues on this album - was tried aned true; the 'lingua franca' of jazz since the early '30s.

"Don Byas is definitely the boss of these particular jams, and perhaps it is in deference to him that the tempos are mainly on the relaxed side. Though he certainly could navigate at top speeds with the best, Byas throughout his career preferred comfortable tempos. He was, of course, one of the great balladeers in jazz.

"It is not unlikely that Byas' conception was touched by Herschel Evans, almost four years his senior, with whom he played in Lionel Hampton's 1935 California band. (It never recorded, but with such men as Evans, Byas, Eddie Barefield and Tyree Glenn aboard, it must have been a heavy group.) One feel this in the first solo Byas recorded; an obscure item, 'Is This to be My Souvenir', waxed in May 1938 by an all-star group organized by the late Danish jazz enthusiast Baron Timme Rosenkrantz and bearing his name. (Timme Rosenkrantz and his Barrelhouse Barons, to be exact.)

"One feels it here, too - in 'Stardust' and 'Body and Soul' - but Byas came from Hawkins first and was clearly his own man by 1941. The first notable characteristic is his sound, one of the most voloptuous on an instrument noted for richness of tone. Next, perhaps, is his suppleness of phrase, combining Hawkins' weight with a Benny Carterish grace - Byas' first horn was alto. And then, a mastery of changes equal to these two peers' (among the chief-runners in jazz up to then). It was this superb harmonic ear tha equipped Byas to participate, a few years later, in some the early manifestations of bop. Rhythmically, however, Byas remained firmly rooted in the classic patterns of swing. That is what made his playing in the final years of his life, when he was striving almost despeately to prove he was still 'modern', sound out of joint. But that's another story - one most of Byas' admirers would prefer to forget.

"Byas reached his prime, I think, a few years after these sessions - in the period 1944-46. When he left America in the fall of 1946 with Don Redman's big band (not to return to his homeland until June of 1970) all the elements of his art and craft were in perfect balance. Here, in 1941, he was about to put it all together, and later, in Europe, Byas' impact was considerable; it was due to his presence that post-World War II Europe could produce such major tenorists as Guy Lafitte and Barney Wilen. But the great days were those on 52nd St., when Don Byas was a favorite of both the swing establishment and the bop upstarts.

"This album offers significant illumination of the development of a great jazzman, at a stage in his career during which he recorded few solos longer than 16 bars. Here, he stretches out.

"Aside from some intriguing glimpses of young (22) Thelonious Monk and further proof (if any is needed) of the legitimacy of Kenny Clarke's claim to parenthood of modern jazz drumming, the only rival Byas has here for center-stage attention is Helen Humes, his colleague from the Basie ranks.

"To me, Miss Humes is one of the greatest female jazz singers - and I know that some  people, among them Don Schlitten, Stanley Dance and Lester Koenig, share this opinion. Billie Holiday's senior by some two years, she first became widely known when she took Billie's place in the Basie band in 1938, though she'd made her recording debut some 10 years earlier, while in her mid-teens.

"Perhaps because of the not inconsiderable shadow cast by her associate in the Basie vocal department, Jimmy Rushing, Helen Humes has not been given her just due. Her voice has a lift and purity reminiscent of Mildred Bailey (and Ethel Waters); her effortless swing is not unlike Ella Fitzgerald's, and she is always in tune. There is a smile in her voice.

"After leaving Basie in 1942, Helen worked mainly as a single in New York, making some fine sides with Pete Brown. In 1944, she moved to California where she recorded with old Basie colleagues Buck Clayton and Lester Young (as well as with Dexter Gordon) and scored a hit with 'Million Dollar Secret'. In the '50s she toured and recorded with Red Norvo, worked in a musical ('Simply Heavenly'), appeared at Newport (in 1958), toured Europe (1959), made a couple of fine albums for Contemporary, and lived in Australia for a while. She now resides in her native Louisville, Ky. and at this write was scheduled to appear at the 1973 Newport in New York Festival.

"Helen Humes has recorded 'Stardust' before, but not studio version can compare with the one captured here. It is a masterpiece of jazz singing, on an improvisational plane euqla to that inhabited by the best instrumentalists. An opulent Byas solo follows her two perfect choruses; Joe Guy's muted trumpet (a la Roy Eldridge) brings us down a bit from these heights, but Helen's final half-chorus lifts us once more.

"Guy, a fixture on this album, was leader of the house band at Minton's. His regular crew included Nick Fenton on bass, Thelonious Monk on piano, and Kenny Clarke on drums, but other often relieved and/or sat in. Guy, however, rarely relinquished his claim to Jerry Newman's microphones, even when other (and better) trumpeters were on hand. Strongly influenced by Eldridge (who wasn't, then, among younger trumpet men?), he was a somewhat ambitious player, but lacking finesse and the ear for correct changes. At time he may sound, for a few bars, remarkably like Roy or Lips Page, but certain pet licks or lapses in imagination seen sober up the hopeful listener - it's only Guy once more.

"Nobody who's heard these cuts seems to know who the other trumpeter is. He appears on 'Uptown' and 'Body and Soul', and obviously is an admirer of Hot Lips Page. While lacking his model's drive and passion, he is tastier and more relaxed than Guy. Both, however, are gifted minor leaguers, no more.

"A mystery tenorman is also present. He is the second tenor soloist on 'Exactly Like You', but Monk is obviously Monk, as in the short, happy solo on 'Exactly' (hear him sing along, a la Ellington on his early records). The style is not fully formed yet, but all the elements are there. It's clearly him on 'Indiana' as well, with a very boppish flavor to the last four bars of the first solo. Clearly, too, Monk was (and is) a jazzman of the old school.

"It shouldn't be hard to sort out the soloists, but here's a wee guide (Humes, Byas and Guy do that lovely 'Stardust'; it needs not further comment than already given).

"On 'Exactly', at a nice tempo, it's Guy 'a la' Roy, Helen 'a la' Humes (dig the riffing behind her second chorus), pretty nice muted Guy (his best outing on this album), Don Byas (so relaxed as he sails in, using dynamics as well as tension to build), Monk (see above), tenorist No. 2, Guy (open and rough), Byas, tenorist 2, and then Helen swings on out. A very good bassist makes himself felt throughout.

"The blues, 'Uptown', starts with Guy. Byas' second chorus opens with a typical turn of phrase, the Lips-like trumpeter follows, and then the track fades on a piano solo (not Monk, but someone a bit Clyde Hart-like).

"'Body and Soul', that test-piece for tenors established as such not too long before 1941 by Coleman Hawkins, begins with Byas taking the lead from an unwilling Guy, the mystery trumpeter joining in the ensemble and taking the first solo. Then Byas presents his credentials in the rhapsody sweepstakes. Guy jumps it (a procedure established by Roy Eldridge in his classic 1938 version with Chu Berry), and Don follows in the new tempo, both trumpets backing him on the bridge and joining in the rideout. Nice drumming, too.

"Louis Armstrong made 'I Can't Give You Anything But Love' his own in 1929, and even Guy reflects that in his melodic opening chorus. A very mellow Byas overrides someone's aborted vocal; his second chorus has some fine doubletime passages, and altogether this solo is my favorite Byas on the album. Guy returns, and another trumpet joins him for the finish. The well-recorded drumming is obviously Kenny Clarke.

"The tempo comes up for 'Indiana', a tune Byas liked. Guy opens, Monk has a chorus (off mike), and then Don digs in - his fast style more developed at this stage than his slow start (this sequence pretty much holds true for all jazzmen). Hear Klook's accents, in there with BYas. Guy, Monk and Don come back for seconds, the trumpeter really on an Eldridge kick, and with more consistent chops than usual. Then, apparently because there was still time left on the disc, trumpet and tenor solo once more before jamming out together, good drums urging them home.

"Of the many hundred midnights of music at Minton's, here are some that were captured. We may conjure up others in our imagination, flawless, ideal. Undoubtedly, there were times when greater heights were reached, but here is a record of something that actually happened. Not an unheard echo of someone's dream, but a bit of reality, your ticket on a time capsule. (Dan Morgenstern. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Don Byas (t-sx), Joe Guy (tp), Thelonious Monk (pi), Kenny Clarke (dr), Helen Humes (vo), others unidentified (tp, t-sx)

1. Stardust

2. Exactly Like You

3. Uptown

4. Body And Soul

5. I Can't Give You Anything But Love

6. (Back Home Again In) Indiana

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